Tag: Review

Well, they made a musical…

“Everyone knows how to fix everyone else’s show.”

Those words were imparted to me after the Wednesday evening performance of 9 to 5 by a journalistic acquaintance. The musical version of the 1980 film of the same name was one of the more anticipated Broadway shows this past season. However, it was met with critical negativity and audience indifference, in spite of a score by Dolly Parton and a leading lady turn by Allison Janney. The show closed yesterday after 148 performances. I decided to take in the show before it closed just because I was curious to see just what went wrong, and also to see Ms. Janney onstage.

The show is a mess, there’s no getting past that. However, in the ruins of the musical there lies the promise of what could have been a better production. The fault lies mostly with director Joe Mantello, choreographer Andy Blankenbuehler and librettist (and co-writer of the original screenplay) Patricia Resnick. The original film is an amusing satiric fantasia of three women (Lily Tomlin, Jane Fonda and Dolly Parton) enacting revenge on their repugnantly chauvinistic boss (a delightfully crass Dabney Coleman). The film holds up as an amusing period piece, even if its Oscar-nominated title song is probably better remembered than the movie itself. The musical tries very hard to be the film, but without making the necessary changes needed for it to be a fully functional musical – namely, a well-structured, clever book and a score that serves the story – it falls considerably short.

As the lights go down, that famous vamp starts up, setting off a series of cheers from the audience. Suddenly I was very innervated as the show curtain (cleverly made up entirely of telephone cords – remember those?) rose for the opening/title song. My disappointment was almost immediate as the first line of the song was sung by… a man? It was clear from the get-go that the show was lacking some sense of focus. “9 to 5” may be a recycled show tune, but it was still the best song in the score (a la “Never on Sunday” in Illya, Darling). The rest of my night was figuring out ways to fix the show to make moments like that actually work. (My idea for the opening? Cut the chorus from the first minute and a half of the song, give the lines to the three ladies as they prepare their mornings and bring the ensemble into the street scene).

In fact, the chorus pretty much sings and dances innocuously throughout. Assisting where they are not needed, including offstage singing back-up during “Backwoods Barbie” or filling out “I’m Gonna Shine Like the Sun” to close the first act. It didn’t help that they were given generic “look ma, I’m dancin'” choreography by Tony award winner Andy Blankenbuehler. In fact, most of the dancing was uninspired and at times, rather pathetic. Office scenes aside, the chorus padded out the rest of the musical numbers for the sheer idea of giving them more to do. You could easily streamline the show and cut the chorus without much loss to any of the musical numbers – at most

Onto the most prolific person behind 9 to 5 the Musical, Dolly Parton. What more is there to say about this diminutive titan of the music industry? Composing hundreds of songs for herself and other artists, selling countless records and one of the most recognizable figures in the world, Dolly decided to take on the arduous task of writing a musical theatre score. If the score fails to meet the expectations of a Broadway musical, I am wary of putting the entire blame on Ms Parton. If her lyrics tended to be generic and more than frequently cliched, the melodies were mostly hummable and there was at least some considerable effort on her part as both composer and especially as the show’s champion. With the exception of librettist Resnick, Ms. Parton was surrounded by Tony-winning musical theatre professionals who should have known better.

What made the musical entertaining were its three leading ladies. When they were onstage there was some sparkle and excitement in spite of the quality of the show around them. Megan Hilty was all beauty and heart as Doralee Rhodes, taking on the role originated by Parton in the film. While the performance is more impersonation of Parton than an original characterization, the young actress made the most of it especially with “Backwoods Barbie,” one of the better numbers.

There is surprisingly very little to the character of Judy who goes from dejected insecure housewife to defiant independent working woman. Part of the problem is that there isn’t much of an arc for the most dynamic of the three leading ladies – it’s obvious she changes but we never really see how. However, the part was well sung by Stephanie Block, who was given the eleven o’clock number, “Get Out and Stay Out.”Judy tosses her husband out halfway through the song, and delivers a powerhouse finish, but I wish the director had thought to keep the character onstage so she would have someone to play to. It’s like taking a production of Follies and having Ben walk out on the line “Wait, I’m just beginning” as Phyllis continues ‘Could I Leave You?’ by herself.

Then we get to the star of the production. Ms. Allison Janney is well known for her four time Emmy winning role of C.J. Cregg on The West Wing, but she also has innumerable film and stage credits to her name. In the months leading up to my visit to the show, I’d read that Ms. Janney can’t sing and can’t really dance but that it didn’t matter. Vocal and dance limitations aside, Ms. Janney can hold a tune and moves well and walks away with the show whenever she is onstage. This is probably the best musical debut debut of a non-musical performer since Lauren Bacall opened in Applause. (By the way, Encores, Janney is your Tess Harding. Now dust off Woman of the Year). In the eleventh hour, Janney stopped the show with a feminist tirade that would have made Dixie Carter proud. On top of that, she also looked like she was having the time of her life singing and dancing and giving one hell of a star turn.

As for the men, well there haven’t been such thankless roles for men in a musical since the divas of Mame mopped the floor with them in 1966. Marc Kudisch has the most to do as Franklin Hart, Jr., the boss from hell, a role he performed with gusto. However it seemed redundant to give him not one but two songs expressing his vulgar misogny. Andy Karl is the younger accountant with a romantic interest in Violet. Karl, who was part of Legally Blonde, has little to do aside wear period glasses and duet with Janney on a real dud, “Let Love Grow.”

Then there was Kathy Fitzgerald, bless her heart. I first became aware of her in The Producers where she played several bit parts, most notable Shirley Markowitz, the lesbian lighting designer with the basso profundo voice in “Keep it Gay.” In 9 to 5, Fitzgerald played Roz, the busybody executive secretary whose unrequited love for the boss has her doing his bidding without question or pause. Ms. Fitzgerald got some of the biggest laughs of the evening, though her first number was too long.

One of the main problems is that there was too much of what was bad and too little of what was good. The main thing about adapting a property to the musical stage is that you want to be able to say something that hasn’t been explored in any previous incarnation, whether it’s a novel, play or film. One of the major problems with 9 to 5 was a slavish adherence to the film’s screenplay, and certain things just didn’t adapt well. When The Producers and Hairspray were adapted for Broadway, their great success was in finding a new way to tell the story (and it didn’t hurt that both had Thomas Meehan on hand to assist). First-timer Resnick could have used a pro like him to help her with the structure and pinpointing the reason why these characters were bursting out into song. Oh – and not to mention two groan inducing moments: quoting “No good deed goes unpunished” and “I will always love you.”

From the opening number onward, and well past midnight after getting home, I couldn’t help but play show doctor. I made mental notes and ran the show over and over in my head thinking of ways to fix it and make improvements. The mental results I came up with would make for a sturdier show, but the more I think about it, did 9 to 5 really need to be a musical? However, I hope Dolly doesn’t desert Broadway altogether – I think the combination of the two was a nice touch (then again, how can you not like Dolly?!) but I hope if she ever comes to town with a show I only hope she’s got a creative team that won’t let her down.

Walking Among My Yesterdays – "Doubt" (1/8/06)

I’ve decided that I’m going to start a new series discussing the shows and musicals I’ve seen and/or worked on prior to starting the blog in late 2007. Some of the writing will be reprinted from essays, defunct blogs, etc. The rest I will be writing about for the first time in any forum. Some is critical, some is academic. The new series I am going to call “Walking Among My Yesterdays,” in line with my favorite song from The Happy Time and my show call at the right side of the page. First up, I offer my thoughts on Doubt, originally written on January 9, 2006 (after seeing the last performance of the entire original cast of the play):

Doubt, a Parable. What can I say? The play is brilliant. John Patrick Shanley delivers a credible, thought-provoking and intriguing story, and although it takes place in 1964, it (sadly) has relevance today. Cherry Jones’ performance as Sister Aloysius is a remarkable tour-de-force. It was hard to recognize her, she was so easily consumed in the habit and the demeanor of a strict pre-Vatican 2 nun. Her stiff physicality and sharp vocal inflection only added to her characterization.

For a show running 90 minutes, not a moment is lost: every word counts and it’s taut and gripping. With the traditional ways of the mother superior clashing with the liberal tendencies of the younger priest, it’s really hard to delineate the truth on the whole matter. Basically, with nothing more than a suspicion, Sister Aloysius suspects that Father O’Flynn, who is also the phys ed. and religion teacher, is making inappropriate advances on the school’s (first and) only black child. The battle of wills is fierce, as both are strong characters with a great deal of resolve. The priest is at an advantage, as Roman Catholic priests have patriarchal authority in the church, which he subtly uses as a fear tactic against Sister Aloysius, but she is firm in her handling of the situation. The problem on her part is that there is no tangible evidence to prove her suspicions correct and refuses to accept what he says. Their confrontation scene towards the end of the play is the stuff rave reviews were made for. It got to the point where they were yelling in each other’s faces, neither choosing to stand down – and the audience ate it up. Several keys lines people tried to start applause, but the heat of the moment onstage didn’t allow for any breaks and the actors continued pressing forward with such conviction. Finally when the scene did end, it stopped the show. Lengthy explosion of applause from the house.

Jones’ Aloysius is a tough nut, but even though dead set in her ways and occasionally off the mark, she is fascinating, intriguing and sometimes funny. Her accomplice, so to speak, is a weak-willed, naive nun named Sister James, whom Aloysius is trying to get to be like her, even though the young girl is more progressively minded. James has a monologue during which she lashes back at the mother superior in a brilliant explosion of pent up emotion. Cherry stopped the show cold with her sharp, cool and authoritative reply of “Sit down.” Stunning work on finding some levity in the piece, considering the starched quality of her character. A stunning moment came when Aloysius is tending to plants in the courtyard while conversing with Sister James. James mentions that she thinks the priest has done what Aloysius expects. Cherry is kneeling, facing upstage right. You can’t see her face, but you see the comment hit her like a ton of bricks. Her response was a stunned “What…?”. What a moment, especially with her back to the audience. The characterization is remarkable, playing off her strengths as equally as her flaws. Her stolid quality was notable in her body language, how she carried herself, walked, every detail she was living the part. I noted the minor point that she was standing up to the second class citizenry nuns found themselves in the Church years ago, as she is not allowed to be in a room alone with him – a rule he breaks during their final battle, as well as not being able to enter the rectory or walk up to a priest, etc. I was intrigued by that, and by the fact that regardless, she had no power outside her principal’s office in the parish.

Adriane Lenox plays the mother of the young boy in question and in another brilliant (and brief) scene, interacts with Cherry over the interests of her son. The role is stunning, because in all her 7 or 8 minutes onstage, you know everything about this character and Lenox makes daring choices (the character’s reaction is rather shocking to the audience, and out of left field, especially in such a matter).

I cannot praise Shanley enough for writing this play. It deserved all of its awards last spring. The “parable”, as the play is referred to, offers no concrete evidence for either side of the argument. The ambiguous ending is perfection – he’s crafted it so that the evidence presented puts doubt into the audience as well as the characters onstage. There is no clear-cut truth to the matter and end is startling and effective in its polarizing of the audience. I’m still not sure who to believe, I leaned towards Aloysius at first, but then bounced back when the priest presented his case, but at the end I was completely uncertain. Talk about a success on the part of the author’s intent.

The only flaw, I thought, was Heather Goldenhersh, as the younger nun Sister James. I felt that she wasn’t even acting (not in the amazing Cherry Jones way, but in the someone handed an unprofessional a script and told her to act-deer in headlights way). Her character was mannered, the acting wasn’t sophomoric, it wasn’t realistic and had no energy. However, I was impressed with Cherry as a scene partner. She worked magically off of all the actors and even had a good stage rapport with the younger actress (even if I thought she was lacking, the Tony people didn’t. Oh well, it’s just my opinion).

Between this and The Pillowman, it’s been a good year for drama. Doubt, especially, with its purposeful lack of a clear-cut ending, is leaving audience members thinking, talking and debating as they leave the Walter Kerr Theatre. I also think this play would expand well onscreen too. (There is sadly, such relevance in the fears of priests molesting children and in that regard, I sympathized with Aloysius’ fear for the safety of her students, even if her character lacked grace in handling the situation. It was also fascinating as a product of parochial elementary education to see it presented on Broadway).

I feel privileged and honored to have seen Cherry Jones act live onstage. I am in a state of awe after having witnessed such genius in the acting and in the writing (and in directing, Doug Hughes, unsung in my comments, has done stellar staging of the text, keeping the pacing tight and always intriguing).

After thinking about it, I think I tended more toward Aloysius’ suspicion. I don’t necessarily think she did the right thing. But I was fearful for the student’s well-being and in this day and age, its a zero-tolerance policy. But evidence is key, we can’t just go on gut impulses all the time, even if it feels 100% certain to be the right path.

In retrospect 2004-05 proved to be a stellar theatre season for me: The Light in the Piazza (7 times), Doubt, The Pillowman, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (twice), Purlie & The Apple Tree at Encores!, South Pacific at Carnegie Hall, La Cage Aux Folles (twice) and Spamalot.

And before I stop, I just wanted to include John Patrick Shanley’s Playbill bio:

John Patrick Shanley (Playwright) is from the Bronx. He was thrown out of St. Helena’s kindergarten. He was banned from St. Anthony’s hot lunch program for life. He was expelled from Cardinal Spellman High School. He was placed on academic probation by New York University and instructed to appear before a tribunal if he wished to return. When asked why he had been treated in this way by all these institutions, he burst into tears and said he had no idea. Then he went in the United States Marine Corps. He did fine. He’s still doing okay. Mr. Shanley is interested in your reactions. He can be contacted at shanleysmoney@aol.com.

"They’re down on steel and carbon and high on UFOs…"

To be honest, I didn’t think anyone would be interested in reviving How Now Dow Jones, but much to my surprise, I received a press release regarding the revised version being presented at the Fringe Festival. Then Sarah asked if I’d like to go and I said yes. The show has been rarely performed since the late 60s, so there has been little opportunity (aside from a 2002 Mufti concert) to see it.

While hardly a bomb like Here’s Where I Belong, the show is an established failure with a notoriously poor libretto done in by one of the flimsiest plots since the Princess musicals. Kate, the Dow Jones girl (who announces the progress on the stock exchange on the hour) is engaged to a man who won’t marry her until the DJIA hits 1,000 (oh, those were the days, huh?). When the girl has a one night stand with our hero, a suicidal failure named Charlie who finds his greatest success selling stocks to widows and orphans, she finds herself pregnant. In a desperate ploy to get married to avoid the scandal (after all, the musical opened in 1967), she announces the Dow has hit the millenium mark.

I know. The plot is absolutely preposterous. And believe me, Max Shulman’s original book didn’t go unscathed when the show opened at the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre in 1967. In fact the show was troubled from the start. The show went out on the road and it was just not working. Choreographer Gillian Lynne found herself out in the cold while Michael Bennett on his ascent to auteurism came in to fix the show. Madeline Kahn had a featured role that was written out in Boston. (Kahn would find her character written out of Promises, Promises only a year later). Tommy Tune (who was in attendance at the performance I attended) would join the cast.

The show ran 220 performances in NY, a financial and artistic failure. However, it had the good fortune to open in a dreary season and was nominated for a slew of Tonys, including Best Musical. The show would win one, and that was Best Featured Actor for Hiram Sherman (as Wingate). The song “Step to the Rear” would continue to have a life outside of the show, but other than that it was basically long forgotten.

Director Ben West has streamlined a good chunk of the libretto, cutting dialogue, characters and numbers bringing the originally 2 1/2 hour, two act musical comedy to a brisk intermissionless 80 minutes. The cast has gone from 40 to 8, and there were several songs restored, including the gorgeous “Where You Are” which was dropped in Boston. The staging and production values are simple, allowing us to look deeply into the text to see where it succeeds, and inevitably where it fails.

The show can never really work, thanks to Shulman. In spite of the flaws and some uneven casting, the result is rather entertaining. Mr. West makes a gallant effort and offers a rather entertaining way to spend an hour and a half. Much as the case with the underrated revival of Old Acquaintance, SarahB and I found ourselves quite amused, and enjoying ourselves immensely. The jokes and references are archaic and dated, the characters little more than caricatures, but there was a feeling of familiarity – almost as if watching one of those 60s sitcoms on TVLand. (Some might argue that it’s as relevant as ever given our financial chaos – not really. But I also don’t buy that argument for Finian’s Rainbow either).

Where How Now Dow Jones does not fail is in its score. The music of Elmer Bernstein is entertaining; however, it is Carolyn Leigh’s lyrics that standout above all else. Witty, intelligent and clever, Leigh creates a level of satire and sophistication that is lacking in every other department of the musical. The opening number “ABC” has fast become one of the most listened to songs on my iPod. The showstopping “Step to the Rear” has been moved from the first act to the finale, and is a fun way to send the crowd out into the streets (even if I missed the matchmaking Jewish widows leading the parade).

Two names I want you to remember: Colin Hanlon and Cristen Paige. Mr. Hanlon, late of Rent and I Love You Because, is Charlie and plays him with considerable charm, affable presence and a mega-watt smile that is poised for stardom. Ms. Paige, who has been seen in The Visit and the national tour of The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, is lovely, sweet and utterly captivating as Kate, the lovelorn heroine. Paige also gets the bulk of the show’s ballads whose lyrics give us a greater glimpse into the character than any single line of dialogue.

The rest of the company was amiable enough, but none shone as bright as the two stars. The one weak note in the casting was Cori Silberman as Cynthia, a role originated by Brenda Vaccaro. Cynthia is Kate’s best friend and sidekick (though Vaccaro got nominated for a Leading Actress Tony and her costar Marlyn Mason did not) and the Dow Jones tour guide. She’s a lovably brash New York girl in search of Mr. Right (in this case, she’s looking to become a kept woman). Silberman appeared mannered, amateurish and out of her element, failing to score until “He’s Here” toward the end of the show.

Credited in the playbill is UnsungMusicalsCo, which is a non-profit production company “dedicated to the preservation of musical theatre through the presentation of infrequently performed works.” Director Ben West is the company’s Artistic Director and they are currently at work on revising Platinum, Lend an Ear and Rock ‘N Roll! The First 5,000 Years. I find the idea of the group rather exciting, as they look at the musicals anew and make an effort to fix the shows and offer musical theatre aficionados not unlike myself the opportunity to see something like How Now Dow Jones onstage. My question for Mr. West: can we expect Lolita, My Love or Prettybelle?

‘Oh hey, Janet McTeer. What up?’

This year, a small section of the bloggerati embarked on what Kari would call ‘The Summer of Harriet Walter.’ Ms. Walter costarred with Janet McTeer in a highly acclaimed revival of Mary Stuart, that just ended its limited engagement at the Broadhurst Theatre this past weekend. The production was beautiful enough, but the leading ladies became part of our cheeky lore this summer after the Tony award debacle where their identities were switched during the presentation of Best Actress in a Play. Marcia Gay Harden rectified the moment in her acceptance speech, but that didn’t stop us from finding inestimable pleasure in the technical glitch.

I first saw the production in May, capping a week where I saw seven shows in six days. I was exhilarated by the performances of the two leading ladies, and how the revisionist way in which the story was told in this particular adaptation. However, I never really sat down and wrote about it. That was one of the reasons why I felt compelled to return for the final performance, not only to enjoy the company of my fellow bloggers, but to give the show its fair due here on the blog.

British history is fascinating. I have found myself long fascinated with it, dating back to a memorable trip to London when I was 10. There has been a millenium’s worth of scandal, bloodshed, sex and intrigue (et al). From William the Conqueror taking on the Normans to the tabloid obsession with the current royal family, they have made quite a claim on fame and our interest.

However, the Tudor/Elizabethan era remains one of the most examined and dramatized in British history. Henry VIII, his six wives, his psychotic obsession with producing a male heir and his split from the Roman Catholic church finds its way into our books, films, televisions and on our stages.

The schism wreaked havoc on Britain in the generations that followed. Henry’s children found themselves at odds with one another, as (“Bloody”) Mary I remained a devout Catholic. By the time Elizabeth was crowned the Queen of England, she had already lost her mother Anne Boleyn when she was a toddler, been disinherited, removed from the line of succession, locked in the Tower of London and later placed on house arrest and found her life constantly in danger.

However, after the unsuccessful coup d’etat to place Lady Jane Grey (named in Edward’s will) on the throne of England, Elizabeth was crowned Queen of England. Her cousin Mary of Scotland posed a legitimate threat, with many Catholic rebels feeling that she and not Elizabeth should be on the throne of England. While Mary was alive, Elizabeth’s life was in constant danger. Historically, the two ladies never met face to face. However, that doesn’t make for interesting theatre, so every dramatization of their conflict has included fictionalized secret meetings which inevitably prove to be the most memorable scenes.

Friedrich Schiller’s play premiered in Germany in 1800 and has remained an immensely popular dramatization, even becoming the Donizetti opera Maria Stuarda in 1834. The play has seen numerous translations and adaptations. Peter Oswald adapted the play for the Donmar Warehouse production in 2005 directed by Phyllida Lloyd. It took four years for the director and leading ladies to be free for a Broadway run, and it was well worth the wait.

The ladies only the share the stage for about ten minutes in the play’s three hour running time, but oh, my friends, those were the moments worth waiting for. The first act gets a little bogged down in exposition, though the leading ladies are excellent. It’s fascinating to watch the two ladies command the stage. Mary is a showier part – a woman finding herself at the end of her wits fighting valiantly (and in vain) for her life after experiencing twenty years imprisonment and considerable oppression. McTeer is in total domination whenever she is onstage, a combination of her impressive height and immense talent.

Harriet Walter complements the powerhouse McTeer with an understated, wry and unfailingly fascinating performance as Elizabeth I. Where McTeer finds herself isolated in prison with her nurse (the lovely Maria Tucci), Elizabeth finds herself isolated in her position as Queen regnant surrounded by men who are either terrified of her or are trying to control her.

Both roles are incredibly demanding and both actresses were beyond excellent. The first act sets up the second act confrontation, which consists of a ten minute rain storm and a stunning effect upon Elizabeth’s entrance. In those few minutes, we watch Mary as she grovels at her cousin’s feet begging for her life. Elizabeth, shrewd and uncanny, is constantly aware of the political consequences of both sparing Mary and executing her, and treats her cousin with a coolness bordering on contempt. McTeer’s big moment comes during this scene, when she realizes that begging is futile and decides to unleash twenty years of pent-up rage on Elizabeth capping it with the line to end all lines “THE THRONE OF ENGLAND IS DESECRATED BY A BASTARD!!!”

Rarely are the ladies by themselves, and are usually in the presence of men (in Elizabeth’s case, she looks like she is perpetually caged in by the cast of Mad Men) yet it always feels as though both women are completely isolated – ironically enough sharing the understanding of the figurative burden that comes with a crown.

John Benjamin Hickey as the duplicitous Earl of Leicester, Brian Murray as the kindly Shrewsbury and the austere Nicholas Woodeson as the severe and calculating Lord Burleigh were the more impressionable of the gentlemen. Lloyd created some fascinating visuals: the abrupt opening invading Mary’s chambers, the trinity of counselors addressing Elizabeth while her back is to the audience, the unexpected entrance of Elizabeth at the top of the second act that ends the rainstorm, Mary accepting her fate with grace, in the fabled red gown, and the last searing image of Elizabeth stripped of her wig, period gown and makeup alone with herself as the lights dim.

After the performance, I waited around with the ladies while they made their pilgrimages at the stage door (where Marian…Marian Seldes made an appearance) then we headed off to Angus for our usual routine. This time we found ourselves seated at a table next to McTeer, Seldes and Brian Murray who were waiting for the closing party. Shortly thereafter we were told to “pipe down” by an irascible older woman who was apparently having a difficult time conversing with her friend due to our excessive noise (Excuse us for living). But we were very lucky that Arsenic and Old Lace were already done with dessert, so we were pretty much left on our own at the back of the restaurant to be raucous and randy.

Once we wrapped up at Angus, we ventured back across the street to the Broadhurst Theatre so Sarah could have a look. We followed suit, while Kari took more pictures. We realized our Mary Stuart acquaintances hadn’t crossed the street but were making their way toward Times Square. We waved goodbye, only to see someone else waving back at us. Upon realizing it was, of all the people in the world, Janet McTeer, Roxie shouted out affably, “Oh hey, Janet McTeer. What up?!” To which McTeer continued to smile and wave, while the rest of us were doubled over in laughter. Needless to say in terms of “quote of the day,” Ms. Z wins hands down.

Though we ventured up to the Lincoln Center Barnes & Noble and then O’Neals for one more nightcap, that final exchange on 44th Street, in front of the Broadhurst and all that we hold dear, marked the official end to the Summer of Harriet Walter.

He Came, He Saw, and Oh, How He Conquered


“I only wanted to make you happy!”

I kept spouting that line at Roxie all day Sunday in my best (worst) English accent. She didn’t really know why I was saying it, but all the same she put up with my antics as usual. For those unfamiliar with The Norman Conquests, or more specifically with Round and Round the Garden, that is the final line of the entire trilogy of plays delivered by Norman at the end of a most hilariously heartbreaking weekend experienced by Norman and his rowdy gang of in-laws.

Truth of the matter is, while Norman drove his family to the brink of exasperation, he and his dysfunctional family (plus one veterinarian) charmed the hell out of audiences in both London and New York. Going back to see it one more time only cemented my initial reaction. If you had the opportunity to spend time at the Circle in the Square this past spring, you know what I mean. If you didn’t, I must say you should be kicking yourself right now for missing the best production of the 2008-09 season.

All six actors were exemplary. I was asked the question “Which is your least favorite?” And there was no way I could begin to answer it. Each performer brought so much to their characters, grounding then with brutal honesty that heightened the emotional stakes. The truer the performance, the more hilariously painful it was.

Ben Miles’ sad sack Tom was just as slow on the uptake, Paul Ritter, whose ass was the subject of the ITBA acceptance speech was as exasperated with his wife as ever, dropping acerbic quips like hydrogen bombs. Amelia Bullmore’s Ruth was more fascinating to watch as she patiently found herself acting more as a mother to Norman rather than a wife. Jessica Hynes is the caregiver of the unseen matriarch, frustrated in her loneliness and seeking an escape even if it is in her brother in law. Amanda Root turned the waspish harridan into an art form with the bossy, high-strung Sarah. Finally, Stephen Mangan was just all childlike innocence, unhappiness and unbridled sexuality rolled into one larger than life star turn. Though Tony voters decided that Roger Robinson gave the performance of the season in Joe Turner, Mr. Mangan, who should have won, gave a performance for the ages.

Roxie and I met up with Kari, who was also returning for a return visit and together we enjoyed our day immersed in the saga of a weekend holiday turned on its ear. The three plays are presented in their suggested order, starting in the morning at 11:30 with Table Manners, taking place in the dining room of the house. The second, Living Together moves the action into the living room (with the infamous rug…). And the final play in the trilogy is Round and Round the Garden that moves the action outdoors. By the time all is said and done that is 7 1/2 hours of theatre over an 11 hour spread.

It’s been said that any one of the plays can be seen on its own, or any combination in any order. However, I must stress that while the a la carte option sounds like a good idea, the full course trilogy marathon days truly allow for an audience member to experience the full exhilaration of the works. Table Manners introduced the characters and provides ample exposition for the remainder. It also doesn’t hurt that the characters in the first scene talks about the unseen Norman at such length, you cannot wait for him to enter. Living Together is still riotous, but provides something of a breather for the audience. In the middle play, there is more attention paid to the underlying problems souring the marriages, adding to the dramatic weight anchoring the characters in this situation. The last play fills in the final gaps, and is a raucous free for all with some of the funniest and most farcical moments of the series, as well as having the first and last scenes of the trilogy’s chronology.

Being the last marathon I had anticipated the entire day being sold out. However, Table Manners was not. Then Kari wisely reminded me it was a Sunday morning in New York City, most people are at church or downing their complimentary mimosas at brunch. Fortunately Roxie and I were seated with some marathon folks, so we had some friendly chatter with them. However there was a couple to our right who I’m almost convinced were apparitions. They didn’t crack a smile or show any response at all during the three plays, not once. After each play, they would mysteriously vanish without a trace. I’m surprised they would stick around for the entire day if they were that disinterested. Fortunately it did nothing to detract us from enjoying the actors and production onstage.

The afternoon show was almost sold out and I’m guessing a lot of seats were filled courtesy of TKTS. Part of the marathon experience that makes it so ideal is that you are already familiar with the characters, their quirks, their faults, etc. If you’ve just seen the earlier play, bits and pieces will be funnier to you than Joe and Jane Smith showing up for the first time. The rows behind us were such people, one even commenting “This must be something to do with the first one.” Folks, they were not wrong.

The final play, also the final performance of this entire production, had a house brimming with excitement and energy. Before the start of the play I realized that there was not a single empty seat to be had, and it was a standing room only crowd. This was a performance filled with friends making another trip to that house somewhere near East Grinstead to cheer on superlative acting and direction. Each actor received extensive entrance applause on his or her entrance. And then we were off on one final side-splitting, melancholic ride.

The curtain call was met with an instant standing ovation, as we cheered on this vibrant ensemble brought together in pure alchemy by the theatre gods and under the direction of genius Matthew Warchus (whose Tony should have been for this not God of Carnage). The standbys emerged from the wings to present each with flowers and a stuffed cat (I didn’t see if there were bandages on the paws). The actors took an immediate second call as is usually the case after the marathon. The house lights came up, and while some audience members got up and left enough of us stayed firmly planted at our seats applauding. The ovation surged louder than before prompting a third and final call for the actors. Since it was performed in the round, the actors bowed in each direction of the audience. Whenever they turned to another section, the cheers were especially stronger. I am rarely one to be vocal at a curtain call, but I couldn’t begin to tell you how many times I called “Bravo!”

I still cannot pick if one play is better than the rest as a stand alone. For me, I still think of the entire trilogy as a mammoth three act play and best experienced as such. You could get away with seeing one, but if you enjoyed it you wouldn’t want to just stop there. The entire trilogy weaves together a tapestry of character and pathos in such a clever and unique way that seeing it all in one sitting is the definitive audience experience.

Alan Ayckbourn’s preface in the published version of the script talks about how the plays came to be written over the course of a single week (!) and the distinctive tones of each. He ends the foreward with this, which is pretty much in line with what I feel about the Norman trilogy:

“This crosswise way of writing them proved very satisfactory though of course made it quite impossible for me, even today, to really judge their effectiveness downwards or indeed to assess, beyond certain limits, whether the plays stand up independently. This is not, I’m afraid, a problem that one single individual can resolve. As soon as one play is read or seen, the other two plays are automatically coloured and affected by the foreknowledge gained from the first – which may sound like some sort of warning, though, in this case I hope, a little knowledge is a pleasurable thing.”

Afterwards we met up with new friends Eden, Lauren and Landice outside as I chose to stage door a production for the first time in over three years. The actors were lovely, gracious, witty and warm (and exhausted) as they signed and posed for pictures with those few of us who waited. It felt nice to be greeted with warm recognition by the three leading ladies, with whom I shared a most memorable elevator ride only a couple weeks before. I don’t normally give in to the stage door, but I had to tell them one last time how much I appreciated the performances and the production. Plus, I wanted to wish them well as all six were flying back home to England the following morning.

Norman only wanted to make us happy, and he did. Strike that. They all did.

"One Rap for Yes…Two Raps For No"

We were there for opening night, we were there for Tony Tuesday so it was inevitable that we would be there for the final performance of Blithe Spirit (some of us went much more often than that). For the record, today marked my fourth and final trip to the Condomine residence.

However, the day got started at Thalia’s for some bloggers who brunch action. Steve and Doug, Esther, Chris, Sarah, Kari, Roxie, Jimmy, Alicia and myself gathered for the usual conversation over breakfast concoctions (make mine a mimosa any day). Even with the pleasure of reading everyone’s blogs, writing on someone’s Facebook wall or communicating via twitter, nothing beats gathering together at a table in a swank NY restaurant for the real thing.

Sarah, Kari, Roxie, Noah and I headed over to the Shubert for a sold-out matinee that featured yet another fizzy champagne afternoon. The crowd was electric, very much into the play and appreciative of the comedy. Some of the lines were rushed/dropped, but that didn’t hinder any of the enjoyment. Rupert Everett and Christine Ebersole were still problematic in their characterizations, but not so much to hinder from the experience. Susan Louise O’Connor is a star on the rise. Simon Jones and Deborah Rush gave the Bradman’s their final exercise in skepticism. Of course there was that devil-may-care Tony-winning performance of Angela Lansbury as Madame Arcati, a pro among pros who (if the rumors are true about her involvement in A Little Night Music in the fall) is certainly enjoying a late-career renaissance on Broadway, and deservedly so.

My admiration today, though, is reserved for Jayne Atkinson. Atkinson took the role of waspy Ruth, a stark contrast to the ethereal and immoral Elvira, and turned it into something extraordinary. Ruth usually provides a great comic angle, but mostly as a straight man to the lunacy and farce going on around her. To put it frankly, she’s rather bland on paper. Atkinson, though, created an indelible leading lady performance that was one of the most underrated treasures of the theatre season.

Today, especially, Atkinson’s Ruth seemed to shine ever-so-brightly. Finding even in the final performance truthful comedy that none of us had ever seen before (a riotous parody of Madame Arcati’s earlier trance dance). Droll, clipped, with some of the best listening and reacting I’ve ever seen in a comedy, she was nothing short of effervescent. For my money, she deserved a Best Actress in a Play nomination. But I do look forward to seeing what she does next. If she’s onstage in NY, you know we’ll be there.

After the show, the cast received flowers and continued to bow as the curtain came down and the house lights went up. And predictably enough, we went to Angus for post-show dinner and drinks, continuing to enjoy ourselves immensely on what was a most beautiful day in the city.

And now for something completely Shakespearean…

The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged). Well, the title pretty much says it all. Three actors, as themselves, present (as promised) 37 plays in 97 minutes. The Complete Works was created by the Reduced Shakespeare Company and first performed in the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in 1987. The deconstruction and consolidation of Shakespeare’s works would prove a smash hit in England, playing at the Criterion Theatre in London for nine years. The play is currently enjoying a return engagement this summer at the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival in Boscobel.

After a brief poll of the audience checking to see who has read King John, the play gets things started with that deathless classic Romeo & Juliet, establishing the sort of evening you are in for. There are the actors, some costume pieces, wigs and in this instance, a wheelbarrow full of props (not to mention the sassy prop mistress/actress). They find various ways of distilling the various tragedies: Othello is performed as a rap, Titus Andronicus as a cooking show, Macbeth is reduced to a single duel complete with overzealous Scottish accents, etc. The comedies are combined into one singular play, as most of them are pretty much formulaic. The history plays are presented as a football game. And so on and so forth…

The script allows room for considerable improvisation and there is no third wall to the action, with consistent acknowledgment and awareness of the audience right from the very start. This later devolves into audience participation in the second act, which is entirely devoted to Hamlet, plus three encores. The sonnets receive their moment in the spotlight – on an index card to be passed around the audience from row to tow. Plus, they also manage to sneak in a bit about the Shakespeare Apocrypha. (That professor of mine should be thrilled).

The three actors taking on this mammoth lampoon are Chris Edwards, Jason O’Connell and Kurt Rhoads. Together, they play an immense number of characters from all plays. Think Man #1 and Man #2 from The 39 Steps, a similarly British romp with considerable parallels. It’s silly, it’s wittty, it’s farce. All three work well with one another, a testament also to director and Artistic Director of HVSF, Terry O’Brien. Back when I sat in on rehearsal, I got to see the four of them work on various sections of the piece. They ran various bits again and again, each time becoming more solid and infinitely funnier just from an hour in the rehearsal room.

Edwards particularly shines in his solo moments with the audience, particularly after the other two have run off at the end of Act One. He’s also a superb foil to the lunacy of the other two (though he’s a riot as Juliet’s nurse). Rhoads displays unexpectedly hilarious gravitas in his sly deconstruction of serious Shakespearean actors, running the gamut from Jack Benny to Charlton Heston. O’Connell gets to do the most outrageous aspects, splaying Shakespearean ingenues as dithering, vomit-prone sprites and tapping into an accomplished trunk of celebrity impersonations. (Two of his standouts include Queen Gertrude as played by Carol Channing and King Claudius by way of Jack Nicholson).

The play is for the most part hilarious, though some sketches work better than others. For instance the set-up for Titus is infinitely funnier than the punchline. O’Connell comments at one point that the tragedies are funnier than the comedies, and in this case that is true. The Hamlet portion is funny, but a bit overlong. However, it’s worth it for the three encores, each one subsequently more outrageous than the first. In spite of those minor quibbles, it doesn’t detract from the overall enjoyment of the sheer lunacy at hand.

During the second act, three things crossed my mind: The 39 Steps, Monty Python and Anna Russell. All three, much like this work, are extracted from an uncanny British sense of humor, reveling in absurdity and steeped in comic tradition and wit. The first two complement Complete Works in its style and structure. Opera parodist Anna Russell popped in my head because she did one of her famed opera analyses on the fictional Verdi opera Hamletto, or Prosciuttino, which itself is a thinly-veiled deconstruction of Hamlet.

I once again brought my friend Dana along, who as an average theatregoer stressed the overwhelming amount of fun she had, especially evidenced at her inability to contain her laughter at Ophelia’s drowning. It’s a rare crowdpleaser, like the sort of small-scale theatrical events that used to dominate Off-Broadway in the days of yore. If you know someone who hates Shakespeare, bring them to this one. If they really hate it, put them in the front row. If you love Shakespeare, you should already have your tickets.

Meanwhile, I return for one last visit this Thursday for the third and final entry in the HVSF season, Pericles.

"Much Ado About Nothing" @ HVSF

“Speak low if you speak love.”

Whenever I think about William Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing, I think of this particular line, mostly because of an encounter I had with a college professor. I was taking a Shakespeare class with a 30 year tenured professor who wore pomposity like a glove and he assigned this as our second play after The Comedy of Errors. His idea of teaching was to read through the text – himself (he probably wanted to be a performer) and discuss the great meaning of each passage, occasionally shooting out questions among the students arbitrarily.

He said this passage and stopped and said, “You know, there is a really beautiful song by George Gershwin written that is based on this one line.” Yours truly knew that to be inaccurate and piped up with complete innocence “Actually, I think it was Kurt Weill.”

“Kurt Weill, you say? Really? My goodness. I’m amazed you know this song. You’re the first student I’ve ever had who ever did. SING IT!”

That little exchange, for whatever reason, made me a favorite of the teacher and I actually subjected myself to a second semester of Shakespeare with him. The song of course is the enchanting “Speak Low” by Weill & Ogden Nash from their 1943 musical One Touch of Venus.

But aside from all that, Much Ado About Nothing is my favorite Shakespeare comedy. Plot machinations aside, it offers two of Shakespeare’s wittiest creations, Beatrice and Benedick. Their repartee is often the high point of the entire evening, and my first exposure was through the 1993 film adaptation with Kenneth Branagh and Emma Thompson going to town on this delicious dialogue.

A few weeks ago, I blogged about the chance to sit in on a rehearsal with the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival. During those three hours, I got a chance to see the actors and HVSF Artistic Director Terry O’Brien work on scenes from Pericles and Complete Works (Abridged). Last Saturday night I had the unexpected pleasure to be on hand for the opening night performance of their Much Ado on the grounds of the historic Boscobel near Cold Spring, NY.

Words do not do the Boscobel experience justice. The grounds open at 6PM, allowing patrons the chance to picnic on the lawn with a picturesque view of the Hudson River, overlooking Constitution Island, West Point and several miles of the river itself. It’s an absolute stunner. I brought my friend Dana up with me and we relaxed on lawn with other patrons, the first clear dry evening in recent memory.

At about 7:30, we are requested to clear the lawn and make our way to the tent for performance. It becomes quite clear as the lawn upon which we were sitting becomes part of the performance space, with the classic scenic design of the Man Upstairs. The tent is set-up in a modified thrust space, with a patch of dirt for the stage. The backdrop is that of the Hudson River, surrounding mountains set against the backdrop of a clear sunset.

After an amusing opening requesting monetary support (presented tongue-in-cheek as a lost 2-page play from Shakespeare’s visit to the region with Henry Hudson in 1609), the play began. Things got off to a thrilling start as Don Pedro and his men (and woman, more on that in a bit) made an entrance over the crest of the hill, walking across the lawn to the stage accompanied by pipe and drum. The audience went wild with applause when they were halfway to the stage, and only ceasing once the actors hit their marks under the tent. One of the most electrifying uses of space I have ever seen in all my years of theatregoing.

The company is uniformly excellent. Katie Hartke makes a gamine Hero, with (real-life husband) Ryan Quinn as her impassioned Claudio. The characters generally feel rather maudlin and truth be told, boring compared to the other couple, especially since the others get the best lines. However, these two actors brought enough substance to make them feel more dimensionalized and sensual than usual.

Jason O’Connell as Benedick and Nance Williamson as Beatrice trade those quips and zingers with aplomb. One of the more amusing aspects of the play are the parallel contrivances to bring both couples together; think Hero and Claudio as Sarah Brown and Sky Masterson, with Beatrice and Benedick as Miss Adelaide and Nathan Detroit. It’s a rudimentary comparison, but Much Ado About Nothing feels like a Golden Age musical with its serious legit couple and a secondary comic couple. Like Guys and Dolls, Much Ado’s two couples both function in leading capacities. O’Connell embodies Benedick with a physicality and bravado that makes me long for the opportunity to see his Falstaff. Williamson, looking uncannily like Diane Keaton on Oscar night, makes a formidable counterpart, with delicious line delivery and an elegant stage presence.

Michael Borrelli is an audience favorite as the inept, malaprop prone Dogberry, with Prentiss Standridge his comic sidekick (both giving the characters a redneck spin). Wesley Mann is formidable as Leonato. It is an utter thrill to watch Gabra Zackman onstage; here playing Margaret, who becomes a pawn in the plot to destroy Hero and Claudio’s impending nuptials.

Director John Christian Plummer has cast actress Maia Guest in the role of the villain Don John, here Dona Johana. Usually such stunt casting is circumspect, but here it works to the play’s benefit. Guest finds unexpected layers to what is nothing more than a glorified stock villain, with a feminist angle (and dare I say romantic jealousy angle as well?) Suddenly the conflict of the plot is inherently more interesting and works better than I’ve seen it before.

I’ve already credited the Lord with the scenic design, but I wanted to throw a shout out to Dan Scully for his subtle lighting design, that complements the action onstage as well as the action across the lawn. Melissa Schlactmeyer’s inventive costume design offers the production a unique look; the ladies look like they’ve stepped out of Desperately Seeking Susan with a grey and black 80s punk look. The men are a bit more traditional in their get up (and they wear the corsets this time).

As Dana and I were leaving the grounds, we remarked to one another how this particular setting and staging really enhance the story, in its complete pastoralism (and green) staging. She also said something that really hit the nail on the head about the experience. She had read the play and watched the 1993 film, which made her really interested in going with me, but admitted that this production helped her fully comprehended what was happening plotwise.

The other plus? The house is really a proper theatre disguised by a tent. So rain or shine, the show will go on. And be sure to bring a picnic (and wine) and you’re guaranteed a classy time.

She’s Mean, She’s a Mess and Now She’s Phylicia


“Some people get antagonized by the truth.”

That is one of the many truth-bombs dropped at a fateful, disastrous dinner at the Weston house by matriarch Violet. You see, Violet is angry. She has cancer of the mouth, a volatile marriage, residual issues that stem from her problems with her mother, and a penchant for painkillers – any and all. Well the truth is, the play is still one of the most galvanizing theatrical experiences on Broadway, whose volatility remains unmatched by anything that has opened since.

August: Osage County, last year’s enormous Pulitzer and Tony-winning success is still playing at the Music Box Theatre and a new mama has joined the company. To put it mildly, she will cut you. Tony-winner Phylicia Rashad seemed an unlikely choice to fill shoes occupied by Tony-winner Deanna Dunagan and her stellar replacement Estelle Parsons. There were people who felt that there were too many racial undertones in the character for an actress of color to play the part. However, to those naysayers, I offer a polite “phooey.” (Spoiler alert pending in the next paragraph).

From the moment Rashad stumbles down the stairs in a drug-addled stupor and viciously turns on John Cullum, any and all preconceived ideas about her casting are erased from memory. (*Spoiler alert* For the first time, I thought “So this is why he killed himself” *End Spoiler*). This play does offer the character the opportunity to voice some politically incorrect comments about “Indians,” but color is innocuous here. Phylicia Rashad is once again playing an earth mother, but an earth mother who has experienced torment and disappointment in her life and is unafraid to express it or take out her rage on her family. Fact of the matter: the actress is nothing short of revelatory.

Rashad marks the fourth Violet I’ve seen. I took in Dunagan twice, her opening night and final performance; Parsons I saw twice and on one occasion earlier this year saw the capable understudy Susanne Marley, whose performance is molded on Dunagan’s. Each actress has brought something different to the part. Dunagan was selfish, clingy and ultimately childish under a bitingly caustic veneer. Parsons was stronger with a passive aggressive approach to her attacks, with a final breakdown of considerable pathos.

Now revitalizing the production at the Music Box (the understudy performance was strong, but not the special event the show is intended to be), is Rashad, also the first actor in the production to receive above the title billing. The last time I saw her onstage was in the 2008 revival of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. While enjoyable, her performance was more caricature than character and in that I found my worries regarding August.

Let it be said, there is nothing to fear here. Rashad’s Violet is angry, but she is also no nonsense, with eyes of frigid sobriety defying her lucid state of mind. Rashad brings great emotional wealth to the character in the first act, where I heard and understood lines for the first time. There are times when you might even feel sorry for her. Then you get to the climactic second act, where she proceeds to eviscerate everyone in sight. It is here that Violet’s rage comes to a boiling point. She may be loaded on her painkillers, but her character knows exactly what she’s doing. She is simultaneously taking out her aggression on those people readily available while masochistically setting herself up for a violent confrontation.

I was seated on the left center aisle for this entire scene and had a beautifully uncompromising view of Rashad’s face for the duration of the twenty minute scene. The actress spoke volumes with her steely eyes, and in her anger she was unpredictable and at times downright frightening. A sideways glance from her Violet is enough to wither anyone into cowering silence, with one notable exception. (More on her later). Hers is a performance to be reckoned with, and has brought a new invigorating dynamic to the cast, keeping the entire ensemble on their toes. You couldn’t ask for better theatre.

Elizabeth Ashley has put away her walker from Dividing the Estate and donned a gaudy wig to play Violet’s sister, Mattie Fae. Larger than life, Ashley’s Mattie Fae is closer in form to originator Rondi Reed’s characterization and is a vast improvement on previous replacement Molly Regan. She brings gauche earthiness and Southern sensibility to the part and as a result, Mattie is once again a colorful, crowd pleasing favorite. Though her performance is brushed with broader strokes than her predecessors, she still garners the audience’s sympathy in her grounded last scene.

John Cullum offers the best portrayal of Beverly Weston since the late Dennis Letts, with a folk-like whimsy undercut by resigned melancholy. Anne Berkowitz is Jean and is the most true to life teen I’ve seen in the role. Brian Kerwin is the only original cast member to stay with the production all the way through, playing Steve with the same combination of cockiness and sleaze.

Lots of original cast members have returned. Kimberley Guerrero is still playing Johnna, the Native American hired by Beverly to look after Violet and is a quiet source of comfort and solace for the family. Mariann Mayberry and Sally Murphy also returned as Violet’s two other daughters. Mayberry is still hilarious and devastating as the insecure youngest Karen, though she’s given up her bit with the olives. When she defiantly tells Barbara she’s going to Belize, it is nothing short of heartbreaking.

Murphy; however, needs to be reigned in. Her performance as Ivy has gone so wildly over the top that she switches between two levels: calm deadpan and incoherent high-pitched screeching. Whenever her emotions are vaulted, her voice jumps an octave and lines are lost. It’s glaringly inappropriate especially when juxtaposed with the more nuanced work of her scene partners.

Also returning to the cast is Amy Morton, whose titanic performance as eldest daughter Barbara, clearly her mother’s daughter is once again the emotional anchor of the piece. Finding herself in a failing marriage, handling her rebellious teen daughter while unsuccessfully trying to hold her family together, Morton is still giving the production’s most profound characterization. From her entrance to her exit, Morton is a fully-dimensional force of nature, ready to attack both her unfaithful husband and mother, but also herself. When Morton goes head to head with Rashad, it is as close to onstage fireworks as one is likely to find. (The only other onstage confrontation that comes close are the leading ladies of Mary Stuart). Her second act curtain line is still a shocking, earth shattering war cry that must be experienced live to be fully appreciated.

Morton’s is the sort of performance that comes along so rarely. So palpably honest, the line between acting and reality become forever blurred. Actors of the Golden Age rave about their memories of Laurette Taylor in The Glass Menagerie; I offer Amy Morton in August: Osage County.

Rashad is contracted through August 23. Unfortunately, it looks as if she can’t extend due to her commitment to the London engagement of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof this fall. First timers will be floored by the experience as the staging is still taut and high octane; repeat viewers (this was my sixth time seeing the play, remember) will be more than pleased at the shape the play is in. The cast still functions as an organic ensemble, with the relationships between the veterans and newcomer Rashad so functionally dysfunctional, you’d think she originated the part.

The play is still one of the most hilarious and one of the most gutwrenching dramatic experiences onstage in NY. Chances are I will most likely return a seventh time. Rashad and Morton are worth it.