Preview Thoughts on Curse of the Starving Class

I don't know why I'm having such a mental block over writing about seeing the revival of Sam Shepard's Curse of the Starving Class.  I saw the revival at my favorite spot, Signature Theatre, earlier this week and I've been completely unable to put any words to (virtual) paper.  I enjoyed myself, I enjoyed the play; I don't know.  Let's see if I can figure anything out...

Backstory, because, hello, it's me:  I played the daughter, Emma, in college and I haven't seen a production since.  So I feel as if I have a relationship with this play, even though it's been over 30 years since I was in it.  That experience, though, was really powerful.  Emma has a couple of monologues in the first act which are directed into the refrigerator (a vital set piece for this play) and one night, I completely sort of lost myself in that monologue.  I was so thoroughly inside the character that I lost myself - that had never happened to me before and it terrified me.  It actually was the beginning of the end of my acting career, I think, because my performances after that were much too careful.  I was afraid of experiencing that complete loss of self again, because I didn't know how to separate the acting from the living.  I mean, I don't think the world stopped turning because I stopped pursuing acting as a career, but I am sorry I wasn't braver then.  I've acted since then and I think I maintain the balance now pretty well, but then...I let fear decide.  Which is sad.  Maybe that's why I'm feeling a distance from the production I saw last Tuesday.  Or at least a distance from talking about it.

a bunch of clippings on Shepard in the Signature lobby

Anyway, you all know I love Sam Shepard (although the revival of True West turned me way off last fall) and I was excited to see that Signature was doing Curse of the Starving Class this season - this one is actually pretty timely at the moment, with the talk about money and invisible money, and buying land when you can't.  The family's version of the American dream is pretty much taken advantage of by the people with money. It's pretty timeless. This portrait of a family that lives on the extremes is still powerful and wackadoodle and hard to describe.


This production is directed by Steppenwolf ensemble member Terry Kinney, who proves to be a fantastic interpreter of Shepard.  He really gets the surrealistic, realistic and symbolic pieces in the play and treats them all rather evenhandedly.  I thought the opening image was amazing and simply perfection (I guess if you'd rather not have spoilers, you should stop reading now):  we're listening to music, there's a spotlight on that refrigerator, then suddenly there are extremely loud noises of destruction and the set actually pulls apart from itself - the walls tear apart, the kitchen equipment separates, and there is timber and plaster everywhere.  Then we start the play.  I think this sets up the feeling of being off-kilter throughout the play beautifully - I don't think we're ever meant to know if what is happening is truly happening; is this real or is it fantasy?  The monologues describing what happened the night before sort of explain the destruction but sort of don't.  It's a great start.  And when people enter and exit from the kitchen, they sort of walk into blackness, which was also very evocative.

photo credit: Joan Marcus

Every horrible thing that happens to this dysfunctional family is played to the hilt; I enjoyed the boldness of the performers (well, I was at first unsure of the actress playing the mother, but once I caught on to what she was up to, I enjoyed her performance), most especially the actress playing Emma; I thought she really captured the hunger for escape and inability to break free that all of the characters had, but her performance, although heightened, also seemed more natural, if that makes sense.  Sometimes, I did feel as if the other cast members were 'acting', but I didn't get that sense from her.  It was interesting to feel my brain saying the lines (from over 30 years ago!) along with her at times, although I was a much different type than this actress.  Anyway.

The play is still mordantly funny and maybe vaguely icky in places, purposefully, I think.  There was a lot of nervous laughter throughout.  Of course, the audience was really enchanted with the live lamb, who was super-cute, but it unwittingly stole focus (although this particular crowd didn't seem to have much focus to begin with, but I digress) at times.  All in all, I recommend seeing Curse of the Starving Class.  I had a good time reliving my past and reminding myself of what a unique and amazing genius playwright Sam Shepard was, but I'm still unsure why this has been such a hard post to finish.  Maybe I'm still too close to it after all these years...

   

New York is My Kind Of Town

I love going to theater and ballet, obviously, but I also love that there are so many cultural events around town.  Subscribing to so many newsletters and arts organizations allows me to check out other events at other venues, since I often receive emails with discount offers for related programming.  I've been fortunate to attend two wonderful evenings recently, both of which made me cry (in a good way)...

Last Friday, I wandered up to the 92nd Street Y because they were presenting a panel discussion around the new ABT ballet of Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre.  It's no secret that Jane Eyre is one of my very favorite novels, and ABT is one of my very favorite ballet companies, so I was thrilled to receive a ticket offer.  Interestingly, it was mainly women my age in the audience, though there were also some younger women there, and then when the panel came on stage, I kid you not, my eyes just welled up.  The panel was moderated by a woman, the choreographer of Jane Eyre is a woman, and two of ABT's principal ballerinas (who are playing Jane this season) were also there.  I just felt so moved and empowered by the whole thing.  I'm just a big baby, I guess.

It was a really great discussion - the moderator was Elda Roto, a vice president at Penguin Classics (oh, they were selling a new Penguin Classics copy of Jane Eyre in the lobby and you have no idea how hard it was not to buy it [I have at least three copies already, lol]) and she was really terrific.  She talked a bit about what makes a classic and read some delightful quotes from other authors.  She then chatted with the panel (Cathy Marston, choreographer; Isabella Boylston and Devon Teuscher, ABT ballerinas) about books, Jane Eyre, ballet, being an artist, being a woman, and all sorts of wonderful things.  One thing I found particularly interesting is that they were playing the music for the ballet before the panel started - when the moderator asked Marston about it, she said the original music is by Philip Feeney, but they also used some music written by Fanny Mendelssohn!  Marston even noted how forgotten Fanny Mendelssohn is, so they used her music purposefully, which made me even more excited to see the ballet. They talked for about an hour and I could've listened to them for another hour more!  I'm ever so glad I went.

screenshot of the film's website

Last night, I was fortunate to attend a screening of The Rest I Make Up, a documentary about the incredible playwright Maria Irene Fornes.  I've been hearing about this film for a while, since even before Irene's death, and I've been so anxious to see it.  I met Irene once, very briefly, when I first started at my job in the late 1990s (she was on our board) - she was quirky and funny, but I didn't really understand how great she was and her place in American theater history until I went and bought her plays.  Jeepers.  If you don't know Irene's work, you should go out and buy her plays, too.  Now.  They need to be produced more often, for pity's sake - here's my review of the only one I've ever seen live: Drowning (at Signature).  

photo credit: Ruth Fremson

Irene is often referred to as the greatest unknown playwright (and teacher of playwriting) - so many current writers refer to her as a huge influence on their lives and careers, yet she's not well-known like her contemporaries Lanford Wilson or Edward Albee (they are both interviewed in the film and it was great, and sad, to see them again).  Maybe because her writing style was so eclectic, or maybe because she was a woman of color.  Who knows?  I just wish everyone could see this film and get a sense of the charm and genius of this woman.  Even as she begins her sad decline into Alzheimer's, she was still creating, still clever, still fascinating.  I found the movie to be delightful and heartbreaking at the same time.  There are so many scenes to think about, but the one that rather broke my heart the most was when she and her friend/filmmaker ran into playwrights John Guare and Constance Congdon in the Village.  They have a chat and share a fun unexpected moment - then when Guare and Congdon leave, Irene is left behind.  She looks so forlorn and lost and talks about what a fleeting moment that was, how it was only a few minutes and then it was gone.  Her face was so expressive, she could've been a silent film star.  I can't really do justice to her and how incredible this movie was.

After the movie, playwright Tony Kushner and the film's director Michelle Memran did a quick Q & A.  Tony was a big admirer and colleague of Irene's and he was quite undone by the movie.  It took him a few minutes to gather his thoughts and ask some questions of the director, who was so warm and interesting.  It was the perfect ending to the evening - two smart, interesting, empathetic people talking about the incredible Irene Fornes.  If The Rest I Make Up comes to you, please see it.  It's a beautiful story about an artist and woman who has lived her life on her own terms, then when sickness comes along, confronts it with compassion and courage, with her talent in tact though it needs to be accessed in different ways.  And if you are ever asked by an artistic director "Hey, what plays should I program next season," please answer by saying "anything by Maria Irene Fornes."  Her voice needs to be heard.

Review - Hillary and Clinton

In my quest to be a Lucas Hnath play completist, I went to see the Broadway production of Hillary and Clinton last night.  I will just say up front that this was one of the worst theater audiences I have ever been trapped in a room with - between the getting up to go to and coming back from the bathroom, phones ringing, chirping, and vibrating all over the place, and coughers galore, it was really hard to stay focused on the play.  I mainly enjoyed myself, because I think Laurie Metcalf is giving an amazing performance, but I also felt a little unsatisfied by the end of the 82-minute piece.  Well, maybe not unsatisfied, exactly, but...hm.  Let's see if I can figure it out.

The play begins with Laurie Metcalf walking downstage and reaching for a microphone in a microphone stand.  The stand is empty and Metcalf gives us an exasperated look.  She now already has us in the palm of her hand and on her side.  She goes off to the wings and picks up a hand microphone and starts to tell us a story of the universe and probability.  She tells us to imagine there are infinite numbers of planet earths in the universe and that on one of those planet earths, there might be a woman named Hillary who might be running for president.  Maybe.  And the rest of the show begins.  We're then in a hotel room in New Hampshire in 2008, in the midst of Hillary's presidential campaign.

photo credit: Sara Krulwich

Metcalf's Hillary is frustrated, passionate, and blunt.  She came in third in the previous Iowa caucus and she's sure she's going to lose the New Hampshire primary, so she does what her pollster Mark (a very funny Zak Orth) tells her not to do: she calls in Bill, played with sly hangdog perfection by John Lithgow.  The play, with the campaign as a backdrop, is actually more a play about a dysfunctional marriage.  It allows all of us to become voyeurs into a marriage we've been curious about for years - why does she stay?  Why does he?  When Bill says that together they're a force, you can see Hillary wince yet acquiesce.  Their relationship is beautifully constructed by both Metcalf and Lithgow.  They come together, they pull apart, they push each other away - it's all the ordinary stuff of a troubled marriage placed in a heightened situation of these two abnormally famous people.

photo credit: Sara Krulwich

The fourth character in the play is a political rival known only as Barack, and he is beautifully played by Peter Francis James.  He has the intelligence, the innate kindness, but the savvy to stand up to these two powerhouses.  The scene between the three of them, when the power shifts back and forth, is really the best scene in the play.  With hindsight, the scenarios Hnath presents are breathtaking (I don't want to give stuff away, even though the situations are mainly fictional).

There was so much dialogue that punched me in the gut (those final lines were killers), though I will also say that it was isolated and I don't know that everything coalesced into a successful play.  The characters were well-sketched, the dialogue was good, the acting was fantastic, but...I don't that it added up to much.  Maybe more of a montage of a marriage than a play.  I'm unsure of how to describe my feelings.  Since I'm already on the side of Hillary Clinton, what was this supposed to show me?  And if someone came into the theater with no knowledge of the Clintons (I know, it's hard to imagine, but still)?  I can't imagine what this play would mean to them.

photo credit: Julieta Cervantes

I guess I was vaguely disappointed because I go to a Lucas Hnath play for thrilling discussions and dissections of ideas.  I didn't really get that here, more of sketches of characters which some killer dialogue now and again.  Which, I guess, is my problem of incorrect expectations, but I couldn't help feeling that one more draft would've sharpened this script even more.  Again, it's probably my problem and not his.  Maybe the fact that the play illustrates an idea and that the idea of Hillary being president is discussed here could be the way I should point my brain.  But I will say that Laurie Metcalf is beyond brilliant and she is totally my choice to win the Tony, which would be her third in a row.  That would be quite a feat.  And Hillary has to win something, for the love of all that's holy.

Oh, I also want to mention the use of the hand mic.  It comes back several times throughout the play, when Hillary is giving narration to move a scene along.  I've seen Hnath use that technique before, to perhaps separate what the play is saying from what the character is saying.  It was used beautifully in his plays A Public Reading of an Unproduced Screenplay About the Death of Walt Disney and The Christians; as a whole, I enjoyed both of those plays much more than I enjoyed Hillary and Clinton.  So I'm glad I saw this one because I do enjoy spending time in a Hnath world, though I don't think this particular world is one where I'd choose to return - I normally like to check out his plays more than once to fully enjoy my experience.  Here, maybe once was enough.  Good thing he has a new play coming to Playwrights Horizons next season; I look forward to checking that one out!  Though I guess I would pay good money to see Hillary and Laurie Metcalf in a room together.  Hmmmm...

Review - Burn This

As I was watching the Broadway revival of Burn This (which I was unexpectedly invited to; thank you, generous Tony voter pal!), I was immediately thrown into a maelstrom of feelings, memories, and confusions.  At intermission, I mentioned to my Tony voter pal that I wish I could do something like the memory-erasing thing they did in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, so I can just see shows for what they are, not for what they provoke in my brain, or be surrounded by the baggage I bring to them.  Do I just live in my brain far too much that everything I watch now triggers...something?  I guess I just have a lot of unresolved 'stuff' that I should maybe bring up with my therapist.  I don't know.  Moving on.  All I can say is I had a strong reaction to Burn This...


Burn This, of course, was written by the wonderful and sorely-missed Lanford Wilson.  I was fortunate enough to work tangentially with him a few times and he was a kind and gentle man.  His plays are also achingly lovely - I was a fan of his work long before I had the chance to meet him.  You can remind yourself of my thoughts on a couple of revivals that ran after he passed away, if you like:  here are my thoughts on Talley's Folly, and on Lemon Sky.  I also was privileged to attend Lanford's touching memorial service, which I talked about HERE.  So I already went into the beautifully-restored Hudson Theatre with a bit of melancholy, even before the show began.  And then I was practically sent over the edge of my emotions when I read the beautiful tribute in the Playbill written by the oh-so-wonderful Terrence McNally - here's just the first line, which made me weep: "Of my generation of playwrights, Lanford was the Orpheus who sang the sweetest songs, the poet who found grace and beauty in the humblest circumstances, and the only one of us who found his own, unique voice from the very beginning."  There's only more gorgeous tribute to Lanford following that opening line.  The stage was set for me to be uber-emotional.

And...I was.  Burn This begins with a solitary woman, in black, sitting on the floor of her spare apartment, smoking a cigarette.  Her face is a mask, frozen, still, as if she's trying to keep a handle on her emotions.  There's a knock at the door - it takes a few minutes for her to decide to let someone in to what she's experiencing.  She finally opens the door to her boyfriend and the action starts from there.  Anna, the solitary woman, has come back from a funeral for her roommate and dance colleague, Robbie.  Her boyfriend, Burton, has flown back from a retreat after hearing about Robbie's death.  Anna then describes the horror of the funeral and spending so much time with Robbie's family, who apparently had no idea he was a dancer or that he was gay.  At least that's the impression Anna got and she's so angry about the death of her dear friend that she's completely irate at the thought that his family, his blood family, had no idea who he was.  There's no comforting or consoling her from this thought.  She is channeling her grief, I think, into this anger at Robbie's family.

The conversation between Anna and Burton, and then with her other roommate Larry, is filled with imagery and metaphor and beautiful language.  They mourn together, rail together, and the scene ends.  The next scene begins apparently very early in the morning - there's banging on the door and Anna goes out to answer it.  In lumbers a large, manic, sort of menacing character, ranting about the neighborhood, parking, and anything else that comes into his mind.  Anna gradually realizes it's the late Robbie's brother, Jimmy (also known as Pale).  You discover that it is a month later and Pale has finally come to retrieve Robbie's things.  Here's where I started to get lost in my own head: Adam Driver, the amazing actor who plays Pale, reminded me so much of an old boyfriend, it was freaky.  So I was practically experiencing Anna's bewilderment and attraction at the same time she was.  This is probably where I should mention that I haven't seen Burn This before and it has been many years since I read it.  So I was really on the roller coaster ride.  I guess I should have my therapist read this blog post.

photo credit: Matthew Murphy

Adam Driver is phenomenal - he captures the menace and the sensitivity in Pale beautifully.  Lanford Wilson's dialogue is often so poetic and even Pale's rough, blunt, blue-collar speech has a poetic beauty and logic of its own.  He built his monologues beautifully and used his outsize emotion and personality terrifically well.  He is just an absolute stage star - he grabs your attention and does not let it go, but not in a showboat way, but in the way that true stage creatures fill the room.  Even putting aside the part that he reminded me of an old beau, he impressed me monumentally.  I could probably go on and on about the richness and the spontaneity he brought to his performance, but I should probably stop fangirling.  Oh, he also found the humor and the whimsy in the role; I might talk more about that in a bit.

I also loved Brandon Uranowitz as Larry, Anna's roommate and conscience.  He was rueful and funny (oh my gosh, his facial expressions when he was stuck in the living room during a conversation he did NOT want to hear were fantastic) and he had a fascinating subtext with David Furr as Anna's boyfriend, Burton.  As we were leaving the theater, my Tony voter pal and I were discussing if there was maybe something there between Larry and Burton.  I'm still not quite sure.  I wouldn't mind if there was.  I had a little bit of a harder time with Keri Russell as Anna - I applaud her skill as a member of an ensemble; she was there, full stop, when the other characters were in control of the scene and she was listening and reacting.  Her engagement and empathy were very apparent.  I found her to be almost a beautiful mirror where all of the other characters could see themselves, and change themselves.  But when it was her turn to be the center (and even though her character is very reactive, there are still moments when she is the hub of the wheel), she perhaps stayed back a little too much.  Yes, Anna is afraid and doesn't want to really give over to deep emotion, but I needed a little more of something.  Even just one indication or look or acknowledgement of the tsunami that is Pale coming into her life would've helped me out.  Of course, that makes it my performance instead of hers, but I did just want a little bit more.  I understood why the two characters needed each other, but I'm not sure she did.  She is stunningly beautiful though and had a pleasant rapport with the other actors.

photo credit: Sara Krulwich

I feel Lanford often wrote of loneliness and need and it is everywhere in Burn This.  That is probably what kept me internally sobbing throughout, after I got over the whole 'Pale reminds me of *old boyfriend's name here* and that makes me Anna' thing.  The walls that these characters build, all of them, not just Pale and Anna, and the absolute aching need, but paralyzing fear, to be loved was everywhere.  I just had a broken heart for these people throughout.  But I often felt as if the rest of the audience needed to stop laughing (the play has a lot of humor, yes, but there's also so much sadness) and start observing the play's pain.  I mean, I had a lump in my chest and I wanted to have a huge wailing cry after the show was over, it moved me so much, but the audience was still laughing.  I don't know.  Maybe I just don't laugh enough?  I know there are a lot of ways to respond to work, but I pretty much always want an audience to stop laughing way before they do.  That's probably on me.  For a matinee audience, they were pretty well behaved, though there were two people whose phones chirped or vibrated approximately every two minutes, which leads me to believe they were either (a) drug dealers, or (b) people who probably shouldn't go to the theater in the first place.  Either one.  Someone hissed to one of the chirpers "Turn that off!"  and she wailed "I thought I did!"  I thought about offering to check it for her during intermission and I probably should've, because it did the same thing during the second act.  And the loud vibrating phone did, too.  Don't these people know I was trying to have a catharsis?!

Even if you don't have an old relationship resembling the one on stage, I highly recommend everyone see Burn This.  I want Lanford's work to be seen and remembered (and hopefully this will lead to other revivals) and I think Adam Driver's performance is one of those people will talk about for a long time.  You know how people still talk about John Malkovich in the original Broadway production of this play?  I think Driver will have the same kind of historical legacy with the play, too.  He's that good.  Now please excuse me while I go off and try to figure out these unresolved issues I apparently have...

Tony Nomination Time Again!

Good luck to all of the brave souls who share their talent and their moxie every night on a Broadway stage!  I sure couldn't do what they do - even when I don't love the result, I greatly appreciate the process and commitment!  

Yes, it's that crazy time of year again, time for a small group of people to decide who gets to ride the crazy Tony Award ride and who doesn't.  I don't have as many friends involved in award races this year, so I'm feeling a little low-key about the whole thing.  Like last year, I focused most of my theater viewing on Off-Broadway shows, so I haven't seen a lot of stuff that's eligible for a Tony.  In fact, I only saw one Broadway musical during the season and you may recall I didn't love it all that much.  So I'm not even going to mention any of the musical categories in my predictions/hopes below, which will make this post awfully brief.  Oh well.  I have tickets to a couple of probable nominees coming up, so maybe my negative thoughts will change as we head into the award season madness...

PLAY

Choir Boy, Tarell Alvin McCraney
The Ferryman, Jez Butterworth
Straight White Men, Young Jean Lee
What the Constitution Means to Me, Heidi Schreck

I haven't seen the three plays that are probably the front-runners for the award (though Constitution is certainly making some noise): Hilary and Clinton, Network and To Kill a Mockingbird.  But I'm happy with my foursome - two women, two writers of color, four stories I haven't heard before.  That spells best new play to me.  


REVIVAL OF A PLAY

Torch Song Trilogy, Harvey Fierstein
The Waverly Gallery, Kenneth Lonergan

I didn't love All My Sons or True West, but I wouldn't be surprised to see them on this list.  I would love for Burn This and Lanford Wilson to be acknowledged, but I'm not sure if it will make the cut.  I need to see it, though.  Too bad no discounts are available (the Star Wars factor, I'm sure).









ACTRESS IN A PLAY

Elaine May, The Waverly Gallery
Janet McTeer, Bernhardt/Hamlet
Heidi Schreck, What the Constitution Means to Me

I'm guessing the three frontrunners here are Glenda Jackson, Annette Bening, and Laurie Metcalf.  I haven't seen Glenda or Laurie (yet), and I personally wouldn't put Bening's performance above the three I have listed.  I doubt McTeer will make it, but I thought she was incredible.  Heidi Schreck is amazing and Elaine May was out of this world!  I like my list!  :)

photo credit: Joan Marcus

ACTOR IN A PLAY

Paddy Considine, The Ferryman
Jeremy Pope, Choir Boy
Michael Urie, Torch Song Trilogy

Again, I'm guessing that I haven't seen the gents who are most likely to win/receive a nom: Bryan Cranston and Jeff Daniels.  John Lithgow is popular, and his show just opened, so he could wind up here.  Same with Nathan Lane.  Is this the year Daniel Radcliffe finally gets a nomination?  Hmmm.  The common thread with my nominees is charm.  You can't teach it, you can't manufacture it, but these three actors had charm to spare.  And their charm was paired with great empathy and skill.  So I'm happy with them.  Frankly, I doubt any of the three will make the list, but we'll see...


FEATURED ACTRESS IN A PLAY

Joan Allen, The Waverly Gallery
Fionnula Flanagan, The Ferryman

I hope Allen is remembered here, her performance as the daughter trying to hold her family together was fantastic, very detailed and specific, but relatable and moving.  I loved her.  Flanagan has been a favorite of mine for decades, and she's received nominations elsewhere, so I'm hopeful.  


FEATURED ACTOR IN A PLAY

John Clay III, Choir Boy
Jason Butler Harner, Bernardt/Hamlet
Austin Pendleton, Choir Boy
Benjamin Walker, All My Sons

I wouldn't be surprised to see a bunch of Ferryman actors here, or Boys in the Band actors, or even more of the Choir Boy cast (Chuck Cooper has won before, so that probably helps him).  I just picked my two favorite actors from the supporting cast.  I'm also pretty sure Benjamin Walker will pick up a nod; Jason Butler Harner is a total longshot, I'm sure, but I'm a longtime fan and his reaction at the first act curtain still tickles me.


To sum up:  it's pretty dumb that I have no ideas about musicals, but since I've only seen one, it seemed even dumber to try to pick which performers would get attention.  So I'll just be happy for whoever gets their name called.  I'm sure when I pick up TDF tickets to some of the nominated shows, I'll be glad they were remembered.  Next year, I need to think about doing a Drama Desk nomination prediction post, so I can get all my Off-Broadway love on the page... 

Preview Thoughts on All My Sons and Tootsie

Perhaps I'm having end-of-season ennui, but I didn't especially love the most recent Broadway shows I've seen.  I probably shouldn't complain, since both tickets were free, but I will share some thoughts about them.  Both shows have officially opened, so I'm guessing there won't be any changes from now on; I saw them early-ish in the preview process, so there could've been changes of which I'm not aware...

from the 1997 production

I saw Roundabout's Off-Broadway revival of All My Sons in the late 90s, when I first moved to NY.  I was working at a pager company and was fortunate to get quite-large quarterly bonuses.  You can probably guess how I spent that bonus money: yes, on theater subscriptions.  I had a subscription to Roundabout and saw everything.  Ah, those were the days.  I don't miss the pager company but I do miss quite-large quarterly bonuses.  Moving on.  The production of All My Sons featured John Collum, long one of my favorites, as the father and Michael Hayden, who became a new favorite that night, as the son.  I was also very taken with Angie Phillips as Ann; I thought the production was terrific and very moving.  I'm ashamed to admit I didn't really know All My Sons before I saw that production, but it moved to a nice high spot in the pantheon of my love for Arthur Miller plays.  I didn't go to see the most recent revival with Patrick Wilson and Katie Holmes - when I read the reviews, I thought that production didn't seem like my cup of tea, so I skipped it.  I do regret missing Dianne Wiest on stage, though...

I'm very grateful to have received a free ticket to the current production starring Tracy Letts, Annette Bening, and Benjamin Walker.  Interestingly, Michael Hayden plays the supporting role of the doctor next door in this production; it was hard for my brain to not see him as the gleaming young man.  But that's on me.  This production is nicely produced, attractively designed, straightforwardly directed, and clearly acted.  But I was never really engaged and never moved, even at the last terrible moment.  I don't know if the cast was having a bad night, or if I was, but I was rather disappointed all the way around.

For me, I just couldn't see the reason for this play to be produced now, though I guess I often wonder at the programming of the Roundabout's Broadway stage.  I mean, All My Sons is rather timeless, with its ideas of fathers and sons and war and reckoning.  And the line (paraphrased) "You can be better! Once and for all you can know there's a universe of people outside and you're responsible to it,” resonates now.  It seems to me that everyone now is so selfish and won't think about how they're responsible to everyone else.  Anyway.  This production itself didn't make itself distinct, in my opinion, to illuminate more about the play and about the world right now, other than maybe that isolated moment.

photo credit: Sara Krulwich

I'm a big fan of Tracy Letts' and he was, as usual, terrific, though I did feel he underplayed a little too much.  Probably to balance the overplaying by Annette Bening.  Again, maybe it was an off night, but I found Bening to be pushing so hard.  She was too shrill, too strident, too nagging and I can't imagine anyone ever having any pity for her.  I needed a little balance, something to show me why everyone loved her and wanted to protect her.  Her reviews were excellent, though, so maybe it was nothing more than an off night.  I thought Benjamin Walker was very good at walking the tightrope of playing a character who can come off as too perfect.  The supporting actors were all fine as well and Michael Hayden's complex characterization in a relatively small role was welcome.  I guess I just wanted more...something - the play has often been compared to Greek tragedy and I could've used more of that lift across the board (though maybe not from Bening).  Or maybe my days of simply enjoying a handsomely produced war horse of the American theater doesn't really do it for me anymore.  I just don't know.

After a very fun week with my family in Pensacola (a post about that will hopefully arrive soon), I was treated to a free ticket to Tootsie, the new Broadway musical.  I'm a huge fan of the film and can pretty much quote the entire thing to you right now.  I actually was avoiding seeing the musical because of my love for the movie, but I'm never one to turn down a free ticket.

Again, maybe I was having an off night.  I was sitting next to horrible horrible people (thankfully, I had purchased a big cocktail on my way up to the mezzanine) and my seat was pretty high up, but I didn't love the show.  I was moderately entertained (though mainly during act one), I laughed here and there at some jokes that were pretty good, and performances that were committed, but basically I thought: why?  Even with inserting various #MeToo kinds of dialogue, I just didn't understand why we needed to be seeing this musical right now.  The whole thing felt glib...surface...as if they thought "Oh, the title Tootsie is enough."  (Which, of course, it probably is.)  Could the fact that most of the production team is male have had something to do with my struggles?

I understand why they moved the milieu of the piece from soap opera to Broadway/musical theater, but maybe it would've made more sense to leave the show in the 80s instead of doing it in a contemporary time period.  Just because a character mentions it's a bad idea for a man to take a role from a woman doesn't make the entire premise ok.  And the fact that the older white guy is the one to give everyone permission to live however they want was...bothersome.  I also found in this version that it took much too long for the character of Michael Dorsey to learn anything.  He was pretty much an entitled asshole for the entire show, who loved the attention and behaved in exactly the same obnoxious way, except for the last ten to fifteen minutes.  And the women characters were such heightened caricatures...I don't know.  Even when I laughed at a well-turned phrase, I was sort of mad at myself because I was uncomfortable throughout.

I know this is a Broadway musical and not a documentary, but I just couldn't wrap my brain around how the stuff surrounding the musical-within-the-musical was handled.  There is NO way, none, zero, that the plot points that happen would EVER happen.  And there is NO way, none, zero, that the ending would be resolved in the way it was resolved.  If we're expected to believe that this man learned something by 'being' a woman, shouldn't we be able to believe the way that he learned it?

photo credit: Matthew Murphy

The cast is certainly working hard (I always adore me some Reg Rogers and Julie Halston) and they seem to be having a blast.  I just wish I had had as much fun as they seemed to.  The overture and entr'acte were fantastic, though my expectations for the songs were probably too high; they were mostly fine with no real standouts for me on first hearing.  I walked out humming songs from The Band's Visit and/or Women on the Verge, which probably wasn't what the creators had in mind.   

I could say a lot more, I guess, but why yuck other people's yum.  The show got rapturous reviews, so congrats to them.  As I've struggled before, maybe I'm just not in the frame of mind right now to watch these shows glorify the white male gaze, even when they pretend to be in service of the female gaze.  The rest of the audience seemed to be having a great time and really talented people are working hard.  I guess I just need to step aside and acknowledge that I don't have to be on board with every single piece of theater that's out there right now.  And the smaller stuff is where my heart is at the moment - I recently saw a reading of a new play that was so odd, so out there, so bold, and so fascinating; it may not ultimately succeed, but that's the theatrical sandbox I want to play in right now.  I'm sure the big, brassy Broadway show will capture my heart again some day...

Eight Years - Go Figure!

I don't know that I would've dreamed I would still be blogging eight years after my first post.  I might've imagined that once my health things had been resolved, then I could just quietly stop posting.  But, no, I've quietly KEPT posting!  I've made baby steps towards trying for a bigger online audience; maybe in year nine, I'll take even bigger steps!  There are many more things I consider writing about, then I talk myself out of it.  I probably need to stop doing that...

Things I worry about that I mainly don't post:  the (imaginary) warranty running out on my implants.  I was told when I got them that they have a shelf life of ten to twenty years.  I'm kind of close to ten years, so I worry.  I have a friend who had the same surgery as me and her body rejected her implants.  She is so desperately ill, it makes me feel guilty and I feel badly.  Then I worry.  My feet, which bothered me about fifteen years ago, have started acting up again.  So I worry.  I'm doing a bit more flying for work lately and I'm terrified of having a DVT problem like my sister did in 2014.  So I worry.  At the same time, I'm feeling pretty upbeat about the theater I'm seeing and about the new friends I've made lately and my old dear dependable loved ones.  I guess, if I have to admit it, it's an even balance between worry and feeling upbeat.  That's something to cheer.

On the other side of the coin, in this new blogging year around our planet, I'm also thinking a lot about what might happen if there isn't a complete political change next year.  Can I continue to live in this country that is run by people with no empathy?  Where would I go?  Can I continue to be silent?  I do what I can, with marches and petitions and fundraising and charitable contributions and voting, but some days, it just doesn't seem like enough.  And living my small but generally-enjoyable life seems to be a cowardly way to go through these terrible times.  I read Twitter like it's a newspaper, meaning that I'm only reading the feeds of people with whom I share opinions.  And most days I want to cry.  I fantasize about meeting some of these politicians and crying in front of them, asking them how they can live with themselves.  Their venality (and the voters' blindness) is completely beyond my comprehension.  I wish the Magic 8 Ball could help.  Though I do conversely feel that I stand up for myself in small ways more often - is that a result of feeling so powerless a lot of the time?  Hmmmmm.

Blah blah blah, right?  Let's talk about fun stuff - numbers!  At least my blogging numbers.  I recently topped 100,000 views!  That seems amazing to me!  How in the world are there that many people who have looked at my blog?!  Of course, I have a Facebook friend who recently posted he just topped the two-million-view mark.  So...I guess I'm small potatoes.  But it still seems like a lot to me!  Now that I have a Facebook page exclusively for the blog, I do feel more of a responsibility to post with better frequency.  I see shows at least twice a week, so getting my thoughts about the shows out in a timely fashion is a goal.  Although I'm still loath to post about shows I didn't enjoy.  There's enough negativity in the world (as I am always complaining), so why add to it?  I read on Twitter the other day that someone wished people would stop writing personal back stories before they actually review something.  That made me think.  I mean, I'm not actually a critic, but I like the personal back stories!  I think they add context and then the opinion doesn't exist in a vacuum.  I mean, yes, you either like a show or you don't, but with context, you can help the reader decide for themselves whether to take your opinion with a grain of salt or not.  If that even makes sense.  So I've decided to not listen to that Twitter-person and keep to my own style.  What little style there is, anyway.

In the past eight years, I've written 832 posts that have been looked at over 100,000 times!  Wheeeee!  That's crazy, right?!  Interestingly, last year I wrote 69 posts, which is the same as the year before.  I still wonder why some posts are more popular than others and I'm still unsure why most of my posts from the last few years have three times as many hits as my earlier posts.  Is it that no one was interested in my health posts?  Maybe, though when I was going through my travails, I found some blogs helpful (some were depressing, too, I guess).  Oh well.  Ours is not to wonder why.  

I love that half of my views are from the US and Italy (though the Russian number makes me nervous - I'm guessing they check on my ballet blogs when I mention Russian dancers and not on my vaguely political musings).  Though the stat in the photo at left is interesting - where the heck is Unknown Region?!  Can my computer not detect the location?  Are they in outer space?  The possibilities are intriguing.

Without further ado, here are my post popular posts (with links this time!):

All-Time Most Popular Posts:

Review – Street Theater, 10/23/15, 416 views, LINK
ABT Fall Season - GUEST BLOGGER ALERT, 11/13/13, 374 views, LINK
Burrowing…but not, 10/10/17, 362 views, LINK
Review - The Healing, 6/17/16, 311 views, LINK
Terror and Rage, 8/16/17, 309 views, LINK

Not much movement in the top five, though one did fall off and a new one snuck in.  I find it interesting that two of my more personal, political-y pieces are in my top five right now.  Perhaps my goal for this year is to do more of them and see what happens.

Top Posts since April 2018:

ABT 2018 - Don Quixote, 6/26/18, 212 views, LINK
Review - Twelfth Night, 8/13/18, 199 views, LINK
Review - The Ferryman, 10/22/18, 194 views, LINK
Review - Teenage Dick and a little extra, 7/3/18, 192 views, LINK
Reviews - The Confession of Lily Dare and Three Tall Women, 4/19/18, 189 views, LINK
Preview thoughts on I Was Most Alive With You, 9/24/18, 183 views, LINK

Yeah, yeah, I know, there are six posts up there instead of five.  When a Craig Lucas play is so close to top five, he must be mentioned.  It's a rule.  I guess I don't see a trend or theme in those top posts, except that they were really popular productions.  People probably just landed on them in random searches of the internet.  I could probably do a deeper dive into analytics and stuff, but that seems like a lot of work.  I'll just be happy that people are finding me.  I could actually invest funds to insure people find me, but, again, that just feels weird.  In my ever lasting 'avoidance and denial' way of life, I guess I'd rather just let chance guide my blog's future.  At least for now.  We'll see how I feel in year nine.  Thanks for sticking with me, everyone!  I appreciate it more than I can say.  Hopefully, I'll start thinking about my reviews more quickly so there's a lot less lag time...

(Regarding the pics in this post: I love the Schoolhouse Rock song "Figure Eight," sung by the sublime Blossom Dearie.  So I had to include a little screenshot of that piece, along with the other goofy "eight" images.  Always grand to have that song floating through my head and I'm also always ready to show off my loopy ideas.  I've also started a loopy random Throwback Thursday-type thing on my blog's Facebook page - I found a random date generator app and it spit out some dates to play with.  Here is a link to the post that was randomly selected for this week - it didn't get many hints when I posted it, but I think the universe is trying to tell me to keep the faith:  OVERJOYED.  May that be true for all of us.)