Tag: Review

Lithe and Blithe

While Sunday night was a night to celebrate the Tonys, Tuesday night was business as usual as shows came back from their day off of basking in awards afterglow. Reasons to be Pretty and Guys and Dolls were the first casualties of the season; winning no awards and struggling at the box office, the producers of both shows are calling it quits this coming Sunday. (If you haven’t, it’s your last chance for the superb Reasons).

Continuing our annual tradition, Sarah, Roxie, Noah and I took in our post-Tony show, this time switching our allegiance from lead actress and featured actress in a musical (good call, both Ripley and Olivo were out sick!) to featured actress in a play for the resplendent Angela Lansbury in Blithe Spirit. I was there on its opening night back on March 15 and as I reported then, it is a first-rate revival of Coward’s classic comedy. The good news? The production is even sharper and better than ever.

Jayne Atkinson, in a leading performance that was so woefully and inexplicably overlooked by the Tony committee, continues to bring incredible nuance and humor to sensible Ruth, the put-upon second wife. Rupert Everett is a bit more spontaneous in his line readings than I recall; Ebersole is Ebersole as Elvira, with an accent of undetermined origin and consistency. Meanwhile, in the smallest of roles, Susan Louise O’Connor continues to provide score comic highs as the dithering maid Edith while Simon Jones and Deborah Rush continue to make characters out of caricatures as the Bradmans.

Now onto the bad news: this revival is a strictly limited engagement that ends on July 19. If you haven’t seen the production, first and foremost I must ask you “Why not?” You are missing out on one of the definitive stage legends of our time delivering a most memorable (and did I mention Tony-winning) turn as the eccentric Madame Arcati. Lansbury astounds in a warm, kinetic performance continuing to grow in the part as the run progresses. Her spontaneity and interpretative dances continue to charm the audience into gales of uncontrollable laughter. Both the performance and the Tony win are latest triumphs of a career that is 65 years and counting.

Though the revival itself was overlooked in that particular category by the Tony people, the production remains the champagne toast to the Broadway season, with wit, guile and a considerable sense of style. To miss this once in a lifetime opportunity is, in my mind, unthinkable.

Both pre-show and post-show were spent at our beloved Angus McIndoe’s, where I pleaded for french fries with such intensity that I’m still not sure if I amused or alarmed our waitress. Oh – and I almost forgot to mention that I met the gorgeous and lovely Megan Hilty in Shubert Alley, on her way home from 9 to 5. She couldn’t be anymore gracious and down to earth, introducing herself to each of us and engaging in a brief chat. I look forward to seeing the young star in 9 to 5.

After the show we waited around for Ms. Lansbury to emerge from the Shubert Theatre. After quite some time, the icon came out on the arm of her producer, Jeffrey Richards, looking the epitome of elegance and class. Instead of asking for autographs or taking pictures, the few of us standing there on the sidewalk merely broke out into applause. We were rewarded with a warm wave of affection as the star blew us a kiss before heading off into the evening.

The Aficionado Makes His Broadway Debut

I ventured into the Big City today to see a play reading with the added possibility of taking in an evening performance of Next to Normal. I waited in the rush line for a long time and didn’t go anywhere – I was the 69th or 70th person there, so when my good friend Chris Lavin arrived, we decided to ditch that and go venturing about the city.

There aren’t too many Broadway shows that have a Sunday night performance. However, I recalled that one of the shows that was open for business was the smash hit revival of Hair at the Al Hirschfeld. So we left Theatre Row, where we saw the reading, and moved upward just in time for the rush lottery.

Time was on our side. We arrived just in time to be handed an entry slip, drop it in the hippie-ish bucket and go for a brief walk up 8th Avenue. We arrived back just as they commenced the drawing, and lo and behold on my first time ever participating in a show lottery, I was the third name drawn.

Things only got better as we settled into our box seats (I’d never sat there before – another in a series of firsts) drinking in the ’60s ambience, hearing the actors backstage in their final warm-up and the occasional sight and sound from onstage where the band is located, as the show curtain nonchalantly billowed. The energy from the audience was already amped, as the house was divided between children of my generation, and those children of the original production’s generation (many showing up proudly in their tie-dye t-shirts).

From the roar of the crowd at the dimming of the houselights to the curtain call, everything about this revival of Hair is spot-on. The cast, most of whom were involved in the previous incarnations in Central Park, is superb. Gavin Creel joins the crew for the Broadway engagement making for an ideal hero in Claude. Will Swenson is Berger, the unwielding, pleasure bound leader of the tribe who is something akin to a strung-out bunny rabbit. The two actors anchor the production with the roles originated by the shows creators Gerome Ragni and James Rado. The entire company works as a fluid, organic ensemble with so much of how they move and dance and interact with the audience appearing as though they were coming up with it on the spot. Bryce Ryness scores as Woof, who sings “Sodomy” and lusts for Mick Jagger. Megan Lawrence is a riot as Claude’s mother. Sassy beltress Saycon Sengbloh was on for Sasha Allen as Dionne tonight, and to give you an idea of just how good she was: the others didn’t realize she was the understudy until I told them after the fact, outside the theatre. A standout in the ensemble was the hilarious Andrew Kober as Claude’s conservative father and giving us his best Dame Edna meets Hyacinth Bucket as Margaret Mead.

The musical itself holds up remarkably well, in spite of a flimsy book. The score, one of the last musical theatre scores to really hold mainstream popularity, is as vibrant and rich as ever. Galt McDermott’s music and Rado & Ragni’s lyrics shock, titillate, unnerve and impact us in ways that seems surprising for a show that has been a staple for decades. However, even forty-two years removed from its initial off-Broadway incarnation, the show maintains uncompromising relevancy with the world in which we live. The hippie movement may have died out, but the underlying messages still hit the same chords. There are still cases of social injustice and unrest, unpopular wars, dissension at the establishment, etc. Kudos to director Diane Paulus and choreographer Karole Armitage for breathing such exuberant life into a well-worn piece. They adapted their environmental staging for the proscenium and immediately shut up the naysayers who felt this production wouldn’t work inside. The actors climbed all over the audience and up into the mezzanine, there’s something electric seeing the cast bounding around the house engaging the entire audience. This production works, and how.

Many subsequent musicals have tried to follow the same formula, but there is none that quite reaches the heights of this particular show. Hair today is more relevant than Spring Awakening could ever hope to be.

This production of Hair also offers one of the rarest of opportunities for avid theatregoers: after the curtain call, the audience is invited to join the cast onstage to sing and dance the reprises of “Hair” and “Let the Sunshine In” in a glorious 5-10 minute dance party. It must be said here, that I am not the type to actively participate, and usually slink around like a wallflower. In fact, I usually need to be drunk in order to work up the nerve to do something like this. However, sitting up in my box seat and completely in the moment, I saw our friend and fellow blogger Esther onstage (Chris Caggiano was also in the house tonight!) and immediately seized the opportunity to grab my friend and head down and up onto the stage at the Al Hirschfeld, where we completely rocked out.

There we are, a hundred or so of us audience members and the entire cast. The three of us are dancing up a frenetic, intoxicating storm surrounded by total strangers and one of the brightest ensembles in NY. The stage is searing under the oppressive heat of the lighting. The rock band (so marvelously led by Nadia Digiallonardo) was pulsating through us as we moved. We came together as a community of one, but each one of us in that moment was the center of the universe. Such life-affirming vibrancy comes only so often in a person’s life.

All in all, this revival is exhilarating. Invigorating. Rousing. Infectious. Transcendent. Cathartic. And fill in any other superlative you can think of. Hair is back on Broadway and better than ever. I want to go back as soon as I’m able (I think I know how I want to spend my birthday this year…)

I’ll always remember tonight as one of the best of my entire life. I hope your experience at the show is the same.

The Aficionado Goes to Town, Part 2

Reasons to be Pretty – I have a soft spot in my heart for the Lyceum Theatre. The shows that I have seen there have been failures, including Souvenir, The Lieutenant of Inishmore and [title of show] – all of which I enjoyed immensely. So whenever there is anything playing at the house (which has a notorious reputation for housing flops), I tend to anticipate seeing something of merit. Once again, there is something incredibly special going on at the Lyceum: playwright Neil LaBute is making his Main Stem bow with the transfer of Reasons.

Before the play starts, our hero (Tom Sadoski in a stellar turn as a well-read, non-confrontational slacker) has compared his girlfriend’s face unfavorably with that of a younger new coworker. The idea that he prefers his girlfriend because she “has a regular face” pushes his character into a seemingly endless maelstrom, causing the character to re-examine himself and the direction of his entire life. The curtain rises on the middle of the break-up of these characters, with Broadway newcomer Marin Ireland making one of the most auspicious Broadway debuts this season as the girl who is permanently scarred by this one off-hand remark. Ireland is unafraid to expose the rage and vulnerabilities of her character, with one showstopping monologue in which she announces her ex’s faults to a crowded mall food court. (During this scene one night, an audience member clearly got carried away and started to yell back at her. The night I saw it, a gentleman in the orchestra section gasped a clearly audible “Oh, fuck!”)

Their friends, a married couple and coworkers, provide stark contrasts. Steven Pasquale is spot on as the boorish best friend and Piper Perabo quite impressive as his pregnant wife, a security guard at the factory where the men work (also the best friend of Ireland, and the person who tells her what happened). By the end of the play, Sadoski’s character has done the impossible: he’s grown up, taking great strides in his establishing his moral fiber and standing up to someone who is nothing more than an adult bully. The two hours interceding are engaging, surprising and captivating. I have to confess, I have never experienced any other LaBute plays, but many people with whom I have talked have expressed reticence to seeing this particular play because of the way he treats women in his work. The play at hand offers an eviscerating critique on our contemporary society and its obsession with the superficial, the final entry in LaBute’s trilogy of plays that involve our obsession with appearances (the other two being The Shape of Things and Fat Pig).

The Tony race is pretty much between the hit God of Carnage and the struggling underdog Reasons to be Pretty. However it plays out on Tony night, I can’t help but stress that both plays should be seen. I may be the only one to think this, but I find that they make great companion pieces, with GoC an unrelated sequel of sorts to r2bp. Both plays are four-handers involving two couples who find themselves at odds with one other, ultimately finding themselves isolated and fending for themselves after some terrifying displays of honest human behavior and emotion. r2bp is a play that captures what it’s like to find oneself a few years out of college, with little aim or direction and wasting life trapped in static relationships and dead-end jobs. GoC looks upon the archetypes about 10 or 15 years later, with characters who are wiser, more confident and settled into careers, marriage and family obligations, with very little changed as it is still every man and woman for his or her self. I had seen GoC first and while watching the themes being bandied about in r2bp (including some genuine primal rage from Pasquale’s character in the second act), I kept being drawn back to my evening at the former play. Plus, in about ten or fifteen years down the line I could easily see this cast reuniting for some Carnage. Just my $.02.

As for the Tony awards, one will emerge victorious but both plays are epic wins this season.

A Weekend in the Country


Saturday was one of those perfect days that will linger long in my memory for a variety of reasons. I was down in the city for a marathon of The Norman Conquests and had the added pleasure of spending my day in between shows and intermissions with the Brian Williams of theatre bloggers, Steve on Broadway and his partner Doug. Between the first two plays, we had a light lunch at Pigalle, where we reveled in what we had seen in the first play, excited for what was to come. My thanks to both for their company throughout the entire day and also for introducing me to the wine bar Clo located in the Time Warner building (4th floor, for you lushes out there!) In between the good times we were having with food and wine (and of course, the witty conversation), there was the good time being had by all of us at the Circle in the Square Theatre.

Truth be told, I knew very little of The Norman Conquests when I first heard of this revival. In fact, it wasn’t until I saw the marquee that I had even known that the Old Vic revival was coming to NY.

So in deciding to undertake a Saturday marathon of Alan Ayckbourn’s brilliant “trilogy of plays,” little did I realize I would be experiencing a series of firsts. I had never before seen any of Alan Ayckbourn’s works. I had never attended a full-day marathon of theatre. I had never before seen any production presented truly in the round. And I had never before seen the movements of chess pieces so beautifully excoriated before in my entire life. There was some slight trepidation at the idea of committing myself to three successive plays, especially if I didn’t like the first one I was pretty much committed to endure the rest. As the action in act one, scene one began I settled in comfortably. The writing is immediately sharp and witty, before I even knew what was going on I had this innate feeling settle in me that I was going to enjoy the experience. I just didn’t realize at that point just how much I was going to love it.

The Norman Conquests is not a Coast of Utopia-like retelling of the events leading up to and around 1066, but is about Norman and his dysfunctional family consisting of his wife, her sister, their brother, the brother’s wife and a dim veterinarian who is in love with the sister. (Got it?) There is an offstage gorgon of a mother who is never seen but whose colorful past has had quite an impact on the three blood siblings.

Each play is concurrent with one another. When an actor leaves a scene he or she is generally making an entrance into another play that has already been seen or will be seen. Table Manners, the suggested first play in the trilogy, is located in the dining room. Living Together shows the action in the living room and Round and Round the Garden, the suggested finale of the evening takes place in the lawn.

Without giving too much away, because discovering the complexities of the plot and characters is one of the joys of experience, Norman is a lazy assistant librarian who frustrates and titillates all around him. Over the course of a weekend, harrowing truths are exposed, outrageous sexual romps take place and certain familial chaos ensues.

The play is anchored by one of the most superb ensembles I have ever had the privilege to watch onstage – each performance an epic win. The bearded, wild-maned Stephen Mangan, in an inspired tour de force performance is the slovenly yet lovable yet ribald solipsist cad Norman, whose libido knows no bounds. The catalyst of action is the initial plan for Norman and his sister-in-law Annie to go for a salacious holiday at the scandalous East Grinstead. Needless to say, no one goes anywhere the entire weekend. That’s when the fun starts. Mangan, with seemingly limitless energy takes Norman to outrageous heights in a memorable turn that in my humble opinion deserves the Tony. For a visual: Think of him as Sasha Baron Cohen doing The Ruling Class. The funniest performance by an actor in NY since Mark Rylance in Boeing Boeing. Ben Miles is the sad sack veterinarian Tom, who is an unfailingly loyal – if chaste – companion. His earnest demeanor, and slow to act responses (a scene with him in a miniature chair at the dinner table is worth the price of admission) as well as his being the only innately good character (he’s dull to the characters in the play, but never to us in the audience). So impressionable was he that his entrance at the top of the third play warranted applause. Paul Ritter is Reg, Annie’s brother, a rather likable if bland person who is married to Sarah and whose hobby is inventing ridiculously complicated games that no one (especially his wife) likes to play. One of the many highlights of the play is his tirade against the absurdity of chess movements.

Onto the ladies: Amanda Root, in a stunning turn, is the harried Sarah, the busy-body sister in law with her own agenda who is best described as a soul sister to Veronica in God of Carnage. Root, looking like Brenda Blethyn and sounding exactly like Judi Dench gets some of the best moments of the three plays, and some of the biggest laughs with her exasperating performance. The delightfully original Jessica Hynes, who I recognized from a brief role in Shaun of the Dead, is Annie, the unkempt spinster who is forced to look after mother (soul sister to Ivy Weston perhaps?) and is exasperated in her loneliness and in Tom’s chastity. Rounding out the cast is Amelia Bullmore as Ruth, Norman’s work-obsessed wife, who for the sake of pure vanity refuses to wear her eyeglasses. Bullmore has the most physical comedy bits – watching her tackle a lawn chair in the third play was one of the many original, truly laugh out loud hilarious moments offered. Together, all six create one of the most vibrant ensembles I have ever seen in my life. If there is an argument for a Tony award for Best Ensemble Cast, I offer these six organic, interwoven characterizations as exhibit A.

Each situation and character is so grounded in his or her reality (even the oblivious Norman), that there is nothing but total validity in the onstage action. From the pure British comedy of Table Manners to the darker, pensive tones of Living Together and the farcical chaos of Round and Round, these are characters that are fully realized, whose lives are anchored in such melancholy which in effect only makes the plays funnier. Much of the credit belongs to Matthew Warchus. He took a weak farce like Boeing Boeing and turned it into the must-see comedy of last season, winning the show the Tony for Best Revival and Best Actor in a Play for Rylance. He is also responsible for the helming the juggernaut hit God of Carnage, another spectacular comedy tour de force, firmly establishing himself as the di rigueur director of stage comedy in both London and New York. He’s competing against himself for the Tony this year, but I hope his magnanimous work on The Norman Conquests will edge out for the win.

The designers revel in the period setting of the play – the 1970s. The furniture, the costumes and hairdos are all throwbacks to a more garish time in pop culture, with wonderful use of the limited space to accomplish so much. There is a miniature of a country house and town that hovers above the set prior to each act, creating a clever “curtain.” As it is raised, there is a complete replica of the same miniature upside down. There are some dangers, some wine got splashed into the crowd, popped buttons flew out like bullets and most amusingly, during a game of catch a ball flew out into the crowd, where an audience member actually caught it and immediately just tossed it back. Amused but unfazed, the actors just carried right on as the ball was given back to them by the appreciative crowd.

I feel like I have to weigh in my $.02 on the suggestion that you can see any and/or all the plays in no particular order. Having seen the plays in the suggested order (Ayckbourn claims the order came out of necessity not intent), I must say it proves most beneficial to see them starting with Table Manners, which establishes most of the characters, then to see Living Together with greater intensity, followed by Round and Round the Garden. The experience of the final play hinges greatly on what you have seen prior for total effect as it in essence ties together the loose ends, with some of the biggest surprises in the entire text. If you have a Saturday available to you, go for it. Table Manners begins at 11:30AM, Living Together at 3:30PM and finally Round and Round the Garden at 8PM. If you can only see just one, you should see… no wait, I think it’s imperative to see all three. Regardless of the fact that they have been written to stand alone, the overlying arc of the entire trilogy has an immensely exhilarating payoff. I didn’t think of it so much as seeing three different plays, but more like an extensive three act play set over the course of seven and a half hours. And I could have sat for another seven and half hours more with this cast and these incredible characters.

The Norman Conquests is hands down the best thing I have seen all season. It is also one of the most thrilling theatrical experiences I’ve ever had in my life, adding it to my top three alongside the opening nights of The Light in the Piazza and August: Osage County. Of all the theatre I’ve seen recently – and it’s been quite a lot, this is the production that best exemplifies why I love the experience in the first place.

Now, who wants to do another marathon with me?

The Aficionado Goes to Town, Part 1

Waiting for Godot – I actually saw this a few weeks ago, before the show opened. I’ve been fascinated with the play since I was in college. There was a blackbox production being presented by the students and a friend of mine was in the cast. (She was the only female Gogo I’ve ever seen). I became instantly obsessed with the play and ended up seeing its entire run of three or four performances. The characters and the language, combined with its blatant lack of plot has made it one of the most important tragicomedies in existence. It was with high hopes that I went to Studio 54 with my friend Russ Dembin, who is on the road to becoming a Godot scholar. Contrary to the popular reception with the critics, I felt completely disconnected with the production onstage. Bill Irwin is always fascinating to watch, John Glover as the ironically named Lucky has a mammoth monologue that would do well by James Joyce (it’s practically a jerry-rigged showstopper). Nathan Lane is Nathan Lane, and he does that exceptionally well. Here he managed to bring great pathos to Gogo, without going overboard. He and Irwin worked well with one another, displaying the The highlight of the production was John Goodman with mammoth physicality and the most beautiful passages of Beckett’s text as Pozzo, the dandy who finds himself blinded in the second act. It was a joy to watch him command the stage, and am frankly surprised he was not nominated for the Tony. But for its staging and its character work, I couldn’t help but feel bored by the production at Studio 54. The play has never been a commercial success, its original production with E.G. Marshall and Bert Lahr lasted 60 performances. An all-black revival a year later proved a fast flop with 6 performances. In that regard I have to confess I am glad that there are people who are connecting with Beckett and his material (this is one of his more audience friendly pieces…), but as far as I’m concerned, I’m still waiting.

33 Variations – One of my theatregoing mottoes of late has been “Never miss the opportunity to see a star. This season offers a plethora of star-studded plays and revivals, with several Oscar winning legends traipsing the boards in various shows. Jane Fonda is making her first appearance on Broadway in 45 years in the Moises Kauffman play 33 Variations, about a dedicated musicologist (Fonda) dying of ALS while researching Beethoven’s work on his 33 Variations of Anton Diabelli’s waltz. There are actually two parallel stories being told. Juxtaposed between the melodrama surrounding Fonda is a fictionalized “variation” (so glad I read the author’s note in the playbill about his creative liberties with history) of what might have been the inspiration for Beethoven to spend years obsessing over the Diabelli Waltz. The play itself is rather mundane, overlong with an exceedingly static first act. However, the second act is where Fonda shines, as her character falls into great decline. I’ve never been too big a fan of her work in films, her performance in California Suite is excruciatingly forced, and I felt she wasn’t as impressive in Coming Home as the Motion Picture Academy thought she was. However, here onstage she’s giving a vibrant, dimensionalized performance. Fonda is incredibly strong, looking far much younger than her 71 years (must be that work-out regimen) delivers the goods. (Seeing her with her cropped hair and in pajamas had me thinking what she could do with Violet Weston). Colin Hanks is making an auspicious Broadway debut as both her nurse and her daughter’s love interest. However, the highlight of the production is Zack Grenier’s supporting turn as Beethoven. The most captivating moment of the play comes in the second act (accompanied by concert pianist Diane Walsh) as Grenier composes the final variation onstage, in a stunning flourish. While hardly a terrible play, 33 Variations feels as if it finds itself more important than it deserves to be. However, it’s got some of the most effective lighting I’ve seen in a play.

Note to the Eugene O’Neill house staff: I appreciate that there are tourists who will come in to catch a show when they can. However, can you prevent them from bringing their luggage to their seat as the house lights come down? I felt more cramped than I would on an airplane. Thanks kindly. Oh, and please turn off the A/C when it’s not sweltering outside!

The Art of Co-Existence, or the Parenting Fail


The road to hell is paved with good intentions. And it’s never been more hilarious than it is here in God of Carnage, the most exhilarating new play I’ve seen in New York since August: Osage County.

When Veronica and Michael invite Alan and Annette over to their moderately upscale Brooklyn apartment on an ordinary weekday afternoon to discuss a playground altercation between their sons, good intent is first and foremost. The situation is civil, yet strained as they seek out to smooth out the rough edges: Alan and Annette’s (Jeff Daniels and Hope Davis) son hit Veronica and Michael’s (Marcia Gay Harden and James Gandolfini) son in the mouth with a stick, knocking out two incisors and causing some serious damage. Veronica’s insistence that Alan and Annette’s son make a meaningful apology to their son starts to unravel the forced placidity. Tensions mount and eventually explode in ways both metaphoric and literal.

God of Carnage is one of those incisive, cutting plays that gleefully exposes the narrow line between the civilized and primitive in human nature . The play by Yazmina Reza (translated into English by Christopher Hampton, her frequent English language collaborator) had a highly successful Olivier-winning run in London’s West End starring Ralph Fiennes and Janet McTeer, directed by Matthew Warchus. That production has transferred to New York for a limited engagement, relocating the setting to the Cobble Hill section of Brooklyn and Americanizing the text.

The four cast members, all of whom were nominated for Tonys (all as leads, I might add) carry the evening off with remarkably astute characterizations. Jeff Daniels is amusingly droll as a work-obsessed attorney whose main concerns lie with a major pharmaceutical case than with his family. Hope Davis is hilarious as his anxiety ridden wife whose nausea coincides with her husbands convenient habit of answering all cell phone calls. James Gandolfini plays the other father, more blue collar sort of man’s man who also happens to have a mortal fear of hamsters. The evening; however, belongs to Marcia Gay Harden, the mild-mannered, cultured, liberal “concerned parent” and author (she’s written a book on Darfur) who melts down to primordial chaos by the play’s end. At the play’s end the living room is a shambles, as are the individuals onstage who have had their hypocrisies tossed at them (some literally). As arguments and accusations are tossed, allegiances shift with the fluidity of a roving cumulus cloud. One minute it’s couple vs. couple, the next, the women vs. the men and on occasion three gang up on one. With each polemic shift, the play’s characters and their situations only become more complex, and as a result more hilarious.

It’s hard not to think of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? while watching a four-hander about bickering couples. However, this play is half the length and the social lubricants only make their grand debut about halfway through the play. Warchus, who directed last year’s first-rate revival of a third-rate farce (Boeing Boeing), once again manages to bring out unexpected humor and nuance in situations that are routinely formulaic. The characters become childlike, throwing tantrums, hurling insults, dropping truth bombs and causing more harm than the instigating incident on the playground. (Warchus also directed the limited engagement revival of Alan Ayckbourn’s The Norman Conquests, playing in rep at the Circle in the Square… we’ll have more on that one in the near future). The play gets off to a strained start, and rightly so: it’s awkward to watch a person trying to parent another person’s children. The tensions build and build, and about twenty minutes into the play, Hope Davis vomits all over Harden’s priceless art books pushing the characters and the audience past the point of no return. At this point all bets are off, and to paraphrase Margo Channing, “Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy afternoon.”

The production has wasted no time in touting its nominations, with signs already erected on the marquee. One of them reads: “Nominated for 6 Tonys, including the ENTIRE CAST.” All four actors have earned the nominations and deservedly so, though I have to say Harden as Veronica is the standout among a cast of winners (and at this point is my pick for the Tony award on June 7). I also want to add: this is the first time any of the four actors have appeared on Broadway in over a decade, and I’ve got to say, it’s good to have them back.

The show is currently running in a limited engagement at the Jacobs Theatre until August 2. Run, don’t walk.

High Spirits at "Blithe Spirit"

What can I possibly say about the opening night of Blithe Spirit? I’ve been to quite a few opening nights in the past couple of years, but none recalled the glamour of the Golden Age of Broadway quite like this one. Everywhere we looked, there were stars dolled up to the nines in their tuxes and evening gowns. Then to witness the sparkling champagne revival of Noel Coward’s classic play on top of it? It doesn’t get much better than that.

The evening got started as it often does at Angus for our customary opening night toast and chatter. We soon realized that we were surrounded by first nighters as we started seeing bow ties and cummerbunds wherever we looked. The red carpet was mobbed with celebrities and curious onlookers at the Shubert Theatre. The Shubert flagship had long been resident house of the recently closed Spamalot and housing its first straight play since the 1975 revival of The Constant Wife with Ingrid Bergman. After taking in some of the scenery in and around the lobby, we trekked up to the balcony where we found ourselves dispersed among the crowds. The woman to my left was clearly a regular theatregoer who was attending her very first opening night (and I instructed her to visit the lobby at intermission so as to take in the stars).

The play is a beautiful throwback to the parlor comedies of the 1930s and 40s, with enough wit and class in the staging and design that even the usually snippy Coward couldn’t help but approve. (Snippy you say? Read his diaries and compilation of letters. They’re incredibly opinionated, bitchy and often always hilarious). Christine Ebersole, Rupert Everett, Jayne Atkinson and the irrepressible Angela Lansbury star in this first-rate revival of one of Coward’s most amusing and enduring comedies. Ebersole is a bit out of her element as Elvira and has to work harder than the rest, but nevertheless turns in a fun performance as the troublemaking solipcist of a dead wife. Everett could play a role like Charles in his sleep, and in his Broadway debut as the acerbic, put-upon Charles; a game straight man to the three women at the center of the play. Atkinson is comic marvel as the living wife, Ruth, who on page is a considerable wet-blanket, turning her into the more impressionable of the wives. Susan Louise O’Connor, also making her Main Stem bow, takes the small role of Edith and turns it into a physical comedy highlight (her business involving the serving tray and the chair is quite memorable). Simon Jones and Deborah Rush add some color to the listless roles of the skeptic doctor and his awkwardly verbose wife.

However, the evening belongs to Angela Lansbury as the eccentric medium Madame Arcati. Lansbury has some hefty shoes to fill. The role was created in London and onscreen by Margaret Rutherford (best known for essaying Miss Marple in a series of 1960s films and an Oscar winner for a scene-stealing performance in The VIPs), Mildred Natwick in the original Broadway production as well as a 1950s television version and Geraldine Page in the 1987 revival. Bea Lillie had her final stage triumph starring as Arcati in High Spirits, the 1964 musical adaptation of the play.

When Lansbury made her first entrance she received lengthy applause from an audience grateful at seeing an icon on her latest icon, a hand completely deserved. Decked out in delightfully garish garb with a red wig knotted in double braids, Lansbury delivers a fresh performance that ranks with the best of them. Watching her command of the stage in a physical role such as this is nothing short of a marvel. She’s lean, she’s lithe and delightfully blithe (to borrow from Timothy Gray and Hugh Martin) in all facets of her performance, with enough energy to light up Times Square. Her look, her voice, her delivery, her timing (that delicious Bette Davis glare she gives Deborah Rush!) are all beyond compare. However, the highlight of her performance could very well be the bizarre interpretive dance Arcati does to Irving Berlin’s standard “Always.” It’s the stuff of theatrical legend, I look forward to repeat visits and I can’t wait to see her win a fifth Tony this June.

After the opening, we stargazed as the glamorous throng made it’s way across the street for the opening night party. Sarah asked Donna Murphy, looking like a Grecian goddess, when she was going to be back on Broadway. And when Elizabeth Ashley left Sardi’s and was getting into her car, we decided to give her a big round of applause because, well, she’s Elizabeth Ashley. She shouted to us “But I wasn’t in the play!” to which we replied “We know!” and just continued cheering. The evening reached it’s climax as our gathering in front of the Shubert lasted longer than the official party across the street, looking at our stars get into their cars and head home for the night. Before the night was over, we were reviving the revival complete with sock puppets. A night for the ages and one to remember.

Before I go… here’s an idea that I’ve been very vocal about: for the inevitable Actor’s Fund benefit performance present a performance of High Spirits in concert style staging at the Shubert. You’ve got two musical theatre divas reigning supreme in the choice leads. From the business they do onstage in the play, it’s clear that Atkinson and Everett have at least a passing sense of musicality and voice. Besides, who wouldn’t love to hear a full orchestra knock that sensational overture out of the ballpark? Or have Angela Lansbury crooning a love song to her ouija board? Or have Christine Ebersole fly around faster than sound? I’d be there. Just a thought… In the meanwhile, get your tickets to Blithe Spirit!!

"Music in the Air" at Encores!

I was stunned walking out after Music in the Air at the City Center that I had completely forgotten the melody to “I’ve Told Every Little Star.” I spent the entire intermission humming the oft-repeated hit song from this lost Kern & Hammerstein show until the lights went down. We were even treated to yet another encore during the second act. But lo and behold, as I was walking down the steps from the gallery the only song that I could recall was the rapturous “The Song is You.”

The musical, last seen in NY in a 1985 Town Hall concert revival (with John Reardon, Patrice Munsel, Kurt Peterson and Rebecca Luker), was a moderate success for Kern and Hammerstein in 1932, running for 342 performances and spawning two popular song hits (care to venture a guess there…?). A film version starring Gloria Swanson was released in 1934.

To say Music in the Air has a creaky libretto would be a colossal understatement. The story is highly contrived and was initially meant to be more of a send-up of operetta conventions than anything else. Naive country folks, a doctor, his beloved daughter, her love interest and… brace yourself… their walking club (also the choral singing society) go to Munich. The doctor, an amateur musician, has written a song and the townsfolk insist it is so good that he must have it published. Words are by the love interest. They will take it to his school friend turned music publisher. Of course the daughter will sing it and win over the publisher, as well as the lotharious librettist and his lover-muse-prima donna in residence. Both larger than life characters use the two naive kids as pawns in their romantic battles leading to the young girl starring in a new operetta in Munich. Oh, did I mention there was lederhosen? Yes, it’s that kind of show.

Now before you think all “gee willickers, it’s just like 42nd Street,” it’s not. There is an unusual honesty in the second act about the difficulties of show business, with the disagreeable musical director dropping the necessary truth bombs in order for the show to become a hit. He asks if its unfair that the livelihood of seventy or so people be threatened by a rank amateur with dreams of being on the stage. The girl agrees and goes back to Munich, humiliated only in her love life, but eyes opened to cosi fan tutti. Everything about it isn’t quite so appealing. But never fear, there are still two numbers and two romantic couplings to be repaired, all accompanied by the orchestra and the necessary plot machinations.

Okay. It isn’t much. In fact, it’s a bit of a stretch. However, there is much to enjoy in the soaring Kern-Hammerstein score. Romantic, melodic and enough pastoral imagery to get us through until the next revival of The Sound of Music, it’s hard to resist. Interestingly, the team had just written the musical Show Boat which was one of the first attempts at progression in the musical as an art form. You had a show that combined elements, took on darker themes and bucked trends to create a powerful theatre experience, with most of the score serving dramatic functions for plot and character with some of the period crowd-pleasers tossed in for good measure. With Music in the Air (which would be Hammerstein’s last success until Oklahoma!) the team composed an entirely diegetic score, which is unusual for a musical. Most especially unusual for an operetta. Whenever a musical theatre song is diegetic it means that the character is aware that he or she is singing. For instance, Sally Bowles singing “Cabaret” or the “Parlor Songs” in Sweeney Todd. (This is also where the choral society walking to Munich comes to play. Again, it creaks… but alas that is period convention for you).

The show was given the usual Encores! treatment, with emphasis placed on the score and giving the audience a chance to hear fully restored orchestrations by the great Robert Russell Bennett, the premier orchestrator of the early years of the American musical. Sierra Boggess and Ryan Silverman were the young lovers, vanilla extract and all. It took a few minutes for the show to get jump-started. That happened when stars Douglas Sills and Kristin Chenoweth took the stage as the larger than life divas. They get the funniest moments and some of the better musical numbers (for instance the scenelet where they present the first act of the new show and “The Song is You”). Add to this sight gag of Sills towering over the diminutive Chenoweth, decked out as a brunette and dressed to the nines in period gowns. Dick Latessa and Marni Nixon are on hand to lend some minor support in the second half, the latter stopping the show with a wistful recollection of her hit solo (so many shades of Heidi Schiller in Follies I can’t even begin to tell you…)

While the show itself is virtuable unrevivable, I am grateful for the opportunity to see such a lost show. As one who appreciates seeing and hearing musical scores live, I relish in these opportunities – especially if there isn’t a cast album available to give the full experience. But I have to say having limited expectations, I was surprisingly charmed by the experience. Encores! tends to mix things up a bit, throwing out titles that aren’t as lost as their initial mission statement would lead you to believe, but also allowing us to see a show like the troublesome cult flop Juno, or the 1932 revue Face the Music.

Moving from the hills of Germany to the realm of Missitucky, the City Center’s third and final installment for this season will be the satiric Finian’s Rainbow from March 26-29. Now, if they would only listen give me Darling of the Day, Donnybrook!, A Time for Singing and Very Warm for May.

Walter Lippmann wasn’t brilliant today

And neither was the revival of Pal Joey which I saw last Sunday at Studio 54.

The musical by Rodgers and Hart, with a book by John O’Hara (based on his stories) is one of the first to offer an anti-hero as a protagonist. Joey is an opportunistic two-bit nightclub singer, doing whatever (and whoever) he can to headline his own club. The show wasn’t a huge success with 1940 audiences lasting almost a year and 374 performances. However, it did catapult a little known hoofer named Gene Kelly into stardom, soon leaving for Hollywood… well you know the rest. Vivienne Segal was the boozy, sardonic Vera, the uber-rich and uber-bored wife of a milk tycoon who becomes the object of Kelly’s intentions. Segal and Harold Lang recorded a studio album of the show in 1950 for Goddard Lieberson at Columbia records which helped bring the score back into the public’s consciousness (as well as preserving the glorious soprano’s “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered,” the most famous song from the score). The success of the studio album brought about the show’s first Broadway revival in 1952, which remains the most successful production of the show, with considerably more positive critical response than the first time around. The show lasted 540 performances. Lang and Segal recreated their roles with Tony-winner Helen Gallagher as Gladys and Elaine Stritch as Melba. (Stritch recounts her experiences in this production while simultaneously standing by for Ethel Merman in Call Me Madam in At Liberty).

There was the 1957 film with Frank Sinatra, Rita Hayworth and Kim Novak that bowlderized the story and lyrics while taking many creative liberties including a “happy ending,” interpolated other Rodgers and Hart standards and accommodating the non-dancing star Sinatra. This was followed by a Tony-nominated turn by Bob Fosse at the City Center in the early sixties and a troubled 70s revival with Joan Copeland and Dixie Carter as Melba.

Now we have a revisal of the show with a new book by Richard Greenberg and new orchestrations from Don Sebesky (in an unlikely splurge from the Roundabout folks: I counted 13 players in the pit). The ever-reliable Paul Gemignani is conducting. Unfortunately, aside from two key performances there isn’t anything particularly memorable about this rather lackluster revival. Understudy Matthew Risch famously replaced Christian Hoff early in previews. Hoff, who was officially let go due to a foot injury was rumored to have been less than stellar. Risch, while he can dance up a storm, is lacking in every other necessary department. The short of it: his singing is poor and he lacks charisma. Joey, even in his nature as a cad, should have that presence and personality that puts the audience in his corner. As hard as he worked, Risch couldn’t overcome that shortcoming.

Stockard Channing is making her first Broadway appearance since the 1999 revival of The Lion in Winter and should consider making a return trip sooner rather than later. Channing is a breath of fresh air, tossing off one-liners and displaying an extraordinary emotional range as Vera. Her singing is decidedly weak, and she only scores once musically with her breathless, nearly spoken but captivating delivery of “Bewitched” in the first act. She also looks better than ever and is given some choice costumes from William Ivey Long, particularly a stunning negliglee for her bedroom soliloquy. I think with her dry as a martini delivery she would be even better suited for that other Vera, Ms. Vera Charles in Mame.

Now we get to the outstanding highlight of the evening. Martha Plimpton has been busy working in so many different plays in the past few seasons, garnering Tony nominations for her in The Coast of Utopia and Top Girls. Here she surprises with strong musical chops. All you could hear at intermission were astonished patrons talking about her credible musicality. Every time Plimpton walked onstage she scored as the aging burlesque chorine Gladys Bumps (who has a history with our Pal Joey). Plimpton, who is reminiscent of a young Elaine Stritch – only with a better sense of pitch, doesn’t really have that much to do, but makes every moment worth the price of admission. Her deadpan turned the throwaway “The Flower Garden of My Heart” into an audience favorite at the top of act two. There is one major difference with this revival. The character of Melba, a superfluous but amusing diversion in the original second act is gone. Instead she has been absorbed into Gladys’ floor show which allowed Plimpton the opportunity to provide the sole showstopper of the afternoon, “Zip.” The song is a rather brilliant parody of Gypsy Rose Lee’s act, with a deconstruction of how Lee encorporated witty banter into her strip. The topical nature of the song is dated, though several of the references have been updated to less obscure figures of the 1930s.

She was the only reason I really wanted to see the show and was easily the highlight, though Channing came in a close second. The direction and choreography were underwhelming. I especially expected the dance heavy show to soar in those moments, but ultimately didn’t. The set was rather drab (and let it be said I didn’t notice that the El was a part of it until the final scene). However the costumes were wonderful and Rodgers & Hart sure gave us a fun score. If only the production itself could have bewitched rather than bother and bewilder. As I left the theatre, I couldn’t help but wish I had seen the well-received Encores! presentation of the show with Patti LuPone, Peter Gallagher, Vicki Lewis and Bebe Neuwirth in 1995.