"Crucible or Patchwork Quilt?"
For my review of What the Constitution Means to Me please click on THEATER PIZZAZZ.
Saturday, April 6, 2019
Thursday, April 4, 2019
202 (2018-2019): Review: THE MOTHER (seen April 3, 2019)
“Vive la Huppert!”
Seeing Isabelle Huppert
in Florian Zeller’s self-described “dark farce” The Mother, at the Atlantic Theater Company, made me wonder: what
defines a great actress? Versatility in playing any role? Magnetic charisma?
Extraordinary sensitivity to nuance? Physical and vocal beauty? Dazzling
interpretive insights? Willingness to do anything, no matter how foolish,
revealing, or exhausting? The ability to make even questionable material
compelling?  |
| Isabelle Huppert. Photo: Ahron R. Foster. |
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| Isabelle Huppert, Chris Noth. Photo: Ahron R. Foster. |
France has given the world many
great actresses, of course, but any top ten list of those still active, like
Catherine Deneuve, Audrey Tautou, Juliet Binoche, or Marion Cottillard, would
be worthless if it didn’t include Huppert, now 65, and as delicately slender,
beautiful, and thrillingly watchable as ever.
 |
| Chris Noth. Photo: Ahron R. Foster. |
Although well-supported by Chris
Noth (The Best Man, TV’s “Sex and the City”), Odessa Young (Days of Rage), and Justice Smith (Yen),
she alone is the reason to see The
Mother, Christopher Hampton’s smooth translation of French playwright
Zeller’s La Mère. It’s the second in a
trilogy including The
Father, which starred Frank Langella on Broadway in 2016, and The Son, now playing in London and
coming here in the fall.
Like The Father, about an aging man’s dementia, The Mother (seen in London in 2016) is also concerned with a mental
breakdown, that of an upper-middle-class wife and mother, played by Huppert with
wit, passion, and devil-may-care ferocity. The premise gives the playwright
numerous options for introducing behavioral anomalies that permit ambiguous theatrical
situations, allowing Huppert to chew what little scenery she’s provided by Mark
Wendland’s spare setting.
 |
| Chris Noth. Photo: Ahron R. Foster. |
That setting is the home of Anne
(Huppert)—the Mother in the program—and Peter (Noth)—the Father in the program.
It’s represented at the start by a huge, white couch, comprising seven two-cushion
sections stretching horizontally across almost all the wide, mostly bare, brick
wall-surrounded stage. A tall mirror leans against the wall, stage right. When the
light allows, we can make out numerous discarded pill vials under the couch. LA
MÉRE is projected on the rear wall. Overhead hangs a white, partial, dropped ceiling,
with a large open space occupied by a grand chandelier. Later, the entire couch
will descend on a trap, leaving the stage even emptier.
 |
| Justice Smith. Photo: Ahron R. Foster. |
Seated alone on the couch is the elegantly
attired (by Anita Yavich), red-headed. 47-year-old Anne, who’s there throughout
the 15 or so minutes preceding the show’s beginning, reading, looking about in
utter boredom, and napping, until she’s awakened by Peter returning from work.
What follows, over 85 uninterrupted minutes, are four acts, each
introduced by a shaky projection in French, marking it as “Un,” “Deux,” “Trois,”
and “Quatre,” with each seen in more than one variation of the same material.
The basic situation is that Anne, seething with jealousy because she suspects her
businessman husband of cheating, treats him with unexpected snippiness, even
loathing.
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| Isabelle Huppert, Justice Smith. Photo: Ahron R. Foster. |
He, normalcy itself and seemingly
baffled by her increasingly odd behavior, struggles to make her explain what’s
bugging her. She, apart from her jabs at his “bitch” and “little whore,” and the
like, maintains an aloof veneer undercut by vicious sarcasm. He, claiming
innocence, would like to resolve the issue but he’s got to catch a train in the
morning for a four-day seminar in Buffalo, a theme threading through the play.
 |
| Isabelle Huppert, Chris Noth, Justice Smith. Photo: Ahron R. Foster. |
Further exacerbating things is
the arrival of Nicolas (Smith, a fine actor but oddly cast)—the Son in the
program—depressed because of his breakup with Emily (Young, who also plays other
women, including a high-heeled nurse)—the Girl in the program. Anne, unable to
handle her empty-nester loneliness (her daughter also is no longer home), and
without any outside interests to occupy her empty hours, has an incestuously
smothering love for Nicolas. This is represented by her rubbing of his
bare chest, and worse. She denigrates Emily (saying whose name makes her retch)
and is excited to have her son back home, desperately hoping he’ll stay.
 |
| Odessa Young. Photo: Ahron R. Foster. |
As we watch the various ways Anne
interacts with Peter, Nicolas, and Emily, we realize that what we’re seeing
are Anne’s projections, making it impossible to say just what’s actually happening
and what’s roiling her frenzied imagination. As she spirals further into delirium,
we also aren’t sure if her delusions are the result of incipient madness or caused
by her reckless predilection for mixing alcohol and pills.
 |
| Odessa Young. Photo: Ahron R. Foster. |
Zeller’s essentially simple plot
of Anne’s descent, culminating with her in a hospital bed, never clarifies the
truth about either Peter’s alleged adultery or just what’s going on between Nicolas
and Emily. It comes off chiefly as a vehicle for Huppert, who goes really wild,
including dressing (as we watch) in black, mesh stockings, spiked heels, and a red
minidress so tiny her sexy slip and garter belt keep showing. (Emily will appear
in the same dress, but less revealingly.)
 |
| Isabelle Huppert. Photo: Ahron R. Foster. |
Anne’s manic behavior includes
whipping her red hair around like a kabuki lion and other energetic, broadly physical
acts, demonstrating a range of emotional highs and lows that would be
exhausting for someone half her age. American actresses, who--in this tobacco-challenged age--so often make holding a cigarette look like holding a rat--should study how Huppert can hypnotize just by blowing smoke.
Director Trip Cullman’s staging gives her plenty of histrionic space to do her thing, with notable contributions from the strange electronic sound effects of Fritz Patton and the stylized lighting of Ben Stanton, which always finds a way to spotlight Huppert’s face.
Director Trip Cullman’s staging gives her plenty of histrionic space to do her thing, with notable contributions from the strange electronic sound effects of Fritz Patton and the stylized lighting of Ben Stanton, which always finds a way to spotlight Huppert’s face.
 |
| Isabelle Huppert, Odessa Young. Photo: Ahron R. Foster. |
Huppert, whose mother was an
English teacher, speaks the language fluently but with an obvious accent, almost
always clearly understandable but momentarily unintelligible when a piece of
dialogue requires rushing. No matter. Her intentions are always clear, even
when she’s being deliberately obfuscating.
 |
| Isabelle Huppert, Justice Smith. Photo: Ahron R. Foster. |
I felt privileged to join the
many theatregoers at the Atlantic (this is a HOT ticket) anxious to see this
legendary star of stage and screen. This was true even though I was neither
moved nor otherwise simulated by a play whose principal achievement is to use mental
illness as a springboard for theatrical devices designed to drive an otherwise
uninteresting, unoriginal plot. Vive la Huppert! Not so The Mother.
Linda Gross Theater/Atlantic Theater
Company
336 W. 20th St., NYC
Through April 13
OTHER VIEWPOINTS;
Wednesday, April 3, 2019
201 (2018-2019): Review: THE CRADLE WILL ROCK (seen April 2, 2019)
“When the Bough Breaks”
(Note: this review is followed by an entry on the original production
of The Cradle Will Rock from
my Encyclopedia of the New York
Stage, 1930-1940.)
The theatrical bough breaks for the Classic Stage Company's (CSC) revival of Marc Blitzstein’s controversial 1937 musical, The Cradle Will Rock, and down comes baby,
cradle and all. This is the show’s first regular revival since the Acting
Company version of 1982, directed by John Houseman, who was intimately involved in the original. (A minimally staged, concert version, in formal attire, was given a limited run by the Encores: Off Center series in 2013.)
 |
| Rema Webb, Sally Ann Triplett, Ian Lowe. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
 |
| Ken Barnett, David Garrison. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
Seeing it in the CSC's problematic, 90-minute version, directed by John
Doyle, reveals that, regardless of what were once admired but now seem questionable artistic qualities, the show’s political issues remain
relevant. Think capitalism, unions, the news media, organized religion, law
enforcement, the legal and academic systems, and so on, as viewed from a
left-wing, revolutionary perspective.
As I’ve written elsewhere, the work is cast in the form of
an allegory, with many characters given symbolic names, as in the old morality
plays. Steeltown, U.S.A., is the locale and the city is in the hands of Mister
Mister (David Garrison), super-capitalist, and his wife, Mrs. Mister (Sally Ann
Triplett), and children, Junior Mister (Eddie Cooper) and Sister Mister (Karen
Mikula).
When the steel workers, incited by Larry Foreman (Tony Yazbek, who also
plays Harry Druggist), attempt to organize and strike against the exploitative
magnate, the latter uses his power to band the forces of the university,
church, law, newspapers, and the local liberty league against the union threat.
These folks have names like Editor Daily and President Prexy (Ken Barnett), and Reverend Salvation (Benjamin Eakeley).
 |
| Lara Pulver. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
The play also has a subplot about the Moll (Lara Pulver), a
prostitute, whose story is ironically counterpointed by the theme of the prostitution
of the workers, of the professions mentioned above, as well as such arenas as art
and music. The latter are represented by those patronized by the vain Mrs.
Mister. The final moments, as Larry tells off Mister Mister, rock the cradle (of
liberty), and express the meaning of unions to their workers, bringing the
piece to what should be an uplifting conclusion.
 |
| Sally Ann Triplett, Ian Lowe, Lara Pulver, Kara Mikula. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
One would have thought that The Cradle Will Rock would be catnip for Doyle, whose signature
directorial approach is to strip away the traditional visuals associated with
conventional musical revivals. As is well known, the 1937 original was forced to forgo a full
staging and settle instead for an improvised concert version. A single onstage
piano accompanied the actors, who played their roles by standing up at various
places in the auditorium.
 |
| Benjamin Eakeley, Sally Ann Triplett. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
Doyle uses only 10 actors to play the multiple roles. Apart
from only the most minor adjustments, he has had costumer Ann Hould-Ward dress nearly everyone in
period factory-worker garments—the women resembling incipient versions of World War II's Rosie
the Riveter—regardless of who they’re playing.
 |
| David Garrison. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
If you don’t know the script, or can’t make out the lyrics
as they’re being overpowered by the piano pounding of the four actors who also serve
as accompanists (Ken Barnett, Benjamin Eakeley, Ian Lowe, and Kara Mikula), you’ll
have considerable difficulty in making out who’s the plutocrat, the cop, the
druggist, the hooker, the foreman, and so on. Nor will it be easy to separate
the different characters played by actors wearing the same garments for each. Clearly, more character-specific costuming would have helped.
 |
| Tony Yazbek, Lara Pulver, Rema Webb. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
Doyle, using a three-quarters round configuration, follows tradition with a simple,non-specific set (which he designed) of a polished
floor over which float dozens of cables leading to a
telephone pole. For scenic units he deploys only a wide variety of industrial steel drums in different colors
and sizes; in a church scene, for example, seven yellow ones form a large cross at the
heart of the acting area. Jane Cox and Tess James’s lighting goes far to establish
some sense of mood in this otherwise abstract environment.
 |
| Lara Pulver, Sally Ann Triplett, Benjamin Eakeley, Tony Yazbek, Ian Lowe. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
There’s a lot of talent involved in the ensemble, which stars
the terrific Tony Yazbek as Larry Foreman, and has standout work from artists
like Eddie Cooper, David Garrison, Kara Mikula, Lara Pulver, and Rema Webb. Several
moments are imaginatively staged but Doyle overdoes a few things; especially
annoying is the hammer-handed way money’s power is continuously represented by
having paper currency never handed to anyone but instead showered about,
forcing people to get to their knees to shovel it up.
But the brief clips of LuPone's Moll, referenced above, show more nuance and character expression than you'll find anywhere in Doyle's fast-paced but monotonous production, so one-note that my plus-one couldn't help saying: “It
had a certain ring. Bo-ring.”
 |
| Eddie Cooper, Kara Mikula. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
Just as Doyle's production reeks of Brechtian influence, so does Blitzstein’s music have an ersatz Kurt Weill sound, clearly influenced by the Brecht-Weill Threepenny
Opera of 1928, which Blitzstein himself turned into a long-running Off-Broadway
sensation in the 1950s. It favors dissonant chords and angry rhythms with barely
any of the sweetness or sentimentality that Weill employed, even when the
lyrics stood in stark contrast to the tunes. One well-sung number, late in the CSC
production, performed by Rema Webb, offers a limited but nonetheless melodic
line. It comes as such surprise, it gets the evening's only applause.
The wind is blowing at the CSC but down has come baby, The Cradle Will Rock and all.
Classic Stage Company
136 E. 13th Street, NYC
Through May 19
OTHER VIEWPOINTS:
The following is an edited
version—cuts include the plot summary—of the entry for The
Cradle Will Rock from my Encyclopedia of
the New York Stage, 1930-1940.
The Cradle Will Rock: Book/Music/Lyrics: Marc Blitzstein;
Director: Orson Welles; Lighting: Abe Feder; Theatre: Venice Theatre; Opening:
June 16, 1937; Performances: 19.
The Cradle Will Rock has
gone down in history not only because of its innate excellences as a satirical
musical built around a propagandistic anticapitalistic theme but because of the
extremely controversial events that surrounded its inception. (An excellent
account is in John Houseman’s Run-Through.)
The production was initially sponsored by Project 891, a Federal Theatre Project
(FTP) unit headed by Houseman. It was scheduled to be the FTP’s first musical,
one that would more easily fit into that subsidized program’s schedule than
into that of the commercial Broadway theatre, which—as composer-writer-Blitzstein’s
experiences in trying to get it produced there demonstrated—was uninterested in
such incendiary material.
Inspiring the show’s creation was the then extremely topical
subject of the Committee for Industrial Organization’s (CIO) efforts to organize
industrial labor unions, beginning with the steel industry, a subject on
newspaper front pages almost daily.
Houseman accepted the work for his unit and it was
scheduled to open at Maxine Elliott’s Theatre on 6/16/37 but bureaucratic and
economic pressures on the FTP’s leader, Hallie Flanagan,
demanding that she cut the New York segment of the project by 30 percent,
forced her to issue an injunction prohibiting the opening of any new shows
before 7/1/37. This meant that Project 891 could not occupy Maxine Elliott’s
for their opening, despite the advance sale of 14,000 tickets. Flanagan recognized
Washington’s interference as a devious form of censorship (the show was looked
at warily by conservative politicians), and tried to gain an exception to the
ruling for Cradle, but failed. With
an audience gathering outside the theatre, the angry young director, Orson
Welles, determined to take the show and audience elsewhere, despite an Actors
Equity ruling that the show could not be done on any other local stage, and a Musicians
Union decision that its musicians would have to be paid Broadway scale wherever
they performed.
Welles came up with a brainstorm in which he convinced his
cast to move en masse to some other theatre and to perform their roles, not on
the stage, but from their seats in the house, with Blitzstein providing a piano
accompaniment from the stage. The owner of the Venice Theatre, being present by chance, offered that theatre to the actors. Soon, cast, crew, and audience began the
trek from 39th Street east of Broadway to 59th Street and Seventh Avenue. When
they arrived at the Venice, there were twice as many spectators as before as
word spread through the streets.
The show went on according to Welles’s new scheme, with a
single spot picking out Blitzstein at his piano on the bare stage, and with the
cast performing their roles in boxes, balcony, aisles, and orchestra seats,
each picked out by a spotlight on their cue whenever possible.
After a couple of weeks in this style, the show folded, was
revived on 12/5/37 (actually, on 11/28/37 but the critics were asked not to
come because of the need for more rehearsal) for a series of Sunday night
performances at the Mercury Theatre (formerly the Comedy) under the auspices of
Welles and Houseman’s new Mercury Theatre company (they having abandoned the
FTP). They finally settled in for a regular run at popular prices ($1.65 top)
at the Windsor Theatre (formerly the 48th Street Theatre) on 1/3/38 for 104
showings.
These later presentations retained the scenery-less and
costume-less look (the technically complex original—given a dress rehearsal on
6/15—had employed illuminated glass wagons), but the actors were now onstage
and not in the auditorium. Wearing street clothes, they sat before a blue
backdrop in three rows on bentwood chairs upstage of Blitzstein’s piano, each
of them introduced by character name at the beginning, coming downstage to act
their scenes, and returning to their seats when finished. Blitzstein acted as
announcer, introducing each locale, and playing several bit roles.
This simplified staging served to enhance the message orientation
of the piece. Ironically, the use of a single piano didn’t absolve the company
from following the Musicians Union’s rule for Broadway musicals about paying a
minimum of 10 musicians to be present, even though they weren’t playing.
The Cradle Will Rock won
wide approval for its dynamic power and earnestness although it was readily
agreed that the 10-scene text was two-dimensionally melodramatic, depicting the
characters as all black or white. “Written with extraordinary versatility and played
with enormous gusto, it is the best thing militant labor has put into a theatre
yet,” enthused Brooks Atkinson in the Times.
Although the story was a familiar one, said the critic, Blitzstein “has transmuted
it into a remarkably stirring marching song by the bitterness of his satire,
the savagery of his music and the ingenuity of his craftsmanship.” There were
only a few serious disclaimers, such as that of Grenville Vernon in Commonweal, who found the work “a bore”
because Blitzstein’s book “has nothing fresh in material and he writes clumsily
and without wit.”
When the show reopened on 1/3/38, much note was made of the fact
that, 15 minutes after it began, four fashionable first-nighters rose from their
seats in the second row with their noses in the air and trooped off down the
aisle to the accompaniment of catcalls and boos.
Tuesday, April 2, 2019
Guest review 2 (2018-2019): JUNE IS THE FIRST FALL
“He’s Gay, He’s Chinese, Get Used To It”***
By Elyse Orecchio (guest reviewer)
From time to time Theatre's Leiter Side will be posting reviews of Off-Off Broadway shows my schedule prevents me from seeing. I hope you find the expanded coverage useful. Sam Leiter
Going to the West Village to see a show
touted as “a queer play about mooncakes” has all the promise in the world, but
this one falls short on ingenuity.
You’ve seen it before. A man returns to his hometown after living
in the big city. He’s the black sheep—in this case, a Chinese gay man, Chinese not even having a correct way to say that. (A line in the script says: "Yes, Chinese is great; it's old, it's poetic; its beautiful; it's whatever. But there's not even a right word for gay.") His family is moving from their childhood home;
memories are sparked as they pack up the house, old tensions stir, and
arguments ensue. While the story isn’t new, Yilong Liu’s June is the First
Fall strives to tell it through a contemporary Chinese lens.
 |
| Karsten Otto, Alton Alburo. Photo: Maria Baranova. |
 |
| Karsten Otto, Fenton Li, Stefani Kuo, Alton Alburo. Photo: Maria Baranova. |
After a 10-year absence following a coming-out that didn’t go so
well, Don (a talented and quirky Alton Alburo) boards a plane to Manoa, the
Hawaiian valley where he grew up after immigrating from China as a little boy.
As he hops into his dad’s Honda, there’s a clear contrast between his tight
hipster clothes and the tattered T-shirts and loose shorts worn by the men in
his hometown (curated by costume designer An-Lin Dauber)—he’s a bonafide Nu Yawka
now.
There to greet Don in their childhood house is his older sister,
Jane (Stefani Kuo), the sibling who knows how to write Chinese; she’s the one
who stayed behind with their father after their mother died. Alburo and Kuo
convincingly portray the duality of elbowing-each-other familiarity and
strained awkwardness between an estranged brother and sister. Less successful
is a somewhat ambiguous subplot that doesn’t go anywhere, involving Jane’s fiancé
Scott (Karsten Otto), a local haole (white dude) and loveable doofus Don
had a crush on back in high school.
 |
| Chun Cho. Photo: Maria Baranova. |
Arguably the most developed character is Don’s father, David,
played with seasoned flair by Fenton Li. As a widower and restaurant owner
who’s had to come to terms with a gay son who doesn’t speak or write Chinese,
he wears his weariness in his posture and gait. As far as conservative fathers
go, he’s actually pretty reasonable. There’s a limit, though, to how far he can
bend.
As Don tries to reconcile his culture with his identity, he’s
increasingly squelched by the valley (resulting in increasing whining). Liu’s
Hawaii is not the stereotypical paradise a typical New Yorker imagines. It
always rains, and we feel the heat and the smallness of the island envelop Don
during his visit.
We never see beyond the stifling, weathered living room
(excellently designed by Jean Kim) and its old beige futon. Despite the
singular setting, director Michael Leibenluft’s fluid staging uses simple
touches like shoe changes to seamlessly transition the characters through their
scenes without breaking up the action.
 |
| Fenton Li, Alton Alburo. Photo: Maria Baranova. |
I could do with fewer by-the-numbers lines like, “Why can’t you
act like a man?” in favor of more nuance, but overall Liu’s dialogue conveys
the flavor of a writer who’s lived in China, Hawaii, and New York. The scenes
that feel the richest involve the whole family sharing anecdotes about Chinese
traditions and the meaning they held for Don’s mother (Chun Cho).
As beautifully lit by Cha See, we see flashes of Don’s mother in
his memories—she’s the housewife holding the broom and always insisting
everyone eats (you can picture her easily, right?). There’s a great payoff
where she’s finally awarded an identity in a standout moment featuring the
charming Cho crooning “Fly Me to the Moon.”
You probably won’t leave the New Ohio Theatre profoundly altered,
but we can’t ignore the magnitude of the gift a piece like June Is the First
Fall delivers: bridging the cultural divide with a reminder that it’s our
familiar stories that connect us.
New Ohio Theatre
154 Christopher St., NYC
Through April 20
OTHER VIEWPOINTS:
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
199 (2018-2019): Review: ACCIDENTALLY BRAVE (seen April 1, 2019)
"His Dirty Little Secret"
Imagine you’re a “well-knownish” actress, married, with twin
sons and a daughter, and still in love with your husband of two decades,
himself a successful actor and film/TV director. Your bedroom relationship may
have cooled off but not enough to block you thinking of him as a terrific dad
and spouse, your “friend and confidante and true-blue love.”
 |
| Maddie Corman. Photo: Jeremy Daniel. |
 |
| Maddie Corman. Photo: Jeremy Daniel. |
That’s the fulcrum for this one-woman, self-described “inspiring
true story,” of what happened to Maddie Corman (Some Kind of Wonderful) after she learned four years ago of her
husband’s dirty little secret; you can read up on it in this
recent New York Times account. He—unnamed in the show—is Jace Alexander (son of
the distinguished actress Jane
Alexander), who was convicted in 2016 of downloading and sharing child pornography.
 |
| Maddie Corman. Photo: Jeremy Daniel. |
Sometimes one wonders how anyone living a normal life, celebrity
or not, recovers from learning that a beloved spouse or child has been doing horrible
things (violent, financial, sexual, or otherwise) and will possibly be taken
from them. Corman’s confessional show, partly self-therapy and partly
inspirational exposé for those with related problems, is a humdinger, not so
much because of the sensationalism of its subject matter but for the engagingly
performative way she addresses and relates her tale.
 |
| Maddie Corman. Photo: Jeremy Daniel. |
Corman is 49, blonde, and enviously slim (she often refers
to herself as “skinny”) in her tight-fitting jeans and white t-shirt (sometimes
covered by a stylish, loose, gray sweater). She moves like a dancer on Jo
Winiarski’s setting of a sparsely furnished stage, dominated at center by an orange office-chair.
 |
| Maddie Corman. Photo: Jeremy Daniel. |
Behind her is a neutral, semicircular backdrop on which Elaine
J. McCarthy’s still and video projections are displayed, many depicting Corman
and her spouse. This tightly packaged work, lovingly lit by Jamie Roderick, and
including gestures perfectly timed to Bart Fasbender’s clever sound design, is
overseen by the nicely-paced direction of Kristin Hanggi (Rock of Ages).
 |
| Maddie Corman. Photo: Jeremy Daniel. |
Accidentally Brave
tells Corman's story (“her story,” she emphasizes, not her husband’s, which is his
to tell) chronologically, with projections informing us how much time has passed
in the proceedings. We learn about her husband’s legal issues, the outpouring
of sympathy and disgust he incited in news and social media, and both his rehabilitation
at an Arizona center for addiction problems and the rehab he had to undergo
with his family, with whom he still lives (albeit registered as a sex offender).
Along the way, Corman, who continues to struggle daily with her
issues, discovers that she’s something she never had any intention of being—brave.
|
| Maddie Corman. Photo: Jereemy Daniel. |
Corman’s a very talented actress with a perkily friendly,
accessible personality. She’s capable of radically altering her somewhat high-pitched,
mildly raspy voice to suggest other persons, like the famous stranger (unnamed)
who, when everyone and her sister were unable to offer meaningful advice, reached
out like a guardian angel to say just the right things. Corman has the chameleonic
skills to spark warm laughter, to make her eyes well with tears, and to plunge
into terrifying anger. Several moments are as overpoweringly expressive as
anything on a New York stage.
Corman alludes to the difficulties of dealing with
addiction, sexual and otherwise, but is mainly concerned with portraying her personal
reaction to her husband’s sickness, an experience from which you’re invited to
take away whatever value it may have for you and your loved ones.
While some preachments are implicit in it, the show’s never
preachy. Here’s hoping, though, you won’t one day find yourself needing to be accidentally brave.
DR2 Theatre
103 E. 15th St., NYC
Through July 14
OTHER VIEWPOINTS:
Monday, April 1, 2019
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