Friday, February 26, 2016

Preview Thoughts on Familiar and Eclipsed

I've been counting the minutes until I can see Danai Gurira's Eclipsed, because I really regretted missing it at the Public, and I was also excited to catch her other play, Familiar, Off-Broadway.  So when I got discount offers for BOTH, I pounced!  I had to!  I was afraid that once the plays were reviewed, no more tickets would be available.  I saw early previews of both, so I'll just offer thoughts (even though both plays have had previous productions)...

Last week, my gorgeous co-worker and I headed over to Playwrights Horizons to see Familiar. The play tells a, yes, familiar family story about the upheaval a wedding can cause.  Because this family is originally from Africa, that only highlights the universality of the specific issues. Love when that happens.  But the stakes are heightened by the clash of cultures between the more modern American customs and the more old-world Zimbabwean cultures inside the family. Even though the problems are somewhat expected, Gurira's characters, dialogue and situations were wonderfully idiosyncratic.  I'd never seen a story quite like this one, with twists and turns throughout, but the characters were so relatable and real.

photo credit: Joan Marcus
Nyasha, the younger daughter of affluent Minneapolis couple Donald and Marvelous, has just returned from a trip to Zimbabwe, where her family came from.  It's clear she has reservations about being home and her parents have reservations about her free spirit and career in the arts.  All of the bickering could be from any family anywhere.  Once Nyasha's older sister, Tendi, arrives, all bets are off.  Tendi seems to be everything Nyasha is not: confident, successful and certain of herself.  She is the one getting married, to a white man, and they have decided to participate in an ancient African pre-marital ceremony.  Their auntie Anne comes from Zimbabwe to perform the ceremony - it's revealed that Marvelous didn't want her sister to attend and is completely against the ceremony.  So we have the conflict between the sisters Nyasha and Tendi, the conflict between the sisters Marvelous and Anne, and the conflict between the generations.  Even Chris, Tendi's fiancĂ©, has conflict with his brother, Brad, who is invited to participate in the ceremony.

If that sounds like a lot of plot, it kind of is.  And that's really just the first act.  The play, up to this point, is pretty much a comedy.  There is a riotous curtain-dropping moment at the end of Act One that was completely unexpected, hilarious and totally right.  Then the second act takes a different turn and we find out deep, long-hidden secrets of the family that weren't even hinted at in the first act.  So the turn in tone, and the plot changes, were a little abrupt and felt maybe a little tacked on.  It was hard to figure out whose story Familiar was: each character had so much going on, that each one took a turn in the spotlight, then stepped aside to support the next.  Although I appreciated the juggling of stories, I did feel things were maybe a little unfocused.  Perhaps that's because it was only the second or third preview.

I did think the dialogue was very clever and rich and the acting was first-rate.  I was quite moved at the end, as well.  I enjoyed myself, though I did have some reservations about the play itself.   My seat neighbor, on the other hand, did not.  He laughed uproariously at everything, even stuff that probably wasn't supposed to get a laugh.  It was as if he read this was a rollicking comedy and gosh darn it, he was going to respond that way!  It was a little odd.  But I was glad to have seen Familiar and it only made me look forward to Eclipsed even more.

After actress Lupita Nyong'o won her Oscar for 12 Years a Slave, she could've had her pick of any project.  She chose to return to the stage in a play for which she'd been an understudy while she was a student at Yale.  It's probably safe to say that Eclipsed wouldn't have gotten a New York production without her involvement.  She should be proud she helped bring this important story to the stage.

Set in 2003 during the Liberian conflict, Eclipsed tells the story of five women who are somehow trying to retain their humanity even while being brutalized and systematically erased by the degradation that goes on around them.  When the play begins, we see two women sitting in a ramshackle hut, the older doing the younger's hair.  Suddenly, a very young girl bounces out from under a plastic tub - she is being hidden so that the "CO" won't take her on as another 'wife'.  The older woman is Wife #1, the other woman is pregnant and Wife #3.  The young girl, referred to as The Girl in the playbill and played by Lupita Nyong'o, becomes Wife #4 because she made the mistake of going outside the hut to go to the bathroom - while she was out there, she was raped by the CO and made into one of his 'wives'.  It's harrowing stuff, yet, the way the woman protect and encourage each other is incredible.  It's so beautiful to be reminded of the way sisterhood and motherhood can transcend nearly anything.  The women do each other's hair, try on discarded clothes, reassure Wife #3 that she will not be raising her unborn child alone.  The Girl still has a naivete and innocence about her - she dreams of a career and using her book learning.  There is a lot of humor and affection in these scenes in the hut, even while the horror is going on outside.  A running joke has The Girl reading from the only book available to them: a tattered copy of Bill Clinton's autobiography.  Listening to the women try to parse out Clinton's life in government and the sexual scandals was very amusing (they even refer to Monica Lewinsky as "#2").  But then every few minutes, a light will shine off stage, the women will stand up in a line, and one of them will be selected to have sex with the CO.  There is a basin with water and rags by the door so they can clean up after every encounter.  So we always know that the lightheartedness in their lives is very finite.

Because #1 (part of the poignancy of the script is that each woman has either forgotten or repressed her real name, because she doesn't want to remember who she was before this sad situation, she would rather keep her head above water to survive and they all refer to each other by number) is a little bit older, and because #3 is pregnant and getting bigger every day, The Girl/#4 gets called on more and more for sex with the CO.  She begins losing her hope, her spark and liveliness - then one day, the girl who formerly was Wife #2 arrives, carrying a rifle and a bag of rice.  She has escaped being a sex slave for the CO and has begun fighting with the rebels.  She tries to talk The Girl into joining her, instead of staying behind in the hut.  The rest of the play is rather a tug of war for The Girl's soul.  The Girl decides that she cannot let the CO have his way with her whenever he wants and former Wife #2 convinces her that she will have power over herself if she joins the rebels.  The first act ends with The Girl deciding to leave the hut to join #2 (who now calls herself Disgruntled).

photo credit: Sara Krulwich
I enjoyed the lived-in quality of the first act, how we were just thrown into these lives and we lived them alongside the characters.  There was a deliberateness to the pacing, perhaps so we could fully know and appreciate the futility of the women's lives.  I did think the first act was a little too long, though, it currently runs about an hour and twenty minutes, which did start to seem too much by the end of the act.  The second act is shorter and infinitely more brutal.  The Girl sees that her choice to become a rebel was not without more inhumanity - the scene when she discovers she's going to have to give other girls to the rebel fighters as sex slaves if she doesn't want to become one is horrifying.  Later, her monologue about the gang rape and murder of another young girl is simply harrowing.  The response from #2/Disgruntled is even more harrowing. 

photo credit: Joan Marcus
I mentioned that the story was about five women - the fifth woman is Rita, a member of the women's council who is advocating for peace.  Rita also has a secret and when we discover it at the end of the play...shattering.  She always asks the other women what their real name is, the name their mother gave them, as if she's trying to give back the lives the women once had.  How she engages with them and ends up in their final choices is quite beautiful.  And not. 

Eclipsed is very powerful, scary, threatening and oh so sad.  I was sobbing at the end and could barely see or hear what was going on.  And the last image was terrifically haunting.  I will admit to already finding stories about young women in the middle of war so sad and moving, so I guess this play was in my wheelhouse.  But I thought it was really smartly put together and movingly acted by the entire cast.  I also have to admit that I was thrilled to see both Familiar and Eclipsed were directed by women - not that only women can tell women's stories written by women, but I'm happy to see more women get the chance.  That's all.  I was also happy to see a really diverse audience last night; for once, I wasn't one of the youngest people in the room, and all of the faces around me didn't look much like mine.  I appreciated that.  I highly recommend both plays, though maybe I found Eclipsed the tiniest bit more satisfying theatrically, but they are both so worth your time and money.  Oh, but a word of warning, if you're picking up your tickets at the box office, do not get to the theater less than 30 minutes prior to curtain.  There's only one line for both the box office and to enter the theater, plus there are people checking bags on your way in.  I stood in line for quite some time and it was pretty confusing and rather a mess out there.  Again, it was maybe because I was there for an early preview and they haven't quite figured things out yet.  But if you're like me and want to be in your seat in plenty of time before the curtain, don't dawdle.  A tip from me to you.  :)

Thursday, February 25, 2016

A cool (yet not) New York-y experience

Last weekend, a co-worker gave me two tickets he couldn't use to see a new play done in a cool way - in a hotel room!  I'm trying to remember the last site-specific show I've seen...and I can't remember one.  That can't be right.  Anyway, it was a fun adventure and I was happy to spend the day with a very handsome friend.  I haven't seen any press about this particular show online anywhere.  I was looking at my program and it doesn't say not to talk about the show online, but I feel a little awkward.  I think I'll focus on the experience rather than the specifics, if you don't mind.  Of course, you're all really smart, so you'll put the clues together, but still...

My friend and I met at le Parker Meridien hotel a little early, so we could figure out where to go and what to do.  The confirmation sheet I had was a little vague.  We went into the STUNNING bar in the hotel, The Knave, and asked the bartender if he knew what was happening.  He didn't, but he went to ask the concierge for us; when he came back, he told us to have a seat and someone would come find us at show time.  OK.  That sounds easy.  My very handsome friend and I decided to sit in that gorgeous bar and enjoy a drink before the show.  He got a Negroni and I got an iced tea, having decided that a cocktail before a show in a hotel room might not be a good idea and perhaps a beverage with caffeine WOULD be a good idea.  Both drinks were delicious.  And pricey.  I'd love to go back to The Knave, but I'll have to save up a little more money first.

A gentleman did indeed walk into the bar, carrying a clipboard with the play's title on it.  He asked everyone sitting in the bar area for their name, to confirm they were on the guest list, then said he'd be back in about ten minutes and we should all meet in the lobby.  OK.  Another friend of mine just happened to come into the bar at the same time, so we gabbed for a few minutes, then went out into the lobby for our next move.  After waiting, and worrying we'd missed him, after a few minutes our gent arrived and led us to the small hallway and elevators.  Since each showing of the play seats 20 people only, it took three elevator loads to get everyone upstairs.  We were led into the hotel room and told to sit in the gold chairs.  The hotel room was nice, with a little sitting area on the other side of the bed area, which made for more playing room for the actors.

When we walked in, the shower was running, so we figured one of the actors was in the bathroom to make their entrance.  Which he was.  But before he came into the room, there was a knock at the hotel room door and a woman entered the room.  She wandered around, furtively looking at things in the room, before the man came in from the bathroom.  He is shocked to see this woman from his past in the room; he wasn't expecting her.  And so the play begins.

The play is about 80 minutes of very high drama, with ups and downs, twists and turns, some of them well-done and some of them at the expense of the truth of the piece.  The acting was fantastic, very raw and real.  How the performers kept going with the audience so close to them, I don't know.  For me, it was fascinating to be so close to the action; it heightened all of the emotions and made everything so much more immediate to be on such intimate terms with the actors and their movements through the room. 

I will say, however, that I was completely swept up in the emotion of the piece and maybe not the piece itself.  Though I in no way experienced the horror that the girl in this play experienced, I did have an encounter when I was young that shattered my trust, took away my choices (at least in my mind), and made me question myself for years after.  In fact, I still question myself - my culpability, my share in the responsibility, my inability to move forward in certain ways.  I'm still affected, even 30-some years later.  So, for me, being trapped in that hotel room with a figure who, to me, represented my loss of power and innocence, was very overwhelming.  Suffocating.  I was upset and depressed for most the night after seeing the play.  My handsome friend did not have that experience - he enjoyed being so close to the action, but didn't buy into the writing or the story.  Totally valid.  Two totally different reactions, which is almost always to be expected, but maybe on not such a wide scale.  I don't think he noticed that I wasn't very interested in talking about the play afterwards - I encouraged us to go out for dinner to talk about other things.  Thankfully, we did, and afterwards I took a long walk, called a couple friends, and tried to remind myself who I've become after working really hard to get here.  Then I went home and brooded on my own.  I almost didn't write about seeing this play, but I thought I could get it out of my head if I put things on paper, as it were.

So, I can't even say if it was a good play or not.  It had theatrical moments, to be sure - there was a surprise actor entrance that made the 20 of us gasp; there was a flashback scene on the bed that was so ugly, you had to look away.  There were drinks tossed in people's faces, potential weapons brandished then put away.  I don't know.  For someone who couldn't relate or understand this girl's anger, maybe it wasn't so successful.  For someone who COULD relate, like me, maybe it still wasn't successful as a play.  But as an emotional experience that again caused me to think and re-evaluate my past, present and future, it worked incredibly well.  I think I'm glad(ish) that I saw it - it was a rather cool experience and I did get to spend the afternoon with someone I don't see nearly enough of.  Perhaps if I focus on the positive and move on, I can take some of the play's lessons with me.  Or not.  I don't think the male character in the play learned all that much, and there was certainly no redemption for him.  Maybe I can take comfort in that...

Friday, February 19, 2016

Triple the Flashback, Triple the Fun!

Who knew February 19 was such a fantabulous day in my theatergoing life!  I was looking at old reviews, and three shows I enjoyed enormously came up.  I've been enjoying my lunch break reliving these happy memories.  I hope you enjoy them, too. 

And to provide au courant context to two of the reviews:  I was right about the critical reception to The Story of My Life, darn it, though I'm happy it's had a life in theaters outside of NY.  Plus, the cast album is first-rate.  And reading about The Divine Sister makes me even more excited (if that's possible) that I'll be seeing Charles' new show, Cleopatra, in a little over a month!  Happy Birthday to Me!

2/19/08:  Well, I was a sodden soggy sobbing mess last night!  I must’ve cried through a good two-thirds of the show I saw, Roundabout's revival of Sunday in the Park with George.  My seat neighbors were quite distracted by me, seeing that they were bored and texted their other friends throughout the evening.  Though at least I gave them something to look at other than their phones.  Is there any way we can do a speed dating sort of thing with theater seat neighbors?  I’ve been so out of synch with mine lately!  

Anyway, I really loved this production, though I don’t think it’s perfect.  I did check out mentally a couple of times when the actors’ intensities seemed to flag between songs (which I found odd, since I believe last night was a press preview).  But on the whole, it’s a gorgeous representation on art and the artist.

At times, I found it difficult to get Mandy and Bernadette out of my head, but Jenna Russell and Daniel Evans were strong, if perhaps a little vocally tired.  Jenna especially was sounding strained in the belting portions of her music.  She’s not quite the physical embodiment of an artists’ ideal the way Bernadette Peters was, but in a way, that strengthens the notion that there is beauty and art in everything.  I found Daniel Evans to be fine in act one (“We Do Not Belong Together” was quite lovely), but really strong in act two.  I liked his near-nervous breakdown approach to contemporary George.  It made the second act darker, yet richer with his acknowledgement of his lineage.  I was sobbing audibly from the middle of “Lesson #8” on.

photo credit: Joan Marcus
LOVED Michael Cumpsty’s take on Jules, thought Alex Gemignani was not quite right as the Boatman but liked him as Dennis, and missed Robert Westenberg as the solider, though this boy had a lovely singing voice.  I heard stuff in the text that I don’t remember hearing before—I don’t really remember being hit over the head quite so much with Dot’s pregnancy, but the hints are there from scene one.  I guess maybe I just never noticed them before.  And Louise in this production seemed to have a diminished role.  It could just be that this young actress didn’t make the impact of a young Danielle Ferland, I guess.

As for the projections, most of the time, I found them lovely and ingenious.  The opening image is quite striking.  I have to admit I didn’t love the dog and the monkey in the painting tableau, though.  I thought they were clever when George was singing with them in “The Day Off,” but then found them distracting.  Also, the soldier’s friend didn’t quite work for me, and neither did the projections of George in “Putting it Together.”  The way they forced all of the action to spread to the side stages was vaguely troubling to me.  And I have to say I missed seeing the huge chromolume in the middle of the stage.  The light show was interesting enough, but seemed somehow lacking, to me.  Preconceived notions getting in the way, perhaps.

But these are really set quibbles.  All in all, I say go.  I actually want to go again and try to sit closer.  I liked my mezzanine seat well enough—I could see and hear everything perfectly, but I’d like to be closer to see up-close how everything moves.  To feel like I’m in the middle of all that color and light.  :)  Maybe I’ll start to butter up my Tony voter friends right about now…

2/19/09:  I went last night to see the new musical, The Story of My Life, written by a talented young man I know through work, Neil Bartram, and his partner, Brian Hill.  The show opens tomorrow and I honestly don’t know how it’s going to be received. 

I was so moved throughout most of the piece.  The lyrics are so right and get to the heart of so many feelings.  And the performances by Malcolm Gets and Will Chase are truthful and beautiful.  I think the show has a lot to say about things that are so ephemeral:  friendship, life, art.  It captures a lot of the ephemera beautifully. 

Neil’s lyrics are exquisite, and maybe the tiniest bit better than his music.  There is some meandering, here and there, musically.  There’s also a little directorial meandering, especially in the middle of the piece.  But these are quibbles, as far as I’m concerned.  The stories told are very honest and moving and recognizable. 

photo credit: Aaron Epstein
There are several songs I just adored, including “Mrs. Remington,” which I think you can hear on the show’s website.  It’s so truthful and captures a moment in time beautifully.  A song that Malcolm Gets does, “Independence Day,” is performed with such joy, and has glorious lyrics, until a moment that literally made many in the audience gasp, including me.  I also really loved the song, “The Butterfly.”  There are a few songs that sound a bit alike, though the orchestrations may be just as much to blame as the composition.  The orchestrations are very small, which I completely understand, though there were times I longed for a fuller sound to really up the emotional ante. 

I just don’t know, though.  The reviews could kill it.  It’s a small piece, no matter how heartfelt I found it.  But I can certainly understand how it wouldn’t speak to everyone — it’s very personal and intimate, which is not what some people are looking for in a Broadway musical.  But I was very moved and very impressed.  Again, maybe because I know and like Neil so much, my opinion is colored in a more positive way.  Doesn’t matter.  I had a moving theatrical experience and I highly recommend the show, with the caveat that it isn’t for everyone.  I’m tearing up right now thinking of “Independence Day” (no, not the movie with Will Smith, though that’s sad for completely different reasons…;))

2/19/10:  So…went to see the new Charles Busch play last night—The Divine Sister, playing at the Theater for the New City downtown.  OMG. I was seriously crying and nearly peeing my pants, I was laughing so hard.  It’s just a fun fun piece.

photo credit: David Rodgers
Apparently, Charles has always had a fondness for ‘nun movies,’ so this piece is a light-hearted romp satirizing Hollywood and its version of nuns and religion.  You have references to Bells of St Mary’s, The Trouble with Angels, Song of Bernadette, The Singing Nun, Black Narcissus, Agnes of God, Doubt, and I’m sure a lot of other nun movies.  Oh, and there is a HILARIOUS send-up of The Front Page, since Charles is basically playing the Mother Superior as inspired by Rosalind Russell.  She’s quite a dame, this Mother Superior, who says the most outrageously un-PC things.  SOOOOO funny.  One example:  she’s written a book about the good old days:  “The Middle Ages:  So Bad?”    Hee.  Plus, there’s a riotous musical number!!!  And who doesn’t dig obscure Anastasia references?!?!

The whole cast is terrific, though, seriously, there is one scene between Charles and Julie Halston where I literally had to cover my mouth, I was laughing and crying so hard.  I’m starting to crack up just thinking about it.  I haven’t laughed that hard in the theater in forever.  Julie Halston ROCKS as the nun/wrestling coach who is keeping quite a few secrets of her own.  Alison Fraser is beyond funny as the perhaps sinister German nun.  They’re all really great.

The play does maybe drag a bit towards the end—Charles can tend to throw in so many funny references and exposition that it becomes a bit like overkill.  The play is running about 100 minutes right now, so I think it could be trimmed a bit.  I mean, they’re having to hold for monumental laughs, so keep the play moving, right?!  Though, now that I think about it, who really cares if it goes on too long when it's SO MUCH FUN?!  

They say the run is completely sold out, but there were two empty seats in my row last night (one right next to me!).  You can check on the theater company’s website for their standby procedure.  Maybe if you have a free night, you could try to get in.  It would be totally worth it.  I laughed my patootie off.

After the play was over and we had whooped and hollered our appreciation during curtain call, Charles stepped forward and thanked us, which I thought was lovely.  He said he hadn’t written a show for awhile that was just about having fun.  But he seemed genuinely moved by our response. 

A fun post-show tidbit:  when I was walking to the R train at 8th Street, I passed a food truck that had a huge line in front of it.  As I got closer, I saw they were selling Belgian waffles!  Oh my!  I had to stop and get me a Belgian waffle with Belgian chocolate and (most likely American) bananas!!!  Yum yum yummy.  If you ever run into this truck, I highly recommend you partake of the deliciousness…

Thursday, February 18, 2016

Review - I And You

I've been hearing about the play I And You for quite a while - a friend of mine saw a production in Florida a few years ago (he enjoyed it) and the play has won awards across the country.  With such high regard, and because I liked a previous play by this playwright, Lauren Gunderson (and I know her a very tiny bit), I was happy to finally see I And You with a friend last night.  Like the real, actual critics who have already reviewed this play, I will not reveal a big *spoiler* about the work, but will rather dance around it.  Sorry.  Because if you know the *spoiler* before going in, it will make your viewing experience a totally different thing...

Produced in the larger space at 59e59, I And You tells the story of Caroline and Anthony, two teens who are thrown together by circumstance.  The play takes place in Caroline's bedroom, where she's been holed up because she has an inherited liver disease that keeps her homebound - her only contact with other people is via her phone, but she is trying to keep up with her schoolwork.  Anthony drops by one afternoon to get Caroline's help on a school project about Walt Whitman.  The play is basically an extended conversation between Caroline and Anthony, who didn't really know each other before this encounter.  Caroline is prickly and mistrusting, Anthony is ingratiating and eager.  There are many ups and downs and back and forth between the kids, who are essentially polar opposites, but they do come to a meeting of the minds.  Of sorts.

photo credit: Carol Rosegg
There is a lot of Walt Whitman poetry quoted throughout the play, most especially from "Song of Myself" from Leaves of Grass, which I enjoyed a great deal.  The poem's philosophizing about the universe, life and death fits in beautifully with the play's ideas.  Caroline, who has been ill her whole life, has constantly thought about life and death.  Anthony has just started to think about it.  Hearing two bright teenagers debate and challenge themselves about the meanings of life and poetry were two of the chief pleasures of I And You.  I thought the dialogue for these kids was spot on, with lots of snark and posing, yet with a spirit and vulnerability.  I thought everything sounded very true and accurate.  The characterizations were also terrific, well, in the script anyway.  Caroline's bruised spirit is well-drawn, as is Anthony's compassion and ebullience.  I did feel the actors were trying a bit too hard, however, especially in the beginning.  They seemed to be pushing, when pulling back might have been a better choice.  I could be wrong though.  Maybe that's the style the director and playwright wanted to establish before the big *spoiler*.

photo credit: Carol Rosegg
The physical production is fantastic, with the set being a wonderful representation of a teenager's room, especially the room of a teenager who pretty much never leaves it.  Every inch is covered with photos, drawings, clippings, and when we hear Caroline talk about why each piece was chosen, it's quite moving.  The music in the play is well-selected and the lighting effects were subtle yet impressive.  The play is about 90 minutes, and it's maybe ten minutes or so too long, at least in my opinion.  We go back and forth with the kids and the conflict seems pretty established before the big *spoiler*, then there's only two minutes or so before the end of the play.  Maybe a little less time with the 'before' and a little more time with the 'after' would've been more satisfying for me.  But then I guess that makes it my play instead of the playwright's. 

At the end of the play, I was rather taken aback by the *spoiler*.  I will admit that it did fleetingly cross my mind as a possibility earlier in the play, but I forgot about it.  I would never have imagined how effective it could be.  And I've been thinking about the play almost non-stop since I saw it, looking for the clues that are in there, that gave us hints about the *spoiler* but didn't give it away.  I think Gunderson really expertly drew things out and presented us with something at the absolute right moment (even if I think the play could lose about ten minutes in the earlier goings). The whole thing was pretty ballsy, if you ask me.  I think I'd like to go back and get into the structure, find the clues and hints, and really dig in.

The entire audience didn't feel that way.  People were restless and sleeping all around us.  It was a particularly unmannered audience, if you ask me.  The man behind us fell asleep, fell forward, and woke himself up when he hit the floor.  Scared me to death.  The gent next to me was doing some kind of combination snoring/swallowing his dentures.  Two ladies a few rows behind us kept asking each other "do you understand what's going on?"  But there were quite a few gasps when the *spoiler* arrived as well.  So I think people were glad they stuck with it, even with the restlessness during the setup.  I can certainly see why this play would be an attractive option for theaters around the country - there are endless opportunities for discussion, argument and agreement, and two meaty roles for some talented kids.  Unlike this review, which is mainly obscure and non-specific and not necessarily an attractive option for anyone.  Sorry!  I just would hate to ruin anyone's experience by saying too much!  Your mileage may vary, of course...

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Preview Thoughts on Angel Reapers

I don't know much about the Shaker religious movement, but I do know that I find Martha Clarke's work odd and intriguing (for the most part).  I also know that I enjoy playwright Alfred Uhry's work.  So when the Signature Theatre announced they would be doing Clarke and Uhry's 2011 piece Angel Reapers as part of Clarke's residency, I thought 'what the heck?'  I also generally enjoy works about religious ideas and why they do or don't work for people.  My ticket was for last night - the show doesn't open until Monday, so I'll just offer a few thoughts.  I guess there will be some spoilers.

The production takes place in one of the smaller spaces at the Pershing Square Signature Center and it has been brilliantly designed to look like the inside of a Shaker house of worship.  The walls and floors are of smooth, light, bleached wood and the chairs are of the simple and elegant style associated with Shaker design.  Once the show starts, a door is pulled closed at the theater entrance and you're completely enclosed in the space.  At first, you feel a sense of peace and serenity as the actors sit in quiet reflection.  Suddenly, one of the actors starts to laugh.  It's infectious, and everyone starts to laugh; at first, you smile along, then it gets uncomfortable as the laughing continues, louder and stronger, then you see that there is a hysteria present and building, which will then manifest itself in religious fervor. 

The Shakers were known for their ecstatic dancing, stomping, singing and shaking during their services.  They were also known for their many rules and rituals and for strict celibacy.  We see all of these things throughout the 75-minute dance/music/theater piece - it seems more of an episodic showing of the arc of the movement rather than a theatrical examination of the Shakers (the Signature website refers to the piece as a 'theatrical collage').  We see much religious fervor, exemplified by the thrilling ritualistic movement and dancing, but then there's a turning point and we see the kinks in the system and how demands of the flesh often take over what the mind might want. 


photo credit: Michael J Lutch
All of the performers are completely committed and terrific - it's amazing to see such peace and serenity on performers' faces and it doesn't seem false or smug.  The light that emanates from them, especially Sally Murphy as Mother Ann Lee, the originator of the Shaker movement, is quite astounding.  Then when things start to turn and the puzzled sadness that we see alongside the serenity is very touching.  Murphy also has a spectacular singing voice that does more than justice to the Shaker spirituals that are performed a cappella throughout.  The set, as I've already mentioned, is wonderful and so is the lighting design.  Often, the lights above the stage would dim and everyone would be illuminated by light coming in from the set's window, which would cause gorgeous shadows that danced along with the actors.  The choreography was also so specific and interesting - there was one duet between two men that just was sort of mind-boggling in its difficulty while looking so simple, plus the storytelling in that duet was maybe the best of the evening.

Having said all that, I found maybe the first half hour to 45 minutes of Angel Reapers to be rather thrilling and compelling at times, but my mind started to wander and I started to think things were happening for shock or gratuitous purposes rather than dramaturgical purposes.  So even though I found the dance/movement exciting, the singing very atmospheric and true, and the story provocative, ultimately I was put off by the relentlessness of the piece as a whole.  Maybe that was the intent, though.  I just don't know.  I'm kind of glad I saw it, nonetheless.  I've been doing some googling today for more information about the Shakers, and it has been really interesting.  So I can appreciate Angel Reapers for that, most definitely.  Whether or not I can recommend the show as a whole, is another question...

Friday, February 12, 2016

Review - Washer/Dryer

Each show I've seen produced by the Ma-Yi Theater Company has been a worthy one - I've learned a little something about different cultures, different lives, different worlds.  When I got an e-mail about their new play, Washer/Dryer, by Nandita Shenoy (who also stars), I imagined I would learn something new again.  I don't know that I did, at least not in the way I was expecting, but that doesn't mean I didn't have a good time.  *Review caveat:  this has been a really long week and I'm extremely tired, so this may be a goofy review.  Sorry in advance.  I did want to write something, though, to get word about the show into the ether...

Washer/Dryer is about a newly-married couple trying to figure out their future lives together.  They've only been married three days and Michael has moved into his new wife's studio apartment, which Sonya purchased a few years ago.  The couple is still in the honeymoon phase, but when Michael asks Sonya why he still has to ask the doorman to buzz him upstairs, the wacky hijinks ensue.  It turns out Sonya's lease stipulates that her apartment is 'single occupancy only.'  Which means no one can live with her.  What that means, and how all of the characters in the show react to it, is what starts the comedy.  Does Sonya love her apartment more than she loves Michael?  Does Michael really know the girl he married?

photo credit: Isaiah Tanenbaum
We also meet Michael's mother, a very possessive psychiatrist; Wendee, the power-hungry co-op board president; and Sam, Sonya's downstairs neighbor.  There are misunderstandings, mistaken identities, some fun physical humor bits and laugh-out loud lines.  Shenoy has a light touch with dialogue and one-liners.  A lot of them were funny, but also illuminating about the characters or the situation.  Some of them were funny just to be funny, but that didn't happen too much of the time.  But I did think that occasionally the actors, who were mainly quite good, pushed the 'funny' too much when they should've been mining the humor in the situation, but as the play progressed, that bothered me less.

The play doesn't really delve all that much into the cultural and ethnic differences in the lead characters - at first, I was a little disappointed that there wasn't a deeper exploration of the inherent problems in a marriage between two cultures, but then I started to appreciate that this was a funny, real story of people, and ethnicity need not matter.  It does, of course, because that's who they are, and where they came from, but that wasn't what drove them.  Of course, as I read my review, I don't mention culture or ethnicity either.  Is that a good thing?  Is that coming from my white privilege?  I don't know.  I do know that I think it's nice to see a female writer of color getting an Off-Broadway production, featuring a talented multiethnic cast, that's for sure.

Maybe it's because I'm now a New Yorker, but I found all of the real estate problems in the play really funny, especially the idea of an apartment with a washer and dryer as being the holy grail.  I mean, I would be hard pressed to give up that apartment, too!  Some of the reviews mentioned that the central conflict, a lease with a 'single occupancy' clause, is unrealistic.  Well, I'm here to tell you that there were unknown clauses in my apartment's lease, too, so I didn't find it unrealistic at all.  I live in a co-op building myself (not as an owner, but as a renter) and I've seen the co-op board politics first hand.  I can only imagine how much more cutthroat they are on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.  But Washer/Dryer is not just a silly comedy, though there is quite a bit of silliness throughout the evening.  The play asked some really interesting questions, at least for me, about self-identifying, self-awareness, compromise and expanding pre-existing notions.   As someone who has tagged herself a 'single gal,' I enjoyed watching a smart, interesting woman onstage try to work that out for herself.  Overall, there was a sweetness to the proceedings that I enjoyed and I think a breezy comedy is just the thing every now and then.



Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Review - Bedlam's Sense & Sensibility

I believe we all know that I'm a Jane Austen devotee.  I enjoy her novels and delicious observations about life, love and society.  I've read all of her books a number of times and have seen most of the film adaptations - have you ever seen Kandukondain Kandukondain, the Bollywood version of Sense and Sensibility?  It's very good, though a little long.  Of course, the 1995 film version of S & S, adapted by and starring the sublime Emma Thompson, is an especial favorite of mine.  I'm getting a little teary thinking of the late, great Alan Rickman as Colonel Brandon.  Moving on... I hated myself for missing Bedlam theater company's production a couple of seasons ago - when they announced a revival, I pounced.   I was supposed to see it a couple of weeks ago, but was too sick to go.  I gave the ticket to a co-worker, who enjoyed the production, even though she's never read the book.  Imagine my shock and horror to hear that an educated young woman hadn't read the book.  I'll do a reader's theater version of my reaction for you someday...

I've only been to the Gym at Judson once before, to see Michael John LaChiusa's Queen of the Mist, and the space was used completely differently for that show than for Sense & Sensibility.  Here, the audience is on two sides, with three rows of chairs, on risers.  The first two rows are nice chairs, like dining room chairs, with padding.  The third row, on the top riser, is filled with plastic bar chairs, with no padding.  I think you can guess where I sat.  I started to fear that I would either 1) have a stroke from the hard plastic seat and dangling my short legs that couldn't touch the ground, or 2) laugh and fall over backwards off the riser.  That led to my perching myself on the edge of the plastic seat, in a very uncomfortable position, and also explains the backache and neckache I have today.  If my seat neighbor were writing a blog, I'm sure he'd be complaining about the crazy girl sitting next to him who kept fidgeting and flexing her feet and ankles.  But it was stroke prevention, I promise...

photo credit: Ashley Garrett
Even with all that fear, I had a grand time at Sense & Sensibility.  The show is very smartly adapted and directed for a cast of ten versatile actors.  Obviously, I already love the story and it is being told here very well.  Most of the actors play more than one role and they do so beautifully.  Each character is perfectly delineated and shows so many of the foibles that Austen captured so well.  Everyone had the opportunity to make me laugh and everyone had the opportunity to make me cry.  If I cried the most at the love story between Elinor and Edward, well, ok.  I usually do.  Elinor was beautifully played by Bedlam company co-founder Andrus Nichols, with a lot of dignity and vulnerability.  As she began to unbend and understand more of the world (which she claimed to understand at the beginning of the play), her great charm and emotion were more on her sleeve, yet still in a reserved, Elinor-ish way.  Nichols was just grand.  As was Jason O'Connell (who I've seen several times before, and especially loved in a friend of mine's wonderful play Penny Penniworth) as Edward.  He perfectly captures Edward's shyness and appeal, his inner strength and fear of hurting other people.  Their coming together was quite a moving moment at the end of the play.  But I may have even more affection for O'Connell's turn as Edward's loutish younger brother, Robert, who has a show-stoppingly funny scene at a dinner party gone terrifyingly (and hysterically) wrong. 

But everyone was really good.  I enjoyed much of the staging - I liked the set pieces that were on wheels and when moments of the lead characters' despair was physicalized by the spinning furniture.  I enjoyed the uses of music throughout and the ingenious uses of minimal costumes and set pieces.  I have to admit, from time to time, there was a bit of a in-joke quality to things, especially at the beginning and end of the show.  There was one gent in the cast who was a little too impressed with himself and had that look on his face that said "my theater company is so cool and we've made this silly book better," but at least he was only one person.  And I maybe winced a bit at some of the overly wacky scenes when a little more restraint may have worked better.  But, on the whole, this was a good-natured and playful production that showed a lot of Austen's characters in a fine light and told a beloved story well.  Thumbs up from me.

Friday, February 5, 2016

Review - A View From the Bridge

When the current revival of Arthur Miller's A View from the Bridge was announced last year, I thought, you know what?  I've seen two revivals of it just since I've lived in New York!  That's enough for any person, even me, even though I do love me some Arthur Miller.  Both productions were fantastic and I loved both Anthony LaPaglia and Liev Schreiber as Eddie Carbone.  But once I began seeing the show pop up again and again on TDF, I began to get second thoughts.  I thought I might regret missing it, and so I picked up a discounted ticket for last night.

I was in the fourth row center of the mezzanine - a fine seat, to be sure, though the leg room leaves a lot to be desired, but this production is so stripped down, I was maybe a little too far from the action.  There were quite a few spots where there was no light and I couldn't really see, and there were also quite a few spots where it made it hard to hear the dialogue.  I think I might've gotten more out of the experience if I had been a little closer.

Or not.  This production was directed by Belgian director Ivo van Hove.  He's an avant garde director, known for taken texts apart and putting them back together again, stripped of basically everything - sets, lights, costumes and context.  As a rule, this kind of directing isn't my cup of tea.  I've seen two productions directed by van Hove, the first one I rather liked, though it annoyed me in places in the second act (and now that I'm thinking about it, that second act annoyance showed up in last night's performance.  hmmmmm.), and I didn't like the second production at all.  AT ALL.  I rest in the middle this time; I sort of liked this production of A View from the Bridge, in spite of myself.  But when you have an Arthur Miller script as the base, it's hard not to get involved in spite of yourself.

A View from the Bridge is a modern tragedy, of sorts, with lead character, Eddie Carbone, as a regular guy hero with a tragic flaw, and a sort of Greek chorus character, the lawyer Alfieri.  The action takes place in Brooklyn and shows what can happen when unacknowledged and repressed desire take over a man and strip him of his reason.  Part of the quality that makes A View from the Bridge so universal is its specificity.  In seeing an immigrant family in Brooklyn dealing with problems that families have dealt with for centuries, but elevating them into mythic/tragic consequences, anyone watching the play can recognize themselves.  By stripping the play of its location, its time and place and its context, I think the director has stunted the power of the play.  At times, I would be thrilled, as I always am, by the sheer force and vigor of Miller's language, but then I would be taken out by the annoying sound design, or the ambling blocking that was necessitated by the boxing-ring set.  I don't know, I guess I'm a purist.  When you have a great play, I guess it's good that it can lend itself to many interpretations, but then again - why not leave the great script alone?

photo credit: Jan Versweyveld
There are no sets, just a white boxing ring-type thing, with glass and plastic around the sides.  People come in or out of the door hole all the way upstage, whether the scene takes place indoors or outdoors.  Everyone is wearing nondescript clothes, in muted colors, and no shoes.  And there is a constant humming or buzzing sound going on throughout the play, sometimes with drum beats to emphasize "oh this is important now" or with some choral music to emphasize "oh this is universal now."  I couldn't help myself, all that took me out of the play.  I didn't need that constant music to help me.  I didn't need that bare set to make the play "timeless."  The situation IS timeless and adding the twaddle just didn't add anything for me.  And the final coup de theatre was sort of striking, but also all sorts of wrong.  If the reason to have that white set is to have that final picture?  Not enough of a reason, in my book.


photo credit: Jan Versweyveld
But because the play itself is so good and the acting is mainly fantastic, I did enjoy myself, on the whole.  Mark Strong is a fantastic Eddie Carbone (but, really, though, did every actor have to be gym-ready in their taut toned physiques?  I mean, it was pleasant to look at all those chiseled abs, but are they really 'timeless'?  Sorry, I digress.), very primal and intense.  When he started screaming for his 'respect,' I began to wish I could see him play John Proctor some day (and the fact that Ivo van Hove is also directing the upcoming revival of my favorite Miller play, The Crucible?  scary to me).  You can see the confidence in himself as a man be peeled away as the play goes on to its horrible conclusion.  I thought Nicola Walker was a wonderful Beatrice, very worn by life but still filled with love for her family.  She can see what lies beneath things and chooses to ignore them.  It's a nice interpretation - often Beatrice is unseeing until its too late.

photo credit: Jan Versweyveld
I liked Phoebe Fox as Catherine most of the time, though I did think she had a bad habit of swallowing her words, so I missed probably a third of what she was saying.  I think it was because of the accent thing.  I'll talk more about the accents in a bit.  Russell Tovey is quite dishy and very good as Rodolpho, if a bit too transparent, and Michael Zegen as Marco brings a tragic elegance to his character.  Michael Gould's Alfieri was very well done, too.  Everyone was good, though those accents!  I don't know if this was part of the stripping the play of its context, but only Eddie's Brooklyn accent was even close to accurate.  Beatrice and Catherine went in and out, sort of Brooklyn-ish, the two Italian immigrants sounded like they were from Kansas and I don't know where Alfieri was from.  He mentions in one of his monologues that he's been in America for about 20 years.  Yet there's no trace of Italian and no trace of Brooklyn.  I guess I should be glad it wasn't a British accent.  But the accent thing drove me nuts, and I'm not usually hung up on such things.

But my heart still skipped beats when Eddie issues his two kisses, and I still got teary when Beatrice decided to not go to the wedding, Catherine finally explodes (even though I couldn't understand what she was saying), and Rodolpho tries to repent.  I still held my breath at times.  So the PLAY still works like gangbuster, at least for me.  The production, on the other hand...at times, left me cold.  And I realize I'm in the extreme minority - this production got RAVE reviews across the board.  Ah, well.  I'll definitely go see The Crucible, but I have to admit, my expectations will not be high...

Thursday, February 4, 2016

RW lunch #3 - Aureole

I'm so sad that Restaurant Week (which lasts nearly a month, and they should make it a month, because that would be AWESOME) is almost over.  Today I had my final delicious lunch at a beautiful spot I would never be able to afford otherwise.  I went with a co-worker and we had a really nice time.  As I sit here and wait for approvals to move forward on some work tasks, I'll just jot down a few thoughts about Aureole.

Charlie Palmer is quite a famous chef and when they opened one of his restaurants in Times Square, I was very excited to go.  Aureole is very pretty from the outside, with lots of glass and shiny silver.  They always have their menus posted outside and they always look so good, but, as I said earlier, it is a bit out of my price range on a normal day.  They have a Michelin star, for pete's sake!  Thank heavens for RW, when I can try excellent American food at an affordable price. 

The Liberty Room (the dining room where we were seated) is just as lovely from the inside as it is from the outside.  The tables are walnut and the main dining room is attractively lighted by a beautiful light fixture.  The menus and placemats are made of a fun, tweedy material.  There's a pleasant buzz in the room, but it was never too loud or overpowering.  According to the website, the cuisine is progressive American.  OK.  All I know is:  the food was yummy.  The menu is very elegant, with a lot of locally sourced meats and vegetables.  Their RW menu was a tad different from the regular lunch menu, but not by much.

For my appetizer, I chose the garganelli pasta, with a veal ragout, parmesan cheese and a broccoli rabe pesto.  This was a really hearty and warming dish, but not heavy, served in a relatively small portion due to its richness.  It was delicious, with a tender meat sauce you can tell had been simmering all day, perfectly cooked pasta, and the hint of pesto was a nice bright touch that cut through the richness of the pasta.  It was a really wonderful first course that could've made me feel full too early, but it didn't.

I went back and forth about which main course I wanted to try.  The short ribs sounded amazing (that's what my co-worker ordered, and they looked incredible), but I thought if I had meat in my appetizer I shouldn't eat meat again in my main course.  The butternut squash risotto sounded divine, but I thought if I had pasta in my appetizer I shouldn't eat pasta again in my main course.  I really overthink this stuff.  So I got the third option, the poached salmon.  It was served with toasted couscous with pomegranate and an amazing citrus hollandaise.  I also think there was a dollop of mayonnaise on the side of my plate, but I didn't bother to eat that.  I'm not a huge mayonnaise lover and I figured I had enough egg yolks on my plate with the citrus hollandaise.  The salmon was perfectly cooked, not too soft and not too firm, just really supple and delicious.  The couscous was addictive - the toasted flavor paired well with the delicate salmon and the pomegranate seeds were a wonderful pop of tanginess.  And that citrus hollandaise?  Out of this world.  I told my co-worker, if nearly every dish I eat for the rest of my life comes with citrus hollandaise, I will be a happy lady.  As you can probably tell, I really enjoyed my dish.

My co-worker and I couldn't decide which of the desserts we wanted, they both sounded so good, so we ordered one of each of the choices and shared.  I think the dessert we ordered is the one we wanted, oddly enough.  I got the vanilla roasted pineapple with a coconut macaron and mango lime sorbet.  My co-worker got the peanut butter crunch, which had a chocolate mousse and cream gelato with it.  Both were incredible, so delicious, but I think I preferred the pineapple after tasting both, and I think my co-worker preferred the peanut butter crunch.  Strange how the universe aligns itself.  After my salmon, the pineapple was the perfect end to the meal, very light and sharp and tangy.  There was a sugar tuile for crunch and the mango lime sorbet had just enough sweetness to make it a lovely complement to the pineapple.  And coconut macarons make the world go 'round.  Or something like that.  I do love me a perfect little macaron.  They have everything, and after watching them being made on the Kids Baking Championship on Food Network, I appreciate their complexity.

And so, Restaurant Week comes to an end for me.  For the winter, anyway.  I have a whole new list brewing in my head about which spots I want to dine at when RW comes around again in the summer.  Maybe I'll try to branch out more, like to some sort of African place, or Turkish, or something like that.  Places I wouldn't ordinarily try.  Or a fancy Indian restaurant - I've only ever been to the smaller spots downtown.  We'll see.  It sure will be fun giving everything a try!

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Review - Daddy Long Legs

I was very grateful to be gifted a comp to last night's performance of Daddy Long Legs, the new (though long-gestating) musical at the Ken Davenport Theatre.  Based on a 1912 novel, this musical has a score by Paul Gordon and a libretto by John Caird, both of whom are known for bigger Broadway projects (Jane Eyre and Nicholas Nickleby, respectively, just to name a couple of titles), but this piece is quite small and quaint.  Just two actors, three musicians who sit on top of the set, in a very small Off-Broadway house on the west side.  I think a small house is best for this show, which is intimate in scope - sitting very close to the two very charming actors added a nice warmth to the proceedings.  Though I will admit to being puzzled why the house was filled with the seats by the wall first and the aisle seats were mainly open.  Do they save the aisle seats for latecomers?  It just seemed to strange to me to only seat people in the three seats closest to the wall instead of the aisle, and being in the second row may have been a tad too close for me because my neck was a little sore after the show.  But I digress...

Before the show, just to quickly mention seat neighbors, the gal next to me seems to be obsessed with Leslie Caron and her film version of Daddy Long Legs.  I knew that this musical wouldn't be similar to that film, but my seat neighbor apparently wasn't.  She spent the time before the show started looking up synopses and photos of Leslie Caron to show her mate, then at intermission, she chose to watch You Tube videos of Leslie Caron.  I mean, come on.  Stay home and watch the movie if that's what you want to see!  I always find that kind of thing a little annoying.  Other seat neighbors included the obnoxious kids behind me, one of whom kept exclaiming "I ate a lot of cheese today," which, frankly, made me a little nervous.  Also, sitting in front of me, were three burly guys speaking French.  They will be mentioned again later.

Anyway.  Daddy Long Legs, as I said before, is a sweet little musical, about the orphan Jerusha Abbott and her benefactor, Jervis Pendleton, who, because of a series of misunderstandings, Jerusha calls "Daddy Long Legs."  Pendleton, via the pseudonym Mr. Smith, is funding Jerusha's college education after reading a promising essay she wrote (he's on the board of the orphanage where she lives).  He's also, not-so-coincidentally, the uncle of one of Jerusha's college chums.  OH, and he's also young and handsome, though Jerusha thinks of him as old, since she's never met him, she only briefly saw his shadow once.  I think those are all the details you need.  The story is told entirely through Jerusha's letters to her Daddy Long Legs, detailing her life in college.  And, of course, Jervis slowly falls in love with the irrepressible Jerusha, first through her letters, and then when he meets her (through other various machinations). 


photo credit: Jeremy Daniel
A small, romantic musical like this could become sickeningly or cloyingly sweet very quickly, but I think Daddy Long Legs steers clear of that to just be sweet and charming.  It also has the possibility of being vaguely creepy and misogynistic, because of the power imbalance through the piece (Jervis is reading the letters and knows everything Jerusha is thinking, whereas she doesn't know that Daddy Long Legs and Jervis are the same person, until the very end).  To its credit, Daddy Long Legs is aware of this problem and does its best to counteract it.  Jervis continually acknowledges the imbalance in their relationship and often tries to tell Jerusha the truth, but it doesn't work out for him.  He doesn't make his feelings for her known until she's out from under his obligation and making a living for herself.  Also, the character of Jerusha is smart, funny, a feminist and a socialist, and doesn't change just to 'get her man.'  Jervis VALUES her for these qualities, so I think all of those things counterbalance the potential pitfalls of the plot.  But the show works most especially because of Megan McGinnis' performance as Jerusha.  She's really enchanting, very quick and clever, with enough sweetness and vigor to be very appealing.  And her singing is just delightful.  The songs are pleasant, frequently with clever lyrics, but a lot of them do start to sound the same after awhile.  But McGinnis gives each song, no matter how it sounds, her full commitment of character.  She's really quite wonderful.

photo credit: Jeremy Daniel
Adam Halpin plays Jervis and part of the charm of the two of them is that they're married in real life!  Often, real life couples exhibit little to no chemistry when they perform together (I don't know why that is), but these two had a little sparkle and cute energy together.  It was charming.  That's what the show has in spades - charm.  Plus, I was in the mood for charm after the sadness and confusion of the last piece I saw.  Not that Daddy Long Legs is perfect, it's not.  It's much too long (it runs about two and a half hours with intermission), the two-character-singing-letters-back-and-forth can get monotonous, and the vaguely pop-ish sound to the music wasn't appealing to me after awhile.  I think I would've much preferred a more early 1900s vibe to the songs.  That might have made them more distinctive.  But that could just be me. 

Because I'm me, of course I teared up a little at the completely obvious ending.  Love conquers all, don't you know.  Shockingly, I noticed the burliest of the French guys in front of me absolutely HEAVING with sobs at the end.  Heaving.  I'm not exaggerating.  I thought about giving my number to such a sensitive guy (who speaks French), but didn't.  He's probably relieved.  The applause after the production was quite lengthy and enthusiastic, so I think everyone enjoyed the show quite a lot.  If you're in the mood for a sweet little show with a terrific performance (by Megan McGinnis, who I'm now a big fan of), you could do worse than Daddy Long Legs...

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Review - Dark Vanilla Jungle

A handsome chum invited me, sort of spur-of-the-moment, to see a new Philip Ridley piece at HERE last night.  The pair of one-act plays, billed as Tonight/Jungle, has recently gotten a rave review in the NY Times, so I figured...what the heck?  I saw another Philip Ridley play with this handsome chum a few years ago.  Here's some of what I had to say about that play, Tender Napalm

"I'll admit that, at times, this piece seemed like a glorified MFA project to me.  The acting and the writing were so artificial.  I really had to fight my way through some of the piece... is this real?  Is it imagined?  Are they crazy?  Do they do this every night?  What the heck is going on????!!!!  Realism and fantasy are intertwined, sometimes in the same monologue.  Even though this kind of writing generally isn't my cup of tea, I acknowledge that this writer is kind of brilliant.  Who else puts stuff together this way?

Again, I don't want to give away too much.  But you get the full gamut here - love, lust, hate, rage, pain, sadism, tenderness, fantasy, reality.  It's not like anything I've ever seen before...I admit to being in and out, fighting myself throughout...Not a lot of laughs to be had, but certainly a lot of cathartic pain...I've been thinking about this play constantly since last night."

I guess this may be my standard response to a Philip Ridley play, because I felt much the same way during and after Dark Vanilla Jungle (I thought both one-act plays of Tonight/Jungle were running each night, but it turns out they run in repertory).   I think, on the whole, I enjoyed the experience of watching Tender Napalm more than the play we saw last night, because I didn't quite get on board as fully last night as I probably should have, and by the end, I was frustrated by the whole thing.  I guess spoilers will follow.

photo credit: Hunter Canning
Dark Vanilla Jungle is a one-woman monologue, about a young girl named Andrea, who is seemingly telling us a story about her life:  about her parents, then her own (supposed) love affair, and then all of the terrifying consequences afterward.  The monologue is sometimes like an onion, with layer after layer peeling off.  Is she in a police holding room?  A mental hospital?  Hell?  We're not sure.  The monologue plays with time and place; sometimes, it's as if we're listening to Andrea relay events, sometimes we're in the middle of reenactments of events, and other times, I don't know where the heck we were.  I thought the performer, Robyn Kerr, was quite good at engaging us and drawing us into her world - she was very charming and ingratiating - but as the piece got darker and more complicated, she had to go to extremes in her storytelling methods.  Often, those extremes turned me off, through no fault of hers, I should add, and I felt unsatisfied by the end and ready for the whole thing to be over.  I wasn't convinced.  Maybe there was just too much.

After seeing the play last night, I read a little bit about it on my way home; it was originally done a few years ago in England and Scotland.  Maybe I'm just too American and too Pollyanna-ish, but I didn't get the societal plot point (as described in other pieces written about the play) that she was involved with a gang that sold young girls for sex, I just thought she was a girl who was taken advantage of by an unscrupulous older man.  Yes, I understood that he took her to sex parties, but I guess I didn't identify the institutional nature of what happened to her.  I saw her naivete and complete domination by a cretin and I saw her devastation at the loss of her love and stability, and I saw how she gradually became unhinged, but I couldn't wrap my brain around how the stories she told us during the early portion of the evening could even happen amidst the absolute obsessive madness that took over by the end of the play.  Again, like Tender Napalm, I wondered about the storytelling devices, if this was the way she always told this story?  Or does the story even exist inside the mind of a child who's actually lost her mind?  I guess maybe the questions are what Ridley is after, but I just found them off-putting and ultimately alienating for the sake of being alienating.  I wasn't affected the way I should've been.  I had been under the impression I should feel sympathy for Andrea, and I did, don't get me wrong, no young girl should be treated the way she has been treated, but by turning the monologue into something so unknowable, it made it hard to connect anymore.  I'm sure I'm not even making any sense - I've been having a hard time all day trying to craft this review, I have to admit - but I guess maybe my fractured thoughts reflect the fractured nature of the mind in the play.

But, again, even with my displeasure with how things were being presented, I did have to marvel at Ridley's use of language - the minute details Andrea relays are so fascinating and so true to life.  The turns of phrase and the imagery and poetry found inside the often-seamy and horrifying story were sometimes very beautiful, and the characterization of Andrea was excellent.  And I wanted to stay on board this time, I really did, but I just got lost somewhere.  Maybe I'm not meant to connect to his work, which is frustrating, because I find so much good in it, but I guess it's my problem.  There's value in the frustration, I suppose, at least it's making me feel something.  I just wished I was in some way satisfied by the frustration.  Oh well.  On to the next.