41 (2017-2018): Review: MARVIN'S ROOM (seen July 7, 2017)

"The Caregiver's Tale"

For my review of Marvin's Room please click on THE BROADWAY BLOG.

40 (2017-2018): Review: NAPOLI, BROOKLYN (seen July 6, 2017)

"After the Fall"

On the snowy morning of Friday, December 16, 1960, when I was 20 and still living with my parents in Brooklyn, a catastrophe I can still remember occurred in Park Slope, several miles from home. That event, recreated with sudden explosive force toward the end of Meghan Kennedy’s Napoli, Brooklyn, is far more powerfully dramatic than anything else in her heartfelt but otherwise patchy depiction of dysfunction in a Park Slope family when the event—described with photos on lobby placards—occurred.

Elise Kibler, Lilly Kay, Jordyn DiNatale. Photo: Joan Marcus.

Napoli, Brooklyn is about the Muscolinos, vaguely reminiscent of the Carbones in Miller’s A View from the Bridge. Nic (Michael Rispoli, “The Sopranos”) and Ludovica a.k.a. Luda (Alyssa Bresnahan) Muscolino—stereotypes both—are the heavily-accented, opera-loving, immigrant parents of three daughters. This irks the macho Nic, a contractor, who gets one of the play’s few laughs by blaming the local water for his not having produced a son. Nic, a bully who lashes out physically when aggrieved, has beaten his 26-year-old daughter Vita (Elise Kibler) so badly she's forced to recover from the broken nose he inflicted on her amidst the silent nuns in a prison-like convent.

Jordyn DiNatale, Michael Rispoli. Photo: Joan Marcus.

His middle daughter, the rough-spoken, 20-year-old Tina (Lilli Kay), sacrificing herself for her family, has a tedious job at a Kentile factory, where her friend and coworker, an African-American woman named Celia Jones (Shirine Babb), encourages her to get an education. In a moment of overstatement by director Gordon Edelstein, we see that Celia’s an avid reader when she takes a five-second break from stacking tiles to glance at a book she keeps in her apron. (By the by, if you happen to know how Kentile, decades later, fell into major legal trouble because of litigation over asbestos poisoning, you’ll realize the extent of Tina’s sacrifice.)

The youngest daughter, 16-year-old Francesca (Jordyn DiNatale), has recently taken the scissors to her hair, a reflection of her lesbian inclinations. Francesca’s inamorata is another teen, Connie Duffy (Juliet Brett), with whom she plots to stowaway to Paris (Nic was a stowaway from Naples) where their love will no longer be forbidden.

Erik Lochtefeld, Alyssa Bresnahan. Photo: Joan Marcus.

Connie’s the daughter of the local butcher, Irish immigrant Albert Duffy (Eric Lochtefeld), who, in his gentlemanly way, professes his affection for Luda. She, the family’s backbone and master chef, is the play’s heart and soul, struggling to maintain a sense of love and decency amidst the anger and pain inflicted by Nic, with its consequent bitterness among the three sisters.

Michael Rispoli, Jordyn DiNatale, Elise Kibler, Alyssa Bresnhan, Erik Lochtefeld, Shirine Babb, Lilli Kay. Photo: Joan Marcus.

Act One slowly sets up these multiple character and plot strands, showing the problems everyone faces in trying to live at peace with one another, and how the differing goals of each sister are on the brink of disrupting whatever family unity remains. Then, Boom! As in life, when least expected, tragedy strikes. Act Two, which examines the aftermath, seeks to bring a resolution to the group dynamic.

The Christmas dinner that brings everyone together to relish Luda’s pasta has the single most moving moment, but it’s between the minor characters of Duffy and Celia, whose dark-skinned face, it might be noted, Nic can’t bring himself to look at. Given the racial feelings of people like him during the period, it’s next to astonishing he even allows her into his house. Also effective is Luda’s proto-feminist speech of encouragement to Connie at the end, although it seems more like the voice of the playwright speaking than the character herself.

Lilli Kay, Shirine Babb, Alyssa Bresnahan, Elise Kibler, Jordyn DiNatale, Erik Lochtefeld, Michael Rispoli. Photo: Joan Marcus.

While the multiple narrative strands tend to weaken the overall emotional impact, the writing is often too self-conscious to fully engage interest and belief. Giving Luda a habit of revealing her fear of losing her faith by having her speak to an onion because she's no longer able to cry is a disturbing bit of whimsy. So is having Tina soliloquize her thoughts in what’s otherwise a play of kitchen-sink realism.

Several elements don’t always pass the plausibility test. Nic’s violence seems more forced than organic; it takes so little to push his buttons it’s a wonder he’s not up the river. And, for all their assumed difficulties with English,  Nic and Luda's vocabulary and syntax strain credibility. But even these flaws could easily be overlooked if the company wasn’t so disparate in its ability to recreate this specific time and place.

Edelstein’s direction has not been able to create a cohesively believable tone, not even with the help of dialect coach Stephen Gabis. Without that tone, every inauthentic intonation and pronunciation—whether Italian, Irish, or Brooklynese—reminds you that the right casting (even with Italian-American actors) of plays like this can solve 9/10s of their problems. They may have grown up together, for instance, but each sister sounds like she’s from another neighborhood. Certainly, it's smart to differentiate them, but this way is too distracting. Still, artificial Italian accent aside, Bresnahan stands out for the fortitude and wisdom she conveys as the indomitable Ludovica.

Eugene Lee’s spare setting, its backdrop showing a row of 19th-century brownstones, allows for the episodic narrative and multiple locations to be represented mainly by overhead signs—a tile factory, a butcher shop, Jesus on the Cross, and a stained glass window. The period-perfect costumes are by the redoubtable Jane Greenwood, while Ben Stanton’s lighting keeps the intensity low until he and Lee together, abetted by sound designer Fritz Patton, create the memorable effect that brings Act One to a climax.

Meghan Kennedy, whose Too Much, Too Much, Too Many was a Roundabout selection in 2013, is a promising playwright. Napoli, Brooklyn shows that the promise remains; fulfillment, though, is yet to come.

OTHER VIEWPOINTS:

Show-Score.com

Napoli, Brooklyn

Roundabout at Laura Pels Theatre/Harold and Miriam Steinberg Center for Theatre

111 W. 46^th St., NYC

Through September 3

39 (2017-2018): Review: OVO: CIRQUE DU SOLEIL (seen July 5, 2017)

"Great Eggspectations"

For my review of Ovo please click on Theater Pizzazz.

38 (2017-2018): Review: 1984 (seen July 3, 2017)

"2+2=5"

For my review of 1984 please click on THE BROADWAY BLOG.

37 (2017-2018): Review: ME THE PEOPLE (seen July 1, 2017)

“Trump, Trump, Trump along the Lie-way”

If you’ve just awoken from a two-year coma and need a refresher on what’s been going on in American politics while your lights have been out, you might appreciate Me the People: The Trump America Musical, a mildly humorous political revue about the 45th POTUS.  On the other hand, if you’ve been awake and paying attention it’s unlikely you’ll learn much from Me the People, or, for that matter, find it all that funny. Trump’s presidency, for all its outlandishness, has been a nightmare for progressives and, despite its potential as comic fodder, nothing could be as ridiculous (or tragic) as the thing itself.

Mia Weinberger, Richard Spitaletta. Photo: Stephen Schwartz.

Ever since Trump first announced his candidacy, we’ve endured a 24/7 cycle not only of political news about him but a nonstop comic barrage shooting anything from howitzer blasts to sling shots at everything in his domain. (For a gallery of production photos click here.)

First, there are his physical features: his hair, his face, his skin color, his chin(s), his belly, his hands, his sex organ, and so on. Then we have his ties, his suits, his family, his father, his gestures, his language, his buildings, his businesses, his taxes, his wealth, his reading, his TV watching, his marriages, and so on. And, of course, there are his lies, his tweets, his policies, his arrogance, his racism, his crudity, his sexism, his supporters, you name it. If you’re a regular viewer of CNN or MSNBC you probably know more, and have stronger feelings, about him than about any previous holder of the office.

TV comedy, of course, has benefitted greatly from his presence; he not only boosted Alec Baldwin’s career, he’s a regular target of all the major TV hosts, from Maher to Colbert to Meyers to Bee to Noah and so on down the line. There’s even a series about him starring Anthony Atamanuik called “The President Show." Numerous New York plays have squeezed in one-liners aimed in Trump’s direction, sometimes subtly and sometimes not; Off-Broadway plays like Build That Wall have taken him on directly while Broadway’s 1984 is assumed to be attacking his ideas indirectly.

All of the above makes it nearly impossible for an intimate Off-Broadway revue like Me the People to add anything new to the cultural onslaught, even with an ever-evolving script so up-to-date it references the Mika-Joe Twitter controversy. “Saturday Night Live,” whose most popular sketches last season were aimed at Trump, spent only a small part of its weekly shows getting on his case; however, being reminded of almost every creature in this so-called leader’s black lagoon (a.k.a. swamp) for a nonstop, 85-minutes can be a slog, no matter how much you enjoy seeing Trump get his lumps. Still, given the need for some outlet, any outlet, for theatregoers to vent their disgust, shows like this, mixed bags as they are, perform a valuable public service.

Conceived by Jim Russek, Nancy Holson, and Jay Falzone (who choreographed and directed), Me the People is one of those shows that makes its points by adding new lyrics to well-known songs. Nancy Holson’s book (what there is of it) and delightfully apt lyrics go, with barely any narrative linkage, from one number to the other with a cast of five (four, as noted below, when I went) rapidly changing Stephen Smith's numerous costumes and Kathy Pecevich's deliberately cheesy wigs. 

The routines include having Ben Franklin, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Betsy Ross satirize the desecration of the Constitution to the tune of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic”; Betsy De Vos  ringing out with “We’re Screwing Your Schools” to the tune of the Beach Boys’ “Be True to Your School”; a lounge singer and Sigmund Freud knocking off Willie Nelson’s “Crazy” (no explanation required); the transformation of the Eagles’ “Welcome to the Hotel California” into “Welcome to the Hotel Mar-A-Lago”; Mike Pence’s singing, to the tune of “Orange Colored Sky,” that “Flash, Bam, Alakazam, I can fix you if you’re gay”; and lots more where these came from. By the way, "Rockin' Robin," with its "tweet tweet tweet" refrain, gets a central place in the show.

The Triad is a cabaret space, and drinks are served before and during the performance. Its tiny stage is set with only a simple flat at center on which the W in We the People is turned upside down to say Me the People. In addition to those already cited, the caricatures on hand include a Russian spy, Kim Jong Un (“How Do You Solve a Problem Like Korea?”), Ivanka, Jared, Melania, Paul Ryan (singing about the “mighty bungle” of health care reform to “In the Jungle”), and many others crammed into the presidential clown car (among them, an overdone Richard Nixon) doing the snarky honors. DJT himself never appears.

Mia Weinberger. Photo: Stephen Schwartz.

The most memorable number comes at the end when Hillary Clinton rocks new lyrics sung to Cee Lo Green’s “Fuck You,” supported by Bill Clinton and Tim Kaine, the latter wearing a horrible blond wig that more closely suggests Trump's do than that of the ex-candidate for Veep. The song’s angry, post-election takedown includes lines like this, which alone are worth waiting for.

OOH OOH OOH

YOU VOTED FOR JILL STEIN AND

YOU FUCKED YOURSELVES AND SO

FUCK YOU

AND FUCK HER TOO.

It’s not Cole Porter but, ooh ooh ooh, it sounds so good.

When I attended, James Higgins, the musical director, continued in that function while also replacing Aisha Alia Dukes as part of the ensemble, which may have altered the production sequence and performance dynamic. At any rate, a number in the script that has the Supreme Court mimicking the Supremes singing a version of “Stop In the Name of Love” (retitled: “Stop In the Name of Us”) was missing.

The other performers are Mitchel Kawash, Richard Spitaletta, and Mia Weinberger. They cavort with nonstop energy but the impersonations are mostly ragged and singing ability is not a company strength. Only Weinberger displays the kind of standout, all-around, musical and comic talent, not to mention appearance, that augurs well for a bright showbiz future.

Judging by the audience response, many people are itching to laugh loudly at our Tweeter-in-Chief, regardless of how sophomoric the jokes may be. Me the People will help scratch that itch, especially when the cast (and audience) concludes with:

AFTER ALL THAT’S TRANSPIRED

WE’LL SAY “DONALD, YOU’RE FIRED!”

AND FUCK YOU!

From their mouths to Trump's ears.

OTHER VIEWPOINTS

Show-Score.com

Me the People: The Trump America Musical

Triad Theater

250 W. 72^nd St., NYC

Through September 7

36 (2017-2018): Review: TEREZIN (seen June 28, 2017)

“Never Again”

 According to scholar Alvin Goldfarb, at least 257 Holocaust-related dramas had been written by 1997. Others, of course, have been produced since then, just as every year seems to bring one or more Holocaust movies to the screen, such as the recent The Zookeeper’s Wife. Documentaries (many available in full or part on YouTube), historical studies, and other forms of recollection, both academic and artistic, abound. The latest example to arrive on a New York stage is Terezin, by Nicholas Tolkien, great-grandson of J.R.R. Tolkien, author of Lord of the Rings. Judging by this play, young Tolkien has a very long way to go before approaching his great-grandfather’s level. 

Sasha K. Gordon, Peter Angelinis. Photo: Carol Rosseg.

Terezin, perhaps better known by its German name of Theresienstadt, is a Czechoslovakian town whose two fortresses were converted by the Nazis in World War II into concentration camps for prisoners of war and, especially, Jews, the latter living in what the Germans called a “ghetto.” Terezin was noted for the large number of prominent Jewish artists, performers, and intellectuals living there.

Company of Terezin. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

Regardless of its model camp status, Terezin’s Jews were mistreated, starved, tortured, and killed. A great many inhabitants, at least 15,000, were children. While 33,000 Jews died at Terezin, many more died at Auschwitz after being transported from Terezin, which was intended as a way station.   

Sasha K. Gordon, Natasa Petrovic, Sam Gibbs, Blake Lewis. Photo: Carol Rosegg. 

German propaganda, designed to fool inspectors from the visiting Red Cross, included a documentary film (the making of which is part of Tolkien’s play) showing the Jews living athletically, intellectually, and artistically active lives in this so-called “spa town”; a considerable part of the film shows a soccer match played in a large courtyard surrounded by a building several stories high with a series of arches on each upper level fronting exterior passageways. 

Sam Gibbs, Sophia Davey, Natasa Petrovic, Sasha K. Gordon. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

These seem to be the inspiration for the gray walls encompassing Terezin’s abstract set, designed by Anna Driftmier, where the multiple arches have been so reduced in scale they suggest not only mouse holes but rows of crematorium ovens. One is actually used for deceased characters to crawl in and out of. Driftmier’s set, which includes a thin curtain on a circular track that can hide or reveal as much of the space as needed, is filled with black, sculptural pieces resembling bare branches. The effect is a bleak, unattractive background for Tolkien’s clumsy, overwrought, melodrama about a small group of Nazis and their Jewish captives. 

Amanda Szabo's lighting does its ineffective best to create a haunting atmosphere, while the costumes of Marie Claire Brush and Belinda Hancock are more or less what you'd expect although seeing Nazi officers with their collars opened loosely seems inauthentic, no matter how uncomfortable the actors might be otherwise.

Company of Terezin. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

Tolkien’s script is loosely based on The Terezin Diary of Gonda Redlich, a personal account of daily life at the camp kept by a young Jew who lived there for three years before being sent to Auschwitz, his hidden diary not being found until 1967. The playwright manages to squeeze in many of the significant facts about life in the camp but, instead of focusing on Redlich’s own experiences—he’s merely a secondary character (Alex Escher)—he concocts a story about two girls, Violet (Sasha K. Gordon) and Alexi (Natasa Petrovic), the latter a gifted violinist, daughter of another violinist, Isabella (Sophia Davey), murdered by the Nazis. 

Company of Terezin. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

Using a combination of realistic and surrealistic methods (like multiple shadow effects or the manipulation of a sheet of fabric draped over an arm to suggest playing a violin), Tolkien, who also directed, tries to create a semi-phantasmagoric expression of the horrific experiences endured by the girls and their acquaintances. Very little rings true, however, in the writing, staging, or performances. The Nazis, particularly the two chief ones—Commandant Karl Rahm (Michael Leigh Cook, the most polished actor) and Udo Krimmel (Blake Lewis)—are the sociopathic stereotypes we’ve seen in countless movies; I wish I’d counted how many times a Luger was whipped out and pointed as a way to settle a dispute.

Michael Leigh Cook, Natasa Petrovic, Sophia Davey. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

The rambling, suspense-challenged plot, filled with superficial characters and unpersuasive developments, fails to dig deeper than its litany of familiar Nazi cruelties.  One of its central premises is that Rahm’s son, Erik (Skyler Gallun), the camp architect, is actually a Jew Rahm raised after his “Jew bitch” mother abandoned him, and that Rahm—in a revelatory speech that sounds like something lifted from a 19th-century melodrama—thinks little of murdering him should the need arise. Equally preposterous is the other chief plot line, which holds that, after Violet goes missing, Rahm will tell Alexi of her whereabouts if she teaches him to play the violin like a master in one week. Act Two, in particular, is a pileup of dramaturgy that’s gone off the rails.

Natasa Petrovic, Alex Escher, Sasha K. Gordon. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

The story of Terezin has been dramatized in at least half a dozen previous plays and musicals. One of them, The Tiny Mustache, which has received several workshops, may get a production down the line. One can only hope that, if it does, it’s a lot better than Nicholas Tolkien’s muddled version of what transpired.

Sasha K. Gordon. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

OTHER VIEWPOINTS:

Show-Score.com

Terezin

Playwrights Horizons/Peter Jay Sharp Theatre

416 W. 42^nd St., NYC

Through July 2

35 (2017-2018): Review: THE CRUSADE OF CONNOR STEPHENS (seen June 27, 2017)

"Gay Son of a Preacher Man"

For my review of The Crusade of Connor Stephens please click on THE BROADWAY BLOG.