44 (2019-2020): Review: TWO'S A CROWD (seen July 19, 2020)

“What Happens in Vegas”

Despite its title, Two’s a Crowd, a pleasantly mediocre, nearly two-hour, time-passer of a musical at 59E59, has four actors, two of them the leads, with five additional roles split between two supporting actors. One of the leads is played by the popular, still-adorable, and always welcome comedian, Rita Rudner, who also cowrote the book with her husband, Martin Bergman, the director. 

Robert Yacko, Rita Rudner. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

The music and lyrics are the work of Jason Feddy, who, for unexplained reasons, materializes to sing and play the guitar during the show’s interstices when the actors need a moment to change costumes. I guess you could think of him as something of a chorus, although his lyrics—while suitable enough for a stand-alone act—have little to do with the plot or characters. The songs sung by the latter are perhaps a bit more closely related to what’s going on but most could as easily be extracted and performed without any knowledge of the plot.

Then again, the score may easily be the best feature of this sappy, cliched, senior-citizen romcom, set in a Las Vegas hotel room (Rudner is a popular Vegas attraction and even has a theatre there bearing her name). Two’s a Crowd is a perfect vehicle for audiences veering from middle-age into their golden years, and tailor-made for the dinner theatre crowd (wherever that still exists).

It imagines a man and a woman, strangers, meeting cute when they find themselves sharing the same room because of a double booking error. He, Tom McManus (Robert Yacko), is hovering just below his sixth decade, she, Wendy Solomon, just above. As conventional in such situation comedies, you have to let the tired little zingers and fibs about their respective ages wash over you.

Rita Rudner. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

Both are in Vegas for emotional rehab from personal losses, he—a retired electrical contractor—because of his beloved wife’s death, she because she found her husband cheating on her. His goal is to participate in a big poker tournament; she—a wedding planner—seems to have little else on her mind than to shop and play the slots. As per the formula, each has a completely different temperament, setting up the initial friction that makes it seem these two could never get together.

Tom’s nice, laid back, a go-with-the-flow guy, ready to accept life as it comes to him, and, although a college dropout, belatedly into the philosophy of Marcus Aurelius. Wendy’s rude, uptight, and so fearful of taking risks (she relies for information on the Travel Channel) that the first thing she does when she realizes she’ll have to spend the night with Tom—he on a foldup cot—in the same room is to Google him. The actors bring their natural charms to making their growing interest in one another (and their realization that first impressions aren’t always reliable) appear entertainingly inevitable. However, everything seems so carefully laid out that even the surprises are unsurprising.

Robert Yacko. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

Among those would-be surprises are the occasional monologues spoken by Tom and Wendy directly to the audience. This breaking of the fourth wall somehow seems inorganic and unnecessary, as if it’s present only because Rudner and Bergman felt the need to flesh out Tom and Wendy’s roles with additional exposition.

Additional humor is provided by Brian Lohmann and Kelly Holden Bashar, the actors who play the other characters. Lohmann, in addition to a fast turn as “Man at Door," covers Joe, the fey room service waiter, for whom he dons a ridiculous red toupee; and Gus, Wendy’s unfaithful hubby, who shows up with flowers and, in a semifantasy sequence, uses a standing mic to plead for forgiveness in a rockabilly song, accompanied by Feddy.

Brian Lohmann, Jason Feddy. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

Bashar first appears as Louise Zappia, VP of hotel operations, in a Louise Brooks-like helmet cut and black-rimmed glasses that make her resemble Times columnist Michelle Goldberg. She then becomes Lili, the friendly, Slavic-accented, blonde housekeeper, who initiates a promising relationship with Tom. (Question: must every wig be so obviously cheap-looking?)

Kelly Holden Bashar, Rita Rudner. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

Tessa Ann Bookwater’s bright but unexceptional hotel room set (which she’s also lighted, with some awkwardly executed blackouts) is placed on a revolve—shifted by the cast members—on whose other side is a plain green wall fronted by a small table and two chairs. At stage right is a staircase with a white bannister leading to where the three musicians perch. When composer, musical director, and lead guitarist Feddy steps into the spotlight, he does so at the top of the stairs, which, of course, make absolutely no sense being in the room.

Robert Yacko, Rita Rudner. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

Feddy, who happens to be the cantor/soloist at Temple Isaiah, Newport Beach, CA (who knew?), looks like Jerry Garcia and sounds like James Taylor. He’s an engaging presence and his music, almost all of which has a country sound, is actually quite sprightly and effective. On the other hand, Tom and Wendy are both from Cleveland, so why the music sounds like Nashville is a question for the rebbe.

Two’s a Crowd offers very little you haven’t seen before. It gets its occasional laughs, naturally, but one of the biggest comes (with strong applause!) when Tom uses the verb trump and Wendy says “Please don’t say Trump.”  Cheap joke, yes, but many of us need a public opportunity to let off anti-Trump steam, so it's at least excusable.

McManus may not be your ideal leading man but he performs with unassuming believability and, like Wendy, you find yourself appreciating his presence. Lohmann and Bashar are polished comic actors who play their sketch-like characters with the usual sketch-like shtick.

Rita Rudner. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

I’ve always found Rudner’s standup comedy very funny. Her natural humor, however, hasn’t translated well to this standard musical comedy, in which she plays a role that seems part her, part someone else. Rudner, whose open face, delicate features, and wide-open eyes suggest a grown-up Kewpie doll, balances her portrayal of Wendy with equal infusions of the standup playing to the audience and the actress playing to her partners. Very little comes off as spontaneous. When a song is in her register, she sings effectively, if not memorably; when it’s not, it deserves to stay in Vegas.

One of the brightest spots is the finale, when Tom, Lili, Gus, and Wendy, their lives now settled, reunite some time later. They sing one more song that we might presume is meant to sum up the show’s theme. Inspired by the thoughts of Marcus Aurelius, it’s called “Shit Happens.” Who can say no to that?

Two’s a Crowd

59E59 Theaters/Theater A

59 E. 59^th St., NYC

Through August 25

OTHER VIEWPOINTS:

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GUEST REVIEW 10 (2019-2020): LEAVING EDEN

“How Does Your Garden Grow?”

by Aron Canter (guest reviewer)

From time to time Theatre's Leiter Side posts reviews of Off-Off Broadway shows my schedule prevents me from seeing. If you are interested in reviewing Off-Off Broadway, please contact me so we can discuss. I hope you find the expanded coverage useful. Sam Leiter

It’s is a blessing that there’s such an abundance of theatre in New York City; the downside, of course, is that a great deal is forgettable. There may be nothing offensive or even off-putting about a production, but if it’s not compelling or dynamic, once I leave the theater, it’s like I was never there. Such a show is Leaving Eden, a new musical offered by the New York Musical Festival, with a book and lyrics by Jenny Waxman, music by Ben page, additional music by Ada Westfall, and direction by Susanna Wolk. Its professionalism and a few charming moments are not enough for it to take root in this summer's theatrical garden.

This is a story of two trios, each at the inception of life. One is biblical, Adam, Eve, and Lilith, the mythical original woman in the Garden of Eden. The other is modern: Adam, Lily, and Eve. The paired stories reflect and comment on each other as each navigates creation, feminism, betrayal, and love.

Taking part on a minimal stage with no more than a single set piece to establish space, and a small band behind the backdrop to accompany the action, the play moves along at a nice clip, but nothing grabs your attention. Lily, played with aplomb by Janet Krupin, cannot have a child after her hysterectomy. She struggles to communicate with her husband, Adam, portrayed by the talented Azudi Onyejekwe. This is reflected in Adam and Lilith’s odd power dynamics, infused with bright tones by Sarah-Anne Martinez and Ian Ward, as they create life in the Garden. Eve, acted with conviction by Gabrielle McClinton, finds her way into both worlds.

The performers are all solid, but, other than some colorful adult humor, the play doesn’t assert itself. Neither its ideas nor dialogue are gripping, while no other particular element stands out. The story just moves along, with one similar-sounding number after another.

That story tells of these couples coming together and falling apart. The modern couple has a ménage à trois. Adam kicks Lilith out of the Garden, following which Lilith feeds the apple to Eve. In theory, this shows promise, but, either because of conservative storytelling or ineffective writing, it makes no impact.         

Perhaps I undersell the performers, who, as in a neoclassical painting, are all firmly set in their characters. Leaving Eden also includes a great deal of physical intimacy, which, impressively, was executed safely and convincingly, thanks to the work of intimacy director Veronica Sofia Burt.

The musical, though, has no tunes worth humming, just a few repeat-worthy dirty jokes. Regardless of its talented cast, there's nothing in it that will stay with me. I couldn't have been happier than to be leaving Leaving Eden.

Leaving Eden

The Pershing Square Signature Center/Alice Griffin Jewel Box Theatre

480 42nd St., NYC

Through July 21

Aron Canter studied theatre theory and alternative performance at The New School and is working toward an Art History masters at Hunter College. He has been a theatre and art critic, a supernumerary at The Metropolitan Opera, and currently works as a medical professional. aron.canter@gmail.com.

42 (2019-2020): Review: I SPY A SPY: A DECLASSIFIED MUSICAL COMEDY (seen July 17, 2019)

“A New York City Melting Plot”

Sometimes a show comes along that perfectly coincides with a major socio-political problem being played out in the daily news cycle. Imagine a play being produced right now that dealt with a presidential impeachment, or one that addressed the exploitation of underage girls by men in powerful positions. Such a play, regardless of its artistic quality, would have a built-in electric charge for potential ticket buyers eager to see how the issue was being handled through a theatrical lens.

Andrew Mayer and company. Photo: Russ Rowland.

To a degree, that’s the case with I Spy a Spy: A Declassified Musical Comedy, a new Off-Broadway musical at Theatre at St. Clement’s. Its theme is the plight of immigrants, legal and illegal, hoping to capitalize on the American dream. Sadly, that issue is used not for a serious, or even serio-comic, examination of the immigrant dilemma. Instead, it provides the spark for a banal exercise that, for all its upbeat treatment of America’s cultural diversity, is little more than an excuse for a mostly witless, farcical farrago about stereotypical, cartoon characters of multiple ethnicities. 

James Donegan, Lawrence E. Street, Emma Degerstedt, Hazel Ann Raymundo, Connor McShane. Photo: Russ Rowland.

It’s a shame because a lot of effort has gone into what, on the surface, is an ambitious enterprise, with a cast of 12 (big for Off Broadway), including the sizzling Emma Degerstedt, so hot in Smokey Joe’s Café and Desperate Measures. But the material is little more than a melting plot of comic book action with an uncomic book, uninspired lyrics, and a generic score of 13 songs.

Andrew Mayer and company. Photo: Russ Rowland.

There’s a lot of activity going on under Bill Castellino’s (Cagney) frenetic direction and choreography, and the cast—a versatile ensemble that gets to make numerous costume changes (Tyler M. Holland is the designer) to play multiple roles—uses its talents gamely. Too bad that none of it adds up to very much. Whatever it may wish to say about the immigrant experience is lost in the show’s mashup of mediocre mayhem.

Bruce Warren, Emma Degerstedt. Photo: Russ Rowland.

Jamie Jackson (who wrote the lyrics and cowrote the book) and SoHee Youn (who cowrote the book and composed the music) are the creators of this juvenile, plotline-cluttered show, which requires nearly two and a half hours to perform. When the intermission arrived around 8:15 following a 7:00 p.m. curtain, it took me by surprise. Just as I was checking my watch to see when it would end, the show was getting ready for another hour or more of unamusing complications.

Connor McShane, James Donegan, John Wascavage, Andrew Mayer. Photo: Russ Rowland.

Those include several subplots. One involves José Rodriguez (Andrew Mayer), an undocumented Mexican and would-be actor, who wears a Statue of Liberty costume in Times Square and works at two stores in Hell’s kitchen. He’s in hot water with a villainous Latina female smuggler, Prisciliana Expinoza (Nicole Paloma Sarro), who threatens his life if he doesn’t pay the $55 K  he owes her for smuggling him across the border.

Emma Degerstedt, Andrew Mayer. Photo: Russ Rowland.

Then there’s his attraction to Alina Orlova (Degerstedt), beautiful daughter of the Russian spymaster Cold Borscht (Bruce Warren), who’s trained her in espionage (she’s constantly citing the rules of spying). Cold Borscht wants her to steal the New York’s mayor’s briefcase as part of a vaguely defined scheme to bring him down.  (Cold Borscht, by the way, is a code name. Alina’s is Cheese Blini and a Russian hacker spy’s is Beef Stroganoff. And that's about the sophomoric level of humor throughout.)

Bruce Warren, John Wascavage. Photo: Russ Rowland.

Cold Borscht, a traditional spy, is rivaled by the newfangled methods of the aforementioned hacker, played with hip-hop attitude by John Wascavage, who wants his job. He threatens to send the older man and his offspring to Siberia if their mission fails. A further subplot concerns a "Spy of the Year" competition.

There's also another competition, one that involves Alina, in the process of pursuing her mission, trying to get José chosen as the Face of New York. Against her will, however, she gets picked herself and becomes a celebrity, even appearing on SNL and the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon.

Company of I Spy a Spy Photo: Russ Rowland.

Meanwhile, back in Hell’s Kitchen, Abdul Makhdoon (Sorab Wadja), who runs a Pakistani pizza joint, for which José delivers pies, is in a business rivalry with Ms. Sunny Park (Hazel Ann Raymundo). She's the nearby Korean grocery owner, for whom José also works. But the Pakistani and the Korean, for all their friction (including mutual spying), are attracted to one another (although unwilling to admit it). Eventually, both become targets of Homeland Security agents as suspected terrorists because—oh, the wit of it—they’re guilty of such things as Abdul’s notes on culinary fusion (he makes gefilte fish kebabs) being mistaken for nuclear fusion.

Taylor Fields, Andrew Mayer, Connor McShane. Photo: Russ Rowland.

It all comes together in a big scene set among Russian revelers at the Karamazov Club in Brighton Beach, where an extended Russian folk-dance sequence, “Only a Russian,” concludes the nonsensical proceedings in a choreographically-familiar but, I admit, entertainingly enthusiastic finale.

Lawrence E. Street, Andrew Mayer, James Donegan. Photo: Russ Rowland.

James Morgan, artistic director of the York Theatre Company, where director-choreographer Castellino is also active, has designed a lighthearted, cartoony set that helps moves things from place to place by revolving a row of periaktoi-like towers, each of their sides depicting another place. Michael Gottlieb’s lighting bathes the stage in musical comedy colors. Youn’s mostly upbeat music, well-enough—if unmemorably—sung by the ensemble, is played under Dan Pardo’s musical direction by four musicians placed, largely out of sight, to the right of the auditorium bleachers.

Grace Choi, Taylor Fields, Nicole Paloma Sarro. Photo: Russ Rowland.

Barely any of the songs stand out, and the title of the so-so opening number, “The American Dream,” too readily brings to mind the brilliant, show-stopping song of the same name in Miss Saigon. Of the leading performers, only the striking Degerstedt (an eye-opener when she dons a skimpy, sequined, green sheath) and the bearded, stocky Warren make a lasting impression, but their material prevents them from offering anything you haven’t seen before. Some actors, like Sarro, Warren and Wadja, deploy heavy ethnic accents. Raymundo's lines only occasionally betray her Korean immigrant’s origins, and Mayer, despite playing a Mexican immigrant, speaks perfect American English. 

Grace Choi, Sorab Wadja, Hazel Ann Raymundo, Lawrence E. Street. Photo: Russ Rowland.

Overall, I Spy a Spy is similar to what you’d expect from a children’s musical: energetic, corny, exaggerated, and, for the most part (rare these days), clean. Apart from its message of ethnic inclusivity, however, if one could even call it a message, I spied very little about which to report to Moscow.

Company of I Spy a Spy. Photo: Russ Rowland.

I Spy a Spy

Theatre at St. Clement’s

423 W. 46^th St., NYC

Through September 21

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GUEST REVIEW 9 (2019-2020): LADYSHIP

“A Show of Support”****

From time to time Theatre's Leiter Side will be posting reviews of Off-Off Broadway shows my schedule prevents me from seeing. If you are interested in reviewing Off-Off Broadway, please contact me so we can discuss. I hope you find the expanded coverage useful. Sam Leiter

On July 13, there was a blackout in New York City that shut down Broadway. Unable to go on, several shows, including Hadestown, Waitress, and a Carnegie Hall choir, took their acts to the streets. Hours earlier, at the New York Musical Festival (NYMF), a less dramatic event prevented a production from proceeding as scheduled: a leading actress, Maddie Shea Baldwin, was too ill to perform in LadyShip. This being a NYMF show, there was no understudy. Rather than cancel, the cast instead put on a concert production, with co-writer Linda Good filling in for the under-the-weather player.

You might expect the audience to have been cranky about this, as they had paid for a full production. But just as New Yorkers offered their support when the lights went out on Broadway and took to the streets to help control traffic, the LadyShip theatregoers applauded wildly when Linda Good sang her big solo and gave the cast a standing ovation at the end.  

Caitlin Cohn, Jordan Bolden. Photo: Russ Rowland.

Yes, perseverance was the theme of the day, also dominating the musical created by the twin pop indie duo Linda and Laura Good, who wrote the book, music, and lyrics. LadyShip, directed by Samantha Saltzman, is based on the true—and not widely known—stories of the thousands of women who were sent on ships from London to colonize Sydney, beginning in the late 18th century. If British male convicts were the bottom of the barrel, then what would you call the female population gifted to them as wives to birth future generations?  

Trevor St. John Gilbert, Quentin Oliver Lee, Justin R.G. Holcomb. Photo: Russ Rowland.

Through the song “The Bloody Code,” we learn how the British government concocted a plan to populate the Australian colony by sending female convicts (which is to say, poor women and young girls who commited petty crimes to survive) on ships to Sydney to serve a seven-year sentence—that is if they could survive the 10-month journey overseas as prisoners below deck with moldy biscuits as food and wooden shelves as beds.

Jennifer Blood, Caitlin Cohn, Noelle Hogan, Maddie Shea Baldwin. Photo: Russ Rowland.

Representing the hordes of female convicts transported on ships are six characters, more or less recognizable as players in any period piece: the wholesome young sisters, the feisty street dweller from the school of hard knocks, the mother who will do what it takes to return to her children, the noblewoman fallen from grace, and the sweet little orphan who yearns for a better life. 

Caitlin Cohn, Quentin Oliver Lee. Photo: Russ Rowland.

The men of the cast include the tormented law-abiding captain, the villainous captain’s nephew (luckily, he has no mustache or, surely, he’d twirl it), the young romantic lead, and the burly, brutish seaman. 

Noelle Hogan, Caitlin Cohn, Maddie Shea Baldwin. Photo: Russ Rowland. 

The company of 10 skillfully breathes maximum humanity into the token characters, singing the well-crafted score with an exuberance that held my attention for the two-hour performance. Caitlin Cohn plays Mary with quiet strength, Noelle Hogan is superb as 11-year-old Kitty, and Trevor St. John-Gilbert and Quentin Oliver Lee deliver rich vocals. The trio of musicians (Simone Allen, Christopher Anselmo, and Charlotte Morris) provides lively accompaniment. 

The company of LadyShip. Photo: Russ Rowland.

Considering the rough threats to the passengers, including mothers being separated from their children, slavery, starvation, and rape, LadyShip is surprisingly uplifting, with healthy doses of comedy, female friendship, and joyous music. While in future iterations it would be great to see the characters more developed, LadyShip successfully, and in the spirit of its clever title, explores the strength women draw from each other in suffering. 

LadyShip

Pershing Square Signature Center/The Alice Griffin Jewel Box Theatre

480 W42^nd st., NYC

Through July 14

Elyse Orecchio studied musical theatre at Emerson College, acting at CUNY Brooklyn College, and English Linguistics & Rhetoric at CUNY Hunter College. She has worked in nonprofit communications for more than a decade. She lives in Sunnyside, Queens, with her husband Joe, kids Theo and Melody, and three cats. eorecchio@gmail.com @elyseorecchio

GUEST REVIEW 8 (2019-2020): Review: BURIED

“Served with a Homicide of Romance”***

By Elyse Orecchio

From time to time Theatre's Leiter Side will be posting reviews of Off-Off Broadway shows my schedule prevents me from seeing. If you are interested in reviewing Off-Off Broadway, please contact me so we can discuss. I hope you find the expanded coverage useful. Sam Leiter 

Some people spend their university years in an inebriated haze; others write a full-length musical. Sure, University of Sheffield students Cordelia O’Driscoll and Tom Williams were under the influence when they created their first piece, Buried. That would be the influence of Jason Robert Brown and Stephen Sondheim. O’Driscoll and Williams have touted The Last Five Years and Sweeney Todd as inspiration for their musical, which is about two serial killers who like each other enough not to murder each other on the first date…awwww!!! 

Lindsay Manion, Sebastian Belli. 

In the opening musical number, Rose (a compelling Lindsay Manion), goes on a series of dates (including a crotch-grabbing dude and a droll, nerdy girl) that end in the demise of these duds. Then she meets Harry (Sebastian Belli): yes, that is a knife in his pocket and he’s not just happy to see her. She puts down the poison that had his name on it and they compare notes on their murderous ways.

Rose and Harry pair up, but not in that way. They decide to join forces in a killing spree, and romance comes later (you know what they say—first comes homicide…). Promising premise, but not much happens from there. With the smattering of killings occurring offstage, and a low-thrill storyline, the result is a good deal of dead space.

Rebecca Yau, Wilf Walsworth, Lindsay Manion.

Lifting Buried above ground is the original folksy score by O’Driscoll (music and lyrics), soulfully led by the silky-voiced Manion, who would be equally comfortable singing on stage or in a coffee house. The lilting harmonies of the ensemble (Niamh Finan, Laurence Hunt, Wilf Walsworth, and Rebecca Yau) elevate their characters from cartoon status. A standout number, “I’m Okay,” features the cast’s female trio, whose voices blend beautifully.

Sebastian Belli, Lindsay Manion.

In contrast with the sophisticated score, the book by Tom Williams (who also co-wrote the lyrics and directed) comes across as boring and at times, even amateurish. But take that with a grain of salt, considering this production won accolades across the United Kingdom and made its way to the New York Music Theatre Festival, an admirable feat for two university students who, by the way, are already working on their next musical.

 Buried

The Alice Griffin Jewel Box Theatre

480 W42^nd st., NYC

Through July 14

Elyse Orecchio studied musical theatre at Emerson College, acting at CUNY Brooklyn College, and English Linguistics & Rhetoric at CUNY Hunter College. She has worked in nonprofit communications for more than a decade. She lives in Sunnyside, Queens, with her husband Joe, kids Theo and Melody, and three cats. eorecchio@gmail.com @elyseorecchio

41 (2019-2020): Review: REBORNING (seen July 11, 2019)

“A Doll’s House”

Once again, going to the theatre taught me something I never knew before. Reborning, the title of this would-be psychological chiller by Zayd Dohrn, refers to an actual thing. (Dohrn, for the record, is the son of oldtime radicals Bill Ayers and Bernardine Dohrn of Weather Underground notoriety.) That, for the similarly ignorant, is the creation by specialty sculptors of photorealistic dolls of infants, usually deceased ones.

One purpose is so grieving loved ones can use them as a means of dealing with their loss. Yes, it’s freaky, and the freak factor is implicit in Dohrn’s play, which exploits such an arrangement. Most of the chill you’ll feel, however will be from the A/C, not the writing or production at the Soho Playhouse. 

Emily Bett Rickards. Photo: Russ Rowland. 

The play, originally staged as part of the Summer Play Festival at the Public Theater in 2009, with no less than Katherine Waterston as Kelly, Greg Keller as Daizy, and Ally Sheedy as Emily, ties these three characters together in an odd but nonetheless reasonaly plausible relationship centered on the ineffable bonds between mothers and their offspring.

Emily Bett Rickards, Paul Piaskowski, Lori Triolo. Photo: Russ Rowland.

Kelly was abandoned in a dumpster by her mother as a child, with numerous screwdriver-caused holes in her abdomen. She earns her living as a dollmaker (but not like Jane Fonda in the movie of that name), using photos of her late subjects to recreate their every feature, down to the texture of their hair, the sweat in their fleshy folds, and the rosiness of their cheeks. She wears rubber gloves because her abusive parent also obliterated her fingertips, killing all feeling in her hands (if not her troubled soul).

As played by Emily Bett Rickards, she’s attractive in a funky, tank top-wearing, dyed red hair, tattooed kind of way. She may have been in rehab but she still drinks heavily, smokes weed, and pops pills, struggling to handle whatever demons may be disturbing her. Those demons lately have cooled her sexual heat with Daizy (Paul Piaskowski), the boyfriend in whose loft she lives and sculpts.

Lori Triolo, Emily Bett Rickards. Photo: Russ Rowland.

Her worktable is equipped with a video camera whose close-up images of the doll’s features are projected at length on a screen she observes across the room. Those images, showing her dabbing and poking at the face and eyes of a doll, are initially disturbing because the doll’s blown-up cheeks and eyes look so real. The impression soon fades, especially as the prop doll she employs, when held up where we can see it, looks so ordinary, shabby even. This technical drawback is among the production’s biggest problems, preventing belief in the authenticity of what transpires.

A limp excuse for humor in this mostly dreary play is provided by Daizy’s profession: he's a sculptor of latex dildos. He even wears one on his first entrance. It’s his idea of a joke, you see, as it takes a second before he realizes that the person he’s dicking around with isn’t Kelly but one of her clients. She’s Emily (Lori Triolo), a well-dressed, middle-aged attorney, who commissioned a doll of the child she lost lo these many years ago.

:Paul Piaskowski. Photo: Russ Rowland.

Kelly, who takes her work seriously, is extremely accommodating to her clients, willing to make even the slightest adjustments in her dolls to achieve full satisfaction. But nothing she does to fulfill Emily’s obsessive desires gets her full approval, driving Kelly to offer Emily a full refund. Just like shopping at Bed Bath and Beyond!

The deepening relationship between Kelly and Emily begins to weigh on the dollmaker, leading her to suspect that Emily may actually be the mother who abandoned her. Her behavior begins to show signs of even further instability—some it so sudden it seems completely contrived.

Emily Bett Rickards, Paul Piaskowski. Photo: Russ Rowland.

After the earnest Daizy puts aside his dildos for the real thing and gets Kelly pregnant, he mediates between Emily, the mother who needs a replica of her dead daughter, and Kelly, the abandoned child who needs a real mother.

On paper, the hour and a quarter Reborning embodies a promising idea for a tense drama of parental love and loss, and the lengths to which people will go to deal with the trauma of grief, even when to others’ eyes they seem excessive if not pathological. Dohrn’s play presents the problem but does little to dig beneath its surface.

The physical circumstances of Kelly’s unusual profession—including offhand jokes about the movies’ scary Chucky doll—certainly have interest. But the holes in Kelly’s abdomen (indicated by realistic makeup) are matched by holes in Dohrn’s script. For example, a lot is made by Daizy about how DNA testing would resolve Kelly’s suspicion regarding Emily’s being her mother. But why doesn’t he simply sneak a bit of organic material (her spit in his eye, mayhap) and not bother dealing with her refusal to provide it?

Lori Trialo, Emily Bett Rickards. Photo: Russ Rowland.

Anyway, I’m taking this flatly written, flatly acted (aside from the spunky Rickards, of TV’s “Arrow”), and flatly directed (by the actress playing Emily) play too seriously. Very little about the production other than its reborning premise is distinctive. That includes Peter Triolo’s so-so setting, with its upstage wall including an elevator fronted by a metal, cross-hatched gate.

One wonders, by the way, why the elevator is always there for exiting characters but, when someone’s entrance is signaled on the intercom, needs time to reach the apartment. Does it always have to descend before rising again? And why, one also wonders, has lighting designer Aaron Porter, whose illumination my lighting-aware plus-one commended, kept the interior of said elevator black? I kept thinking those who entered it were stepping into an abyss.

Perhaps a more polished performance, with a tighter ensemble and more interesting byplay, might produce a viable version of Reborning. For now, though, the play is a stillborn requiring a master team of reborners to make it look alive.

Reborners

Soho Playhouse

15 Vandam St., NYC

Through August 3

OTHER VIEWPOINTS:

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40 (2019-2020): Review: ROCK OF AGES (seen July 10, 2019)

“Don’t Stop Believin’”

It’s been well over three years since Rock of Ages, the popular jukebox musical featuring a lineup of eardrum-shattering power ballads from the ‘80s, closed out its six-year Broadway run. Judging by the excitement of the surprisingly youthful crowd on hand at its Off-Broadway revival, many ready to wave their arms and those little artificial lighters, the show’s producers haven’t stopped believin’ that the show’s rock is ageless.

Mitchell Jarvis and company. Photo: Matthew Murphy.

It’s no longer news that Chris D’Arienzo’s book, stitched together as an excuse to present a hand-clapping, toe-tapping, headbanging array of ‘80s evergreens that—even if you were there but weren’t paying attention—wormed their way into your brain if you were anywhere near a radio. Rock of Ages is one of those shows that expresses itself through the lyrics of totally unrelated songs from an eclectic bunch of sources. It brings back the hair metal, anthem rock, pop rock, glam metal, call-them-what-you-will songs of Journey, Pat Benatar, Jon Bon Jovi, Styxx, Twisted Sister, Foreigner, Whitesnake, Europe, Poison, Steve Perry, and a list that, as the song says, goes on and on and on and on. 

CJ Eldred. Photo: Matthew Murphy.

It’s the kind of show where Sherrie (Kirsten Scott), the girl, explains to Drew (CJ Eldred), the boy, that she’s “Just a small town girl, Livin' in a lonely world,” from Journey’s “Small Town Girl,” and he sings back, “Just a city boy, Raised in South Detroit.” Even Sherrie’s name comes from Steve Perry’s “Oh Sherrie.” Reasons thus are found to insert such chart-toppers as “I Wanna Rock,” “Waiting for a Girl Like You,” “Wanted Dead or Alive,” “Here I Go Again,” “The Final Countdown,” “Every Rose Has Its Thorn,” and, among scads of others, of course, “Don’t Stop Believin’.” This new production even gets to blast Def Leppard’s title song, the group having agreed to lift the embargo on its use. 

The New World Stages production—one of many that have rocked international stages over the years, not to mention a Hollywood movie version starring Tom Cruise—celebrates the 10^th anniversary of the Broadway production. It appears to be a pretty close replica of the one I saw sometime back in the day with Constantine Maroulis playing Drew. Mitchell Jarvis, the original Lonny, is back again, having played the role over 1,200 times.

CJ Eldred. Photo: Matthew Murphy.

Lonny is the sound man at the Bourbon Room, a rock club on L.A.’s Sunset Strip owned by Dennis (Matt Ban) and threatened with demolition by a greedy German developer, Hertz (Tom Galantich), and his oh-so-fey son Franz (Dane Biren). This sets up the central conflict as the club needs to find a way to save itself. 

Tom Galantich, Tiffany Engen, Dane Biren. Photo: Matthew Murphy.

Lonny also serves as the show’s Puck-like, mischievous narrator, and Jarvis, who exudes personality from every pore, plays him as freshly as if he never played him before. His material—much of self-referential about the show itself—may be banal and its humor puerile but it takes a special cocktail of dancing, singing, and comedic flair to sustain a part like his with such consistently bubbling fizz for nearly two and a half hours. 

Tiffany Engen, Dane Biren, Tom Galantich. Photo: Matthew Murphy.

There’s not much to say about the flimsy book. It involves, firstly, the threat to the Bourbon Room and its block to make way for a neighborhood transformation akin to what happened to Times Square over the past few decades. But, naturally, there's also a principal romance between Drew, a long-haired, wannabe rock star, doing janitorial work at the club, and Sherrie, who wants to be an actress and becomes a waitress at the same place. She has a fling with the ultra-vain rock star, Stacee Jaxx (PJ Griffith, in the role Cruise handled on film). It's highlighted by a rowdy sex-in-the-toilet-stall scene but she gets dumped and becomes a stripper before finally hooking up with Drew. There are also a couple of additional romantic subplots, one straight, one gay, both of them broadly farcical.

PJ Griffith and company, Photo: Matthew Murphy.

You go to Rock of Ages for its music, not its plots or subplots, or its string of incessantly raunchy juvenilia, with countless humping movements, genital references, and grade school-level naughtiness, which these adults revel in as if they’d just been given permission to smirk about boobies and nipples. The music, though, if it’s up your alley, certainly shivers the timbres [sic!] with a succession of vocally explosive and physically dynamic performances. 

Mitchell Jarvis, Matt Ban, CJ Eldred. Photo: Matthew Murphy.

For me, though, the continuously over-the-top acting of the cartoonish characters, the exaggerated situations, and the succession of one amped-up power ballad after the other took its toll well before the over-long show concluded. Nevertheless, Kristin Hanggi’s pumped-up direction has made the show a worldwide hit, so who am I to complain?

Jeannette Bayardelle, Kirsten Scott. Photo: Matthew Murphy.

Also responsible for Rock of Ages’ popularity are Gregory Gale’s vivid costumes, which both satirize and recreate the excesses of the 80s; Beowulf Boritt’s set for the seedy Bourbon Room, with a back wall for Zachary Borovay’s many projections; and Jason Lyons’s concert-style lighting. 

Kirsten Scott. Photo: Matthew Murphy.

Eldred and Scott as Drew and Sherrie give spot-on performances, the latter—who can dance, sing, and totally rock a bikini—making an especially strong impression on both the ears and eyes. They’re joined by an attractive, nubile, and talented ensemble. Watching them is as much fun as hearing them sing. 

PJ Griffith and company. Photo: Matthew Murphy.

Unlike Jersey Boys, which also moved from Broadway to a New World Stages venue, Rock of Ages is having a limited run, so it won’t be rocking here for ages. If you wanna rock, now’s the time to do it.

Rock of Ages

New World Stages

340 W. 50^th St., NYC

Through September 29