This Girl is Far from Revolting

Review:  Matilda

It's not a dream; Matilda really is as good as you've heard.

 

The producers of the American premiere of the Olivier-winning smash hit Matilda have done themselves a great disservice by allowing the musical to be marketed as a children’s show.  True, there is nothing anyone but the most overprotective parents would find in the least bit offensive, but there is more wit, intelligence, and invention in this adaptation of the Roald Dahl novel than in any other Broadway musical of the season.  This is a show of supreme sophistication which dares to actually challenge its young audience rather than speak down to them, and offers as many if not more pleasures for the adults lucky enough to find themselves in the audience.

Like the book on which it’s based, the musical follows the misadventures of precocious 5-year-old Matilda as she begins her first year of school.  Unwanted by her vapid and emotionally abusive parents – her father refuses to even acknowledge her gender, repeatedly referring to her as “boy” – Matilda has taken solace in reading and study.  Her incredible intelligence immediately catches the attention of her meek but kind-hearted teacher, Miss Honey, who quietly vows to do everything she can to help Matilda reach her extraordinary potential.  Unfortunately the headmistress of Matilda’s school is the villainous Miss Trunchbull, whose motto “Bambinatum est Maggitum" (“Children Are Maggots”) tells you everything you need to know about why her presence is a problem.

The libretto by Dennis Kelly is a bravura piece of theatrical writing, establishing the show’s off-kilter tone with such assuredness that you buy into it immediately.  Simultaneously oversized and understated, the characters inhabit a realm of magical realism that is utterly fascinating without losing the feeling of familiarity.  Kelly has gifted his hyper-literate lead and her cohorts with some of the sharpest dialogue to grace the musical stage in years, and Matilda’s unending amount of wordplay and dry humor is positively delicious.  Kelly has also created a framing device in which Matilda tells the local librarian serialized fragments of a seemingly inconsequential story that slowly illuminate the quirky intelligence of his heroine and her feelings about the series of mishaps she finds herself in.  And on top of everything else, Kelly also manages to work in some rather biting satire of modern-day parenting without distracting from the main narrative, giving the show an added layer of social commentary on top of its already full plate.

The songs by Tim Minchin are equally inventive.  In fact, one of the few knocks against the show is that between the lightning-fast tempos and the sometimes shrill registers of the children’s ensemble, it is almost impossible to fully comprehend Minchin’s incredibly playful lyrics.  It’s never enough of a problem that it obscures the story, but the lyrics you do catch are so damned clever you can’t help but feel like you’re missing out on something worth hearing.  Musically, the score is light and bouncy, with a few tender ballads thrown in to keep things fresh.  Minchin hasn’t written an enormous number of songs for Matilda, but what is present perfectly balances with Kelly’s dynamite libretto and the needs of the narrative.

Matthew Warchus elevates this already strong material to the next level through his ingenious direction, which keeps the show moving and visual interest high.  He effortlessly conjures up feelings of dread or elation as the situation dictates, and at multiple points his staging is genuinely jaw-dropping (special praise must be given to Matilda’s arrival at her appropriately ominous school, which left me speechless).  Warchus is aided and abetted by the incredible word-tile set of Rob Howell, which has exploded well beyond the confines of the Shubert Theatre stage and taken over the entire auditorium.  If you somehow find yourself bored by the onstage action (an unlikely scenario, to be sure), spotting the thematically important words carefully hidden among the scenery is entertainment onto itself, and this exceptionally versatile set seamlessly transforms into whatever is required.

Matilda is such a stellar example of strong writing and direction that it’s easy to underrate the contributions of the cast, which is uniformly excellent.  Four young actresses share the title role, and if they are all as effortlessly enchanting as young Oona Laurence (who played the performance I saw), we have four future stars on our hands.  There is a nuance and understated complexity to her Matilda that is rarely seen in actors so young, and she effortlessly carries the show on her petite shoulders.  Laurence is complimented by the insanely talented collection of child actors playing her classmates, whose abounding energy has been perfectly harnessed by Warchus and choreographer Peter Darling to create the most gleefully unique bunch of misfits on the Great White Way.  The children’s numbers, of which there are many, are more cleanly executed than those in musicals with adult casts, and not because Darling has dumbed down his steps for the young performers.  These kids are blissfully unaware of how difficult what they’re doing truly is, and their energy is completely infectious.

The adults are thankfully just as good.  Lauren Ward gives a pitch perfect performance as the meekly maternal Miss Honey, beautifully complimenting Matilda’s yearning for love and acceptance with her own.  In addition to sounding lovely, Ward brings exactly the kind of warm, calming presence the role demands.  But it’s the antagonists that get to have the real fun, and all of the nasty adults in Matilda’s life make scenery chewing meals out of their delightfully daffy roles.  As Matilda’s neglectful parents, Lesli Margherita and Gabriel Ebert are utterly despicable and yet endlessly entertaining.  The pair has managed to add enough venom to their performances to be effective without being so harsh that their antics become tiring, and both bring excellent comic timing to their respective roles.  And as Matilda’s impossibly stupid older brother, Taylor Trensch turns his monosyllabic lines into comedy gold.

Towering over everyone else in the cast is Bertie Carvel’s absolutely magnificent turn as Miss Trunchbull, the Olympic-level hammer thrower and headmistress of Matilda’s school.  Carvel’s every hand gesture, facial tic, and change in inflection is completely compelling, a master class in character acting that completely disguises the performer underneath.  Although Carvel’s dressed in drag, with no real effort made to disguise that fact, you instantly believe that he is Trunchbull, thanks to the combination of his unequaled commitment and magnetic stage presence.  It’s difficult to say this perfectly balanced show would be better by adding more of Carvel, but every time the actor leaves the stage you eagerly anticipate his next appearance.

Although imported from London’s West End, everything about Matilda screams Broadway.  It is a show where absolutely everyone involved is working at the highest possible level, from the writers and performers to the production team and the expert craftsmen responsible for the gorgeously detailed sets and costumes.  While the smallest theatregoers may be too young to fully appreciate the brilliance of Matilda, it is a show that can be enjoyed by everyone from age 8 to 80 and beyond.  It is one of the few British transfers that full delivers on the lofty expectations created by its pre-opening buzz, and is not to be missed.

Shakespeare Sings, and It's (Mostly) Beautiful Music

Review:  Love’s Labour’s Lost

It's Shakespeare, but it's fun!  See?  His bowtie is untied and everything!

 

The Public Theatre’s annual Shakespeare in the Park program was started with a very simple mission: to provide free Shakespeare to the entirety of New York City, not just those able to afford the increasingly high price of theatre tickets.  Over the years this mission has expanded to include revivals of other classic playwrights and even the occasional musical, with multiple productions eventually transferring to healthy and critically acclaimed runs on Broadway.  This year the Public is using the program to launch an original musical for only the third time in its history, reuniting the creative team of the Tony-nominated Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson for a reimagining of the Bard’s early comedy Love’s Labour’s Lost.  And while the Public is clearly hoping that the show follows in the footsteps of Two Gentlemen of Verona and The Mystery of Edwin Drood, shows that transferred to Broadway and won Best Musical, this slickly produced new work is in need of at least one major round of rewrites before being ready for the big leagues.

For those unfamiliar with Shakespeare’s original play (and I must confess that I was not), the plot concerns the King of Navarre and three of his noble friends forswearing women and other earthly delights in order to devote themselves to study and personal betterment.  This vow is immediately tested by the arrival of the Princess of France and her entourage, who have come on behalf of her father to discuss some financial matters.  In an attempt to keep his vow the King insists the women camp outside his house rather than enter it, but the noblemen and women soon fall desperately in love.  There is also a subplot involving a Spanish lothario named Armado who is attempting to woo a tavern wench named Jaquenetta, and several other periphery characters that seem to be given a disproportionately large amount of stage time in comparison to their almost complete irrelevance to the plot.

Since I have neither seen nor read the original Shakespeare play, I cannot tell if this production’s narrative problems stem from the original text or from bookwriter/director Alex Timbers’ adaptation of it.  But the problems are definitely there, with multiple characters feeling underwritten and besieged by inconsistent motivations.  The show’s resolution also isn’t nearly as tidy as the almost painfully thorough denouements Shakespeare is known for, although the bizarre tonal shift at the play’s end does stem from the source material.  Timbers would have been better served by cutting several nonessential characters and subplots during his condensation of the show’s narrative, which would have allowed him more time to explore the principle characters and sharpen the thematic parallels between the love story of the nobles and the Armado/Jaquenetta subplot.

On the positive side, Timbers’ reimagining of the characters and setting is often ingenious.  He has reset the show in the present day and recast the noblemen and women as Ivy League college grads.  The men’s vow to devote themselves to further study calls to mind the decision many young people make to enter grad school rather than confront the harsh realities of adult life that their education and upbringing has done so little to prepare them for.  It is a crisis that will be especially familiar to the Millennials in the audience, and makes the play double as a funhouse commentary on the very real challenges facing today’s young adults. 

Timbers also does an excellent job of blending the contemporary jargon found in Michael Friedman’s lyrics with the Shakespearean dialogue used in the book scenes, and does a much better job of integrating Friedman’s rock-influenced score into the show’s structure than the pair managed in Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, whose music often felt like an afterthought.  The score is also much more accomplished than the bare bones affair Friedman created for Bloody Bloody, although the composer still doesn’t have a firm grasp on how to use reprises and often struggles to find appropriate buttons for his sometimes truncated songs.

The slickness of Timbers’ and Friedman’s writing is matched by the outstanding production design.  John Lee Beaty’s unit set is one of the most visually interesting constructions the prolific designer has created for the Delacorte stage, and is perfectly complimented by Jennifer Moeller’s spectacular modern dress costumes.  Jeff Croiter beautifully lights all of the onstage shenanigans, with designs ranging from naturalistic mood lighting to rock concert razzle dazzle with a pit stop into the world of Eastern European performance art strobe lights.  (And while we’re on the subject, the deliciously non-sequitur performance art set piece is easily the highlight of the evening, and one of the most side-splittingly funny moments of the year.)

It is unfortunate that the performances don’t achieve the same uniform cohesion as the physical production.  Some of the actors do great work and some struggle unsuccessfully to make their characters pop, which only serves to highlight the show’s less successful moments.  In general, the women make a greater impression than the men, with Patti Murin’s indignant valley girl Princess emerging as the most consistently engaging performance of the evening.  Murin possesses excellent comic timing and a fine voice, while bringing a depth to the role that almost sells the heavy-handed ending the show is saddled with.  Rebecca Naomi Jones’ Jaquenetta has been gifted with the show’s best song, the smoldering rock ballad “Love’s a Gun,” and she knocks it out of the part.  But most importantly, the women display a genuine camaraderie and sense of teamwork that is sorely lacking among the men.

Colin Donnell comes across the better than the rest of his male costars as Berowne, the most conflicted of the four nobles, but Donnell’s role is more fully developed than most and even at his best he rarely rises above passable.  Daniel Breaker’s King has his moments, although his characterization also feels unintentionally separate from the rest of the noblemen.  Caesar Samayoa plays Armado as a dim puppy dog who is far too eager to please, and his cloyingly indulgent performance will repeatedly test the audience’s patience.  It is disappointing that such a high profile production ended up with such an uneven cast, and there are times where it’s obvious the dubious performances are holding the material back from the greatness it is pursuing.

Despite its many flaws, there is definitely potential in this material.  The writing shows flashes of brilliance and invention without disrespecting its source material, and the rock score is generally pleasing to the ear even if it isn’t particularly memorable.  Unlike too many new musicals, Lost never feels like it’s overstaying its welcome, and the intermissionless two hours is just about the perfect amount of time for it to tell it’s simple but engaging story.  It is often beautiful to look at, with the direction complimenting the design work perfectly.  If the cast doesn’t always reach the level one would hope for, there are certainly more good performances than bad, and several of the young leads are clearly on the cusp of the next level of stardom.  The show isn’t quite strong enough to merit a transfer, so anyone who is interested should hurry out and catch it before it disappears into the balmy summer night.

A Triumphant Return for Broadway's Greatest Funnyman

Review:  The Nance

Nathan Lane commands the stage in his latest tour de force performance, as the title character in Douglas Carter Beane's The Nance.

 

After several forays into the world of musical theatre bookwriting, Douglas Carter Beane returns to his roots as a serio-comedic playwright with The Nance, his latest Broadway venture that is recently finished up its run at the Lyceum Theatre (and will be recorded for broadcast on PBS).  And while the play is certainly a more accomplished work than any of his musical outings, it remains a frustratingly conflicted piece that attempts a variety of things without fully succeeding at any of them.  The play wants to be a probing character study but fails to really explore the motivations of its protagonist.  It wants to make an admittedly topical political statement but ends up feeling preachy and pedantic rather than relevant and illuminating.  It wants to be both a serious drama and a low-brow comedy, but rather than complimenting one another each of these disparate elements continually undercuts the effectiveness of the other.

But at the play’s center is a Herculean performance so electric, so accomplished in its specificity and authenticity that it almost succeeds in elevating the play to the lofty realms which it so obviously aspires to.  Nathan Lane’s work as protagonist Chauncey Mills is nothing short of extraordinary, reasserting his status as one of the most accomplished stage actors of his generation.  With no disrespect meant to his very talented costars, Lane acts circles around everyone else onstage, and actually manages to make the play’s disparate tones seem organic and even necessary. 

The plot centers on Lane’s Chauncey Mills character, a man who has made a name for himself doing burlesque skits in Depression Era New York City.  Mills’ signature role is that of the overtly effeminate stock character dubbed “The Nance,” a professional choice made infinitely more complex by the fact that Mills is himself gay.  After years of anonymous sex with strangers, Mills seduces a young man named Ned who is just coming to grips with his own sexuality, and to the surprise of both men they find themselves entering a long-term relationship together.  Meanwhile, Mills’ burlesque theatre and his act in particular are coming under increasing pressure from city officials taking a stance against indecency, forcing the outspoken Mills to make a choice between being himself and suppressing his true nature to fit in.

It cannot be overstated how brilliant Nathan Lane is in the central role. From the opening moments of the show until the final curtain, Lane dominates the stage and exhibits such mastery of his craft that even his accomplished costars look like amateurs in comparison.  The play gives him ample opportunity to demonstrate his dramatic chops, while simultaneously providing him with an unending string of zingers and comic bits that utilize his unparalleled sense of comedic timing.  Throughout the play we are treated to excerpts from Mills’ stage act, and Lane absolutely kills in these scenes of perfectly reconstructed vaudeville comedy.  Where a normal actor would earn one laugh Lane manages to get three, often by using little more than a cock of the eyebrow or a sideways glance at the audience.  More miraculous still is Lane’s ability to make such carefully calculated choices feel utterly spontaneous, leaving the audience with the impression that this virtuosic performance is being created from scratch each night.

And while none of his costars are operating on Lane’s level (there are few actors in the world that could match such inspired lunacy), the rest of the cast turns in fine performances in their own right.  In his Broadway debut, Jonny Orsini charts a beautifully realized journey of self-acceptance as Mills’ lover Ned, and watching him realize that his sexuality doesn’t automatically prevent him from enjoying the perks of a domesticated life is particularly poignant in this time when marriage equality is on the forefront of the national debate.  If there is one criticism of Orsini’s performance it’s that he plays the character rather dumb, which at times comes into direct conflict with the highly literate dialogue playwright Beane has provided all of the characters.

Lewis J. Stadlen plays the lovably gruff Efram with aplomb, and makes an excellent foil for Lane during the burlesque skits that are the show’s highlight.  In a lesser actor’s hands Efram’s discomfort with Mills’ sexuality would make him the clear villain of the piece, but Stadlen tempers his performance with enough begrudging respect to make it clear that Efram isn’t a bad person.  As the trio of burlesque dancers that work at the same theatre, Cady Huffman, Jenni Barber and Andrea Burns make for excellent support, although the writing doesn’t do enough to differentiate their three characters.  Huffman (reunited with Lane after they both won Tonys for The Producers a decade ago) makes the strongest impression, although she is unfortunately saddled with the most overtly political and unnecessarily knowing dialogue.

Director Jack O’Brien keeps the evening moving at a steady pace, and during the show’s final twenty minutes manages to synthesize the disparate bits and repeating motifs into something resembling resonance.  He is aided immensely by John Lee Beaty’s marvel of a rotating set, which allows for virtually seamless transitions from one locale to the next.  Ann Roth clearly had a ball with the period costumes, and her designs for the burlesque outfits in particular possess just the right amount of winking outlandishness.  The lights and sound by Japhy Weideman and Leon Rothenberg get the job done but aren’t particularly memorable, and the original music by Glen Kelly is a nice if unassuming addition to the proceedings.

Ultimately, The Nance’s primary reason for being is to provide Nathan Lane with a showcase for his immense talents, and in that respect it succeeds wholeheartedly.  The comedic genius’ work manages to elevate Douglas Carter Beane’s passable script into something approaching greatness, and everyone involved has graciously taken a backseat while letting the master work his magic.  It is a worthwhile evening for those who are interested, although I do hope that Lane’s next Broadway outing is in a vehicle more worthy of his extraordinary gifts.