115. Review: A WILDER CHRISTMAS (seen December 6, 2015)

"Wilder and Wilder"

Stars range from 5-1.

It probably can’t be proved, but it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to suggest that the most beloved and frequently performed American play is Thornton Wilder’s OUR TOWN (1938). Wilder's (1898-1975) small number of full-length plays includes two other still important works, THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH (1942) and THE MATCHMAKER (1954; based on a 19th-century Austrian farce and itself the source for HELLO, DOLLY!). He also wrote many one-acts, several being among the most often produced in educational and amateur theatre circles. Two of the best—“The Long Christmas Dinner” and “Pullman Car Hiawatha”—are currently being pleasantly revived at the Theatre at St. Clement’s, nicely directed by Dan Wackerman for the Peccadillo Theater Company.  

Both plays represent Wilder’s preoccupation with using experimental theatrical techniques to express cosmic ideas in an emotionally moving yet entertaining and accessible form. “The Long Christmas Dinner” (1931) employs a dramatic device then so unique that it inspired Orson Welles to use it for the breakfast scene between Kane and Emily in CITIZEN KANE, where the history of their nine-year marriage is covered in a striking montage.

Giselle Wolf, Brad Fryman, Barbara Wengerd, James Beaman. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

Wilder’s gently humorous, mildly nostalgic, family drama—which has also been made into an opera by Paul Hindemith (1961)—begins with the Bayard family seated around a dining table on Christmas Day, 1840; during its 45 minutes it traverses 90 years in four generations of the family’s life. At the beginning, the house is new and the aged, wheelchair-bound Mother Bayard (Victoria Blankenship) can recall when Indians were still nearby; toward the end, industrial development soils the house with soot. Alcoholism, illness, childbirth, mortality, travel, moving away, filial rebellion, war, and so on intrude. Time goes too fast or too slow, depending on one’s perspective.  

Barbara Wengerd, Giselle Wolf. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

Using naturalistic illusion-shattering conventions derived from Chinese traditional theatre, the setting (designed by Harry Feiner) is little more than a bare stage on which the table is handsomely set for Christmas dinner; a portal at stage right is adorned with flowers and fruits; another, at left, which Wilder describes as “hung with black velvet,” is shown here with withered branches. That on the left represents birth, the other death. Wilder calls for a large turkey to be on the table and for the utensils to be imaginary, but this production’s turkey is imaginary and the utensils are not.

As the years pass, the actors freeze to indicate the passage of time, and family members whom we’ve seen getting older pass on through the portal of death (with a couple of returns), balanced by newborns wheeled on in carriages from the portal of birth. Anyone who’s sat at the same table for family gatherings over many years will instantly feel pangs of joy and sadness at how well Wilder captures the sense of time passing, with memories of loved ones now gone and of pleasure (to begin with, at least) at new ones arriving through birth, romance, marriage, and family connection.

Working in swift, brief strokes, Wilder introduces just enough exposition so we have a sense of who these people are, what they aspire to, what’s ailing them, how they’re aging, and a bit of what’s happening in the world outside. A noticeable theme is the friction between fathers and sons—succession in the family firm is a constant—as the generations evolve, with the biggest emotional climax being a quarrel between a misbehaving son, Roderick (Rafe Terrizzi), and his angry father, Charles (John Pasha).

The 12-member ensemble is uniform, with everyone offering firmly competent performances. Those who grow old before our eyes manage the feat with a minimum of fuss, even abandoning the use of wigs that Wilder asks them to “adjust upon their heads at the indicated moments.”

“Pullman Car Hiawatha” (1931) is even more unconventional; it offers a denser philosophical view of life and time’s passage. Using 16 actors, it prefigures OUR TOWN in a number of ways, using a genial, dapper Stage Manager (Michael Sean McGuinness)—dressed by costumer Marianne Custer in a double-breasted suit and red bowtie—to supervise the telling of a story set upon a Pullman sleeping car named Hiawatha wending its way from New York to Chicago in 1930. As the train moves past various towns, including Grover’s Corners, Ohio (OUR TOWN’s Grover’s Corners is in New Hampshire), its progress is a metaphor for the movement of human life. Similar themes, touching on life, death, and the position of humanity in comparison to the universe, are shared between “Pullman Car Hiawatha” and Wilder’s later masterpiece.

Mr. Feiner’s set—which departs from Wilder’s instructions that the passenger’s spaces be drawn by the Stage Manager in chalk on the stage floor, with the actors then bringing on chairs to sit and sleep on—contains a simplified row of lower berths running parallel to the audience on a raised, upstage platform. Downstage sections—separated by an aisle from the berths—represent the train’s regular compartments.

The characters, some unnamed, are allegorical but recognizable representations of a cross-section of everyday humanity. Those downstage include a young wife, Harriet (Anna Marie Sell), her husband, Philip (Mr. Pasha), an Insane Woman (Giselle Wolf), and her two, white-garbed attendants (Rafe Terrizzi and Kristin Parker). In separate berths upstage are two engineers, Bill (Jeremy Russial) and Fred (Brad Fryman); a doctor (James Beaman); and an Amiable Lady (Gael Schaefer). There’s also a black porter (Lamar Giles). Wilder’s unconventional dramaturgy allows us at one point to listen to the private thoughts of the characters, each with his or her own petty preoccupations.

Downstage, Harriet isn’t well and the Insane Woman is acting up. The doctor is summoned for Harriet, but it’s too late to save her. With Harriet’s death, the play moves onto a larger plane. From the microcosm of life seen on the train, we’re asked by the God-like Stage Manager to contemplate the macrocosm of the universe outside: “So much for the inside of the car. That’ll be enough of that for the present. Now for its position geographically, meteorically, astronomically, theologically considered.” Members of the audience (in this production, but not the script) are asked to read lines from famous writings. Three “beautiful girls” (Merissa Czyz, Lawanda Hopkins, and Barbara Salant) playing the Hours—a concept to which Wilder returns in THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH—appear in an aisle, contemplating time; each has a historical, philosophical analogue, St. Augustine among them.

Lamar Giles, Giselle Wolf, and company  Photo: Carol Rosegg.

After more such metaphysical and even theological occurrences, the upstage curtain parts and Harriet is led up heavenly stairs by an archangel (Mr. Giles); Wilder’s two archangels are reduced here to one. Harriet recites a speech reminiscent of the famous one Emily in OUR TOWN gives when she briefly returns to earth. The train arrives at Chicago, the passengers depart, and three scrubwomen mop the floor.

Michael Sean McGuinness (left), Lamar Giles (on staircase). Photo: Carol Rosegg.

This is a respectable staging of a play whose metaphysical ruminations, theatrical as they are, aren’t always easy to grasp; it’s nonetheless so imaginatively original that it holds your interest even when you’re not quite sure of what you’re seeing and hearing. Mr. Feiner’s lighting creates several stunning visuals, one when the archangel, dressed in a formal white suit (blue serge in the text), climbs the steps with Harriet, and another when each of the characters is highlighted by a pin spot as they pose in silhouette. A fine sound design by Quentin Chiappetta provides a perfect auditory background. Ms. Custer’s period costumes add immeasurably to the experience.

It’s unusual for an Off-Broadway company to employ such a large cast, so in that alone A WILDER CHRISTMAS is unusual. The acting in “Pullman Car Hiawatha” is as smoothly effective as that in the first play, although there are several potent moments—one involving Ms. Wolf’s Insane Woman—but it’s the way the gears mesh rather than any specific performance that keeps this train on track.

Despite the evening’s title being wreathed in the holiday spirit, these plays are more contemplative than joyful, but they do offer as much rich food for thought as whatever you’ll be eating at Christmas dinner will for your stomach.

OTHER VIEWPOINTS:

Show-Score

A WILDER CHRISTMAS

Theatre at St. Clement’s

423 West Forty-Sixth Street, NYC

Through January 3

114. Review: C.S. LEWIS THE GREAT DIVORCE (seen December 6, 2015)

“The Chronicles of Yawnia”

Stars range from 5-1

For some reason several recent writers have found rich pickings for the stage in THE GREAT DIVORCE, a Christian-themed,  fantasy novella published in 1945 by prolific, British (but Irish-born) writer C.S. Lewis (THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA). Max McLean and Brian Watkins’s adaptation of the book—whose influences include, among others, Lewis Carroll, Dante Alighieri, and John Bunyan—now being performed by the Fellowship for the Performing Arts at the Pearl Theatre, is at least the third adaptation in the past half-decade. While the FPA’s production, directed by Bill Castellino, is well-acted and prettily produced, the material’s too rarified for general consumption; it appears to be geared mainly for an audience of the faithful (Lewis was a convert to the Church of England) preoccupied by thoughts of Heaven and Hell. While it seeks to present its theological viewpoints in a friendly, even occasionally humorous, parable-like way, it comes off like a preachy Sunday school drama; if you’re not pious enough to give it your undivided attention, you may find yourself drifting into fantasies of your own.

Michael Frederic, Christa Scott-Reed, Joel Rainwater. Photo: Joan Marcus.

The producers, obviously aware of the problem, offer not only a brief explanatory program note but a substantial synopsis of the plot. As they explain it, the work’s essential question is, if you were living in the Hell Lewis imagines and given the choice between remaining there or entering Lewis’s vision of Heaven, which would you choose? Of course, you have to appreciate the original ways in which Heaven and Hell are described before you can decide.

Michael Frederic, Joel Rainwater. Photo: Joan Marcus.

THE GREAT DIVORCE, whose title refers to its origins as a rejoinder to William Blake’s THE MARRIAGE OF HEAVEN AND HELL (1790-1793), begins in a library where the Narrator (Joel Rainwater), a gentle, academic type who’s a stand-in for Lewis, falls asleep while reading. When he awakes he’s standing in the twilight rain in the grim Grey Town (representing Hell), waiting for a celestial bus with several querulous townsfolk. Once aboard the bus, he meets various passengers, each of whom is traveling to Heaven’s foothills for different reasons. We learn of conditions in the dismal Grey Town, where the usual amusements are available, but where people keep moving from place to place to get away from their neighbors, creating both sprawl and empty streets.

Michael Frederic, Christa Scott-Reed, Joel Rainwater. Photo: Joan Marcus.

Once in the gorgeous world of Heaven, the passengers discover that they’re merely ghostly shadows; if they remain and accept what Heaven has to offer, they’ll gradually become solid. For now, though, merely stepping on the solid grass is painful (everybody, by the way, is barefoot throughout), and it requires great strength simply to lift an apple. There follow encounters between the townspeople and heavenly Spirits—dressed in long, white robes—with whom they once had relationships, and who seek to get them to abandon their selfish desires in order to follow them and find heavenly joy. The Ghosts, though, are deceived by their attachments to pride, jealousy, greed, possessiveness, skepticism, and the like and refuse to stay. Late in the play, a Ghost (played by the Narrator) struggles with a red lizard, which represents the lust he’s unwilling to abandon, although the play never clarifies this connection.

Joel Rainwater, Christa Scott-Reed. Photo: Joan Marcus.

The Narrator himself is met by the Scottish writer George MacDonald (1824-1905), who had a profound influence in Lewis’s decision to abandon atheism and turn to God; he rolls his “r’s,” wears a red, plaid sash across his white robe, and serves as the Narrator’s Virgil, instructing him on this New World and the people they encounter as he guides him toward spiritual enlightenment. At the end, the Narrator is back in the library, where he wakes up, faced with deciding how he'll henceforth conduct his life.

The many characters, apart from the Narrator, are embodied by two versatile, middle-aged actors, the tall and slim Christa Scott-Reed and the distinguished-looking Michael Frederic, who don Nicole Wee’s attractive costumes to shift quickly from role to role. Jeffery Cady’s brilliant, cutting-edge projections, many of them combining still with moving images, create the otherworldly locales in which the action transpires; they are, in fact, the most compelling part of the production. The only scenic props on set designer Kelly James Tighe’s functional set, which is mainly a circular platform covered with Astroturf in front of a projection screen, are short, silver-painted boxes made to look like bunches of books welded together. John Gromoda’s superb original music and sound design does wonders to enhance the strange atmosphere.  

Regardless of what theological implications the play provides, or the degree to which you’re interested in hearing arguments, some fairly dense, favoring Heaven over Hell, or vice versa, you may discover that THE GREAT DIVORCE simply lacks enough tension to hold your focus for its 90-intermissionless minutes. The characters, intended to illustrate particular human characteristics, are too unreal, and seeing them all portrayed by the same actors, with heavenly Spirits in white robes, only serves to heighten the churchy didacticism. Introducing a real historical person as a Spirit in the person of MacDonald might appeal to those familiar with his ideas, but for the benighted rest of us his presence has no particular resonance. THE GREAT DIVORCE can certainly be considered theatrical, but it’s a far cry from being dramatic.

OTHER VIEWPOINTS:

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C.S. LEWIS’ THE GREAT DIVORCE

Pearl Theatre

555 West Forty-Second Street, NYC

Through January 3

113. Review: SCHOOL OF ROCK (seen December 5, 2015)

“Sticks It to the Man”

Stars range from 5-1.

Back in 2003 actor-musician Jack Black created what is still his most iconic character, the schlubby, chubby, wannabe rock musician Dewey Finn, in Richard Linklater’s movie SCHOOL OF ROCK. Dewey, you’ll recall, becomes a substitute teacher at an elite prep school and leads his brilliantly talented grade school kids to compete at the Battle of the Bands. So popular was the film—it made more money than any movie musical in history until bypassed this year by PITCH PERFECT 2—that it was only a matter of time before someone put it on the Main Stem. (You’re thinking whatever happened to THE SOUND OF MUSIC and MY FAIR LADY?) 

Alex Brightman and the kids' ensemble. Photo: Matthew Murphy.

While SCHOOL OF ROCK isn't a conventional movie musical, in which the songs are integral to the narrative, that—at least, in part—is what it’s become in its Broadway adaptation (a world premiere), with a company of 35 performers singing music (much of it uninspired, high-decibel hard rock) by Andrew Lloyd Webber (PHANTOM OF THE OPERA, yes, but also JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR) and lyrics by Glenn Slater (SISTER ACT, THE LITTLE MERMAID). The book, which follows the movie’s plot while offering some additional material—the strained relationships between the kids and their fathers (“If Only You Would Listen”), and a romance between the leads—is by Julian Fellowes (DOWNTON ABBEY: surprise!), and the enthusiastic direction is by Laurence Connor (LES MISÉRABLES). With such a powerful creative team, a show with sky-high name recognition, a company of insanely talented boys and girls, and a promising new star, its success is practically guaranteed, no matter what its flaws (and they're undeniable). Judging by the many youngsters packed into the Winter Garden at the Saturday matinee I attended, this one is bound for family hitdom, and may even inspire a new generation of hard-rockin’ headbangers.  

Alex Brightman and the kids' ensemble. Photo: Matthew Murphy.

Singer-guitarist Dewey (Alex Brightman) is fired from his heavy metal band, No Vacancy, for drawing too much attention to himself. Broke, and needing money to pay his rent to his best friend, Ned Schneebly (Spencer Moses, amusingly tall and thin as a straw), and his henpecking girlfriend, Patty (Mamie Parris, very good), he secretly takes a substitute teaching job intended for Ned at Horace Green Prep School. At this hallowed institution, where parents pay $50,000 a year (updated from $15,000 in the film) for a year’s tuition, he encounters the uptight young principal, Rosalie Mullins (Sierra Boggess in the Joan Cusack role). As in the film, Dewey’s demeanor is the exact opposite of what’s expected: he’s slovenly, unpunctual, snarky, lazy, and totally anti-establishment. His mantra of “stick it to the man” becomes the show’s theme and one of its best songs, reprised for the splashy finale.

Alex Brightman and the adult ensemble. Photo: Matthew Murphy.

Once ensconced in his fifth-grade classroom, the hungover Dewey does everything he can to ignore the anxious preppies, just hoping to make it through the day, but when he discovers that the kids have musical talent, the rock music-obsessed Dewey schemes to train them to compete in the Battle of the Bands under the name School of Rock, with him as the front man. The kids, needing the attention they’re missing at home, latch on enthusiastically, and Dewey makes the most of each one’s special talents (“You’re in the Band”), including the officious little genius named Summer (Isabella Russo, as smart as she’s cute), who’s assigned the role of band manager. The withdrawn Tomika (Bobbi MacKenzie), adopted daughter of two gay men, is bypassed until she bursts out with an awesome R&B cover of “Amazing Grace.”

Sierra Boggess and the kids' ensemble. Photo: Matthew Murphy.

Of course, it’s all a fairy tale. How else could you believe a loose cannon like Dewey passing as a teacher in an elite school, and secretly forming a sensational band out of a random group of fifth-graders who just happen to be virtuosi musicians and singers? Or accept the prince of grunge being the object of the prim and proper Rosalie’s affections after she downs a single drink and learns that Dewey’s as crazy as she about Stevie Nicks (whose “Edge of Seventeen” he plays on the jukebox)? Nonetheless, while the show’s on you believe and you accept because it’s presented with a just enough skill and charm to make it irresistible. In fact, you’ll probably even wipe away a happy tear or two.  

Sierra Boggess. Photo: Matthew Murphy.

The vocally gifted Ms. Boggess delivers, showing off both operatic chops (“Queen of the Night”) as well as her Broadway belting with the show’s big ballad, “Where Did the Rock Go?”; I wish, though, her Rosalie were more a character than an outline. Mr. Brightman is sure to get raves—and award nominations—for his singing, guitar playing, clowning, and manic energy, but what he offers is essentially a terrific replication of Jack Black’s unforgettable portrayal. There are sensational riffs from the kids, in particular, the insecure Zack (Brandon Niederauer) on electric guitar, the cool Freddy (Dante Melucci) on drums, the lip-puckering Katie (Evie Dolan) on bass, and the nerdy classical pianist Lawrence (Jared Parker) on the keyboard. A large supporting cast smoothly covers the ensemble roles of teachers, parents, and musicians.

Evie Dolan, Alex Brightman, Brandon Niederauer. Photo: Matthew Murphy.

Anna Louizos provides not only great character-defining costumes but a set using elaborate sliding and flying panels for the 20 scenes, providing solid-looking school interiors, among other locales; the visuals are abetted perfectly by Natasha Katz’s lighting wizardry, including rock show razzmatazz at the end.

Alex Brightman, Dante Melucci, Evie Dolan.

SCHOOL OF ROCK teaches us that it’s sometimes okay to break the rules and stick it to the man, but also that Broadway (presently graced with seven shows featuring child actors) has a bottomless pit of extraordinarily talented kids who can do practically anything the stage requires, including making a B-minus show into an A-minus one.

Alex Brightman and the kids' ensemble. Photo: Matthew Murphy.

OTHER VIEWPOINTS:

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SCHOOL OF ROCK

Winter Garden Theatre

1634 Broadway, NYC

Open run

112. Review: REAL MEN: THE MUSICAL (seen December 3, 2015)

"At the Old Balls Game"

Stars range from 5-1.

Add caption

Whether you’re gay, straight, trans, or any other color on the gender rainbow, the New York theatre has a show for you. (There’s even a piece called SEX TIPS FOR STRAIGHT WOMEN FROM A GAY MAN.) At the moment, New World Stages is braying to the testosterone-heavy segment of the spectrum with, in one corner, MEN ARE FROM MARS, WOMEN ARE FROM VENUS, and, in another, REAL MEN: THE MUSICAL. Both seek to affirm all the conventional shibboleths about what it is to belong to that beleaguered, outdated, and henpecked demographic called the straight man (and, it seems, only the white subsection of that diverse population).

Paul Louis, Stephen G. Anthony, Nick Santa Maria. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

Although it calls itself a musical, REAL MEN—briskly directed by David Arisco—is really a modestly raunchy revue, with three talented, middle-aged performers appearing in a sequence of brief skits and over two dozen songs in a variety of show tune styles (no eleven o’clock power ballads, though). Two of those performers, Nick Santa Maria and Paul Louis, wrote the mostly tuneful, sporadically witty book, music, and lyrics; keyboardist Martin Landry and percussionist Brian Radock supply the accompaniment. Originally called REAL MEN SING SHOW TUNES AND PLAY WITH PUPPETS, it premiered at the Actors Playhouse in Coral Gables, Florida, in 2012, and was subsequently seen in L.A. It was shown in July at the New York Music Theatre Festival, where it was titled REAL MEN: A MUSICAL FOR GUYS AND THE WOMEN WHO PUT UP WITH THEM, and it’s the first of this year’s NYMF shows to get a regular New York run.

Stephen G. Anthony, Nick Santa Maria, Paul Louis. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

Working against a spangly backdrop designed by Gene Seyffer and lit by Patrick Tennent, Mr.  Santa Maria, Mr. Louis, and the third member of their trio, Stephen G. Anthony, sing nicely and demonstrate their comic chops in what’s structured as a 12-step program given to an insecure guy (Mr. Anthony) by a puppet-wielding shrink (Mr. Louis) about how to find confidence in his shrinking manhood: for example, “Step Four: Appreciate Your Woman,” “Step Six: Spend Quality Time with Your Loved One,” “Step Nine: Mature Gracefully.” Every so often, a preacher (or three) appears at a pulpit to instruct us about the precepts of manhood taken, not from the Bible but from The Book of More Men. For a sampling, let’s take the first five:

We believe Spring cleaning can be put off till Winter, . . . of the following year

We know about batteries.

Our T-shirts can be worn two days in a row, . . . three if you don't sweat much.

We think dog slobber is a good thing.

We like being sexually harassed

Ba da bum.

Stephen G. Anthony, Paul Louis, Nick Santa Maria. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

Much of this is clever and funny, but much is not; the humor’s original only in spots, its appeal depending heavily on the performative charms of the stars (who harmonize nicely) and the catchiness of several tunes. (I admit to laughing louder at Jason Alexander’s online promo video than at anything in the show itself.) If you think a sketch in which an actor dances about in a penis costume that flops over when he encounters his wife in housecoat, curlers, and rolling pin might roll you in the aisles, REAL MEN has a ticket it wants to sell you. Genital humor, of course, isn’t limited to this bit: there’s even a routine called “Look Straight Ahead” about urinal etiquette.

Stephen G. Anthony, Paul Louis, Nick Santa Maria. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

Several skits click, like the one called “Guy Talk,” in which Mr. Anthony uses doubletalk to “bullshit” his way through a beer-drinking session, impressing his bar partners with his knowledge of baseball, cars, and refrigerator repair. Among the more risible songs is “I’m Not,” in which Mr. Santa Maria checks off a list of all the stereotypically gay things he likes while dissuading us from thinking him anything but straight. One verse goes:

MY BED SHEETS ARE CLEAN

MY HYGIENE IS KEMPT

A SAD MOVIE SCENE CAN MAKE ME FERKLEMPT 

(tissue box appears)

BUT I'M NOT GAY

Paul Louis, Nick Santa Maria, Stephen G. Anthony. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

It’s not all music and yocks, though, as the writers now and then offer snatches of sentiment to warm your heart, with material that touches on dads and babies. The trio’s very good at varying their personas with minimal changes of jackets and hats (good choices by costumer Ellis Tillman); each gets to use Muppet-like puppets (designed by Mr. Louis and Mr. Tillman), and there are sequences, reminscent of the great "Triplets" number in the Fred Astaire-Nanette Fabray movie, THE BAND WAGON, where their lower halves are hidden behind a platform so someone else’s hands can serve as their tiny feet (or is the other way around?). In “Prairie Men,” for example, they’re cowboys from the waist up, and ballet dancers from the tutu down.

Stephen G. Anthony, Nick Santa Maria. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

If you’re thinking women might not go for this show, think again. My guest was a woman, and she liked it even more than I, while the lady sitting on my other side couldn’t stop shaking her head up and down and chuckling audibly. In fact, maybe you have to be a real woman to get the most out of REAL MEN.

Paul Louis, Stephen G. Anthony, Nick Santa Maria. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

OTHER VIEWPOINTS:

REAL MEN: THE MUSICAL

New World Stages

340 West Fiftieth Street, NYC

Open run

111. Review: INVISIBLE THREAD (seen December 4, 2015)

“When You Reach Out and Touch Someone”

Stars range from 5-1.

There’s one thing it’s hard to misjudge when you go to the theatre. That’s the spontaneity of an audience’s reaction to something they like, as opposed to the pro forma “everybody rise” of so many standing ovations. When an audience ignites with the enthusiasm of that at Second Stage for the new musical, INVISIBLE THREAD, you might disagree but you can’t ignore it.

Griffin Matthews. Photo: Joan Marcus.

Adeola Role, Griffin Matthews. Photo: Joan Marcus.

The inspirational INVISIBLE THREAD was inspired by the actual experiences of African American actor-singer Griffin Matthews, who wrote the show with his life partner, composer Matt Gould. Griffin, the central character, is played by the actual Griffin, and the plot tells of how, in 2005, he was rejected by the pastor of his church, where he sang tenor in the choir, for being gay. Seeking to lift his spirits, he flew to Uganda where he volunteered to work in a church-run rural compound, building a schoolhouse. As dramatized, with the usual liberties, his story has him discovering that the religious leader, Pastor Jim, is planning to sell the completed project for a profit, which drives Griffin away.

Ensemble. Photo: Joan Marcus.

He decides to fill out his brief allotted time in Uganda teaching a band of four impoverished, orphaned teenagers he’s befriended, some of whose parents died of AIDS. To his surprise, the kids think of this American as a white man, a mzungu, a term they aren’t shy using to his face. He sets the school up in an abandoned library. Soon, his white, Jewish boyfriend, called Ryan (Corey Mach) in the show, tired of teaching music to New York kids, joins him, but there are those who don’t welcome these outsiders. Moreover, Griffin and his partner could easily be in danger since Uganda metes out very harsh punishments to gays (something you might have thought the real-life Griffin would have known before going). [Note: a friend has informed me that Uganda's strict anti-gay laws actually weren't passed until 2009.]

Corey Mach, Nicolette Robinson, Tyrone Davis, Jr., Jamar Williams, Kristolyn Lloyd, Griffin Matthews. Photo: Joan Marcus.

The show premiered (as WITNESS UGANDA) in 2014 at the American Repertory Theatre in Cambridge, and already has raised a considerable amount of money to help 10 Ugandan students a year; each of those depicted in the show, by the way—as we learn during the upbeat finale—has succeeded in his or her career choices, one even becoming a doctor. INVISIBLE THREAD illustrates how tangible is the invisible thread that ties one human heart to another, but also illustrates how few lucky children get the help they need in the oppressive hellholes of the world. Much of act two, in fact, concerns Ryan and Griffin’s experiences trying to raise funds for their students—the show itself was born out of their efforts—after they’ve moved them to a boarding school. Thus the evening has a subliminal goal, although no one asks for money on your way out.

Griffin Williams, Michael Luwoye. Photo: Joan Marcus.

As the story develops, historical facts blend with infusions of melodrama, and some of the material goes a bit too far in amping up the emotional dynamics. The book also runs into trouble toward the end when important information is revealed in an extended dialogue scene that jars with the work’s musically oriented style. Lots of joyous, rousing, but not memorably distinctive African-inflected music is heard; there’s also an abundance of narrative-driven numbers in the relatively tuneless, big-voiced style so common nowadays. The ensemble songs stand out, especially “Bela Musana,” a gospel number led by the rafter-shaking voice of Melody Betts as a church lady when Griffin's accepted back into his church. For a rhythm-busting finale, it would be hard to beat the exuberant “Njakuwangula.”

Griffin Matthews, Nicolette Robinson. Photo: Joan Marcus.

Director Diane Paulus takes brilliant advantage of the music to inject loads of physicality into the production; her vivid staging, combined with the vibrantly enthusiastic choreography of Sergio Trujillo and Darrell Grand Moultrie, often succeeds in making the proceedings literally jump off the stage.

Nicolette Robinson, Kristolyn Lloyd, Jama Williams, Tyrone Davis, Jr. Photo: Jo

INVISIBLE THREAD is nothing if not energetic, colorful, and spirited while also finding room to be poignant and uplifting. It unfolds on a vividly accented unit set (by Tom Pye) covered with red earth, using flying elements and lots of projections (by Peter Nigrini), including e-mail messages, and a complex lighting scheme (by the always wonderful Justin Townsend). A nine-member orchestra, led by Mr. Gould, sits high overhead at stage right. The African setting gives designer ESosa a good opportunity for some eye-catching costumes.

Ensemble. Photo: Joan Marcus.

Griffin Matthews, Corey Mach. Photo: Joan Marcus.

There are no weak links in the 19-member company, with the slender, boyish Mr. Matthews leading the way with a performance mingling high-octane theatrics with convincing sincerity. As Joy, the cynical woman who runs the compound, Adeola Role shows off a vibrant personality and strong voice. As her intense, troubled brother, Jacob, who becomes closely (but not that closely) attached to Griffin, Michael Luwoye is fine, albeit too mature for the part, The teens that Griffin teaches—Nicolette Robinson as Eden, Kristolyn Lloyd as Grace, Jamar Williams as Ibrahim), and Tyrone Davis, Jr. as Ronny—are all sweet-hearted and earnest, and their infectious presence makes the time fly by.  

This new musical has many imperfections, but it will still tie its invisible thread around your heart.

Corey Mach, Nicolette Robinson, Jamar Williams, Griffin Matthews, Michael Luwoe, Tyrone Davis, Jr., Kristolyn Lloyd. Photo: Joan Marcus.

OTHER VIEWPOINTS:

Show-Score

INVISIBLE THREAD

Second Stage

305 West Forty-Third Street, NYC

110. Review: H2O (seen December 1, 2015)

“Nor Any Drop to Drink”

Stars range from 5-1

Water makes a couple of appearances in H2O, the uneven, 80-minute dramatic comedy by the award-winning, pseudonymous Jane Martin at 59E59 Theaters, but it’s more likely that the title’s an allusion to the emotional bond between its two actor-characters, a would-be Hamlet and Ophelia. The play originally appeared in 2013 at the Contemporary American Theater Festival in Shepherdstown, West Virginia, and was produced at St. Paul's Gremlin Theatre in 2014.

Diane Mair, Alex Podulke. Photo: David Arsenault.

Jake Abadjian (Alex Podulk) is a movie star whose fame rests on three films he’s made as the superhero Dawnwalker, a role that’s earned him $30 million. He’s a scruffy boozer who was a sometime musician in L.A. when he caught an agent’s eye and wound up being cast as the superhero “who never speaks.” But Jake’s paying the price by finding the meaninglessness in an existence where he can have whomever and whatever he desires. Despite his vast inexperience, he’s decided to seek that missing meaning by playing Hamlet on Broadway, supported by a cast of mostly “British actor-elephants,” as he terms them. If you can digest the idea of an untrained movie star who never spoke a word on screen as a major production's Prince of Denmark, I congratulate you on your cast iron stomach. 

Diane Mai, Alex Podulke. Photo: David Arsenault.

A struggling actress named Deborah Elling (Diane Mair), from Fayette, Missouri, shows up to audition for Ophelia (the director and producer have turned her casting over to  the fledgling Shakespearean, which also requires some sturdy internal plumbing to accept). Arriving just after the depressed Jake has slashed his wrists, she saves him, thus initiating the painful relationship that constitutes the plot. 

Deborah’s a 26-year-old fundamentalist (“Renewalist”) Christian virgin; she tells us (the play has lots of direct address) that, while she was reading a first folio at the New York Public Library, she heard Jesus informing her that acting was “her service.” “I won’t do plays that don’t enable God’s handiwork,” she declares. In her eyes, Shakespeare proves the existence of God. Jake, for his part, is a snarky skeptic who never misses a chance to get off a crack at Jesus’ expense. Intimidated by Hamlet’s language and the more experienced cast members, he thinks he needs Deborah’s help.

Alex Podulke, Diane Mair. Photo: David Arsenault.

The play depicts the emotional and spiritual conflict between the cynical, rude, foul-mouthed, self-hating Jake and the artistically aspiring, profanity-hating, sexually unavailable, faith-driven Deborah, with the fate of Jake’s soul lying somewhere in the balance. Given the nature of their relationship and that of the characters they’ll embody in HAMLET, it’s clear that the play wishes to conflate their offstage lives with those in Shakespeare’s tragedy. Thus, despite several good laughs, H2O—which includes scenes of blood and attempted rape—comes down much harder on the dramatic than the comic side of the equation.  

Alex Podulke. Photo: David Arsenault.

Set on a stage bare except for a door on rollers and a few pieces of furniture (David Arsenault is the designer), the play moves swiftly under West Hyler’s direction, using a quartet of black-garbed stage hands—the Essentials (Anna Schovaers, Colin Wulff, Annie Winneg, and Charlie Munn)—to rearrange the set pieces, deliver and retrieve props, and handle Ms. Mair’s onstage costume changes, which often reveal her in her bra and panties. The costumes, which include a lovely blue lace evening gown, are by Whitney Locher and the effective lighting by Travis McHale.

Alex Podulke, Diane Mair. Photo: David Arsenault.

Ms. Mair and Mr. Podulke come across as earnest, hard-working actors, but neither transcends the often forced situations and dialogue to make us care for their unsympathetic characters. Deborah recites pious monologues about religion that reek with divinity school locutions, including words like “ontological” and “teleological,” while Jake riffs on the meaningless of acting and even offers a diatribe on Hamlet that may send some Shakespeare addicts bonkers with its questionable critique. Jake (who often speaks through gritted teeth) is intended to be a flop as Hamlet, so Mr. Podulke’s lackluster reading of the Prince’s lines can be excused, but Ms. Mair’s Deborah doesn’t make up for his lapses when she recites her own Bardic dialogue.

There are a few splashes of interest in H2O, and the actors sometimes generate a bit of heat, but the play itself never really comes to a boil.

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                               H2O                                  

59E59 Theaters/Theater B

59 East Fifty-Ninth Street, NYC

Through December 13