Best of 2011 Countdown: #2

Best Shows of 2011

#2 – Follies

Jan Maxwell and the ensemble of Follies

From the first drum roll played by the luscious 27-piece orchestra, it is nearly impossible to not be swept away by the sheer grandeur of the current revival of Stephen Sondheim’s Follies.  NY Times head critic Ben Brantley calls the show “one of the greatest musicals ever written,” and everything about this sumptuous production supports his assertion. 

Follies is a legendary musical, one that rarely receives a full-scale production due to its momentous size and logistical complexity.  The score is widely hailed as a masterpiece, and its pastiche-style songs are heavily featured in various Sondheim reviews and cabaret acts around the country.  But one cannot fully appreciate Follies the score without seeing Follies the show, because hearing the songs in context wildly alters their meaning and reveals a nearly unmatched psychological complexity. 

The pastiche songs, all intended to be part of the fictional Weismann Follies from which the show derives its name, provide an excellent comment on the play’s dramatic action, making apparent some heartbreakingly sad lyrical sentiments that can easily get lost among the songs’ upbeat tempos.  And the book numbers are such superb monologues-in-song that you can literally find something new to appreciate with each listening.  Sondheim really outdid himself on this one, and being able to hear these songs sung on a Broadway stage with such an excellent and full orchestra is a delight.

And then there is the disgusting embarrassment of riches that is the revival’s cast.  Although not quite on the same level as her astounding work in A Little Night Music, Bernadette Peters gives an excellent performance as ex-Follies girl Sally Durant Plummer.  Peters makes Sally into a tragically wounded and complex creature lost in the throes of self-delusion, a quality that is especially apparent during her haunting rendition of “In Buddy’s Eyes.”  But so strong is this cast, and so uniformly excellent are the performances, that Peters is by no means the best actor on the stage.

Danny Burstein, who I found to be overrated in South Pacific and actively bad in Women on the Verge, is an absolute revelation as Buddy.  He takes what is probably the least interesting of the central quartet and makes him an utterly fascinating example of a man who simply cannot admit that the woman he loves is no good.  And during his climatic faux-Follies number, “The God-Why-Don’t-You-Love-Me Blues,” Burstein effortlessly becomes the modern reincarnation of a vaudeville comedian.  Burstein simply slays this song and his performance in general, and will almost certainly be Tony-nominated for his efforts.

And then there’s Jan Maxwell.  The brilliant, chameleon-like actress has played every type of role imaginable, but Phyllis Rogers Stone may just end up as her crowning achievement.  Looking positively stunning in her golden gown, Maxwell is the embodiment of the woman who has everything and nothing at the same time.  Trapped in a loveless marriage, Phyllis has built a wall of self-assurance and nonchalance around herself that steadily crumbles throughout the show.  When she finally tears into her husband with one of the greatest gifts Sondheim ever gave an actress, the sensational “Could I Leave You?,” Maxwell explodes with such ferocity and deep seated rage you don’t know whether to cheer or run for the exit.  And then, just in case you weren’t convinced of her brilliance, she stops the show again with her no holds barred song-and-dance routine for “The Story of Lucy and Jessie.”

This revival is one for the ages.  I guarantee that at least once during the show, you will gasp in awe at its sheer brilliance.  This production literally takes your breath away.  For me, two moments in particular stand out:  watching all of the ladies tap dance during “Who’s That Woman?” (the mirror number) while being mirrored by the ghosts of their younger selves in one of the most dizzying choreographic triumphs currently on Broadway, and the reveal of the climatic Loveland sequence, where the split-second fall of the front drop perfectly illustrates the mental break that has just occurred in the four leads and will propel them to the show’s end.  Then there’s the hauntingly gorgeous duet “One More Kiss,” the majestic brilliance of the foreboding overture, the dreamlike interweaving of the ghosts of the characters’ past….I could go on and on.  But it would be much more effective for you to run down to the Marquis Theatre and see for yourself why Follies is one of the best shows of the year, before it fades into memory on January 22^nd.

Worst of 2011: #2

Worst of 2011

#2 – Wonderland

Carly Rose Sonenclar, Janet Decal, and Darren Ritchie in Wonderland

Frank Wildhorn has been a busy boy this year, with two Broadway premieres to his credit a mere 8 months apart.  He really should have reconsidered the order he premiered them in, because I am convinced the atrocity known as Wonderland killed the surprisingly good Bonnie and Clyde before it even started previews.

Now, I personally think the Alice in Wonderland story doesn’t adapt well to begin with.  The novel is a series of unrelated incidents that have no bearing on one another; because nothing Alice learns from one encounter influences her behavior in the next, the scenes can be placed in any order, and the only reason anyone would know is because we are so familiar with the source material.  (This is also why it is so easy for adaptations to add elements from the book’s sequel, Through the Looking Glass.)  In print, this works because of the whimsical descriptions and evocative imagery used by author Lewis Carol, but to make the story work onstage, adaptors are basically forced to create both a throughline and some kind of conflict.  Which means any adaptation of Alice in Wonderland faces an uphill battle, and the low quality of the resultant musical isn’t entirely Frank Wildhorn and his book writers’ fault.

But dear God, they didn’t help matters!  The score is made up of the most generic-sounding pop music imaginable, all of them highlighting Wildhorn’s bad habits as a composer.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: a key change is not a substitute for emotion, and repeating a chorus 10 times does not automatically make it better or catchier.  At least in Jekyll & Hyde, another show I despise, Wildhorn was writing for the incredibly talented Linda Eder, whose luscious voice made all those ridiculous power ballads sound much better than they actually were.  No such luck for Wonderland.  Instead of Eder, we get the abysmal Janet Decal. 

As an ex-performer, I always try to assume the best about any actor, but Decal just sucks.  Period, the end.  She couldn’t act her way out of a paper bag, and her thin, reedy voice is not at all thrilling or inspiring to listen to.  There are chorus girls in a dozen other Broadway shows with far more impressive instruments than Decal possesses; hell, you could find a singer of her caliber in any decent undergraduate theatre program.  There is absolutely no reason this woman should be starring in a Broadway musical, and it honestly makes me angry that they cast her.

But Decal wasn’t the only one stinking up the stage of the Marquis Theatre.  Jose Llana was just as bad playing the Cheshire Cat, renamed El Gato for this “urban, modern” take on the story.  Llana’s only real success in the show was managing to cram every negative Latino stereotype possible into his limited stage time, which is not the sort of behavior that should be encouraged or rewarded.  And as the Queen of Hearts, Karen Mason chewed so much scenery that I’m surprised there was any left at the end of the show; maybe Wonderland’s rumored $15 million budget came from having the rebuild the set after every performance.  Watching reasonably talented individuals like Darren Ritchie and Kate Shindle (the White Knight and Mad Hatter, respectively) struggle to rise above all the crap going on around them was just plain sad.

The list of problems goes on and on.  The show was stuffed to the brim with outdated cultural references (if you still think boy bands are ripe for parody, Wonderland is the show for you!) and paper-thin characters.  There’s some nonsense about the grown up Alice regaining her inner child and patching things up with her estranged daughter and husband, who also appear in the Wonderland-set sequences like some third rate Wizard of Oz knockoff.  There were a couple of interesting stage pictures and perhaps three minutes that bordered on entertaining (not consecutive minutes, mind you), but on the whole this was one of the worst shows I’ve seen in a loooong time.

In the end, I don’t know which is more upsetting:  that a show as horrendously awful as Wonderland made it to Broadway, or that it was still only the *second* worst show I saw this year.

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.

Worst of 2011: #3

Worst Shows of 2011

#3 – Arcadia

Bel Powley, Raul Esparza, Lea Williams, and Tom Riley in Arcadia

Tom Stoppard’s Arcadia represents everything I hate about that snobby entity known as “The Theatre.”  Here is a show so concerned with being highbrow that it blatantly disregards concepts like interesting characters and dramatic tension in favor of hyper-literate philosophical mouthpieces and intellectual debate.  The end result is one of the least entertaining plays of the past 20 years, made even more insufferable by David Leveaux’s miscast and plodding revival.

The show’s very premise is the first indication that someone involved (likely Stoppard) was more interested in showing off his highly educated mind than in writing a compelling drama.  There are two distinct plot threads, one involving the tutoring of a precocious young girl in 1809 and the other the investigation by present-day scholars into a previously unknown chapter of the poet Lord Byron’s life.  Linking the two storylines is their shared location (the entire play is set in front room of an English country house) and a lot of talk about high-level math.  Yes, math.

Now, I’m not saying that a play in which large portions of dialogue deal with the contested authorship of an obscure work of literature or a 13-year-old girl’s discovery of a complex mathematical theorem nearly 150 years before it is formally recognized can’t make for interesting drama (although it would be an uphill battle).  I am saying that if you purposely make the dialogue of such a play so dense that only someone with a specialized master’s degree can understand it, you need to provide characters who display recognizable emotional conflict.  That way, those of us not intimately familiar with fractal equations and the biographies of 19^th century poets have something to latch on to.  But I guess Stoppard was afraid that would be the same as dumbing down his brilliant work of genius, so he instead opted for an extremely pretentious show that runs north of 3 hours in length. 

The actors in this production did nothing to help matters.  For starters, the cast had the biggest case of mush-mouth since Heath Ledger in Brokeback Mountain, making them virtually impossible to understand.  Since they were already talking about concepts and using jargon the average audience member isn’t familiar with, the extra barrier to comprehension made it frustrating beyond belief to try and follow the plot (assuming there was one to begin with).  The characterizations tended towards shrill more often than not – I guess math and literature make these people extremely angry – which made sitting through Arcadia feel like some kind of bizarre torture.

Everyone involved in this production needs to learn a simple lesson: plays are meant to entertain.  This does not mean they cannot be intelligent, thought-provoking, or challenging an audience’s assumptions about life and the universe.  But if people aren’t enjoying themselves, they aren’t going to go home and have lengthy discussions about the Big Ideas you tried to cram into your show.  They’re going to say “that sucked” and do their best to forget about the time and money they wasted on your crappy play.  That's what I’m doing with Arcadia, something I intend to avoid like the plague from now on.

Best of 2011 Countdown: #4

Alright, I got a little behind on these lists due to the holiday.  But better late than never, right?

Best of 2011

#4 Venus in Fur

Hugh Dancy and Nina Arianda in Venus in Fur

I loved Venus in Fur.  On a superficial level, I loved the fact that Venus is a new work by an American playwright (David Ives) debuting on Broadway, in a production free of gimmicks or celebrity stunt casting.  But on a deeper level, I loved that this is simply a damn good play with some damn good actors.

The show centers on an extremely unorthodox audition for an adaptation of the sadomasochistic novel Venus in Furs.  After a long day of fruitless searching for his female lead, writer-director Thomas agrees to let struggling actress Vanda audition for him, and the ensuing 90 minutes becomes an erotically charged game of cat and mouse where neither party is completely in control.  To go into greater detail would spoil the fun, but rest assured that the play’s already brief runtime practically flies by, thanks to the skill of Ives’ writing and the fantastic performances.

Reprising her role from the show’s Off-Broadway premiere, Nina Arianda is sensational as Vanda.  She has complete mastery of her character, effortlessly shifting from slapstick comedy to heightened period drama, all the while looking positively radiant in Anita Yavich’s superb costumes.  To see Arianda in this role is to see a star being born, and while that may sound cliché, I challenge you to think any different after seeing the show.  Expect Arianda to make a repeat appearance among this year’s Best Actress Tony nominees, and possibly even win (she’s just that good).  Thankfully (and somewhat miraculously), her costar Hugh Dancy is every bit as superb, albeit in a less showy performance.

Venus in Fur is top tier theatre.  It is a smart play that raises serious questions about the nature of power, and how being submissive is not necessarily the same as being powerless (in some ways, it can be the stronger position).  It examines gender roles without become preachy or completely demonizing men (an issue I have had with many a feminist-leaning play), and more importantly it does all of this while remaining vastly entertaining.  The play’s success, including the just announced commercial Broadway transfer, is the perfect indication that good theatre is still alive and well on the Great White Way.  Venus in Fur completely deserves it spot among the year’s best shows.

(Note:  To read my full review of Venus in Fur, click here.)

Worst of 2011: #4

Worst Shows of 2011

#4 Sister Act

Patina Miller and the cast of Sister Act

The creators of Sister Act are going to have to say a lot of Hail Marys to atone for the multitude of sins committed by this movie adaptation gone awry.  It’s not often that a show manages to insult my intelligence *and* offend me, but Sister Act did both with such ease it’s almost scary.

One of the show’s many unforgiveable sins is the absolutely atrocious, anachronism-filled book.  I shudder to think what the show was like in London if Douglas Carter Beane’s many rewrites are considered actual improvements.  The show makes a point of being set in the 1970s (presumably to compliment Alan Menkin’s disco-infused score), but almost all of the jokes and the manner in which they’re delivered are supremely contemporary.  They also aren’t particularly funny, making the choice even more irritating.

The script also suffers from particularly uneven characterization, oftentimes violating the show’s established rules in an attempt for laughs.  The biggest example of this comes during the number “It’s Good to Be a Nun,” in which the members of the convent complain about the various aspects of life as a nun, like early mornings prayers and hours of meditation and self-study.  Now last time I checked, nobody in modern day America is forced to join a convent, and if these nuns are all so miserable why don’t they just leave?  The song would have been equally effective if the nuns had been enthusiastic about their lives, highlighting the fish out of water scenario lead character Delores finds herself in while actually being true the characters onstage. 

Which points to a larger problem with the show: although not Catholic, I left the show vaguely offended by the way the show continually mocked the Catholic faith and those who choose to live by it.  You would expect The Book of Mormon, from South Park creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone, to be the most offensive show of the year when it comes to religion, but I genuinely feel like it has a greater affinity for the religion at its core.  Mormon pokes fun at some of the religion’s tenants, but never crosses the line into condemning those who lead their lives based on those teachings.  Sister Act actively judges all of its characters, condemning them for choosing to participate in such a deeply ritualized faith, and yet expects us to simultaneously empathize with these women.  Talk about mixed messages!

Outside of the various structural problems, the performances in Sister Act are all over the map.  Patina Miller is clearly talented and generally quite strong in the role Whoopi Goldberg made famous, but her performance lacks that spark of vitality you expect in a big budget musical comedy.  After playing 2 years on the West End prior to coming to Broadway, Miller’s performance has started to feel stale, as if the actress is on autopilot.  Victoria Clark’s Mother Superior also doesn’t quite work, although for reasons harder to pinpoint.  On its own, her dry and understated delivery is often hilarious, but since everyone else in the show opts for a much broader acting style, Clark seems oddly out of place.

The musical takes forever to get going, with much of its first act wasted on unfunny one-liners and god-awful subplots involving the male characters.  The men are actually so poorly written and haphazardly performed, that an easy way to determine the entertainment value of an upcoming scene or song is to ask yourself, “Do I see a male onstage?”  If you do, it’s an excellent time to check your program or go to the bathroom.

Sister Act disappoints on so many levels that it makes my blood boil.  Unlike some screen to stage transfers, the show actually has a premise that naturally lends itself to musicalization.  And while I enjoyed the Whoopi Goldberg film of the same name, it is by no means one of my favorites, so I don’t have a problem with the stage version’s decision to jettison large swaths of the film in favor of original material.  What I do have a problem with is almost all of those changes being for the worse.  I’m personally hoping the show posts a closing notice soon, and puts all of us out of Sister Act’s misery.

Best of 2011 Countdown: #5

Yesterday I was naughty, now it’s time to go back to being nice.  Going forward I’ll be alternating between the Best and Worst lists, so that my number one choice for each will appear right before the New Year. :-)

 Best Shows of 2011

#5 How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying

Daniel Radcliffe in How to Succeed...

Confession time: I have a major soft spot for How to Succeed as a show.  Ever since playing Bud Frump in college, I’ve had an immense appreciation for this expertly crafted, Pulitzer Prize-winning musical.  The story is so tightly structured that even at 3 hours, there’s very little fat on the show.  There is an excellent assortment of characters that all receive the perfect amount of stage time, and the score is ingenious in the way it complements the show’s tone while remaining melodic and inventive.  And the witty satire of 1960s corporate culture is spot on, yet cannily hidden beneath a layer of fun that makes the show supremely accessible and entertaining to everyone.  Add to this my crush on Daniel Radcliffe and I was predisposed to love this show.

However, How to Succeed shares a lot of similarities with Promises, Promises, including director Rob Marshall, who absolutely butchered the latter show back in 2010.  And these star-driven revivals can be very hit or miss (especially with Radcliffe being a complete unknown in the song and dance department), so I approached the show with a mixture of excitement and dread.  And I left 3 hours later grinning from ear to ear.

This is the show many recent revivals were trying to be.  It highlights all of the best aspects of traditional musical theatre while updating things just enough to appeal to a contemporary audience.  No unwieldy concepts or gritty real world approach or scaled-down production values here; just good old fashioned musical comedy, executed by a uniformly excellent cast.  In the lead role Radcliffe is surprisingly good, his natural charm going a long way to make up for any vocal shortcomings (which are minimal for the demands of the show).  His dancing is genuinely shocking in its quality, and it’s refreshing to see a big name star actually get down and dirty with the ensemble rather than have everyone dance around them while they remain stationary.  You can tell Radcliffe is giving 110% and pushing himself to improve, and it just makes his performance that much more impressive.

The show has many great numbers, including two genuine showstoppers.  “Brotherhood of Man” is every bit as good as you could hope, and Rob Marshall must have been particularly inspired the day he came up with his staging for “Grand Old Ivy” (one of the few major changes for this revival, and one of best additions to a preexisting show I’ve seen in years).  And the choreography – another area where I’ve taken issue with Marshall in the past – is fantastic.

Anything Goes ended up with all the critical love last spring, but I honestly feel like How to Succeed is the better show.  I actively want to see it again, whereas once was enough for Anything Goes (although I do love me some Sutton Foster).  Most importantly, this production makes a 50-year-old show feel brand new, as if it had never been done before.  That is the goal of all revivals, and in achieving it How to Succeed earns its place among the year’s best shows.