A Star is Born (But Not Who You Think)

Review: Dames at Sea

Eloise Kropp (center) and the tap-happy cast of Dames at Sea

The beautiful contradiction of Dames at Sea is that it is a send-up of the lavish, large scale Busby Berkeley movie musicals of the 1930s performed by just 6 actors. Conceived for a tiny Off-Off-Broadway space, the original production made a star of Bernadette Peters, and since its premiere over 40 years ago the show has been produced by countless high school, amateur, and regional theatre companies. Now this delightful piece of tomfoolery has docked on the (comparatively) big stage of the Helen Hayes Theatre for its Broadway debut, in a first rate production that has been suitably jazzed up for contemporary audiences without losing any of the show's beguiling old school charms.

The plot is paper thin and purposefully ridiculous, spoofing the "a star is born" stories so commonly seen in backstage musicals. Ruby is the sweet, innocent girl fresh off the bus from Utah who has come to New York dreaming of making it big. She is instantly cast as a replacement dancer in big time star Mona Kent's next Broadway vehicle, and while the outsized diva isn't exactly happy about her newfound competition, she does fancy Dick, a talented songwriting sailor and Ruby's one true love. When the cast learns their theatre is set to be demolished that very day, they concoct a plan to premiere their show on Dick's naval ship, but will they be able to pull everything together in time???

Of course they will. There's never any doubt about how things will work out, as the whole point of Dames at Sea is to lovingly mock the fact that we have seen this story many, many times before. With Dames it is all about the journey rather than the destination, and in this case said journey is filled with jaunty throwback numbers, delightfully kooky characters, and some of the most elaborate 6 person tap routines imaginable. Director/choreographer Randy Skinner stages the expanded dance sequences with an expert eye and incredibly versatile tap vocabulary, giving solos and duets the same amount of smile-inducing razzle dazzle most directors need an entire chorus to conjure. Skinner also has an excellent handle on the show's over the top but completely earnest tone, keeping things moving along at such a breezy pace that everything feels fresh despite the abundance of dated period references.

Skinner's hard working, eminently likable cast handles this deceptively tricky balancing act with ease, and with one slight but notable exception they are all outstanding. That exception would be the doe-eyed and sweet-voiced Eloise Kropp as Ruby, who unfortunately is not the breakout star that by all accounts Peters was in the original. Kropp admirably anchors the show with her sincere naivety while still tapping up a storm, but misses a lot of the farcical comedy lurking just beneath the script's surface. If Kropp doesn't take full advantage of the comedic opportunities presented by the material, it is still difficult to dislike someone so winsomely earnest, and Kropp is by no means bad; she is simply not ideal.

The one benefit of having a slightly underwhelming Ruby is that absolutely nothing distracts from the pitch perfect comic shenanigans of Lesli Margherita as Mona. Margherita chews all of the scenery, spits it out, and chews it again in a deliriously campy performance that is Norma Desmond by way of Ethel Merman. The show gives Margherita permission to go as far as she wants with Mona's over the top antics, something the brassy comedienne commits to with complete gutso. She dances like a dream and belts to the rafters, turning the parody torch song "The Mister Man of Mine" into a roof rattling showstopper that is the evening's clear high point. This Dames belongs to Margherita, who will hopefully be gracing our stages for many, many years to come.

The rest of the cast also does fine work, with Mara Davi providing a particularly strong take on sexy yet classy chorus girl Joan. Cary Tedder embodies the young leading man stereotype with ease, and as fellow sailor Lucky, Danny Gardner makes an excellent Donald O'Connor-type to Tedder's Gene Kelly-esque Dick. John Bolton hams it up in the dual roles of show producer Hennesey and the naval Captain, knowing just when to steal focus and when to defer to his castmates' talents. All of the actors look great in David C. Woolard's candy colored costumes and on Anna Louizos' simple but effective set, which is beautifully lit by Ken Billington and Jason Kantrowitz.

Dames at Sea is the perfect antidote to the sometimes overblown spectacle of contemporary Broadway, a loving homage to a simpler time when a catchy tune and a well executed dance routine were all that an audience required. Thanks to strong direction by Skinner and a smart choice of theatre, the show has been suitably upsized for the big leagues without losing the small scale charm that makes it work in the first place. Strong performances all around and a truly exceptional star turn by Lesli Margherita make this a maritime journey worth taking, as these Dames are the real deal.

Loud, Boisterous, and Lacking Imagination

Review: Finding Neverland

Matthew Morrison (center) and the cast of Finding Neverland.

At one point during Finding Neverland, the bombastic new musical currently playing at the Lunt-Fontaine Theatre, a secondary character turns to the audience and clearly mouths, "What the f***?" This is supposed to be a comical rejoinder to author J.M. Barrie's fantastical description of the fictional world of Neverland, but also represents the most logical reaction to the spectacle-driven nonsense being presented onstage. The production is so busy trying to impress that minor annoyances like a coherent narrative and a well written score are left by the wayside to make room for more pomp and circumstance, resulting in a musical that fails to coalesce into more than the sum of its disjointed parts.

Based on the 2004 film of the same name, Finding Neverland centers on the creation of one of the most enduring children's tales in all of Western literature, Peter Pan. At the musical's start playwright J.M. Barrie is a well-established fixture of the London theatre scene, yet while his shows are still popular the general consensus is that his best work is behind him. While Barrie struggles to find inspiration for a play he can actually be proud of writing, a chance meeting with widow Sylvia Llewelyn Davies and her four rambunctuous boys reignites the imagination that has laid dormant inside Barrie for years. As the writer grows closer to Davies and her boys, he begins to shape the story that would become Peter Pan's adventures in Neverland, a play so different from London has ever seen that many doubt the show will work.

The understated charms of the film have been replaced here with the kind of pop-influenced histrionics that defined Broadway for a good deal of the 1990s, and the relatively slim narrative simply cannot support the added weight. It doesn't help that James Graham's book has  almost nothing to do with Gary Barlow and Eliot Kennedy's inoffensively generic songs, whose sole purpose appears to be providing a backdrop to the unneccesarily manic choreography by Emmy-winner Mia Michaels. None of the musical numbers succeed in illuminating character or conveying any emotion other than a vague desire to please, and even that is quickly drowned out by the overly applified orchestra that lords over the evening's proceedings. It's not that the songs are bad so much as they are unmemorable, to the point where the majority of them are forgotten by the time their final measure has ended.

There are glimmers of an interesting idea here and there in the book scenes, but Graham never adequately explores them. Several lines plant the seeds for the core concepts and story beats of Peter Pan, but Neverland never acknowledges this foreshadowing in anything other than a joking way. It would be much more satisfying to see Barrie actively latch on to these remarks about fairies, mermaids, and pirates to construct his story, but as written they seem like a bizarre coincidences rather than deliberately drawn parallels. The musical's first act finale centers around the idea that Barrie must embrace his dark side to give Peter Pan some much needed dramatic tension (and its famous villain, Captain Hook), but since Graham gives no indication Barrie has a dark side before or after this sequence it just seems like a manufactured plot point. The one thing Graham does spend an inordinate amount of time on is anarcharistic, tired meta jokes like having in-story actors ask "what's my motivation" or letting one of the overly precocious Davies boys ask if he'll receive any royalties for his contributions to Peter Pan.

It is frankly shocking that director Diane Paulus, who has helmed outstanding revivals of Hair, Porgy & Bess, and Pippin in recent years, allowed this kind of lowest common denomentator nonsense to take place under her watch. Paulus really should know better, and given her success at disguising the dramaturgical flaws of some of the previously mentioned musicals it is unnerving to see her put something so half-baked onstage. At the same time, Finding Neverland gives the impression that without Paulus at the helm it would be much, much worse, especially taking the aforementioned script issues into account. Without Paulus' bold, visually driven staging the show would be virtually unwatchable.

As is, the production is still difficult to stomach, as watching obviously talented individuals struggle to overcome material that does them no favors is never pleasant. Matthew Morrison gives a perfectly serviceable performance as J.M. Barrie, but is hampered by the lack of interesting material that actual explores the playwright's psyche. A consumate professional, Morrison hits all his marks, participates some rather physical staging and choreography, and sings with a pleasant baritone that does its best to inject emotion into the bland songs. At times Morrison appears to be marking things, although whether that's due to a disdain for the material or sheer exhaustion is difficult to tell (the character of Barrie rarely leaves the stage, so exhaustion is not out of the question).

Laura Michelle Kelly is suitably winsome as the widowed Sylvia, and her struggles with an unnamed illness (probably tuberculosis) bring Neverland as close to genuine drama as the show cares to get. Unfortunately, Barlow and Kennedy have chosen some rather dubious keys for Sylvia's big songs, and Kelly's generally lovely voice doesn't always agree with the notes it's being asked to sing. The role of Barrie's American producer Charles Frohman has since been taken over by Terrance Mann, but at the performance I saw Anthony Warlow did fine work in a role that is more plot device and joke delivery machine than actual character. Teal Wicks and Carolee Carmello are both wasted in underwritten secondary roles, and while the rest of the ensemble clearly has talent they spend so much time shamelessly mugging that they come across as rather obnoxious.

The physical production walks a fine line between ornate and garish, mostly sticking to the former. Suttirat Anne Larlarb's costumes are the most consistently appealing, utilizing a rich, jewel-toned color palate and just enough over the top details to establish a fantastical tone while maintaining a connection to the real world. Scott Pask's set mostly fades into the background, except for a strange clock motif which stands out because it isn't really referenced anywhere else in the design or the show's story.

Finding Neverland clearly wants to be everyone's new favorite musical, and judging by the audience reaction and the robust box office numbers it might even be succeeding. But don't let that fool you into thinking this is anything other than a by the numbers project that struggles and ultimately fails to overcome its pedestrian score and truly atrocious book. There is not enough pixie dust in the world to make Neverland fly, and no amount of stagecraft can disguise that fact. The only thing that takes the edge off a director as talented as Paulus helming something this awful is the knowledge that without her prodigious talents it would have been much, much worse.

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.

Hamilton Takes His Shot, and It's a Bullseye

Review: Hamilton

Phillipa Soo and Lin-Manuel Miranda as Eliza and Alexander Hamilton.

 

There are many reasons why Hamilton is an historic, groundbreaking, and important show, the kind of genre-defining work of genius destined to be mentioned along with the likes of A Chorus Line and Rent as a musical that changed the definition of what was possible on the Broadway stage. But all of those reasons stem from the show's chief strength, which is the fact that it is quite simply an incredible achievement in musical storytelling. Lin-Manuel Miranda's hip-hop magnum opus manages to convey both the epic sweep of our country's history and the personal drama occurring in the lives of those who shaped it, distilling the ideals of the American Revolution down to their essence and presenting them in a package that is wildly unexpected and yet completely intuitive. Hamilton functions on so many levels simultaneously that it's somewhat mind-blowing, and yet the show is also one of the most accessible productions currently playing Broadway.

On its most basic level, Hamilton is the life story of Alexander Hamilton, the "Ten Dollar Founding Father" who came to America as an immigrant, helped usher it through the turmoil of the Revolution, and ultimately created the basis of the financial system that has allowed it to become one of the most prosperous nations in the world. But what makes the show so exciting, so viscerally engaging and interesting, is that it is about so much more than one man's life. It is about the very ideals our country was founded on, the same political and philosophical quandaries that trouble today's world leaders as much as they did the rowdy bunch of colonists who rebelled against England's rule in 1776. Hamilton doesn't just speak to how our country was then, but how it is now, a parallel made all the more apparent thanks to the wholly contemporary prism through which this story is presented.

Miranda's score is a work of unadulterated genius, fusing many disparate influences into a crystalized, coherent whole that is immediately engaging, emotionally appealing, and constantly surprising. Expertly crafted rap battles form the basis of political debate, a close knit group of sisters adopt the vocal stylings of a Destiny's Child-esque girl group, and jealous political rivals express their vaulting ambition in the form of hard hitting club thumpers. This throughcomposed work is filled with sly lyrical references to everything from contemporary politics to Rodgers and Hammerstein, all packaged into intricately rhymed passages so dense with meaning that repeated listening only reveals more and more layers of nuance. Yes, the show can be classified as a rap musical, but there are also soaring R&B ballads, tightly harmonized choral numbers, and enough subconscious-permeating melodic hooks that even the staunchest detractors of contemporary music will probably leave humming a bar or two.

Not only is Miranda's score exceptional - quite possibly the best theatrical writing of the new millennium - but his airtight plotting packs an astounding amount of detail into the show's never boring two hour and forty-five minute runtime. Miranda never sacrifices historical accuracy for narrative clarity, and the intercutting between Hamilton's personal life and the larger historical canvas is so deftly handled you'll never once question what's going on. The show was already remarkable during its Off-Broadway run earlier this year, but Miranda has used the time between the show's world premiere and Broadway bow to tighten the storytelling even further. Every minute of the production is not only necessary but also supremely interesting, with nary a wasted subplot or musical motif to be found.

While Miranda's writing pulses with a vivacious life all its own, the production's staging kicks things into overdrive. Director Thomas Kail and choreographer Andy Blankenbuehler work together so seamlessly their contributions look like the work of a single (supremely gifted) individual; Hamilton hits the ground running and only picking up steam from there. Dancers appear and disappear throughout David Korins' deconstructed wood and mortar set, and both Kail and Blankenbuehler make excellent use of the double turntable Korins has provided them. The actors rarely stop moving, and yet this never veers into manic or distracting territory thanks to the sheer inventiveness and unerringly dramatic composition of the evening's stage pictures. Coupled with Paul Tazewell's top notch riffs on eighteenth century clothing and Howell Binkley's *incredible* lighting design, the show is a sumptuous visual feast of intricate staging to rival anything Broadway has ever seen. (Tip: while the orchestra view is no doubt incredible, the full genius of Kail and Blankenbuehler's intricate formations and Tazewell's outstanding lights can only be fully appreciated from the mezzanine.)

And then there's the cast. This is the kind of supremely talented ensemble whose work is destined to become the stuff of theatrical legend, lead by Miranda's fearless performance in the title role. The composer-lyricist-actor acquitted himself very nicely Off-Broadway, but here he has taken things to the next level with his multi-faceted portrayal of the "young, scrappy, and hungry" Founding Father. Miranda perfectly captures the combination of charisma and outspokenness that made Hamilton such an influential figure in early US politics, and also demonstrates just enough personal arrogance that you understand why the author of the Federalist Papers provoked so much scorn among his political rivals.

Counterbalancing Miranda's fire is Leslie Odom, Jr.'s slow burn portrayal of Aaron Burr, the lawyer and politician who famously shot Hamilton in a duel. Odom, Jr. slinks in and out of the narrative during the show's first half, calmly collected while Hamilton's revolutionary fire makes the latter a natural center of attention. But behind Odom, Jr.'s smile is a growing hunger that glistens in his eyes as Burr watches Hamilton go on to greater and greater things, an ambition that boils over during the actor's full-throttle, showstopping performance of "The Room Where It Happens." Other actors portraying famous historical figures include Christopher Jackson as an imposingly dignified George Washington, Jonathan Groff hamming it up as the embittered and foppish King George III, and Daveed Diggs in a star-making dual turn as the showboating Marquis de Lafayette and legendary author of the constitution Thomas Jefferson.

While history is undoubtedly a boys' club, Hamilton still finds plenty of time to explore the women who exerted a huge amount of influence over the title character, specifically his wife Eliza and her sister Angelica Schuyler. Eliza is perfectly embodied by Phillipa Soo, who plays her with a convincing combination of girlish excitement and quiet strength. Soo's big moments come in the musical's latter half, when Hamilton and his family fall subject to the nation's first sex scandal and a heartwrenching personal tragedy; this is where the actress' carefully laid character work from her earlier scenes really helps to sell Eliza's anguish and inner resolve. And Renee Elise Goldsberry is a revelation as Angelica, with her performance of "Satisfied" ranking among the most blissful minutes of musical theatre perfection in the past ten years.

Much has been written about Hamilton in the past six months, to the point where it seems impossible the show could live up to the hype surrounding it. And yet even with the weight of overwhelming expectations upon it, Hamilton soars thanks to a fantastically talented collection of artists all working at the absolute pinnacle of their respective fields to tell a universally appealing story about men and women striving towards their ideals. The characters may falter, but Hamilton never does, making it the must-see theatrical production of the decade. At one point in the show, the Schuyler sisters sing, "Look around, look around/At how lucky we are to be alive right now." We are all lucky to live in a world where a work as daringly ambitious and wildly successful as Hamilton exists.

This Diva Needs Her Stage, Small Though It May Be

Review: Shows for Days

Caught with his cell phone out during the show, Michael Urie is forced to hide from Patti LuPone's wrath.

Douglas Carter Beane must be quite the charmer. Despite a tenuous grasp of cohesive storytelling technique, the playwright and musical librettist not only continually convinces producers to mount his often undercooked shows, but he also manages to attract some of the industry's top talent to perform it. Beane's last play The Nance starred no less than the great Nathan Lane, and his latest work Shows for Days has the distinction of featuring two-time Tony-winner Patti LuPone in one of the central roles. LuPone does heroic work in a play that doesn't really merit her many talents, even if individual scenes in the piece prove to be side-splittingly hilarious.

This semi-autobiographical comedy about Beane's early days in the theatre follows Car, the idealized author stand-in who stumbles across a small community theatre troupe in Reading, Pennsylvania during the summer of 1973. Initially volunteering as a set painter to kill time, 14-year-old Car finds himself entranced by the allure of this tight-knit group of misfits led by the firebrand producer/director/actress Irene. Irene dreams of a permanent, legitimate theatre company to rival any of the town's established troupes, using her outsized personality to cajole, convince, or outright threaten the city into supporting her cause with funds and free performance space. Car soon becomes a valuable member of the group, eventually commissioned to write their first original play all while trying to find an escape from the small town life that has left him feeling trapped.

John Lee Beatty's set cleverly mimics the organized chaos of any low-budget performance space, with colored tape indicating the outlines of the play's many different settings (this will be instantly familiar to anyone who has ever set foot inside a rehearsal studio). Beane and director Jerry Zaks also use the charming conceit of Car literally setting the stage as he narrates his life, moving chairs, tables, and other pieces of furniture to their various locations as the action shifts from place to place. It all evokes a warm nostalgia for the simplicity of small scale theatre, and reminds you of the magic that can be achieved by a group of actors fully committed to doing their best with whatever is onhand.

Unfortunately, Beane's script is the opposite of simple, so overstuffed with sitcom-style zingers that the intricacies of the plot get lost amid the quest for laughs. While portions of the script are admittedly very funny, all of playwright's dialogue smacks of a need to demonstrate the breadth of his theatrical knowledge and wit. It's acceptable and even admirable to expect your audience to keep pace with your rapid-fire references (Something Rotten is grossing a million dollars a week using precisely that brand of humor), but Beane's writing tries a little too hard to call attention to how clever he's being, with a vague air of judgment should you be unable to keep up. Beane and Zaks also appear uncomfortable with any moment of genuine emotion, bulldozing over the play's more serious beats in a breakneck race towards the next punchline.

As Car, Michael Urie is in no way a convincing teenager (something both the actor and the script acknowledge early on), but he brings an impish, innocent quality to his performance that is innately appealing despite its lack of depth. Urie embodies the play's more negative aspects by shamelessly mugging throughout, even during the few times when Car is required to show some genuine anguish. The actor's undisputable good looks also undermine a key subplot where the object of Car's first crush specifically rejects him for being sexually undesirable, which in a play with so much metahumor registers as a joke until you realize that is actually the root of the pair's relationship issues.

While Urie may be the nominal lead, LuPone is the unquestioned star of the show. Yes, casting the famously temperamental LuPone as an outsized theatrical diva is an obvious choice, but the genius of her performance is she manages to simultaneously surprise while also giving you exactly what you expect. She chews the scenery while delivering many of the play's best lines, highlighting her top notch comic timing in an effortlessly hilarious performance. Yet unlike Urie, LuPone remembers to create a real person underneath Irene's over the top exterior, and when the script presents her with the opportunity to let us see behind that bravura façade she brilliantly capitalizes on it. The few times Irene's shell cracks and we glimpse the wounded woman underneath not only showcase LuPone's versatility, but also ground Irene as recognizably human and someone worth rooting for.

The rest of the cast offers solid support to the two leads, although the script doesn't provide them with much more than broadly drawn outlines. Dale Soules as the lesbian stage manager Sid is the most multi-dimensional, although her more understated moments get lost among the overt hamminess of Urie's mugging. Jordan Dean plays the dumb pretty boy very well, and Zoe Winters is suitably high strung as the needy actress Maria. Understudy Lance Roberts went on in the role of the troupe's gay leading man Clive at the performance I saw, and did a fine job despite the fact that Beane has written him as a caricature rather than an actual human.

Ultimately, Shows for Days proves to be an enjoyable if slightly frustrating experience as LuPone and company struggle to find the right balance between the play's farcical leanings and its brief flirtations with more dramatic material. Playwright Beane's insistence on making almost every line a laugh line proves exhausting for both the cast and the audience, a relentlessness that is only highlighted by Zaks' by the numbers staging. Yet Beane has an obvious and sincere affection for both this period of his life and small-scale theatre in general, lending the play just enough emotional honesty that it cannot be dismissed completely out of hand. Patti LuPone once again proves she is a theatrical force to be reckoned with, and if nothing else, Shows provides its audience with the chance to watch this legendary diva work her magic.

Fear No More, for Shakespeare in the Park Has Done It Again

Review: Cymbeline

Hamish Linklater as the oafish Cloten and Lily Rabe as the pure-hearted Imogen in Shakespeare in the Park's latest production of William Shakespeare's Cymbeline.

Director Daniel Sullivan and actors Lily Rabe and Hamish Linklater have become beloved staples of the Public Theatre's annual productions at Central Park's Delacorte Theatre, tackling some of Shakespeare's greatest works with an unfailing dedication to excellence. This season the three acclaimed artists have teamed up for a pared-down version of Shakespeare's late career romance Cymbeline, and the results are quintessential Shakespeare in the Park: superbly acted, highly accessible, and fully embracing the open air setting for an evening of theatrical magic.

One of the Bard's less performed works, Cymbeline is actually the story of the title character's daughter, Princess Imogen. Against her father's wishes, Imogen has married a commoner named Posthumus Leonatus, a move which so outrages King Cymbeline that he banishes Posthumus to Italy. With Posthumus out of the way, the Queen - who is not Imogen's mother but Cymbeline's second wife - attempts to secure her family's royal position by marrying her loutish son Cloten to the princess, who despises him. Meanwhile, Posthumus makes a wager with the boastful Italian Iachimo that Imogen's heart is so pure it is incorruptible, leading Iachimo to travel to England and attempt to seduce the fair princess. There is also a subplot involving a war between Rome and Britain over unpaid monetary tributes, not to mention the mystery of Cymbeline's missing sons.

The plot is one of the most complex in all of Shakespeare, but thanks to Sullivan's expert direction and uniformly strong performances from the cast, this Cymbeline is easy to follow even without the benefit of the synopsis included in the program. This high level of accessibility is even more impressive given Sullivan's decision to double and triple cast most of his ensemble of 9 to fill the play's 16+ speaking roles. Smart costuming by David Zinn and distinctive hair and wig designs by Charles G. LaPointe combine with the physical malleability of the cast so that there is never any confusion over who is playing whom and when, adding to the production's magical quality and the evening's general sense of fun.

Rabe has tackled many of Shakespeare's most famous ingénues during her time in the park, and her Imogen is every bit the equal to her Portia and her Beatrice from seasons past. Rabe instantly commands the stage with her unmistakably regal presence, bringing an inner fire to Imogen while at the same time keeping the character's melodramatic leanings in check. When Rabe espouses the play's many rich and varied declarations of love she is utterly believable, and her sincerity grounds a work filled to the brim with credibility-straining coincidences. The luminescent actress can also access deep reserves of sorrow at the drop of a hat, crying giant, glistening tears during several of the production's more heart-wrenching moments.

Rabe's real-life partner Linklater tackles the dual roles of Imogen's exiled husband Posthumus and her unwanted suitor Cloten. As Posthumus, Linklater is an appealing romantic lead who is also capable of portraying the deep-seated rage that propels the character's actions through much of the second half (like Othello, Posthumus is a tad too quick to believe the worst about his wife). But Linklater's true showcase and the actor's clear favorite is the impossibly dim Cloten, who he plays to hammy perfection. Linklater fills Cloten's scenes with side-splittingly funny business while finding every conceivable joke in the character's dialogue, and his over the top rendition of "Hark, Hark the Lark" is one of the evening's highlights. (All the play's original music is provided by Next to Normal composer Tom Kitt, who offers work as strong and melodically interesting as any he's written for the musical stage.)

Patrick Page is wonderfully imposing as the title character, tiptoeing right up to the line of absurdity without actually crossing it. Kate Burton is suitably despicable as his second wife, clearly having a blast with the Queen's conniving ways. The surprise with Burton is that she is perhaps even more entertaining and convincing as Belarius, the disgraced nobleman who has been secretly raising Cymbeline's missing sons for the past twenty years. Four time Tony-nominee Raul Esparza struggles to find the right balance between Iachimo's smarmy, off-putting personality and the play's comedic leanings, failing to find the humor in his character's introductory scene and generally being a bit too terrible of a person for audiences to fully surrender to the evening's many charms. It is by no means a bad performance, but with Sullivan and the rest of his cast choosing to highlight the text's humor Esparza stands out in the wrong way.

After 53 summers at the Delacorte, Shakespeare in the Park has become a New York institution, bringing high quality productions of some of the greatest works in the theatrical cannon to the populace free of charge. Cymbeline is yet another triumph for director Sullivan and lead actors Rabe and Linklater, proving that this trio can work their magic on the Bard's more problematic plays just as easily as they can on populist classics like Much Ado About Nothing or The Merchant of Venice. Despite the intricate plot, this production is a marvel of accessible clarity without once sacrificing the complexities of Shakespeare's beautiful language or his observations on human nature, and is highly recommended for both Shakespearean scholars and the layperson alike.

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.