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.

Art Isn't Easy, as Middling "Sunday" Revival Proves

Review: Sunday in the Park with George

Jake Gyllenhaal and Annaleigh Ashford in the Broadway transfer of City Center's Sunday in the Park with George.

Confession time: Despite Stephen Sondheim being arguably the most accomplished composer/lyricist the musical theatre has ever seen, his Pulitzer Prize-winning Sunday in the Park with George has never been a favorite of mine. I find the show, like its protagonist, to be distant and emotionally inaccessible, preventing me from forming much of a connection with it. In a sense, that is a compliment, as it proves Sondheim and librettist James Lapine were entirely successful at presenting their complicated lead as others view him, but it also an obstacle productions of the show must overcome to allow audiences to experience the full weight of what it has to say. And unfortunately, this latest Broadway revival fails to fully clear that hurdle, resulting in a somewhat cold, clinical examination of art and relationships when a more deeply felt one would be preferable.

For those unfamiliar with Sunday, the first act follows post-Impressionist painter George Seurat as he creates his pointillist masterpiece A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. The largely fictional narrative imagines lives and backstories for the figures observed in the painting, and posits that the most prominent figure in the work is George's muse and lover (cheekily named Dot). The second act jumps forward 100 years and checks in on George's great grandson - also named George - as he struggles to push the boundaries of art in the modern world, just like his namesake.

The show, like the painting which inspired it, is a series of specific and seemingly unrelated vignettes that when taken as a whole forms something new, a carefully drawn character study as well as a mediation on the often misunderstood existence of artists and other creative types. Essays have been written about Sondheim's use of short, staccato phrases and underscoring to imitate the precise, driven brushstrokes Seurat used to paint A Sunday Afternoon, and the music does hold a great deal of beauty and feeling for those who can adjust to its unconventional form. And Lapine's seemingly sparse libretto contains a great many interesting ideas and surprisingly tight plotting, although it is not the crystal clear juggling of multiple storylines he created for his next collaboration with Sondheim, the more accessible and perennially popular Into the Woods. While Sunday in the Park may not be my favorite Sondheim, it is undeniably a well-made musical.

So if the problem isn't the script, then what keeps this production (which began life as a one night only gala concert for the esteemed City Center Encores series) from reaching the artistic heights it so clearly aspires to? The unfortunately blunt answer is casting, with Jake Gyllenhaal and Annaleigh Ashford failing to provoke much emotion either separately or together. While any George and Dot would struggle to step out of the long shadow cast by the show's original leads, the incomparable Mandy Patinkin and Bernadette Peters, Gyllenhaal and Ashford display a surprising lack of chemistry that greatly hinders this production.

Ashford in particular feels miscast, her Dot lacking the emotional transparency and zest for life to properly counter George's introverted nature. For an actress who has repeatedly shown a gift for comedy, Ashford lands very few of Dot's copious jokes, and comes across as more of a petulant child than an ignored woman who demands our sympathy. It also must be mentioned that Sondheim's admittedly difficult score is a poor fit for Ashford's voice, which here lacks power and sometimes even coherence (several lyrics sound garbled). This is surprising for a production that began life as a concert, but could be forgiven if Ashford's acting was more interesting; despite several emotionally complex, musically exciting solos, you don't ever feel like you have a good handle on what's going on inside Ashford's head. In the actress' defense, she does an excellent job of playing the aging Marie (Dot's daughter and George #2's grandmother) in the second act, and her "Children and Art" is one of the few genuinely moving moments in the show.

Gyllenhaal fares better as George, where a generally impenetrable countenance is more appropriate to the character. For an actor without much musical background he is a surprisingly confident singer, although the upper notes of George's songs do seem to be a strain. And it must be noted that Gyllenhaal fails to find the full depth of emotion in the score's most famous tune, "Finishing the Hat." In the show the song functions as the one real opportunity for Seurat to show the complex well of feelings boiling just beneath the surface, and in the hands of the right actor can be a revelatory showstopper. Gyllenhaal's rendition doesn't really rise above competent, and neither does his climatic duet with Ashford near the show's end, "Move On."

Not all blame can be laid on the feet of the actors, however. Director Sarna Lapine (the niece of librettist and original director James Lapine) doesn't do anything particularly interesting with the staging, and seems at different points oddly beholden or suspicious of the original production. She retains the idea of Dot "stepping out" of her dress during the title song - here accomplished by Ashford removing an overlay in an unnecessary bit of stage business - but seems incredibly hesitant to actually recreate the painting for the final tableau of Act I, something essentially demanded by the text. Lapine also hasn't done much to shape her actors' performances, contributing to the disconnected feel of the entire evening.

There are a great many past Tony winners and nominees rounding out the supporting cast, none of whom are given a whole lot to do in what is essentially a two-character drama with interludes. Both the performers and the director seem much more comfortable with the show's second act, but without the foundation laid by the first half many of the second's emotional beats ring false. Ultimately, this production of Sunday in the Park with George registers as more of an intellectual exercise than an emotional one, something that properly cultured people "should" see but won't necessarily enjoy. To paraphrase one of the show's lyrics, there are worse things than spending time with this George, but there are also significantly more entertaining options as well.

Let's Talk About Sex (18th Century French Sex)

Review: Les Liaisons Dangereuses

Janet McTeer and Liev Schreiber in the Donmar Warehouse revival of Les Liaisons Dangereuses

There aren't many plays like Les Liaisons Dangereuses, the highly verbal and erotic drama currently being revived at the Booth Theatre. Period costumes and flowery language help elevate this tale of calculated seduction in 18th century France, making a script where virtually every scene is about sex seem like one of the classiest plays around. And while there are some interesting ideas to be found hiding underneath the deliciously decadent dialogue, this import from London's Donmar Warehouse ultimately feels like more style than substance despite some truly compelling performances.

Playwright Christopher Hampton's 1987 drama - probably best known as the basis of the Oscar-winning film Dangerous Liaisons - centers around ex-lovers Le Marquis de Merteuil and Le Vicomte de Valmont, wealthy members of Paris' elite who entertain themselves by seducing others for sport. In an act of revenge, Merteuil has asked Valmont to seduce the virginal Cecile, who has been promised to the only man to ever to break off a relationship with Merteuil before she was ready to end it. But Valmont has his sights set on Madame de Tourvel, the strictly conservative wife of an absent husband. Merteuil and Valmont agree to help manipulate both women into compromising positions, while also having their own reasons for wanting to rekindle their own relationship (she seems to actually love Valmont, while he seems mostly interested in the sex).

It's a complex web of motivations which seem even more alien given the use of French titles in place of actual names, but Hampton's plotting is razor sharp and provides everything an attentive audience member needs to follow the action. It also helps to view the play with the assumption that practically every line of dialogue is intended as a double entendre, many of them dressed up by the playwright's wonderfully verbose dialogue. The characters may be French, but their command of the English language makes listening to them speak entertainment unto itself. If there is any fault to be found with Hampton's script, it's that he places the story's climax (pun very much intended) at the end of a rather long first act, which makes Act II feel more scattershot and less impactful by comparison.

The performances range from serviceable to very good indeed, with the divide being split almost entirely down gender lines. Tony-winner Janet McTeer is entrancing as Le Marquis de Merteuil, an incredibly complex and modern woman struggling against the social confines of her gender. McTeer's understanding of the power of stillness makes her an almost regal presence, with her expressive eyes conveying an immense amount of information behind Merteuil's carefully controlled visage. McTeer oozes sex appeal, and seeing her character turn that appeal on and off at will underscores how much Merteuil's considers her sensuality not just a source of pleasure, but a weapon. Watching McTeer peel back the various layers of her character is the most thrilling aspect of the evening, ultimately revealing a vulnerability that is quite tragic despite her sometimes monstrous actions. She's also quite funny, especially when the Marquis is forced to deal with those unable to keep up with her vast intellect, adding even more depth to a truly fascinating figure.

Liev Schreiber is more problematic as the womanizing Valmont. For an actor who has demonstrated immense sexiness in other roles, his lack of sex appeal in the role is not just disappointing but a detriment to the story. Valmont is constantly engaged in secret trysts with a whole host of characters, many of whom willing throw themselves at him, and without that kind of inescapable charisma it's difficult to comprehend exactly why everyone is so willing to bend to his every whim. Schreiber's choice to play Valmont as at least slightly intoxicated at all times doesn't help, although the decision is certainly justified by the large amount of stage business involving glasses of alcohol.

In supporting roles, Elena Kampouris provides welcome comic relief as the almost impossibly naive Cecile, and Mary Beth Peil makes the most of her limited scenes as Valmont's world weary aunt. But the true standout is Birgitte Hjort Sorensen making her Broadway debut as the intensely pious Madame de Tourvel. Sorensen's eyes and body language speak volumes, projecting an immense strength and inherent goodness that makes it appropriately difficult to watch her being seduced. You feel the pain her burgeoning attraction to Valmont causes her, and the character's eventually fate is perhaps the most moving aspect of the production.

Director Josie Rourke stages the piece with an eye towards the surreal, using highly choreographed scene changes combined with haunting original music by Michael Bruce to draw you into the bewitchingly exotic milieu. Tom Scutt's deconstructed set design, which reimagines the sprawling houses of the aristocracy as aging villas with exposed plaster and brick, further contributes to the otherworldly quality of the production. (Scutt also designed the ornate costumes.)

Those unfamiliar with Les Liaisons Dangereuses will find plenty to appreciate in this current revival, while at the same time probably becoming aware that it isn't always successful in realizing the lofty ambitions of the piece. Hampton's dialogue and his script are quite good, if a tad long by modern tastes, and this production has two truly captivating performances by Janet McTeer and Birgitte Hjort Sorensen. If only Liev Schreiber were able to match these two ladies' performances, this could be a truly electric production, rather than the entertaining but somewhat inconsequential one it is.

An Admirable "Journey," If Not a Great One

Review: Long Day's Journey Into Night

John Gallagher, Jr. and Jessica Lange in the latest Broadway revival of Long Day's Journey Into Night.

There's always been something off about the Tyrones, the highly dysfunctional family unit at the center of Eugene O'Neill's Pulitzer Prize-winning masterpiece Long Day's Journey Into Night. Slowly learning the many ways in which the Tyrone family isn't what it seems is one of the drama's chief pleasures, with each new revelation forcing you to reconsider your feelings about the four deeply damaged characters onstage. But in the Roundabout Theatre Company's current revival of this American classic, something is even more off than usual, and it holds this fine production back from the transcendent heights it so desperately wants to achieve.

The cast of stage and screen veterans assembled here certainly dives into their meaty roles with abandon, with each cast member offering a perfectly valid and often fascinating take on their member of the Tyrone clan. Yet these performances don't quite stylistically mesh with one another, so at times it feels like four separate productions occurring simultaneously rather than one seamless whole. Whether this is a fault in casting or direction is up for debate, but it is a noticeable issue which distracts from the impressive acting of the cast.

As the family patriarch James, Gabriel Byrne is wonderfully understated, convincingly reserved and world weary from a life full of regret and emotional turmoil. Byrne does an excellent job of using the character's Irish bluster to hide his true insecurities, and his deeply expressive eyes make it clear that every insult and accusation hurled his way stings even though James rarely vocalizes his hurt. His is an all-too-real remorse that is quietly devastating, anchoring the showier performances around him with genuine human gravitas.

Jessica Lange is often captivating as the alternatively fragile and ferocious matriarch Mary, and is particularly effective in the scenes where the character rapidly shifts from one emotional extreme to another. Lange makes the character's repeated utterance of "I don't know what you're talking about" everything from the heartbreaking possible onset of senility to a bone chilling challenge to anyone who dares question her sincerity. You're never quite sure how conscious her denial of the problems in her life is, and it makes for a fascinating character study. Yet for all she does right, Lange sometimes feels out of place; you get the feeling her Mary would work even better in a production where the other actors matched her particular style of emotionally volatile acting, rather than the more measured and stately performances favored by her current costars.

As the Tyrones' two sons, both Michael Shannon and John Gallagher, Jr. are exceptional. As the elder son, Shannon is mesmerizing, expertly forging all of the character's conflicting impulses into one multifaceted gem of a performance. Shannon's Jimmy is the most self-aware of the bunch, but also the most vindictive, purposefully agitating the rest of the family by continually bringing up their hurtful past. There's a twinkle of joy in Shannon's eyes when he gets a rise out of one of the other characters, and yet his repeated apologies are heartfelt and his own self-loathing always readily apparent. As the younger son Edmund, Gallagher, Jr. nails the character's contradictory desire to be treated as a man and need for the extra attention granted him by virtue of being the family baby. He also makes for the most interesting foil to Lange, the only one who seems to really see her even as she continually lies to herself about his ongoing medical problems.

Director Jonathan Kent makes a few choices that actively undermine his cast, including staging the play so that an unnecessarily large amount of dialogue is delivered upstage. It robs the audience of the chance to see the actors' expressive faces, and occurs enough that it becomes difficult to fully empathize with them (Lange in particular spends a lot of time speaking upstage). Also, while no one has ever accused Long Day's Journey Into Night of being a short play, Kent's decision to provide only one intermission during the play's four hour runtime turns it into an endurance test for even the most devout O'Neill fans. The last of the four acts suffers the most from this decision, with several brilliantly subtle bits of acting competing against the increasing restlessness of the audience, and the heartbreak of Lange's final monologue undercut by the relief of finally getting a break.

Overall, this Journey is admirably executed but rarely excites, making it difficult to recommend but also hard to completely dismiss. O'Neill's play is a masterwork of rare skill, infinitely complex despite its relatively straightforward setup, and something that reveals new facets of meaning on every viewing. It is something that should be experienced by every theatre lover at some point in their lives, but it would be a shame if those unfamiliar with the work mistook the flaws in this production as flaws with the play in general. Audience enjoyment will be directly tied to how interested you are in seeing these specific actors tackle these specific roles, but those who have seen multiple productions of the play probably won't find much to distinguish this revival from the rest.

A Romance for the Ages, Tonight at Eight

Review: She Loves Me

Laura Benanti and Zachary Levi star as perfectly mismatched lovers in Roundabout's fantastically funny She Loves Me.

Winsome. Charming. Utterly enchanting. All of these words and more can be used to describe Roundabout Theatre Company's top-notch revival of She Loves Me, the most whimsical and romantic night of musical theatre currently available on Broadway. Every moment of the show has been lovingly rendered by director Scott Ellis and his pitch-perfect cast, which is headlined by Tony-winner Laura Benanti in a role tailor-made to her many and varied theatrical talents.

She Loves Me is based on the same short story that inspired the Tom Hanks-Meg Ryan romance You've Got Mail, and follows parfumerie clerks Georg Nowack and Amalia Balash. Constantly bickering on the job, the pair has simultaneously been falling in love via their frequent, anonymous written correspondence with one other. It is a classic romantic comedy setup that has been musicalized using a gorgeous score by Fiddler on the Roof duo Jerry Bock and Sheldon Harnick, and although the show itself is rarely produced in New York most have likely encountered at least one of its many popular songs (such as that favorite of budding sopranos, "Vanilla Ice Cream").

The premise is uncomplicated and the outcome inevitable, but thanks to Joe Masteroff's intelligent book and Ellis' supremely sensitive direction, this refreshingly intimate musical love story has all the elements required to hold your attention for the duration of its runtime. It is clear that Ellis and his cast have an unabashed love for the material and one another, and that fondness radiates out beyond the footlights to envelope the audience in its warm embrace. By keeping the focus of the story small, She Loves Me also offers far more character development than most shows of its ilk, meaning you will come to genuinely love every one of the characters by the final ultimo.

As Georg and Amalia, Zachary Levi and Laura Benanti make for perfect romantic leads. Their chemistry is palpable and each provides a masterclass in acting a song, whether it be Levi's giddily infectious "She Loves Me" or Benanti's crystal clear and hilarious ode to the aforementioned "Ice Cream." By the time these two temperamental lovebirds realize they are perfect for each other, you are genuinely ecstatic for them, thanks to the pair's charisma, earnestness, and complete sincerity. Benanti's role in particular showcases the actress as few roles can, highlighting her impeccable comic instincts, emotional accessibility, and crystalline soprano in equal measure (and often within the same scene). It is an utter delight to have Benanti back on Broadway after a five year hiatus, and hopefully we won't have to wait another five before being graced with her talents again.

Jane Krakowski is another actress who has spent far too long away from Broadway, having left the Great White Way for the bright lights of Hollywood after her Tony-winning performance in the 2003 revival of Nine. Krakowski is simply sensational as shop attendant Ilola Ritter, skillfully combining easygoing sensuality with convincing naivety as she is constantly taken advantage of by the shop's resident ladies' man, Steven Kodaly (an immensely appealing Gavin Creel). Krakowski goes from slinky kicks and splits in the comic "Ilola" to genuine heartbreak in "I Resolve," all without missing any opportunity to make her scenes as funny as humanly possible. She and Benanti also share fantastic chemistry in their scenes together, making for believable gal pals you wish would spend more time together.

The entire cast is dressed in resplendent 1930's period garb by costumer Jeff Mahshie, which looks all the more gorgeous on David Rockwell's jewel box of a set (the first wow moment of the show is when the exterior facade of the parfumerie open up to reveal its immensely detailed interior right before your eyes). The saturated jewel tones really pop thanks to Donald Holder's lights, and the crisp sound design completes the feeling of being enveloped in the interior of a musical jewelry box.

This has been an outstanding season for musical revivals on Broadway, and She Loves Me is another knockout. A practically perfect production of an underrated show, this revival highlights everything that is splendid about Golden Age musical theatre while removing any hint of dustiness. Like all Roundabout productions, it is scheduled to play a limited engagement, so any and all interested parties should purchase their tickets as soon as possible.

A First Rate Revival of a First Rate Farce

Review: Noises Off

After seeing Noises Off, you'll never look at a plate of sardines the same way.

When is bad acting the best kind of acting? When it is intentional and pulled off with the kind of deft, reckless comic abandoned used by every single cast member in Roundabout Theatre's stellar revival of Michael Frayn's farcical masterpiece, Noises Off. The belly laughs come early and often in this dizzying comic tour de force, which marks not just the first Broadway show of 2016 but also the first great one.

Heralded since its 1983 premiere as one of the all time great theatrical comedies, Noises Off milks its many laughs out of an exceedingly simple premise. A troupe of actors is desperately trying to mount a production of the fictional sex farce Nothing On, a terrible play being done terribly by the ill-equipped actors. Noises Off is broken up into three acts, each set at a different point in the show's run: Act I details the show's disastrous technical rehearsal, Act II moves the action backstage during a performance midway through the show's run, and Act III comes back in front of the curtain to show just how much the show has fallen apart by the end of its run. All of this is enacted by a wonderfully eccentric cast of characters who are concurrently sorting out multiple backstage romances, none of which seem to be going particularly well.

It must be said that even 30 years later Frayn's writing remains a marvel of economy and subtle exposition. As Noises Off primarily deals with how poorly the play-within-a-play is going, there's little time for fleshing out the actors performing it, and yet Frayn manages to pepper the dialogue with enough organic references to their offstage lives that everyone comes across as a person rather than a caricature. The show's first act is funny enough on its own that you don't realize how much expository groundwork it's laying. The repetition of scenes from Nothing On (necessitated by multiple missed cues during the play's tech rehearsal) allows you to follow what's happening in Acts II and III, where the same portion of the fictional comedy is viewed from backstage and from the audience during completely botched performances, yet you don't even realize that's what Frayn's doing until long after the final curtain has literally fallen. The only real knock against the writing is that the playwright fails to follow up on the bombshell revelation at the end of Act II, but at the same time the fact Frayn leaves certain details offstage details to the imagination is part of the appeal.

Of course no matter how strong a script is, you still need a cast and creative team capable of executing it, and that is where this revival truly shines. As the saying goes, "Dying is easy; comedy is hard," and nowhere is that more apparent than in the carefully plotted madness of Noises Off. The play relies on everything going wrong in such a specific fashion that one misstep would derail the entire enterprise, and yet for it to remain funny you cannot see the work or be aware you're being set up for a punchline. Director Jeremy Herrin nails this aspect, carefully crafting each moment of stage time so you can follow both the plot of the play-within-a-play and the behind the scenes shenanigans with ease. He keeps the pacing tight and the comedy heightened yet real; none of the characters have any idea they're being funny, which makes their hapless misadventures all the more hilarious.

Herrin has also assembled one of the hardest working casts in the industry, a true ensemble where every member is working together towards the larger goal. Part of what makes the sparsity of character development work is this cast's ability to fill in the blanks with their mannerisms, and at any moment you can watch anyone onstage and see a fully committed and often deeply hilarious performance. The specificity of the character choices is astounding, as is the varied and delightful ways they interact with one another. It helps that everyone has impeccable comic timing and a major affinity for physical comedy, from prat falls to slap fights to a tumble down the stairs executed with near balletic grace. The actors' physicality comes to a head during the showstopping backstage pantomime that makes up the majority of Act II, a sequence so packed with comic genius it could be watched half a dozen times and reveal entirely new layers of brilliance each time.

Andrea Martin is excellent as the company's resident (and fading) diva, who slowly but surely comes to realize she's in way over her head. Famed comedienne Martin is essentially playing the straight woman, which anyone who works in comedy will tell you is the hardest role to make work, a change of pace she expertly handles while remaining her unimpeachably hilarious self. Jeremy Shamos is side-splittingly funny as an actor who can't stand the sight of violence and just wants to know his motivation, getting funnier and funnier as his character becomes more and more bedraggled. Kate Jennings Grant is immensely appealing as the company's most competent actor and resident gossip monger, and has perhaps the play's single greatest bit of physical comedy as she *slowly* slinks across the floor midperformance to "unobtrusively" remove an errant plate of sardines from the set. Campbell Scott is delightfully explosive as the cantankerous director trying to corral this hapless troupe of actors, and both Tracee Chimo and Rob McClure provide fine support as the production's stage manager and resident technician/understudy, respectively. David Furr kills as the fading marquee idol seemingly incapable of finishing his sentences, and as the resident drunk Daniel Davis is great fun.

But the true standout of the show (quite the accomplishment in a cast this talented) is Megan Hilty as the blonde bombshell who spends the majority of the play in sexy lingerie. Hilty is one of the best bad actresses you are likely to ever see, and her every second of stage time is a multi-faceted masterclass in comic business. Hilty never upstages her cohorts, but when it's her time to shine she takes the moment and runs with it, like her tear-inducingly awkward crawl down the staircase while searching for her missing contact. Whether she's practicing her meditation, silently mouthing the other actors' lines, or flailing her arms in mock panic, Hilty is a comedic knockout.

Really, the only thing wrong with Noises Off is that it's a limited run production, meaning we only have another month to savor this sublime production. The entire hilarious cast will soon have to clear out of the American Airlines Theatre to make way for a very different type of classic (Roundabout's upcoming revival of Long Day's Journey Into Night), so I beg you to brave the cold and catch this production while you can. It's the perfect antidote to the winter doldrums, and proof positive that comedy can be every bit as artistically rewarding as drama.

A Broadway "Tradition" Continues

Review: Fiddler on the Roof

Danny Burstein as Tevye in the latest Broadway revival of Fiddler on the Roof.

How does one reinvent a show centered around the concept of tradition? It is the title of the glorious opening number of Fiddler on the Roof, where Jewish milkman Tevye speaking directly to the audience about the virtues of the well-delineated societal rules in his little town of Anatevka. Throughout the show Tevye and his daughters deviate from the old ways with only the purest of intents, and yet it still causes an enormous amount of trouble for the well-meaning clan. Those traditions end up providing the characters comfort in times of great adversity, and the show ultimately seems to argue that while some change is inevitable there's no need to completely ignore the old way of doing things. Oddly enough, it is a lesson director Bartlett Sher attempts to teach while simultaneously ignoring, as the least successful aspects of this generally first rate revival (the show's fifth) are the areas where Sher most obviously breaks from the traditional way of mounting the show.

Sher has made quite the name for himself staging critically heralded revivals of both plays and musicals, having found particular success with the works of Rodgers and Hammerstein. With Fiddler on the Roof, he once again sweeps away the cobwebs from a script some may view as dated and makes it compelling and relevant. Yet unlike his Tony-winning South Pacific or The King and I, Sher's directorial hand is more apparent here, and not always for the better. He hasn't changed a word of the script, but he has awkwardly grafted a wordless modern dress framing device onto the show that doesn't add anything to the preexisting text. The production design is also purposefully deconstructed for reasons that aren't at all apparent, occasionally distracting from rather than adding to the storytelling.

Now none of the above is meant to in any way imply that Sher's direction is bad. It is often outstanding, breathing fresh life into a show many know by heart. Sher has guided his cast to fully lived performances that feel fresh, exciting, and even slightly dangerous. He has a near matchless understanding of pacing, giving each story beat room to breathe while also keeping everything moving along at such a steady clip the show never drags despite its three hour runtime. He has a stellar eye for simple yet powerful stage pictures, and seamlessly switches gears between broad comedy and heartwrenching drama. Sher has never directed a funnier sequence than "Tevye's Dream," and he his storytelling has rarely been as devastating as it is during the show's emotional climax, which makes his few missteps all the more noticeable.

Sher is aided, as always, by an impeccable cast of theatrical greats working at the top of their game. Headlining this Fiddler is five-time Tony-nominee Danny Burstein in the role of Tevye, and the veteran character actor has arguably never been better. While it would be disingenuous to call Burstein's performance understated - among other things, he gets to play more comedy than he's been given in any role since Adolfo in The Drowsey Chaperone - his performance is not as immediately flashy as one might expect from a role written for the famously outsized Zero Mostel. But it is a deeply felt, fully realized portrayal that builds and builds to an emotional sucker punch of a climax, when one of his beloved daughters decides to marry outside the faith. Burstein is alternatively jovial and genuinely imposing as the role demands, and he handles all the areas in between with such effortless aplomb you forget he's acting at all. His voice also perfectly suits the show's famous score, and his exuberant performance of "If I Were a Rich Man" is every bit the showstopper such a gifted performer deserves.

Burstein's performance forms the blueprint that the rest of the cast follows, as many of his fellow actors also initially appear unassuming while laying the groundwork for what are revealed to be deeply affecting performances. Jessica Hecht's wife Golde at first skews very harsh and shrewish (you definitely understand why Tevye would be scared of her), but she leavens her work with enough moments of tenderness that it is genuinely touching when she struggles to answer Tevye's question of "Do You Love Me?" She is also heartbreaking during the final few scenes, as the aftermath of her third daughter's marriage fully hits.

As daughters Tzietel, Hodel, and Chava respectively, Alexandra Silber, Samantha Massell, and Melanie Moore all have their moments, although it takes them a bit longer to click into their roles. Their performance of "Matchmaker, Matchermaker" isn't quite the homerun you'd expect, but to their credit all three act the song so well it makes you hear the well-known lyrics anew.  Massell also does a phenomenal job with Hodel's "Far From the Home I Love," making the song a late-evening highlight. The structure of the show doesn't provide as much for Adam Kantor (Motel), Ben Rappaport (Perchik), and Aaron Young (Fyedka) to do as the daughter's respective spouses, but all three actors make strong impression with the material they do have. And if Alix Korey's Yente the Matchmaker isn't quite the scenery chewer you'd expect, she is nevertheless absolutely hysterical.

Few shows have proven as durable and iconic a part of the musical theatre cannon as Fiddler on the Roof, and Bartlett Sher has staged this latest revival in a way that reminds even the skeptics how Fiddler achieved that status in the first place. Sher also continues to bring out the best in some of the industry's top talent, guiding Burstein to what may well be considered his crowning achievement. The entire production seems to exist primarily to showcase the actor's many talents, and yet he remains so giving and supportive of his fellow performers he never overshadows the story they are all trying to tell. (I try to leave talk of Tony Awards out of reviews, but if Burstein doesn't finally win an acting trophy for this I don't know what more he can possibly do.) And as always, it is refreshing and invigorating to see such a classic approached with such lavish attention to detail, from the gloriously full orchestra to the finely detailed costumes. Some traditions are worth keeping, and if Fiddler continues to be this entertaining and moving I see no problem with continuing to revive the show every ten years.

The Best Shows of 2015: Part I

Despite the unseasonably warm weather New York City has been experiencing, it is in fact the end of December. With the new year just around the corner, it is time for me to look back and select my 10 favorite shows of 2015. The qualifications for making this list are simple: the production must have had its official opening night during the 2015 calendar year, and it must have been seen by yours truly. That means that certain praised productions are automatically ineligible, and therefore this should by no means be viewed as a comprehensive/final judgment on the quality of all theatre that happened this year.

With those caveats in place, here are 5 of the productions I enjoyed the most this year, with my Top 5 selections to follow in the next post:

10) Dames at Sea

Eloise Kropp and Cary Tedder dancing up a storm in Dames at Sea.

Given the lukewarm reviews and positively abysmal box office, I am clearly in the minority when it comes to my enjoyment of the first Broadway mounting of the 40-year-old Dames at Sea. And to be fair, I understand where a lot of the most common critiques of the show are coming from. It is unfailing earnest, often to the point of ridiculousness, but that's kind of the point. I think the problem with Dames is that it's spoofing a genre (1930s movie musicals) that isn't really in the public consciousness anymore, which automatically makes it feel dated and irrelevant to many. But that perception does nothing to take away from the polish and professionalism with which the cast delivers the delightfully daffy material, or the gee whiz excitement of seeing director/choreographer Randy Skinner creates some of Broadway's most thrilling tap routines with just 6 superbly dancers. And it certainly doesn't undermine the sheer comic brilliance of Lesli Margherita's performance as Mona Kent, whose work as a demanding diva is one of the most consistently hilarious performances of the year. Anyone with the slightest inclination to see the show should really make the effort to get out to the Helen Hayes Theatre before the final curtain falls this Sunday; you won't be disappointed.

9) Spring Awakening

Daniel N. Duran and Krysta Rodriguez in Deaf West's revival of Spring Awakening.

Unlike many people of my generation, I am not particularly enamored with Spring Awakening as a show. While the music has an undeniable if slightly repetitive beauty, once you get past the fact that such frank exploration of teenage sexuality is unusual in a musical the show really isn't saying anything all that insightful. And yet the current Deaf West revival of the 2007 Tony-winner is so viscerally impactful and unerringly gorgeous that a lot of the show's flaws fall away, leaving what may be the best possible version of the work. The addition of American Sign Language to the story creates an extra layer of purposeful abstraction that frees Spring Awakening from of the burden of being a book musical and turns it firmly into an expressionistic mood piece, a tonal shift that supports the script and music much better. You no longer have to intellectually understand what a "Mirror-Blue Night" is, because the accompanying visuals are so impactful they convey the feeling of that night for you. And when the cast of hearing and deaf actors comes together to sing/sign about how they're "Totally Fucked," even the most curmudgeonly of audience members will be right there with them, reliving the awkward frustration of their youth.

8) Fun Home

The cast of Fun Home on Broadway.

For me, Fun Home is actually a somewhat problematic production. All of the individual elements are stellar, from Jeanine Tesori's adventurous score to Lisa Kron's nuanced book to Sam Gold's first-rate direction. Then there are the first rate performances, which saw practically the entire cast nominated for Tony Awards and Michael Cerveris taking home Best Actor in a Musical for his revelatory, transformative performance as the protagonist's closeted gay father. And yet at the end of the evening, I wasn't nearly as moved as it seemed I should be. All of that said, I would be a fool to deny the artistic excellence of the production, to say nothing of its significance in the contemporary theatrical landscape. The show pushes the boundaries of what a commercial Broadway musical can be, tackling issues of sexuality and identity when they are at the top of the national consciousness while also providing a much needed, highly visible platform of the work of female writers. My heart of stone aside, the show certainly deserves all of the success it has found, and is definitely something any and all interested parties should check out.

7) The Iceman Cometh

Brian Dennehy and Nathan Lane in the BAM production of The Iceman Cometh.

Eugene O'Neill's The Iceman Cometh represents theatre at its most epic. This 4 act, nearly 5 hour long American tragedy is not for the faint of heart, requiring an extremely compelling and talented cast to maintain the audience's interest for the duration of its marathon runtime. This year's revival of the piece at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, starring Nathan Lane and Brian Dennehy, remained endlessly compelling right up to the bitter end thanks to the skill of the performers and the unwavering hand of director Robert Falls. While the entire ensemble was excellent, Lane and Dennehy were the standouts, with both actors at the top of their game and Lane in particular proving why he is one of the industry's most invaluable character actors. Lane's deeply felt portrayal of tragic jokester Hickey was an expertly handled balancing act between easygoing charm and frightening pathos, and should the briefly rumored Broadway transfer ever materialize it would almost certainly net the actor his 3rd Tony Award.

6) The Visit

The Visit on Broadway was every bit as bizarre as this picture suggests, and all the better for it.

By all rights, The Visit shouldn't exist. This problem-plagued musical, originally conceived as a vehicle for Angela Lansbury back in 2000 before being retooled for perpetual Kander and Ebb muse Chita Rivera, was revised multiple times following multiple out of town tryouts and false starts that continually delayed plans for a Broadway premiere. Add to the behind the scenes drama the seemingly off-putting subject matter (the world's richest woman returns to her hometown with two eunuchs in tow, offering to solve all the town's financial troubles in exchange for the execution of her former lover), and only a very brave group of producers would have even considered backing the eventual Broadway mounting. Thank goodness they did, for while the show failed to find any commercial success, it was so gloriously strange and surreal that it will certainly to stick with those lucky enough to see it for many years to come. Kander and Ebb's final score is not as instantly memorable as their work on Cabaret or Chicago but is their most artistically mature, and John Doyle's sparse production only sharpened and clarified the narrative's otherworldly feeling. Like Kander and Ebb's best work, The Visit refused to pander to its audience, instead consistently challenging its viewers while at the same time remaining decadently entertaining and thrillingly unpredictable.



Be sure to check back tomorrow for Part II of my list!

She's Here, and Not to be Ignored

Review: The Color Purple

Cynthia Erivo (center) and the cast of The Color Purple.

Near the end of the rafter rattling opening number of The Color Purple, protagonist Celie gives birth. In keeping with helmer John Doyle's minimalist directorial concept, actress Cynthia Erivo symbolizes this act by pulling a plain white sheet from underneath her dress and slowly, methodically folding it into the shape of a newborn in swaddling clothing. And right before our eyes, this plain white sheet becomes the living, breathing object of Celie's unconditional love thanks to the actress' unmatched level of commitment. Erivo holds this sheet as if it is sacred, staring lovingly into eyes that aren't there and conjuring up a living, breathing child through sheer force of will. This type of primal theatrical magic permeates Doyle's sensational staging, and this opening tableau gives us our first indication that Erivo's performance is one for the ages.

For those who have yet to experience The Color Purple in any of its many forms - including Alice Walker's original Pulitzer Prize-winning novel or Stephen Spielberg's Oscar-nominated film adaptation - the narrative details how the constantly abused Celie slowly learns to love herself and her life, no matter how difficult her circumstances become. The plot tackles such weighty issues as rape, domestic abuse, and the ever-present specter of racial oppression before arriving at its ultimately uplifting, life-affirming climax. Like the novel on which it is based, this adaptation deftly avoids becoming maudlin or preachy thanks to a first rate book by playwright Marsha Norman and a powerful, gospel-influenced score by Brenda Russell, Allee Willis, and Stephen Bray. Only the most stone-hearted audience members will remain unmoved by Celie's journey, and even though the story's resolution is clearly telegraphed from early on that doesn't make the denouement any less affecting when it finally occurs.

The show's original Broadway incarnation received mixed reviews, ostensibly due to the distraction of the large physical production but more likely because despite what we claim to want New York critics are generally unforgiving of new work. Thankfully director John Doyle's stripped down production is so focused on The Color Purple's powerful narrative you cannot help but recognize its raw, visceral impact. Doyle's staging is lean and muscular, conceptual in a way that draws the audience in rather than pushes them away. The simple wooden set, comprised of a few platforms and an imposing wall of chairs, feels intensely personal, as if we and the other characters have been graciously allowed into the uncharted waters of Celie's psyche. Only a few times does Doyle's direction veer into pretentiousness - his handling of the ballad "What About Love" feels particularly heavy handed, and blunts the impact of both the song and the major plot reveal that occurs immediately afterwards - but the Scottish-born director also provides the show with such a singular vision that he must be commended, even for the choices that don't quite work.

He has also found a genuine star in Erivo, whose towering performance in the central role provides this production with its heart and soul. Despite near-constant abuse by the men in her life, Erivo's Celie remains a magnificent creature with an almost regal air about her. Erivo nobly endures the many injustices foisted upon Celie and her loved ones, slowly internalizing her character's anger until it threatens to consume her. With Erivo's piercing, powerful belt voice, Celie's many solos become plaintive wails for attention, the anguished cries of a woman who doesn't know how else to express her overwhelming frustration with life. This Celie is a powder keg waiting to explode, and when she finally hits her breaking point in Act II it is both cathartic and terrifying. And yet Erivo smartly keeps an undercurrent of kind-heartedness and even optimism running throughout her performance, providing the foundation for her soul stirring rendition of the show's eleven o'clock anthem "I'm Here." Erivo is the real deal, and by all accounts the multiple standing ovations she earned at the performance I attended are a regular occurrence.

The production's other above the title star is Oscar- and Grammy-winner Jennifer Hudson, making her long-awaited Broadway debut in a performance that is both everything you might have hoped and entirely unexpected. Hudson plays Shug Avery, the free-spirited lounge singer who wheels into Celie's life and completely upends it for the better. Hudson's vocals are every bit as powerful live as they are on CD, but the most impressive thing about her handling of Shug is how often she chooses not to strong-arm her way through the musical numbers. The score provides Shug with several its most beautiful ballads, and Hudson proves her maturity as both a musician and a performer in the way she caresses and croons them. She has enough confidence to know she doesn't have to belt every note, which makes the moments when she does cut loose all the more thrilling (her rendition of "Push Da Button" will leave you breathless). It must be admitted that Hudson remains a better singer than actress, but she is nonetheless effective during her book scenes, and her refusal to rest on the laurels of her famous name and window-rattling voice is much appreciated.

Isaiah Johnson is something of a revelation in the role of Celie's abusive husband Mister. He is often the villain of the piece, although one of the many joys of The Color Purple is that it refuses to pigeonhole any of its characters. And Johnson is legitimately scary as he paces the stage, looking ready to pounce on Celie and her compatriots at any second. But from early on Johnson makes it clear that Mister's rage stems from his disgust and frustration with his own life, and he completely sells the character's emotional epiphany during "Mister's Song." Danielle Brooks is a force of nature as Sophia, who marries Celie's stepson Harpo and is the first woman to show Celie she doesn't have to blindly accept whatever injustice the men of the world dish out. Sophia's defiant anthem "Hell No" has always been a crowd pleaser, and in Brooks' hands remains one the show's musical highlights. And in the small but pivotal role of Celie's sister Nettie, Joaquina Kalukango is just about perfect.

The one misfire among the principal cast is Kyle Scatliffe as Harpo. Scatliffe seems content to let the cognitive disconnect of a man with his towering frame being dominated by much smaller women provide most of his characterization, failing to do anything with the multitudinous other possibilities the text provides him. This ends up undermining not only his character but Brooks' Sophia as well; it is extremely difficult for Sophia to provide Celie with an example of a strong woman standing up to her husband when Scatliffe's Harpo is such a wet blanket that seemingly anyone can cause him to throw in the towel. The only part of Scatliffe's performance that makes an impression is his Act II duet with Brooks, "Any Little Thing;" it's a shame the actor hasn't figured out how to bring the playful, loving confidence he displays there into other sections of the show.

But if the worst complaint that can be leveled against The Color Purple is that Scatliffe's Harpo isn't very interesting, then overall things are going extremely well. This is a powerful piece of theatre whose deeper themes and lessons are highlighted and underscored by John Doyle's simple but effective direction. He has removed anything resembling bloat and focused entirely on the emotional journey of Celie, who is a more clearly the protagonist here than in the show's original incarnation.  It helps that Doyle has the phenomenal Cynthia Erivo in the central role, with the actress providing an endlessly fascinating, superbly acted and sensationally sung take on Celie that will have you rooting for her throughout the duration of the evening. Jennifer Hudson, Danielle Brooks, and the majority of the supporting cast all provide able bodied support, and even Scatliffe's Harpo is more of a missed opportunity than an outright problem. A production of this level of polish and emotional impact is a blessing, and every theatregoer should be grateful for it.

Style Over Substance, but a Style Worth a Second Look

Review: Spring Awakening

The vast majority of the cast of the Spring Awakening revival are making their Broadway debut, which makes their complaints about "The Bitch of a Living" a little hard to swallow.

It's been just under 9 years since the Duncan Sheik-Steven Sater musical Spring Awakening took Broadway by storm, and only 6 since that Tony-winning original production played its final performance, so you'd be forgiven for questioning why such a relatively new property already merits a full scale revival. But the Broadway transfer of Deaf West's visually stunning take on this angst filled musical drama quickly is so boldly reimagined it quickly justifies its existence, almost immediately banishing any thoughts of the original. Performed simultaneously in spoken English and American Sign Language, this Spring Awakening may ultimately be a case of style over substance, but it also proves there is more to this tale of teenage sexual discovery than initially meets the eye.

Based on a controversial German play of the same name from 1891, Spring Awakening explores the burgeoning passions of a group of teenagers who have little frame of reference for the numerous changes they're experiencing. Already in the midst of puberty, young Wendla has a whole host of questions about her developing body that her mother refuses to answer. The slightly older Moritz faces similar confusions about his growing sexual urges, and seeks the answers from his best friend and the school's star student Melchior. Melchior does his best to educate Moritz while also dealing with his growing attraction to Wendla, all of which must be handled largely in secret due to the extremely conservative parents and teachers who run the children's lives.

As written, the show is more of an expressionistic mood piece than a narrative driven musical; the plot is fairly straightforward and rather predictable, although given is roots as a century old morality tale that can be largely forgiven. Under the direction of Michael Arden and utilizing Deaf West's signature mixture of ASL and spoken dialogue, this production becomes even more stylized than the famously conceptual original. Several characters are portrayed by multiple actors, with one performer signing the role and the other voicing their dialogue and songs. Movement figures heavily into the piece, with Arden and choreographer Spencer Liff utilizing the inherent expressiveness of ASL to take the place of more traditional choreography. The emotional and visual impact of this approach cannot be overstated, with multiple musical numbers becoming heart-stoppingly gorgeous under the pair's artistic eye.

Furthering the show's visual panache is Ben Stanton's incredible lighting design, which is smartly married with Lucy MacKinnon's understated but impactful projections. Unlike many contemporary pieces, the projections here are rarely the scenic focus and at times barely noticeable, embellishing the already rich lighting and movement rather than replacing them. When the staging, lights, and projections are all working in perfect harmony, as they do during "The Mirror-Blue Night" and the showstopping "Totally Fucked," Spring Awakening becomes one of the most visually arresting productions of the year. Arden and his team do an exceptional job of communicating the excitement and terror of being a teenager reaching sexual maturity, and the production's greatest accomplishment is reminding the audience of this universally shared experience.

The performances are generally strong, although the relative inexperience of some cast members does prevent the show from becoming all it can be. Sandra Mae Frank is wonderfully expressive as Wendla, ably supported by Katie Boeck as the Voice of Wendla. Of all the characters played by multiple actors, Frank and Boeck are the most in sync, bringing out Wendla's youthful innocence without seeming so naïve she becomes difficult to root for. Daniel N. Durant and Alex Boniello aren't quite as successful as the deeply troubled Moritz (Durant signs, Boniello speaks), occasionally telegraphing the character's fate even more than the already blunt script. Austin P. McKenzie both signs and sings the role of Melchoir with an appealing earnestness, helping to ground the production as it veers into more melodramatic territory during the second act.

In supporting roles, both Andy Mientus (as the seductive Hanschen) and Krysta Rodriguez (as runaway Ilse) make strong impressions. Oscar winner Marlee Matlin makes her Broadway debut playing several of the Adult Women, a responsibility she shares with fellow screen star Camryn Manheim. Both actresses are in fine form, commanding the stage with their presence and providing multiple fully realized characters during their limited stagetime. Patrick Page is also excellent as the majority of the Adult Men, using his distinctively musical speaking voice to maximum effect as most of the play's authority figures.

Overall, there is plenty to recommend this new Spring Awakening, both to the show's diehard fans and those who might be skeptical of the piece's artistic merits. The book might not hold together quite as well as it seemed to 9 years ago, but the score is arguably even more impressive in hindsight. Combined with director Arden and choreographer Liff's pulse-pounding staging and the committed performances from the production's game cast, the show still has a lot to say about the confusion of puberty and the dangers of trying to shield children from the world's less seemly realities. The thorough integration of ASL into the show's very fiber is so well done it is difficult to imagine what the piece would be like without it, and for that reason alone this revival is both justified and worth the price of admission.

The Advent of the Closely Timed Revival

A scene from Deaf West's production of Spring Awakening, soon to transfer to Broadway's Brooks Atkinson Theatre.

Now that all of the buzz has died down from the 2015 Tony Awards (one more hooray for Kelli O'Hara!) the industry has turned its eyes firmly forward. The dates and venues for next season's shows are firming up, and following a week of intense speculation producer Ken Davenport has officially announced a Broadway transfer of Deaf West's production of Spring Awakening, which uses both hearing and deaf actors to perform the material in spoken English and American Sign Language. Originally an unsourced rumor from Deadline, the posting of a detailed casting breakdown on the Actor's Equity Association website let the cat out of the bag about the revival, and today Davenport confirmed that the show will be taking up residence at the Brooks Atkinson Theatre just a month after It Shoulda Been You in early August.

The problem, at least for me, is that the original production of Awakening closed only six years ago. Ever since the early 90s when revivals (and specifically musical revivals) became a major factor in the Broadway landscape, the timeframe between productions has steadily shrunk. With rare exceptions made for popular star vehicles like Gypsy or Death of a Salesman, most shows would go 15 years or more between Main Steam productions. Lately, it's not uncommon to see something like La Cage aux Folles revived twice in a decade, or the mere five years that separated Bernadette Peters' and Patti LuPone's Gypsies. Hell, the last two Macbeth revivals premiered within mere months of one another in 2013!

Deaf West's Spring Awakening is the third revival of the upcoming season to occur less than a decade after the previous Broadway incarnation. John Doyle's stripped down The Color Purple is opening almost 10 years to the day after the show first premiered (and marks the long awaited Broadway debut of Oscar and Grammy-winner Jennifer Hudson). A View from the Bridge last played Broadway in a well-reviewed production in 2010, but Lincoln Center is reviving it once again for a limited run in the fall. And while 11 years will have technically passed between Alfred Molina and Danny Burstein's Tevyes in Fiddler on the Roof, the timing of the 2 productions still seems a little close for comfort.

Given the well documented Broadway theatre crunch - there are far more Broadway-aimed productions than there are available theatres - one has to ask if the growing abundance of such closely timed revivals a good thing for the industry. After all, these aren't just shows we've seen, but shows we've seen recently. Even if the new production radically reinvents the property (and removing the turntable from your set does not count as a "radical reinvention," Les Miserables!), the audience may not be ready to digest such a major rethinking of a familiar show so soon after their last go round with the material. As much as I love revisiting old favorites, I love being exposed to new stories and talents even more, and between long running hits like Wicked and Phantom and the steady parade of revivals, getting those new works in front of a Broadway audience has become increasingly difficult. In general, I would prefer the time and resources being expended on these revivals be put towards new works, so we can create a new generation of classics rather than revisiting the same material over and over again (a practice that is slowly killing the opera world).

That said, at least The Color Purple and Spring Awakening have the good sense to come in with concepts substantially different from their initial Broadway runs, limiting the number of direct comparisons. A View from the Bridge and Fiddler both sound like fairly traditional takes on well-worn material, which makes them harder to justify no matter how strong the talent involved. This doesn't make either show an immediate lost cause - the LuPone Gypsy was specifically designed to be a traditional take on material which had been unsuccessfully reconfigured to accommodate the non-traditional casting of Bernadette Peters in 2003, and LuPone's rendition is quite possibly the greatest theatrical production I've ever seen. But doing the same material in the same fashion does create a higher benchmark for the new productions to surpass to justify charging Broadway prices and eating up Broadway resources.

Like every artistic endeavor, there are no hard and fast rules about when the time is right for a revival. It took 38 years for Broadway to get a miscast, poorly directed Promises, Promises that did little more than convince most audience members the show was hopelessly dated. Meanwhile, Roundabout brought back the exact same Tony-winning Cabaret they produced in 1998 and proved that Kander and Ebb's deliciously dark masterpiece is just as shocking, fascinating, and illuminating as it ever was. But overall, given the abundance of both new material and older shows that haven't been seen on Broadway in the new millennium, I can't help but wish that producers would place a little less emphasis on the familiar. Artistically, I think the industry would be better for it.

An Highly Entertaining, If Slightly Dated, Ride

Review: On the Twentieth Century

Kristin Chenoweth makes her triumphant return to Broadway in Roundabout's lavish revival of On the Twentieth Century.

She's ba-ack. 5 years after her ill-advised stint in the woefully underwhelming 2010 revival of Promises, Promises, pint-sized powerhouse Kristin Chenoweth has returned to Broadway in the Roundabout Theatre Company's big budget revival of the Tony-winning On the Twentieth Century. Thankfully, this musical farce is a much greater showcase for Chenoweth's multitudinous gifts, including her impeccable comic timing and robust soprano that effortlessly fills the American Airlines Theatre. If Chenoweth and her first-rate costars are occasionally let down by material that is starting to show its age, that does little to diminish the overwhelming fun to be had by those willing to surrender themselves to the show's old school charms.

Chenoweth plays Lily Garland, a glamorous movie star who was plucked from obscurity by Broadway producer Oscar Jaffe before trading the bright lights of Broadway for the allure of the silver screen. A string of flops has left the once successful Oscar deep in debt, and the desperate producer hopes to convince box office magnet Lily to return to the stage by offering her the lead in his (currently non-existent) epic about Mary Magdalene. There's just one problem: Lily hates his guts, and Oscar only has the duration of their shared transcontinental train ride to change her mind and get a signed contract from the temperamental starlet.

As Garland, Chenoweth is absolutely radiant, the character's glamorous aura enhanced by Chenoweth's own innate star quality. She seizes on the material's farcical nature and runs with it, delivering the libretto's old fashioned zingers with a pitch perfect rhythm that often makes the lines seem funnier than they actually are. Chenoweth sounds expectedly stellar singing Cy Coleman's score, which offers the gifted vocalist plenty of chances to show off the lush, full tones of her upper register; that she often produces these high notes while running around the stage or dancing Warren Carlyle's high energy choreography just makes her purity of tone all the more impressive. Chenoweth is such a unique talent that other revivals have had difficulty fitting her into roles written for more conventional types, but Lily suits Chenoweth so well its easy to forget the part wasn't written for her.

Leading man Peter Gallagher missed a large number of preview performances thanks to a much publicized sinus infection, but watching him attack the role of Oscar Jaffe you'd never know it. Gallagher is smooth and assured throughout, even if his role as the show's straight man doesn't present him with the same types of opportunities as Chenoweth's more multi-faceted character. It would be nice if Gallagher and Chenoweth generated a bit more heat during their interactions, although Gallagher's truncated rehearsal period and some bizarre directorial choices are mostly to blame. For instance, the pair have been instructed to sing to audience rather than one another during a key Act I duet, which undermines their character development and makes their relationship's arc less satisfying than it could be.

Andy Karl turns the one-note role of Bruce Granit, Lily's marquee idol boy toy, into a veritable comic feast. Karl displays a particular affinity for comic business, whether it's plastering the train car with his headshots, being constantly shoved into doors, or tossing an entirely game Chenoweth around like a sack of potatoes. Mary Louise Wilson also shines in the small but memorable role of Letitia Peabody Primrose, an exceedingly wealthy religious fanatic that Oscar hopes will bankroll his proposed play. And while they have almost zero bearing on the show's plot, a special shoutout must be given to Rick Faugno, Richard Riaz Yoder, Phillip Attmore, and Drew King as the train's tap dancing porters, whose performance of the Act II opener "Life is Like a Train" proves to be the evening's biggest showstopper.

Visually, this is one of the most stunning productions Roundabout has ever mounted, although it does feel like the show has been squeezed into a smaller space than it should have been. David Rockwell's playful art deco sets perfectly encapsulate the evening's tone, and he has come up with some startlingly effective solutions to the musical's many scenic demands. Costumer William Ivey Long has done it again with his period perfect costumes, all candy colored hues and sophisticated elegance. And everything is beautifully lit by Donald Holder, whose creative lighting design helps to supplement Rockwell's sets in a way that the show feels even more expansive than it already is.

Unfortunately, while director Scott Ellis has done a commendable job staging this production, he rarely utilizes his cast or the material in the best way possible. Perhaps Ellis is just exhausted (he already directed this season's You Can't Take It With You and The Elephant Man), but there is a lack of tonal cohesion in this revival that occasionally yields chuckles when it's obvious belly laughs were desired. The gifted cast can sometimes come across as frantic, and Ellis has allowed a few too many contemporary mannerisms to sneak into his blocking. While these often produce laughs, it ultimately comes at the expense of being true to the characters, making some moments stick out for the wrong reasons. At the same time, the material hasn't aged particularly well, and the fact that this production is as enjoyable as it is speaks highly of Ellis' work.

For most theatergoers, the main attraction of this production is the chance to Chenoweth return to the stage after years of film, TV, and concert work. And in that light, On the Twentieth Century is a resounding success, proving once again that given the right material there are few women funnier than Chenoweth (and no musical comedienne can touch her operatic soprano). Roundabout has pulled out all the stops on this production and it shows, from the first rate cast to the beautiful production design. This revival fails to completely overcome the more dated aspects of the material, but there are far worse ways to spend a night in the theatre, and hopefully this production will remind the industry that someone really needs to build a new show around Chenoweth's unique talents. She certainly deserves it.

Epic Drama in Every Sense of the Word

Review: The Iceman Cometh

Nathan Lane (center) and the cast of the epic drama The Iceman Cometh at BAM

The unabridged, nearly 5 hour production of Eugene O'Neill's The Iceman Cometh currently playing the Brooklyn Academy of Music isn't for the faint of heart. Director Robert Falls' production, previously seen during a sold out, record setting run at Chicago's Goodman Theatre, is one of the most lovingly crafted and fully realized stagings of this epic length drama you're ever likely to see, and the phenomenal cast headlined by Nathan Lane and Brian Dennehy is unlikely to be equalled anytime soon. Which unfortunately means that any slow spots in the production (and there are a few)have to be attributed to the play's Pulitzer Prize-winning author, an undeniably great playwright who's well-known verbosity occasionally crosses the line here.

The play is set in a rundown New York City bar and boarding house, peopled by a varied assortment of drunks and layabouts who all harbor dreams of making something of themselves, although these dreams always seem to take a backseat to the group's desire to drink. The play's many denizens are gradually introduced over the course of the overlong first act, which is beautifully staged on Kevin Depinet's simple but evocative set (simple but evocative is an excellent description of the production philosophy in general). Everyone is eagerly awaiting the arrival of Hickey, a traveling salesman renowned for his jokester persona and generous bankrolling of the gang's alcoholism. But when Hickey finally makes his appearance, it quickly becomes clear to his friends that something has changed, and his previous happy-go-lucky attitude is now leavened with a more sinister undercurrent.

Those who aren't already familiar with Iceman probably shouldn't know much more than that, as much of the play's tension comes from trying to figure out what's motivating Hickey and reconciling the man we've been told about versus the man we actually see. But even those intimately acquainted with O'Neill's script will still find great pleasure in watching the subtleties of Hickey's interactions with the other patrons, especially as expertly embodied by this outstanding ensemble. Nathan Lane brings his sad clown routine to new heights as Hickey, simultaneously inviting and chilling as the enigmatic salesman. Lane is so charming that it makes his emotional manipulation and eventual abuse of the other characters all the more disconcerting, and his tour de force performance of Hickey's Act IV monologue (which takes up a large portion of the play's final hour) is Shakespearean in its scope and depth. Lane is best known for his multitudinous comedic gifts, but Iceman is yet another reminder that he can play grand tragedy with the absolute best of them.

Meanwhile Brian Dennehy, a longtime interpreter of O'Neill's work, is fascinatingly complex and opaque as Larry Slade, a former anarchist and the character most suspicious of Hickey's new attitude. World-weary and obstinate to a fault, Dennehy's Slade is perhaps the most complex and nuanced person in a play full of such characters, whose unassuming demeanor gradually morphs into a quiet strength as the rest of the cast slowly unravels around him. Dennehy completely disappears inside his performance, letting us see Slade in all his glorious contradictions, giving us a character whose outward strength is a mask for a deep-seated doubt he can barely hold at bay.

But Lane and Dennehy aren't acting in a vacuum, and it cannot be overstated how absolutely stellar the entire cast is. Everyone delivers utterly convincing performances, and even when tasked with sitting in silence each and every actor manages to convey volumes about their character's thoughts, feelings, and general state of being. The play's long length ensures that everyone gets several big moments, all of which hit with a conviction and weight so staggering you cannot help but become engrossed. Stephen Ouimette is devastating at bar owner Harry Hope, who endures the brunt of Hickey's mind games with a gradually escalating paranoia that is heartwrenching to watch. Patrick Andrews is excellent as young Don Parritt, a deeply conflicted former anarchist who seeks out Slade in hopes of advice and sanctuary. And as the most sympathetic of the three prostitutes staying at the saloon, Kate Arrington is a knockout.

So complete and convincing is every performance that you genuinely believe these characters have existed in this same bar for years, living richly detailed lives we are lucky enough to get a brief glimpse into. Falls has expertly orchestrated his cast into creating the kind of complete living, breathing world that every stage production strives for but only a select few achieve. This is an expertly executed production that makes a strong case for O'Neill's play as THE great American tragedy, albeit one in need of a few trims. It is a staging that is sure to be talked about for years to come, and those with the patience to sit through nearly 5 hours and 4 acts will find plenty to admire and appreciate. If you're going to make the trek to Brooklyn for theatre, The Iceman Cometh is as compelling a reason as any.