50 Years Old and as Fresh as Ever

Review: The Boys in the Band

From left to right: Charlie Carver, Andrew Rannells, Tuc Watkins, Jim Parsons, Robin de Jesus, Matt Bomer, and Zachary Quinto in The Boys in the Bands.

There is a moment in The Boys in the Band, Mart Crowley's groundbreaking 1968 play about a group of gay New Yorkers, where the men dial back their effeminate behavior to avoid upsetting a less-than-accepting party crasher. Watching the star-studded ensemble of openly gay actors subtly modify their body language, mannerisms, and vocal inflections in order to "pass" for straight is both breathtaking in its simplicity and profoundly moving, a wonderfully naturalistic moment that encapsulates everything that is exceptional about Joe Mantello's first rate production. These men - both the characters and the out and proud actors who portray them - are intimately familiar with that particular conflict between being your authentic self and trying desperately not to rock the boat for fear of retribution, and that bubbling undercurrent of internalized homophobia informs every aspect of Crowley's deceptively powerful script.

The premise of The Boys in the Band, like many great dramas before and after it, involves a group of people gathering together, drinking heavily, and proceeding to eviscerate one another while dealing with years of emotional baggage. In this case, the group is a collection of gay men throwing a birthday party for their friend Harold in the opulently appointed apartment of Michael. Initially a joyous if somewhat catty celebration - the men throw shade at one another with pinpoint accuracy thanks to Crowley's caustically funny one liners - things take a dark turn when Michael's possibly closeted college roommate crashes the party and takes offense at the blatantly fay behavior on display. When the mental stress causes a previously sober Michael to fall off the wagon, the claws come out and no one is safe from his unmitigated rage.

It is shocking how immediate and relevant Crowley's script remains a half century after its initial premiere, a fascinating example of both how much and how little has changed about gay culture in the intervening decades. Stonewall, the AIDS crisis, and marriage equality have all seismically altered gay life in America, and yet many of the issues facing the characters in Crowley's play are the same as those that gay men grapple with today. There's the self-loathing that comes from growing up in an environment that states, either implicitly or explicitly, that it would be better if you weren't gay, and the lifelong effect that has on one's ability to connect with other human beings. There's the question of what exactly a loving homosexual relationship should look like: should it mirror the monogamous template favored by heterosexual couples, or is an open arrangement that allows for other sexual partners a viable alternative? Does the constant belittlement gay men experience excuse their tendency to inflict the same kind of taunts on one another, and how is that compounded when discussing queer people of color?

All of these issued are embodied by an impeccably cast ensemble of top tier talent. Jim Parsons is close to a revelation as Michael, the party's host and evening's protagonist. While the play's opening scenes allow the Emmy-winning television star to rely mostly on the skills that have served him so well on The Big Bang Theory, once Michael turns to drink the actor goes into much darker and more surprising territory. The ferocity with which Parsons turns on his supposed friends is astounding, and like the characters in the play you find yourself becoming more and more terrified of the unbridled malice he displays. And when Michael finally crumbles under the weight of what he's done, Parsons bares his soul in a raw and emotionally devastating climax that will leave you stunned speechless.

Two-time Tony-nominee Robin de Jesus also shines as Emory, the most flamboyant and overtly femme member of the group. de Jesus is responsible for many of the evening's biggest belly laughs thanks to his impeccably timed delivery, but it's his gut wrenching monologue about Emory's difficult childhood that leaves the longest lasting impression. Tuc Watkins and Tony-nominee Andrew Rannells bring believable depth and complexity to their fraught onstage relationship as two men with very different ideas of what commitment looks like, a relationship which ends up being one of the more uplifting storylines of the evening. And in a less showy role, Matt Bomer makes a confident Broadway debut as Michael's sometimes-lover and the oft-ignored voice of reason.

Director Joe Mantello has once again worked his magic here, subtly but assuredly guiding his actors' performances so that every bit of stage business further reveals either character or plot. His beautifully understated direction belies the extreme specificity used to usher this work onto the Great White Way - the original production ran for over 1000 performances Off-Broadway, but this is the show's Broadway premiere - amping up the emotion while maintaining the intimacy and even claustrophobia necessary to make the drama really land. Mantello's pacing is first-rate, giving this intermissionless work room to breath without ever letting it drag, and cultivating an ever-growing sense of dread as both the audience and the characters realize they are getting far more than they signed on for. And the way Mantello deploys his actors over David Zinn's spectacularly varied unit set ensures the production is always a joy to look at (Zinn also designed the period-perfect and expertly tailored 1960s costumes).

Given the talent both onstage and behind the scenes, it isn't surprising that The Boys in the Band is one of the hottest tickets of the summer. It isn't even that surprising that the show's Broadway bow is so expertly realized. What is downright remarkable is that in its own way, this small show has as much to say about the gay experience in America as the recently closed and rightfully lauded epic Angels in America. It is a darkly comic drama polished to near perfection, and an absolutely necessary history lesson in gay culture and interpersonal dynamics. If there are still any tickets left for the remainder of The Boys in the Band's limited run, snatch them up quick; this is essential viewing.

Not Quite Seaworthy, But Some Beautiful Craftsmanship

Review: The Last Ship

Sting (center) joins the cast of his own musical The Last Ship for the show's final weeks.

Going into the fall of 2014, The Last Ship seemed poised to be one of the big shows of the upcoming Broadway season. The only new musical to open between the months of September and December, the show promised a score by Grammy winner and recent Kennedy Center Honoree Sting, a book by Tony winners John Logan and Brian Yorkey, and direction by the great Joe Mantello (also a Tony winner). But despite a high profile creative team and a complete lack of competition, the show has struggled at the box office and will play its final performance on January 24th. You can blame the lack of name stars or an audience distaste for serious musicals, but at the end of the day The Last Ship's box office woes probably stem from the fact that despite being lovingly crafted and at times starkly beautiful, the show just doesn't have a particularly engaging story to tell.

Set in a small seaside village in northern England, The Last Ship opens with young Gideon Fletcher leaving town rather than follow in his father's footsteps as a shipbuilder. Gideon promises his tearful girlfriend Meg Dawson he'll come back for her, once he's seen the world and sown his wild oats. Cut to 15 years later, when a now grown Gideon finally returns home to attend his father's funeral. What he finds is a town on the verge of collapse, as the shipyard which employs most of the local men has been purchased and will soon close. While the men rally together to build one last ship, Gideon does his best to pick up the pieces of his relationship with Meg, who now has a son and is set to marry another man.

The above setup contains all the elements needed for a dramatic story, but bookwriters John Logan and Brian Yorkey can't seem to decide where the show's primary focus should be. In trying to split time equally between the shipyard drama and the Gideon/Meg romance, both storylines feel underserviced and therefore lack the emotional punch they could have. Both plots also suffer from a lack of dramatic tension, with their eventual outcomes heavily foreshadowed by both the writing and simple logic. The romance is especially problematic, as the show fails to provide any compelling reason for Meg to take Gideon back after he broke her heart. Gideon makes for an exceedingly selfish protagonist; he admits to having spent the past 15 years with a variety of women, but cannot comprehend why Meg isn't waiting with open arms when he finally gets around to returning. We never see them as a happy couple, and as Meg's overriding reaction to Gideon's return is a completely understandable "screw you," it's difficult to root for their reunion.

Sting's folk-influenced score does a much better job than the book scenes of conveying believable emotional complexity, and makes for a very respectable Broadway songwriting debut. Like much of his more recent recording output, the subtle intricacies of Sting's score appear underwhelming on first listen, but as the evening goes on the smartly used reprises and melodic motifs reveal hidden nuances and previously unnoticed pleasures. Sting does a better job than most recording artists of bending his personal style to the needs of dramatic storytelling, although he doesn't entirely avoid the temptation to have the story serve the music instead of the other way around. His score reaches its zenith giving voice to the working class shipwrights in the group numbers, making full use of the cast's lush voices with layered harmonies and inventive call and response. The title song is especially haunting, and both the score and Rob Mathes' orchestrations do an excellent job of evoking the feel of a small seaside town.

As per usual, Joe Mantello's focused direction coaxes fine performances out of his entire cast. Michael Esper almost manages to make the often insufferable Gideon a likeable protagonist, even with a script that rarely allows him the opportunity to show his much discussed love for Meg. Rachel Tucker is excellent as the object of Gideon's affection, anchoring the love triangle with a believable emotional complexity. The golden-voiced Aaron Lazar does what he can with the utterly thankless role of Meg's new boyfriend Arthur, and the nimble Collin Kelly-Sordelet is continually appealing as Meg's son, Tom. Fred Applegate's immensely enjoyable turn as the town priest is the most accomplished and engaging performance in the show, and Sting himself - taking over for original cast member Jimmy Nail - does quite well in the role of shipyard captain Jackie White. (Sidenote: Sting's casting is one of the smartest uses of a celebrity replacement in several seasons, showcasing the rock star enough that fans will get their money's worth without actually involving him in the show's emotional heavy lifting.)

The show's production design is purposefully dark and industrial, perfectly conveying the decline and disrepair of the setting. There is a fading beauty in David Zinn's sets and costumes which is greatly enhanced by Christopher Akerlind's dramatic lighting. Mantello thoroughly utilizes all of this in his dynamic staging, and although Steven Hoggett continues to rely on the same tricks that netted him a Tony nomination for Once, his choreography's angular vocabulary is mostly appropriate here. When all of these elements work together, like they do in the production's stunning final tableau, it is almost magical.

The Last Ship is a noble effort, one of the rare new musicals not based on any pre-existing source material. The show doesn't always live up to its potential, but there is plenty to appreciate between Sting's lush score, the fine performances of the cast, and the starkly beautiful images created by Joe Mantello and his production team. Those with any interest should definitely head over to the Neil Simon Theatre before the show closes next weekend, as there are far worse ways one can spend a chilly winter evening.

Defying Gravity, Almost 9 Years Later

Review:  Wicked

Chandra Lee Schwartz as Glinda and Jackie Burns as Elphaba in the Broadway production of Wicked.

Wicked is a show I’ve been interested in revisiting for quite some time.  After seeing the original Broadway cast during the summer of 2004, I left the show entertained but not blown away, and honestly wasn’t quite sure what all the fuss was about.  But after seeing the show do years of sell-out business in New York and on the road, while also developing an incredibly loyal fan community, my curiosity started getting the best of me.  Wicked has become not just a hit show, but a phenomenon that has struck a chord with millions of people, and I began wondering if there was something I had missed the first time around.  So eight years after my initial viewing, I headed back to the Gershwin Theatre this past weekend to view the Land of Oz with fresh eyes.

Seeing the show again, I can’t say my overarching opinion of it has changed much, but I will admit to appreciating Stephen Schwartz’s magnum opus more now than I did in 2004.  Now that the hype around the show has calmed down, it’s easier for me to evaluate the show own its own merits.  During that initial viewing, the show was widely considered a guaranteed winner for the Best Musical Tony, and as such I was evaluating it against some very high expectations (Wicked lost the award to Avenue Q just days after my first viewing).  I found Elphaba’s story to be full of big-budget spectacle but light on heart, which made the entire enterprise feel somewhat empty.

Wicked remains big and loud, but this time through I saw a lot more heart than I originally gave the show credit for.  The relationship between Elphaba and Glinda is one of the more complex musical theatre dynamics in recent history, and the musical does a good job hinting at the political implications of Gregory Maguire’s source novel without becoming bogged down with polemics.  Book writer Winnie Holzman did a great job of condensing that sprawling text into something more manageable and inherently theatrical, while still finding room to have a great deal of fun with the references to Dorothy’s concurrent adventures.  But keeping Dorothy offstage causes the second act to feel choppy, and I’d say the show’s greatest flaw is that it doesn’t satisfactorily pay off all its various plot threads.  But Holzman does give at least some indication how all of those stories turn out, which is more than can be said for a lot of lesser musical librettists.

The score is probably the best Stephen Schwartz has ever composed for the theatre, and he probably should have won his long-overdue first Tony for it.  The only explanations for his loss in the Best Score category are the absolute clunkers written for the Wizard, since the rest of the score displays an inventive adventurousness that holds up well to repeated listening.  Wicked is also one of the few shows where you can see exactly what your $135 ticket price is going toward, with lavish costumes and sets that are impressive for both their scale and attention to detail.  Joe Mantello’s staging moves everything along at a pace that never sags but still allows time for quiet character moments, which when played correctly supply the heart every good piece of theatre requires.

One concern I had going into the show was how the current cast would stack up to the near-legendary performances of the original company.  Such comparisons may not be fair but they are bound to happen, especially when this reviewer actually saw said performances and is not just extrapolating them from what’s preserved on the cast recording.  Happily, this current company acquits itself of the material quite well, with one major exception that I’ll address in a minute. 

Jackie Burns does a great job of fleshing out the different layers of Elphaba, the “Wicked” Witch of the West, making a clear transition from shy youth to impassioned freedom fighter while preserving the character’s internal logic.  Burns’ portrayal makes the show firmly (and rightfully) Elphaba’s story, rather than splitting the focus between her and Glinda as the original cast did.  Also, Burns has the vocal ability to make these oft-sung songs sound fresh and alive, an invaluable gift for such warhorses as “Defying Gravity” and “For Good.”

Many of the supporting actors do an excellent job of making a lasting impression with limited stage time.  Randy Danson chews scenery in the best possible way as Madame Morrible, displaying that perfect combination of camp and malice usually reserved for only the best Disney-style villains.  Jenny Fellner makes her Nessarose as complex as the writing will allow, keeping her sympathetic enough that we like her while understanding why other people wouldn’t.  If Kyle Dean Massey is a little too caught up in his Norbert Leo Butz impersonation to be an entirely compelling Fiyero, he still does a fine job in a role whose importance is often overstated to begin with.  And Adam Grupper is the one significant improvement over the original, as his Wizard comes across as far more interesting and menacing than Joel Grey’s ever did.

Unfortunately, the cast’s one weak link is a major one, and that is Chandra Lee Schwartz as Glinda.  Now admittedly I am biased after seeing Kristin Chenoweth’s truly transcendent take on the role, a performance I can recall in great detail to this very day.  But even grading on a curve, Ms. Schwartz fails because she is so concerned with the comedy that she forgets to make Glinda an actual human being.  Her attempts at comedy produce mixed results, and the more dramatic scenes fall completely flat.  There is nothing sympathetic about her performance, and her motivations remain so murky and unconvincing that you ultimately wish she would just go away so we could get back to the much more compelling story of Elphaba.  Considering every eligible actress in town has surely auditioned for this role, I find it tough to believe that Schwartz is the best the producers could find.*

All that said, I thoroughly enjoyed my return trip to the Land of Oz.  Any complaints I have are minor in comparison to the many things Wicked does right.  With its combination of compelling characters, interesting plot, and big-budget spectacle, Wicked earns its place as one of Broadway’s biggest hits.  It may not be a great musical, but it is a very good one, and makes an excellent First Broadway Show for kids and out-of-town relatives that don’t see theatre all that often.  The current cast performs the material with an abundance of professionalism and gusto, and I for one can think of a lot worse ways to spend an evening.

 

*Note:  Between the time I saw the show and wrote this review, Chandra Lee Schwartz left the Broadway company of Wicked.  The role of Glinda is currently played by Alli Mauzey, who is hopefully a lot better.

Best of 2011 Countdown: #3

Best of 2011

#3 – The Normal Heart

Joe Mantello and John Benjamin Hickey in The Normal Heart

This show wasn’t even on my radar until I was given the opportunity to review it.  I think I had some inkling that it was an AIDS play, and I knew it marked Joe Mantello’s return to acting after a long and very successful period of directing (among other things, he helmed a little skit called Wicked).  I am so incredibly grateful that I went.

The Normal Heart was a theatrical sucker punch.  I wasn’t prepared for the ferocity of this piece, which was born of playwright Larry Kramer’s outrage over the way the government, media, and medical community reacted during the early days of the AIDS epidemic.  It is the anger of a man trying to do something, anything to save his community from the ravages of an unseen enemy, perfectly encapsulated in the story of activist Ned Weeks’ attempt to bring attention to the way the epidemic was destroying the gay community in early ‘80s New York City.  And unlike many didactic works of theatre, this play’s righteous anger never felt unjustified or overwrought.  Indeed, you left the theatre feeling just as outraged as Weeks, and a tad guilty for not having done more, sooner.

For a 25-year-old play, Normal Heart felt surprisingly, alarmingly current, due in no small part to the Herculean efforts of an exceptional ensemble.  Mantello absolutely sizzled in the central role, a performance made all the more remarkable given his nearly two decade absence from acting.  Despite spending the better part of two hours angry at seemingly everyone, Mantello always remained sympathetic, the perfect facet through which to view the play.  And as a doctor desperately trying to secure funding for research, Ellen Barkin blew the roof off of the Golden Theatre with her climatic monologue late in Act II.  The night I saw the play, Barkin’s speech was greeted with the kind of thunderous applause usually reserved for showstopping musical numbers, and was such a dizzying display of acting skill that it took several minutes for me to recover from it enough to focus on the remainder of the play.

After The Normal Heart, I left the theatre knowing I had seen not just an excellent play, but an important one.  As a gay man, it gave me insight into a time of our shared history of which I had only a passing understanding.  And as a member of the human race, it reawakened me to the continued plight of millions of people, a plight it is easy to marginalize because we in America have things relatively under control.  Few shows have had such a profound effect on me, and that easily makes The Normal Heart one of the Best Shows of 2011.