The new Broadway revival of Brighton Beach Memoirsthat just opened at the top of this week will close Sunday.
Over the past 15 hours, there has been a flurry of slightly varying news items about the future of the show, along with word that the planned production of Broadway Boundoriginally scheduled to run in repertory with Brighton Beach Memoirs beginning in November would be scuttled.
The notice can be taken down at any time and no final decision on closing will be made until Monday, Nov. 2, when a statement will be issued.
However, this morning, the fate of Brighton Beach Memoirs appeared to be sealed as noted by The New York Times' Healy in a story posted at 10:08 a.m. Healy quotes producers Emanuel Azenberg and Ira Pittelman from a statement released earlier today:
A lot of nice people on stage and off will be out of work and a lot of good partners and investors will have lost a great deal of money. They all deserve better. It makes us sad.
It would be hard for anyone to say with a straight face that they didn't see this coming. As noted above, ticket sales have been extremely weak. Over the past coupleweeks, Brighton Beach Memoirs had been the single lowest-grossing Broadway production by a mile, as well as the one with the lowest average ticket price. For the week ending October 25, the play's average ticket price was a steal at just $21.32.
Personally, having easily scored a front-row seat without paying a premium just a week prior to attending the show, I was hardly shocked by the news. On my Saturday at the Nederlander Theatre, I was surprised by how few people were in the audience.
While I'm thankful I had an opportunity to see Brighton Beach Memoirs for myself, I'm a little sad that my hopes for seeing what Cromer et al had in store for us with Broadway Bound have been dashed. So excuse me for feeling a little melancholy today.
Finian's Rainbow (The SOB Review) - St. James Theatre, New York, New York
**1/2 (out of ****)
You have to hand it to Warren Carlyle for taking that inspirational tune "Look to the Rainbow" to heart. He's practically pulled out every conceivable stop for his enjoyable and entertaining Broadway revival of the Burton Lane-E.Y. Harburg musical Finian's Rainbow in the hunt for his very own pot of gold.
To say Carlyle comes up with a silver instead is not to denigrate his Herculean efforts that includes his mesmerizing choreography. It's just that silver is a tad bit tarnished with verdigris.
The good news is that on Broadway, his Finian's Rainbow is much more vibrant than the concert version he mounted earlier this year as part of New York City Center's Encores! series.
It doesn't hurt that Finian's Rainbow consistently hits the jackpot with one of musical theatre's most divine scores. Apart from "Look to the Rainbow," it's nearly impossible to shake from your mind Lane and Yarburg's highly hummable "Necessity," "How Are Things in Glocca Morra" and the spellbinding "Old Devil Moon." It's easy to imagine that Robert Russell Bennett and Don Walker's full and lush original orchestrations (in the pit, no less) have never sounded better. Each gem is delivered with a flawless verve by the show's top-drawer cast.
In fact, if the luminescent Kate Baldwin could shine any brighter, her Sharon McLonergan would never be able to see that devil moon. Radiating warmth and grace, Baldwin possesses an exquisite voice perfectly suited to the magical score.
As her love interest Woody Mahoney, Cheyenne Jackson beguiles through silky-smooth vocals of his own. With guitar slung over his shoulders throughout, Jackson refreshingly imbues his Woody with a requisite innocence.
In the role of the transformed Bill Rawkins, a bigoted white southern senator who's become black by virtue of Sharon's ill-timed wish, Chuck Cooper soulfully finds the depths of the Deep South via his ironic tune "The Begat."
The impish Christopher Fitzgerald improves on the role of the leprechaun Og, which he's taken over since City Center and in the process manages to charm his ever-shrinking pants off the audience. With his commanding presence, particularly his hilarious rendition of "When I'm Not Near the Girl I Love," it's a wonder Fitzgerald still hasn't lucked out with a leading Rialto role of his own.
Then there's the awe-inspiring Terri White. Blessed with a booming, yet beautiful voice, White makes a most triumphant return to the stage out of pure necessity, literally and figuratively. While her backstory is enough to have you cheering, it's White's ability to effortlessly hit this one so far out of the park that she comes close to stopping the show. Irish eyes are smiling on her as she follows an amazing personal arc of a genuine rainbow and realizes her own dreams in the process.
Special praise certainly must be reserved for the wondrous Jim Norton. This Tony-winning actor not only grounds the entire proceedings, but he does so with magnetic charm and easy humor. With rascally eyes twinkling throughout, you'd be forgiven for thinking him a leprechaun himself. You can't help but wish him good fortune for his contributions.
The same goes for Warren Carlyle, too. As I noted above, he's pulled out nearly every stop in making this Finian's Rainbow as good as a revival as this dated show can possibly get. Well, almost. John Lee Beatty's two-dimensional scenic design may be verdant as kelly-colored grass, but it's as if Carlyle spent all of his green on everything but the cheap-looking set.
Sad to say, there's also the book. The problematic, silly book. As magnificent as the score, cast and choreography make this Finian's Rainbow soar, the libretto originally written by Harburg and Fred Saidy that's been adapted by Arthur Perlman (the original adaptation for New York City Center Encores! was written by David Ives) remains as creaky as ever. By cramming in far too many disparate themes -- including a noble one on race that was once way ahead of its time -- the book remains quaint at best. It's so clunky that it threatens to fall under its own weight.
Thus it's a tribute to Carlyle and company that the overall production manages to stand, even if tilting a bit precariously. In their quest for gold, Carlyle and his cast's yeomen efforts have still managed to find something truly precious at the end Finian's Rainbow.
A Steady Rain (The SOB Review) - Schoenfeld Theatre, New York, New York
**1/2 (out of ****)
There are star vehicles, and then there are superstar vehicles. A Steady Raineasily offers the most revved-up four-on-the-floor to hit the Great White Way this season.
With a couple of the silver screen's biggest names, Daniel Craig and Hugh Jackman, taking turns at the wheel of this full-throttled two-hander, it's no wonder Keith Huff's 90-minute play has already been breaking Broadway box office records.
In his Main Stem debut, Craig is nothing short of a revelation. Here, the mustachioed British thespian completely loses himself, accent and all, in the role of Joey, a flawed, yet dutiful Chicago cop desperately trying to stay within the lines. Craig's excellence suggests that despite the dapper duds he's become accustomed to as 007, he's at heart a character actor of the first order.
Craig's Joey is a recovering alcoholic. His newfound sobriety opens his eyes to the damage his lifelong police buddy Denny (Jackman) is inflicting upon himself, his family and even his community. As murky and outside the lines as Denny's self-destructive path becomes, Joey remains loyal to a fault, even putting his own career on the line.
As much as I forgot I was watching "Daniel Craig, movie star," I wish I could say the same for Hugh Jackman. While the latter turns in a completely riveting performance, he simply can't doff his star persona quite the way he did when he triumphed as Peter Allen in The Boy From Oz. Yes, he is good and he's deeply intense as the drug-addled, infidelity-proned Denny, but perhaps because of John Crowley's direction, I still saw Hugh Jackman, and that became a distraction, albeit a pleasant one.
As for the play itself, Huff's writing is cliché-driven and lacking in originality. He even borrows a key plotline out of a real cop drama that played out over a 13 year period just 90 miles to the north of the Windy City. To say we saw where he was hauling us from a mile away would be an understatement.
Fortunately, with Craig in the driver's seat, A Steady Rain steers into arresting play anyway.
Directed by Gregory Mosher, A View From The Bridge will begin previews at the Cort Theatre on December 28, 2009 and open January 24, 2010.
Internet Broadway Database (IBDB) offers this succinct description of Miller's play: "In the apartment and environment of Eddie Carbone, all in Red Hook, on the Bay seaward from Brooklyn Bridge."
The first revival (of the second play only) wouldn't come for nearly 30 years, but it would also run for 149 performances, this time at the Ambassador Theatre where it opened February 3, 1983. Directed by Arvin Brown, this View From The Bridge would also earn two 1983 Tony Award nominations, including one for Best Reproduction (a precursor to the Revival honors now bestowed) and the other for Tony Lo Bianco's portrayal of Eddie. The cast also included Rose Gregorio as Beatrice and Alan Feinstein as Marco.
The last and arguably most successful mountingl to date came just 12 years ago. The 1998 Tony-winning Best Revival of a Play first opened at the non-profit Criterion Center Stage Right where it ran from December 14, 1997 through February 22, 1998, before transferring to a commercial run at the Neil Simon Theatre, where it reopened April 3, 1998 and ran through August 30 of the same year. Michael Mayer directed a cast that included Allison Janney as Beatrice, Anthony LaPaglia as Eddie and Adam Trese as Marco. While Mayer, Janney and LaPaglia would each receive Tony nominations for their efforts, only LaPaglia would win.
So is it too soon for yet another revival of Miller's classic? Well, in my humble opinion, any work that can bring Schreiber back to Broadway's boards is fine with me. He's only been absent since earning a Tony nod for Talk Radio two years ago, but there are few finer living American stage actors.
And as for Miss Scarlett? Who wouldn't want to see her make her Broadway debut?
After Miss Julie (The SOB Review) - American Airlines Theatre, Roundabout Theatre Company, New York, New York
*1/2 (out of ****)
On paper, it must have seemed like a complete no-brainer.
Cast the fetching Sienna Miller in the title role of Patrick Marber's After Miss Julieas a sexy, sultry seductress. It doesn't seem like much of a stretch. After all, Ms. Miller's acting prowess has been largely obscured by her more notorious one in both tempting men and her way right into tabloid fodder.
While it's often said that playwrights should write what they know, Ms. Miller should act what she understands. Instead, as the woman of privilege who seduces her father's valet John (Johnny Lee Miller, who deserves a better Broadway debut than this), she comes up all thumbs, resulting in my own opposable ones appropriately pointing in a decidedly downward direction.
In this clash of power -- class vs. sexual -- you'd think Ms. Miller would be at ease with both. But in a display that is far too shrill, it's really unfathomable that John, who has watched this Julie from an early age, could possibly feel anything for her. He already knows what a screwy coquette she can be, so the sparks between the unrelated Millers seem manufactured.
Making matters worse is that as directed by Mark Brokaw, Marber's adaptation of August Strindberg 19th century work transposes the "action" to the kitchen of a large country estate outside of London on the evening of July 26, 1945. I use the term "action" loosely as virtually all of the action really occurs off stage in rooms unseen.
That includes a reception room where a party is taking place the very night the Labour Party wins its first independent majority over Winston Churchill's Conservatives. It's also where Julie demands John dance with her, twice, much to his embarrassment and chagrin.
Also unseen is a bedroom where Julie and John ultimately consummate their lust for one another, only to be found by his intended fiancée and household cook Christine (Marin Ireland, who acquits herself as well as can be expected).
All this inaction in Allen Moyer's beautifully appointed kitchen -- with hoots and hollering coming from Julie's party dancing display and Christine's tearful discovery coming from the door of the bedroom, not to mention the unseen crowds offering their derision from outside the kitchen window -- makes for one of the most interminable 90 minutes I've yet to spend in a theatre.
Simply put, I couldn't wait until afterAfter Miss Julie.
Brighton Beach Memoirs (The SOB Review) - Nederlander Theatre, New York, New York
**** (out of ****)
Prepare to be astonished.
Back in the eighties when I was just beginning to enjoy Neil Simon's seminal comedies on film, the Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright was already reinventing himself on the Great White Way with heartfelt plays that have consistently been ranked among the very best in his entire oeuvre.
So a generation later, I've finally started catching up on those works. And are they ever mighty.
Three years ago, I caught a tremendous production of his 1991 hit Lost In Yonkersthat was found in Minneapolis. It demonstrated Simon's introspective genius. Despite being a nod to his own youth, the play was so vital, real and relevant.
But not even that mounting could have prepared me for the earnest and devastating charms found in Simon's superb Brighton Beach Memoirs. The play is so well-written, it's no wonder it ran on Broadway for a solid three years. Set in the 1930s, this semi-autobiographical period piece is currently receiving an excellent revival, flawlessly executed by director David Cromer.
Through Brighton Beach Memoirs, Cromer further cements his reputation, burnishing his credentials as a brilliant, visionary master at breathing vigorous new life into classic material. But unlike his mind-blowing, stripped-down revival of Thornton Wilder’s Our Town -- still playing New York's Barrow Street Theatre -- the director stages Brighton Beach Memoirs with all the bells and whistles you'd expect from a Broadway show, which is Cromer's first.
John Lee Beatty's design of the Jerome Family home is evocative of the type of Depression-era residence where you'd expect to find an extended family forced to live together out of sheer necessity. And those bells and whistles, and other sound effects? Well, they're compliments of Joshua Schmidt and Fitz Patton (the former wrote the score to the revered musical Adding Machine, which was also helmed by Cromer).
An exuberant Noah Robbins makes his impressive Broadway debut as Eugene Jerome, Simon's young alter-ego. His dream may be to become a great baseball player, but by living in a cramped Brooklyn household his parents have opened to his widowed aunt and her two daughters, Eugene discovers that he not only possesses the ability to discern major milestones under that roof, but also has a knack for writing about them, too.
With winsome appeal, Robbins captivates and enthralls, whether serving as de facto narrator or when engaging in often spirited dialogue with the revival's fine ensemble that includes the extraordinary Laurie Metcalf (as his mother Kate), the magnificent Dennis Boutsikaris (as his father Jack) and the sublime Santino Fontana (as his brother Stanley), along with Jessica Hecht (as his Aunt Blanche) and Alexandra Socha and Gracie Bea Lawrence (as his cousins Nora and Laurie, respectively). Make no mistake, this show has been perfectly cast throughout. There's not one false note to be found.
As outstanding as Cromer's ensemble is, Laurie Metcalf is an unmitigated and complete triumph as Kate. Without ever overshadowing the rest of the cast, Metcalf delivers one of the year's most withering, nuanced performances. Her omniscient Kate may have eyes in the back of her head, as the young Eugene knows all too well when sneaking a cookie, but it's the subtlety within Metcalf's eyes and facial expressions that lend sumptuous layer after layer to the enormous depth of her portrayal. Simply put, Metcalf is amazing.
No wonder this Brighton Beach Memoirs left me utterly gobsmacked and misty-eyed. Cromer and his cast have delivered yet another outstanding revival that is unmistakably unmissable and will have you yearning for more.
UPDATE - 10.31.2009: Brighton Beach Memoirs will close just one week after opening due to weak box office demand, thus scuttling the planned revival of Broadway Bound. This is Steve On Broadway (SOB).
Street Lights (The SOB Overview) – American Theatre of Actors (Chernuchin Theatre), New York, New York
How’s this for a hot new musical?
A hip-hop show all about hope that itself is brimming with promise. That’s the effusive charm of Joe Drymala’s Street Lights.
Overflowing with more substantive radio-ready tunes per show than any recent musical in memory, his infectious score is beyond exciting. With a potent mix of pop, R&B, hip-hop and rap, each song is like tapping into a forbidden power source with most providing an unexpected surge of electrifying empowerment. It doesn’t matter that I can’t get the tunes out of my head -- I don’t want to.
For the sake of the New York Musical Theatre Festival (NYMF), Drymala has clearly focused maximum energy on developing a megawatt score, and it shows. That attention comes at the expense of his book, which still needs some work in order to flow seamlessly. Nevertheless, the themes -- centering on Harlem high school students, including two gifted young siblings with the requisite faith they need to make something of their lives -- radiate enormous potential for the future life of this show.
More than realizing her potential is the self-assured Carla Duren, delivering a heart-shattering performance as Monique Willis. As a vocal powerhouse, Duren is remarkably believable as an immensely talented young singer yearning to be the next Alicia Keys.
Same goes for the magnetic Kevin Curtis as her brother Rocky, a high school senior who has his eyes on becoming the next Thurgood Marshall. His ebullient joy upon learning he’s been accepted into Georgetown is about as close as this show comes to a true show-stopping hit. Curtis’ “yes we can” enthusiasm is downright contagious.
But hope as Monique and Rocky might, their dreams risk being jeopardized by their individual associations with a charismatic drug dealer named Damon Cruz, portrayed by the mesmerizing Miguel Jarquin-Moreland. Monique and Rocky learn just how dangerous it can be to play with fire.
Street Lights unabashedly and unapologetically wears its progressive politics transparently on its sleeve -- so much so that it often veers close to becoming overly preachy and even heavy-handed. You can chalk Drymala’s wild-eyed yet earnest passion for activism up to his experience as primary speechwriter for former Democrat National Committee Chairman Howard Dean’s presidential campaign. That explains the few gratuitous digs at the former president. Regardless of one’s politics, there’s an admirable, if slightly naïve, call to action to overcome any obstacle, no matter how formidable.
While the Ryan J. Davis-helmed Street Lights has already concluded its brief NYMF run, these lights won’t dim completely. With San Diego’s Old Globe Theatre already picking up the show for a Left Coast production, I expect to hear eventual raves on how a much further developed and tightened Street Lights is shining brighter than ever and keeping hope alive for a return engagement in New York.
The Full Monty (The SOB Review) - McKnight Theatre, Ordway Center for the Performing Arts, St. Paul, Minnesota
**** (out of ****)
If you live in the Twin Cities, I have just two words for you:
"Drop everything."
Sure, go ahead and drop trou and all, but do what you must to see The Full Monty now playing at St. Paul's Ordway Center for the Performing Arts. In one of those rarest of rarities, Theater Latté Da's excellent and thoroughly enjoyable production is actually much better than the Broadway original.
Sure there was a relatively mild recession going on when I first saw The Full Montyon Broadway nine years ago. With the ravages much more isolated to hard-hit rust-belt cities like Buffalo, the show lacked a certain relevance. It didn't help that Jack O'Brien's direction lacked a desperately needed edge, exacerbated by the incongruity in Howell Binkley's full-tilt, lit-up "Full Monty" sign at the close of the show.
Fast forward nearly nine years and the economic pain is all around us (with the possible exception of Broadway itself). The truth is, we all now know people like those depicted in The Full Monty. How depressing, right?
As the worst recession since the Great Depression has too many of us worrying about whether we're next, you wouldn't think a show about desperately unemployed factory workers daring to take it all off just to earn a quick $50,000 would resonate or thrill. Yet under Peter Rothstein's exceptional, confident direction, Terrence McNally's book and David Yazbek's underrated score become even more salient, all the more gripping and certainly more entertaining today.
Rothstein's direction is a marvel unto itself. In what is his best production yet, he strips The Full Monty down to its grittiest, barest essentials and dresses it up with one of the best ensembles I've seen anywhere this year. Led by Joshua James Campbell, who's perfect as the down-and-out father Jerry Lukowski, the stellar cast shines just fine on its own, thank you, without any fancy, unnecessary lighting.
Veteran Twin Cities actress Wendy Lehr is a veritable laugh machine unto herself as the wisecracking Jeanette Burmeister, who assists the unlikely stripping quintet find its legs. Clearly having the time of her life, Lehr practically steals every scene she's in.
Additionally, Reggie Phoenix scores big as Noah "Horse" Simmons, Zach Curtis is a big ol' fat delight as Dave Bukatinsky, and as Malcolm MacGregor, Randy Schmeling once again delivers a virtuoso performance you'd expect to see on a Broadway stage (in fact, this entire production is worthy of the Great White Way). Schmeling's heartfelt, nuanced turn will leave a lump in your throat and tear in your eye.
So again, if you're in Minneapolis, St. Paul or environs, shake your money-maker over the Ordway and catch this sexy, fun and uplifting Full Monty before it takes off for good on November 8.
Just under 10 years have passed since the musical Ragtimewas last seen on the Great White Way. But thanks to the transfer of an acclaimed run earlier this year at the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC, it's officially back for its second time.
Previews start at Broadway's Neil Simon Theatre this evening for the musical based on E.L. Doctorow's epic novel that's a slice right out of American history. The musical is told from three distinct vantage points spanning 1900 through the dawn of World War I. With score from Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahrens, Ragtime features a book by Terrence McNally. The new production is helmed and choreographed by Marcia Milgrom Dodge in her Main Stem directorial debut.
Nominated for a whopping 13 Tony Awards, Ragtime would only win four, including for McDonald's supporting role, Flaherty and Ahrens' score, McNally's book and William David Brohn's orchestrations. The production played the Ford Center almost exactly two years, closing on January 16, 2000 after 834 performances. While you might think two years on the boards would translate to success, the show was anything but critically or financially.
Blessed with beauty, ambition, a smashing wardrobe and a social conscience, Ragtime would seem to be the kind of musical that brings Broadway audiences to their knees in adoration. Then why does this $10 million show, which opened last night at the new Ford Center for the Performing Arts, feel so utterly resistible?
[T]he production has a correspondingly commemorative quality. A panoramic look at the beginning of this century from the perspective of its end, it often has the feeling of an instructional diorama in a pavilion at a world's fair.
No wonder Ragtime's biggest drama occurred off-stage. Notoriety ensued shortly after it opened when Livent, its production company, filed for bankruptcy. Foreshadowing things to come, Canadian producer Garth Drabinsky was indicted for fraud. Those charges are still pending.
This time around, there's hope that things will be dramatically better in every respect. After all, the show is a transfer from the Kennedy Center, where it received rave reviews. Ragtime's gargantuan cast of 40 is led by Christiane Noll as Mother, Robert Petkoff as Tateh, Quentin Earl Darrington as Coalhouse Walker Jr., Stephanie Umoh as Sarah and Ron Bohmer as Father.
Coming full circle, I never saw Ragtime on Broadway, but I did manage to see the show during its first national tour stop at Washington's National Theatre in 1998. I remember being dazzled by both the production quality and the performances, but was less than wowed by the show itself.
Given the accolades the revival has received in my former hometown a little more than ten years later, I'm excited to see whether Dodge can make this Ragtime swing. Ragtime opens November 15.
Tonight marks the Broadway debut for a work by acclaimed playwright Sarah Ruhl, who was a 2005 Pulitzer Prize finalist for The Clean House. Her In The Next Room or the vibrator play, which begins previews this evening at Rialto's Lyceum Theatre, is also her very first work to be staged on the Great White Way.
Since Lincoln Center's Vivian Beaumont Theatre is already occupied by Bartlett Sher's Tony-winning revival of South Pacific, the non-profit is once again mounting part of its subscriber season in a for-profit Broadway house. In The Next Room is scheduled to open November 19 and run through January 10, 2010.
Ruhl's provocative title, of course, hints at its potentially stimulating subject matter. Lincoln Center describes the work as follows:
What exactly were doctors thinking back in the 1880s at the dawn of the age of electricity, when they utilized vibrator therapies on their female patients in the name of medical treatment? And what did the women think was happening to them when doctors allayed their so-called "hysteria" with a very personal newfangled machine? That's what Sarah Ruhl wondered when she set out to write In The Next Room or the vibrator play. Hysteria was a real diagnosis, and a quite common one given to women in the Victorian age. Just as common was medical treatment with electrical stimulating machines, the vibrators of the day, to ease their condition!
In The Next Room or the vibrator play is a provocative, funny, touching and marvelously entertaining story about a young doctor and his wife. Dr. Givings (Michael Cerveris) is obsessed with the marvels of technology and what they can do for his patients. His wife, Catherine, (Laura Benanti) is only a bystander in her husband's world -- listening at the door from the next room as he treats his female patients. Dr. Givings is not sure exactly how the vibrators help the women he treats -- but they do keep coming back. The only woman whose problem is not helped by the doctor is his own wife who longs to connect with him -- but not electrically.
You don't even have to enter Off-Broadway's Westside Theatre to grasp that this is an intimate evening aimed first and foremost at females of all ages.
But like every guy, I have a mother. I even grew up with an older sister. And fortunately for me, I'm blessed with a host of very special relationships with some exceptional women. So while Love, Loss, And What I Wore is made for women, it's certainly strong enough for men with tale after familiar tale that will recall everything we know and love about the better sex. Male or female, we can all relate.
Blessed with a rotating cast of five, Love, Loss, And What I Wore is a much more accessible Vagina Monologuesfor the 21st Century. Please don't misunderstand. I found Eve Ensler's groundbreaking selections of staged readings from the last decade to be potent, brave and empowering. But let's face it, the title alone translated to my being one of relatively few men in its audience. In fact, I felt every bit as conspicuous there as I did the time I took in an "Oprah" taping.
While there were more masculine faces in the Westside Theatre, it's really deserving of significantly more. That's because regardless of our gender, most of us should be able to identify with this dramatic, funny and often poignant reading of "an intimate collection of stories" from the mother/daughter team of Nora Ephron and Delia Ephron.
Even though it's not afraid to wear its outsized heart on its beautifully crafted sleeve, Love, Loss, And What I Wore stitches its myriad swatches of vignettes ranging from marriage, infidelity and divorce to breast cancer with a common thread: essentially how profound passages from disparate women's lives are accessorized by memorable apparel. But rather than serving as window dressing, the attire constitutes quintessential landmarks for remembering the milestones in these ladies' lives.
When I caught this past Sunday's show, it not only featured Tyne Daly, who continues with Love, Loss, And What I Wore through November 15, but also Samantha Bee, Katie Finneran, Natasha Lyonne and Rosie O'Donnell. Even though this is staged as a reading, it became apparent very quickly that each of the actresses had taken their assigned sketches to heart, rarely glancing at the music stands in front of them as if only to turn the page.
With a graceful maturity, Daly grounds the production throughout. The Tony-winning Finneran handled most of the heaviest lifting of the show's particuarly weighty topics, but she did so with a calming ease, almost as if she was merely putting on a lightweight coat. Lyonne offered a no-nonsense approach, while Bee added a delightful dose of humor, especially as a German shrink. Yet it was the warmhearted O'Donnell who surprised the most in mining the most laughs, but in a most reverential fashion.
Clocking in at a mere 85 minutes, director Karen Carpenter paces Love, Loss, And What I Wore with style and care. With topics that will touch the hearts of both sexes, what would I tell any guy asking if the show is worth seeing?
101 Dalmatians (The SOB Review) - Orpheum Theatre, Minneapolis, Minnesota
*1/2 (out of ****)
Given the wonderful seminal movie-going experience Disney's 1961 animated feature "101 Dalmatians" afforded me, I eagerly anticipated and chowed down on everything from its initial release on videotape and DVD to movie memorabilia to the 1996 feature film.
So when I learned that Tony Award-winning director Jerry Zaks would be helming a stage musical version, how could I resist? Turns out this tale is far from man's best friend.
When it comes to the non-Disney touring production of The 101 Dalmatians Musicalthat made its initial bow in Minneapolis last week, there's no beating around the bushes (which, parents should duly note, are apparently inhabited with dogs in serious heat). Unfortunately, it's all bow, with too little wow. Some of those gasps you're likely to hear are parents who are caught off-guard by several instances of off-color humor.
It would be easy for any wag to dismiss the tuner as one giant dog of a show, but that really wouldn't be fair to any canine. Its creators may insist that this 101 Dalmatians is meant to reflect Dodie Smith's original 1956 children's novel, but it readily becomes apparent that this is merely a feeble attempt to cash-in on the far superior Disney forebears.
Act One certainly shows some promise, including flourishes in its score reminiscent of the heyday for 70s rock band Styx. That's in part because it's been written by the group's front-man Dennis DeYoung. Unfortunately, the second act becomes hackneyed and the score is simply derivative.
But that's a mutt point if you deliver on what "101 Dalmatians" fans have enjoyed most about the earlier incarnations: the cute furry dogs and the fiendish Cruella DeVil. In this 101 Dalmatians, both aren't on stage nearly enough even if they represent the most satisfying aspects of the show.
With varying effect, the adult characters warily maneuver the stage in costumes built for stilts so as to appear larger than the the humans portraying Pongo, Missus and their own litter of puppies (played by children). To supplement these "dogs," up to 15 genuine dalmatians are used, along with what appear to be cardboard cutouts, to amass the quantities the title demands.
Sorry to say, these real dogs are only used at the end of each act. At the conclusion of the show, the real dalmatians chew the scenery quite literally by putting on a pleasing display of impressively stupid pet tricks. Considering that they elicit a much larger audience response than the rest of the show put together (with one notable exception that I'll get to in a moment), they demonstrate just how little meat is on this 101 Dalmatians' bones.
As for that exception, the enormously talented Rachel York is a delirious delight as the devilish Cruella. Despite being criminally underutilized, the wickedly funny York radiates the musical's only real heat whenever she blazes across the stage. She really sinks her teeth into the production and employs her considerable vocal skills to tremendous effect. York is also one of the few actors in this production who seems truly comfortable on those stilts.
Suffice to say, without York, 101 Dalmatians would just sit there with no bark and no bite. And that's a doggone shame.
Chita Rivera (The SOB Review) – Birdland, New York, New York
***1/2 (out of ****)
What becomes a legend most?
Signature roles that have become so deeply ingrained into our collective popular psyche like Anita (West Side Story), Rose (Bye Bye Birdie), Velma (Chicago) or Aurora (Kiss of the Spider Woman) that they've forever earned a special place in our hearts?
How about two Tony Award honors (The Rink and Kiss Of The Spider Woman) out of nine Tony nods after appearing in 15 Broadway shows spanning 55 years?
Or a personalized Broadway show (the 2005-06 production of Chita Rivera: The Dancer's Life) based on the legend's extraordinary life?
Sure, each of these exceptional chapters from the distinguished life of Chita Rivera alone could easily be considered a lasting legacy for most acclaimed actors. And they would justifiably wear any of these achievements proudly.
But most actors are not Chita Rivera. The truth is, if the 76-years young Dolores Conchita Figueroa del Rivero hadn't been born the Broadway Baby she is, the Great White Way would have had to invent her. The fact that she's the genuine article who's still going strong after all these years not only becomes her tenacity, but it's a testament to her courage and talent.
What really becomes Chita Rivera is that she continues to mesmerize adoring audiences as she's proven yet again during her all-too-brief stint last week at Birdland. Sure, we've heard many of the enchanting anecdotes before. But when the enduring and endearing Ms. Rivera can run circles around gifted performers half her age, she effortlessly retains the mantle as the singular consummate entertainer of our time.
With even the slightest of movement in accentuating her greatest hits ranging from West Side Story's "America" to Chicago's "All That Jazz," as well as humorous stories touching on everyone from Donald O'Connor to Catherine Zeta-Jones (click here to see what she told the latter on the first night of her Birdland gig), Rivera proves that she has more going on in one little finger than most younger performers have, period. Ms. Rivera not only easily holds her audience in the palm of her hand, but she tenderly carresses them and tops it off with a loving kiss.
This marked my fifth opportunity to see this legendary performer on stage. With all the vitality she continues to possess, I have no doubt I'll have many more chances to revel in her exquisite charm.
If you've never seen Chita Rivera live, you simply haven't lived.
"Come for the music. Come for the dancing. Come awaken your soul."
So beckons Fela!-- a show that dares to call itself the "most original new musical on Broadway." The tuner begins previews tonight at the Eugene O'Neill Theatre.
Fela! is based on the life of the late Nigerian Afrobeat pioneer and political activist Fela Anikulapo-Kuti (who died in 1997) and features his provocative music, along with additional lyrics from Jim Lewis. Sahr Ngaujah recreates his Obie-winning turn in the title role, although he alternates performances with Kevin Mambo.
During its earlier 2008 incarnation at Off-Broadway's 37 Arts Theatre, Fela! won both critical praise and honors, including three Lucille Lortel Awards for Outstanding Musical, Outstanding Choregraphy for director Bill T. Jones (who earlier earned a Tony for his choreography of Spring Awakening) and Outstanding Costume Design for Marina Draghici.
Influenced by the Black Panthers during a late-sixties stay in the United States, Anikulapo-Kuti returned home to Nigeria and challenged the government's corruption through music the ruling party found highly incendiary. He also organized his own self-declared Kalakuta Republic, a commune which was later burned. After forming his own political party, Movement for the People, Anikulapo-Kuti tried putting himself forth as a presidential candidate, only to be quashed.
At one time, Anikulapo-Kuti also had 27 wives, although he later declared "marriage brings jealousy and selfishness."
Sadly, the musician-activist would ultimately die of AIDS in 1997. His funeral would attract over 1 million mourners.
Bill T. Jones was clearly inspired, thus conceiving and writing the book for this musical. The Fela! Web site described the production as follows:
If you like soul-stirring rhythms, compelling real-life stories and passionate choreography, you will love Fela!
Fela! is a new musical directed and choreographed by Tony Award winner Bill T. Jones, with a book by Jim Lewis and Bill T. Jones, in which audiences are welcomed into the extravagant, decadent and rebellious world of Afrobeat legend Fela Kuti. Using his pioneering music (a blend of jazz, funk and African rhythm and harmonies), Fela! explores Kuti's controversial life as artist, political activist and revolutionary musician.
Featuring many of Fela Kuti’s most captivating songs and Bill T. Jones’s visionary staging, Fela! is the most original new musical on Broadway.
Currently slated with an open-ended run, the intriguing Fela! opens on November 19.
Bye Bye Birdie (The SOB Review) - Henry Miller's Theatre, Roundabout Theatre Company, New York, New York
* (out of ****)
Pity the incredibly talented young Allie Trimm, who portrays teenybopper Kim MacAfee in director Robert Longbottom's ill-conceived, bird-brained revival of that favorite high school musical Bye Bye Birdie.
Try as this gifted young actress might to build on the solid foundation she established through her assured turn in13, she's suffocating under the collapse of one gigantic egg that's been laid. Sure that egg may be as heavy and look as ornate as a precious Fabergé, but it's pretty hollow inside.
Although Trimm certainly helped carry 13, she's now being forced to undertake the unenviable task of singlehandedly lifting this ridiculous revival. And that hand has been tied behind her back.
So never mind the kids, who along with Nolan Gerard Funk as the swaggering heartthrob Conrad Birdie, are for the most part all right. A much larger question looms. What's the matter with adults today?! Beginning with Longbottom right down to the casting directors, did they really think their Birdie would soar, let alone fly?
Not even the normally unimpeachable Bill Irwin or Jayne Houdyshell can save this half-hatched show from itself. Irwin as Harry MacAfee is more than a bit off, particularly on the tune "Kids." There's no disputing his comic genius; yet when he first takes to the stage, it's as if he's in a completely different production. No wonder his accent is all over the map. Too bad he can't zero in on Ohio, where most of Bye Bye Birdie's action transpires. And as much as I'm an avowed Houdyshell fan, she leaves the role of the annoying Mae Peterson purely one dimensional.
Then there are the quote-unquote headliners, who aren't all they're cracked up to be.
As much as I enjoyed Gina Gershon in the recent revival of Boeing-Boeing, she's been completely miscast here as Rose Alvarez, the Latina spitfire who here can't even manage a spark with John Stamos' Albert Peterson. To be blunt, Ms. Gershon can't sing. And try as she might to dance, it's clear from the excision of "Shriner's Ballet" from the show that she's really not up to that, either.
To say Stamos is a little better than Gershon is like saying that the recent Guys And Dollsdud of a revival was a little better than this one. What this Bye Bye Birdie does for Stamos' Albert is basically what that Guys And Dolls did for Oliver Platt's Nathan Detroit. It takes a memorable leading role and somehow twists it into a forgettable tertiary character. No amount of mugging in Stamos' big number could make me muster a happy face. Perhaps seeing the handwriting on the wall, it's no wonder that when it accidentally broke apart during its final Wednesday night preview, Stamos quipped (maybe metaphorically), "It’s a career-ending moment."
Having said all that, the kids are indeed the best part of the show. That the little Jake Evan Schwenke as Randolph MacAfee easily steals every scene only serves to further diminish the dubious capabilities of the assembled adults both on stage and behind the curtain.
Bye Bye Birdie is at once very dated and very silly. Whether it's Mae's egregious wisecracks about Rose's Hispanic heritage or Albert's kowtowing to his insufferable mother, Michael Stewart's book becomes a throwback to another era that should best stay in the past. Although I'd love to say that it's a pleasure hearing Charles Strouse and Lee Adams' score once again, most of the voices within this revival just aren't made to sing them.
As for Roundabout, I have little doubt that once their subscriber base finishes seeing it, they'll indeed be saying Bye Bye Birdie. Too bad there'll be a good riddance attached to it as well.
UPDATE - 10.31.2009: Brighton Beach Memoirs will close just one week after opening due to weak box office demand, thus scuttling the planned revival of Broadway Bound.
In my earlier post, I mentioned the two things that truly intrigue me about the revival. One is that it's being helmed by Chicago's visionary director David Cromer. The other is that Cromer will soon be staging it in repertory with his revival of Broadway Bound.
As I noted, both works are part of what's been dubbed the "Eugene Trilogy" since they, along with the jettisoned Biloxi Blues, revolve around Simon's young alter-ego Eugene Jerome.
Laurie Metcalf and Dennis Boutsikaris headline each as Kate and Jack Jerome, respectively. Santino Fontana will tackle Stanley Jerome in both, and Jessica Hecht plays Blanche in each. While Noah Robbins is portraying Eugene in Brighton Beach Memoirs, Theatre World Award winner Josh Grisetti assumes the Eugene mantle in Broadway Bound, a play set 12 years beyond the first.
When originally produced on the Great White Way, each of the three plays comprising Simon's cycle came in relatively short order. Brighton Beach Memoirs debuted on Broadway in 1983, Biloxi Blues followed in 1985, and Broadway Boundrealizedexactly that when it opened at the Broadhurst Theatre on December 4, 1986. All were directed by Gene Saks.
However, unlike the new Simon Plays in which Metcalfe, Boutsikaris, Fontana and Hecht portray the same chacters in both shows, the cast of the original Broadway Bound was different from Brighton Beach Memoirs. Cast in the Broadway Bound roles first seen Brighton Beach Memoirs were Linda Lavin as Kate, Philip Sterling as Jack, Jason Alexander as Stanley, Phyllis Newman as Blanche and a young Jonathan Silverman as Eugene. John Randolph and Philip Sterling were also in the cast.
Not only was Broadway Bound nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, it also earned Simon a Tony nomination. Lavin and Randolph would each win Tony Awards for their performances, while Newman, in her last Broadway role to date, would earn a Tony nod. The show finally closed in September 1988 after 756 performances.
As I mentioned yesterday, the only real reported news I've heard for the Simon Plays has been relegated to behind-the-scenes strife. Fortunately, I've already heard great buzz about the first installment that began previews earlier this month.
Audiences will have their first opportunity to see previews of Broadway Bound beginning November 18; the show will open December 10 -- a month and a half after Brighton Beach Memoirs opens October 25. The two shows begin playing in rep just in time for Thanksgiving.
UPDATE - 10.31.2009: Brighton Beach Memoirs will close just one week after opening due to weak box office demand, thus scuttling the planned revival of Broadway Bound.
The Gene Saks-helmed production not only enjoyed a whopping 1,299 performances over a three year-two month period -- pretty remarkable for a straight play -- it also helped launch the career of a young actor named Matthew Broderick.
Broderick would go on to earn his first Tony Award portraying Eugene Jerome. He'd revisit the role via Simon's second portion of his "Eugene Trilogy," Biloxi Blues, which enjoyed a successful concurrent run with Brighton Beach Memoirs from 1985-86. (Alas, Jonathan Silverman would play Eugene in Broadway Bound,the third play in the cycle that ran for nearly two years starting in 1986.)
Broderick was joined in Brighton Beach Memoirs by Elizabeth Franz as his mother Kate, Peter Michael Goetz as his father Jack and Željko Ivanek as his brother Stanley, along with Mandy Ingber, Jodi Thelen and Joyce Van Patten. In addition to Broderick's Tony, Zaks would score one for his direction, while Franz and Ivanek would each receive nominations for their turns.
Now, over a quarter century after the show's Broadway debut comes its hotly anticipated first revival. What makes the revival intriguing is that it's being directed by the super-hot visionary David Cromer, who breathed incredible new life into Our Town. Cromer is adding to the intrigue by ultimately playing Brighton Beach Memoirs in repertory with a revival of Broadway Bound. (Sorry, Biloxi Blues fans -- the middle portion of the trilogy is not included.)
Laurie Metcalf and Dennis Boutsikaris will star in each as Kate and Jack, respectively. Santino Fontana will tackle Stanley Jerome in both, and Jessica Hecht will also be in both installments as Blanche. Noah Robbins is set to make his Broadway debut in Brighton Beach Memoirs as Eugene, Neil Simon's alter ego. The young actor graduated earlier this year from Washington's Georgetown Day School. (In Broadway Bound, Theatre World Award winner Josh Grisetti assumes the role of the older Eugene. More on that portion of the overarching production to come.)
Will Brighton Beach Memoirs create the same lasting memories as the first? While its only real reported buzz has been relegated to behind-the-scenes strife, I'm hearing from my trusted insiders who have already seen early previews that it's a wonderfully solid production.
This first of two Simon Plays opens October 25. I'll offer my SOB Review shortly thereafter.
Mistakes Were Made (The SOB Review) - A Red Orchid Theatre, Chicago, Illinois
*** (out of ****)
Felix Artifex, the bumptious, brash antihero of Craig Wright's caustically funny new comedy Mistakes Were Made, certainly is much too preoccupied to even ponder the old proverb that "Desperate times call for desperate measures."
Yet this blustery, sell-out of a would-be Broadway producer who clearly hasn't had a recent hit, if ever, is the epitome of that saying. He certainly has volumes over which to despair.
Played with a daring degree of delirious dexterity by Michael Shannon, Felix is willing to gamble everything he has on the chance to stage his first world premiere on the Great White Way. As part of his garish gambit, Mistakes Were Made aplenty and more are fully loaded.
Already, Felix has toted up some doozies including alienating and losing his wife for reasons that become all too clear. In the name of compromise, Felix is all too willing to throw his playwright and his French Revolutionary work under the bus in the name of snagging a hot young actor to sell tickets for his production. He's also willing to lie to everyone from his director to his money people. And speaking of money, he's in such dire need of it, he tries moving shipments of sheep through an unnamed, yet all too familiar wartorn theatre.
Subtle he's not. Yet as abrassive, shallow and difficult as Felix becomes, Shannon suffuses his role with just enough dignity that you find yourself cheering him on as he banters via telephone with an unseen cavalcade of characters. With the exception of his mostly heard but rarely seen secretary (Mierka Girten), Mistakes Were Made is as close as any play can get to being a one-man-show without truly being one. As Shannon gets revved up, his Felix exhibits more than a whiff of desperation -- he perspires so precipitously and progressively that you're practically waiting for him to keel over dead from a heart attack. Shannon's nearly heartstopping turn is the very definition of a tour de force performance.
Wright's largely one-sided dialogue is mostly whipsaw smart, especially with an unceasing barrage of seemingly throw-away lines that add tremendously to Felix's depth, thanks in no small part to Dexter Bullard's deft direction. While Wright's Middle Eastern tangent is less sheepish than contrived, it does manage to tie-up lines 3, 4, 5 and 7 of Felix's incoming calls to uproarious initial effect.
Despite a few missteps, Mistakes Were Made is a jaunty, juicy laugh-out-loud comedy that would simply be a mistake to miss.
The world premiere of Mistakes Were Made concludes its limited run at the very intimate 75-seat A Red Orchid Theatre on October 23. Another production of Mistakes Were Madewill open at Connecticut's Hartford Stage October 29.
Oleanna (The SOB Review) – John Golden Theatre, New York, New York
***1/2 (out of ****)
Temperature flares. Blood boils. High-voltage emotions not easily overcome. Whew!
And that’s just ... me.
After taking in the outstanding current Broadway revival of David Mamet’s Oleanna (“revival” is a bit of a misnomer given that this is the first time the playwright’s explosively-charged drama about sexual exploitation has physically graced a Great White Way stage), I was thankful and relieved for the talkback session immediately following my preview performance of this impressively spent powder keg.
Thankful because after witnessing the tightly-wound precision in which Doug Hughes exactingly directs Bill Pullman and Julia Stiles in this 75-minute two-hander, I couldn't help but think, “Certainly the prism through which I'm viewing this ‘he said-she said’ case in such a clear-cut manner just has to have been shared by every other audience member regardless of gender.”
In Oleanna, the powerful Pullman portrays John, a married college professor on the cusp of attaining tenure. He's confronted in the second act by his somewhat dim, yet prepossessing student Carol (Stiles, in an initially stilted, yet ultimately chilling Broadway debut). She's claiming sexual harassment after the first act's discussion between the two over a poor grade he gave her -- a private discussion that transpired behind closed doors.
As for being relieved, well that's just because during my particular talkback, virtually everyone providing their opinions, female and male alike, seemed to be on exactly same page as I. There was no equivocation on anything -- except, perhaps, for the viewpoints on what is motivating Oleanna's vividly drawn individuals to do what they do.
Far be it from me to give anything else away here. So instead, let's just say I found myself so incredibly infuriated and outraged with one of the Oleanna’s two characters, from my front-row center seat no less, that I was finding myself suppressing something I never felt before in all my years of theatregoing: a most unusual and downright primal urge to bound the stage and take down the parasitical character directly in front of me. That in and of itself makes this Oleanna a triumph. But it's also quite a surprise this production doesn’t employ bouncers to guard against less stable audience members!
In the days since seeing the play, I have found myself replaying all of Mamet’s words over and over again in my mind, parsing the potentially incendiary statements from both John and Carol long after I left the Golden Theatre. Can it really be that these very same lines, if delivered even the slightest bit differently in nuance or intonation, could easily be construed another way? The answer is absolutely yes.
Given opposing points of view I've heard from other performances, I have to wonder whether Hughes et al are indeed changing it up each night so as to keep future audiences guessing or mulling over or -- much more probable -- arguing over the same questions.
What is truly remarkable about Oleanna is that Mamet has taken a highly flammable topic such a sexual harassment and turned it on its head. Surely, most among us can agree without hesitation that such acts are vile and reprehensible.
Through Oleanna, Mamet practically demands you to rethink what you already feel is right and just-- the question is whether you'll second guess yourself during the show or after. And that Mamet commands this kind of sway is all the more remarkable given that he originally mounted this work in the heady wake of the infamous confirmation hearings for Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas in which Anita Hill’s devastating testimony nearly served as the modern-day lynchpin in defeating his appointment.
Be forewarned, while parallels can easily be drawn with that notorious episode in our history, your conclusions may be turned inside out after sitting through Oleanna. And that's the payback you may have been waiting for. Or maybe not.
When the Burton Lane-E.Y. Harburg musical Finian's Rainbowfirst arched over the Great White Way in 1947, it was ahead of its time in challenging the deeply-held racial prejudices, not only the Deep South, but throughout American society.
Considering the times, this was one audacious effort.
With Finian's Rainbow lampooning racist elected officials, along with its highly memorable score -- including such beloved tunes as "How Are Things in Glocca Morra?" and "Old Devil Moon" -- the musical became a solid hit after opening at 46th Street Theatre (currently Richard Rodgers Theatre), running for an amazing 725 performances.
Now, some 62 years later with, thankfully, a vastly different landscape in which the racial divide has been forever bridged, Finian's Rainbow is back on Broadway at the St. James Theatre where it began previews just yesterday. This time, the cast is headed by the brilliant Jim Norton (Tony-winner for The Seafarer, 2007-08) in the title role, the gorgeous Kate Baldwin as Sharon, and the studly Cheyenne Jackson as Woody. All are reprising the roles they created earlier this year at New York City Center Encores!
Aside from the initial 1947-48 production, New York City Center quite curiously has figured prominently in each of the subsequent three revivals for Finian's Rainbow right up through the current one.
The first revival was a brief 15-show stint in 1955 at City Center in which Will Mahoney was Tony-nominated for his portrayal of Finian. Tony-winning actress Helen Gallagher played Sharon alongside a young Merv Griffin as Woody in his only Broadway credit.
The next Finian's Rainbow revival enjoyed a one-week engagement at the 46th Street Theatre during the late spring of 1960 after being transferred from City Center. Directed and choreographed by Herbert Ross, the production starred Bobby Howes (Finian), Jeannie Carson (Sharon), Biff McGuire (Woody) and Howard Morris (Og). For trivia nuts, you'll delight in knowing that Anita Alvarez starred in each of the first three productions, portraying Susan in all of them.
After catching the City Center concert version last March, I noted how I enjoyed the terrific individual performances but lamented that Harburg and Fred Saidy' s "ridiculously creaky book reads more like a relic." Fortunately, one of Steve On Broadway's trusted eyes and ears at the initial preview told me, "It's a wonderful production."
Instead of just another sentimental journey, can the Finian's Rainbow revival find anything akin to that audaciously sweet pot of gold it originally found 62 years ago? Find out when I post my SOB Review shortly after the revival's October 29 opening.
Rain: A Tribute To The Beatles Limited run extended through May 31, 2011 (Show will go on hiatus starting January 15 and reopen at Brooks Atkinson Theatre on February 8)
Rock Of Ages - Open-ended run (Show will go on hiatus starting January 9 and reopen at Helen Hayes Theatre in March)
As someone who has been involved in both politics and public relations, it's no wonder I love watching theatre. Good or bad, it's the raw energy of seeing a live performance that gets my adrenaline pumping. From the moment I saw my very first Broadway show ("Annie" in London in 1979), I was hooked. Now I see as many as 70 shows each year ranging from soaring musicals to two-hander plays. And these eyes just may be in an audience near you!
Brighton Beach: Too Soon To Fade To Memories
