Best Theater of 2024: Here We Are Again

 Last year I didn't write a lot because I was too heartbroken. This year I won't write a lot because I spent seven of the past twelve months trying to sort out my antidepressant cocktail and I feel like the summer months didn't actually happen. I'm honestly having a hard time in general remembering this past year.

Luckily (I guess?) I keep a running list of what I see, including marking those that stand out to me at the time. This year I saw 101 pieces of theater, with only three of them being repeats within the year, so 99 unique pieces of theater. Of those 99, 46 were plays, 45 were musicals, and 7 were streaming. 

Here are the ones that stuck to my ribs, in chronological order of when I saw them.

Weekly Margin 2024, W50: Mama, I'm A Big Girl Now!

12/09/24: Mama, I'm A Big Girl Now!

What: The three original female stars of Hairspray on Broadway (Marissa Jaret Winokur, Kerry Butler, and Laura Bell Bundy) reunite to sing songs from their respective canons, and look back over their careers and friendship.

And? Sometimes a little too loud but mostly a good time, and a great reminder of just how much talent was packed into the original cast of Hairspray (remember how Shoshana Bean was just in the ensemble?). As an added bonus, Hairspray composer and co-lyricist Marc Shaiman and his husband were in the audience the night I attended. They brought on his husband Lou to stand in for Link during "I Can Hear the Bells," and even convinced Marc to come onstage and play a cut song from the show. A very sweet moment.

Laura Bell Bundy, Marissa Jaret Winokur, and Kerry Butler.
Photo by Russ Rowland.

Weekly Margin 2024, W49: The Roommate, Eureka Day, The Merchant of Venice

 12/03/24: The Roommate

What: Jen Silverman's new two-hander starring legends Patti LuPone and Mia Farrow, about Sharon, a rather sheltered woman "retired" from being a wife and living alone in a house in Iowa, who takes in a roommate, the sharp-witted Robyn from the Bronx.

And? The two of them are great. The play runs a bit thin, such that it feels long at only 90 minutes. Apparently if I'd turned into Schubert Alley instead of jetting to 8th Ave when the show let out, I'd have caught Tom Francis doing his thing for the second act opener of Sunset Blvd. Ah well.

Patti LuPone and Mia Farrow as Robyn and Sharon. Photo by Matthew Murphy.

12/04/24: Eureka Day

What: MTC presents Jonathan Spector's play about the parent board of directors of an elite private elementary school in Berkeley, California in 2018 facing a mumps outbreak.

And? It's telling to see this play, now. Not because the vaccination debate at the heart of the conflict feels naive in the face of what we know will come in 2020/2021, but because at this point the hypocrisy within the progressive movement is so stark that we wonder how we didn't clock the warning signs much, much earlier. Well, that's not entirely true. I've been aware of what I thought were quiet pockets of antisemitism within progressive spaces for about a decade, but I classified them as outliers, not basic foundational stones to what is happening now across American campuses, especially in the crunchiest of crunchytowns, Berkeley, California (there's a telling nod to that early on in this play when, after a spirited discussion of whether or not to include "transracial adoptee" in the ethnicity drop-down menu for student registration, they recall that they had previously turned down including Jewish as an ethnicity, because "that's not what this is for."). /digression

But the play isn't about the Jewish question so much as it's about what happens when you take progressive principles to the extreme: if you allow every viewpoint to be equally valid, so as not to offend anyone, what you actually have is a platform without principles. As an exasperated Carina, new to the board, explains, not all viewpoints are actually equally valid, not when it comes to actual facts and certainly not when it comes to the safety of their kids.

For all that it's dealing with serious issues, the play is also pretty hilarious. Starting with Todd Rosenthal's scenic design, which places grown adults having important discussions on tiny children's chairs in the school library, a library whose walls are peppered with progressive slogans that feel increasingly reductive as the show goes on: these are children playing a game they neither understand nor have a wish to understand. They don't want the world to be nuanced and textured: they want variety without difficulty. They want the simplicity of a slogan. And the comic highlight of the night is a livestream discussion the board conducts with parents chiming in on chat, which quickly devolves into show-stopping chaos, cursing, and the well-placed emoji.

Thomas Middleditch, Amber Gray, and Bill Irwin
as Eli, Carina, and Don. Photo by Jeremy Daniel.

Weekly Margin 2024, W48: The Hills of California, Gypsy, King Lear, A Christmas Carol, Ann Hampton Callaway and Liz Callaway: New York State of Mind, Sunset Blvd., Maybe Happy Ending, Cult of Love, The Corn is Green

11/25/24: The Hills of California

What: The Broadway transfer of Jez Butterworth's new play about four sisters and their strong-willed single mother. In the 1950s, we see her training the four of them to be a harmonic singing group a la The Andrews Sisters; in the 1970s, we see them as adults with disappointed dreams gathering to sit vigil as she lies dying upstairs.

And? A Jez Butterworth play is always worth my time. While this didn't steal my breath the way The Ferryman did, it still boasts a wealth of top-notch performances, including from the star of both, Laura Donnelly, who doubles here as matriarch Veronica and the grown version of her eldest, Joan. Many of the story beats are ultimately familiar for narratives like this: disappointed dreams, bitter resentments, betrayals revealed, and estrangements confronted. But it's all still very well executed by director, designers, and cast.

Nancy Allsop, Nicola Turner, Laura Donnelly, Lara McDonnell, and
Sophia Ally as Young Gloria, Young Jill, Veronica, Young Joan, and
Young Ruby. Photo by Joan Marcus.

11/26/24: Gypsy

What: The much-anticipated revival of the Sondheim/Styne/Laurents classic about the rise of burlesque star Gypsy Rose Lee, and her rocky relationship with her mother, Madame Rose; this time with living legend Audra McDonald in the lead and acclaimed director George C. Wolfe at the helm (and possibly the first major production that doesn't include the recreation of any Jerome Robbins choreography?).

And? I don't think I need to tell anyone who reads this blog that Audra always lives up to the hype, but I'm saying it anyway. I think there will probably be some that point out she's not the usual voice type for the role: not brassy or belty enough. I can't say that I or anyone else around me minded, not with that powerhouse onstage. The thing is, we all know Audra McDonald's voice is extraordinary; I think what sometimes gets forgotten is that her acting is just as extraordinary. Let us not forget that three of her record six Tony wins were for performances in plays. I've seen her do Shakespeare and Hansberry, McNally and Adrienne Kennedy. The woman's got the range. And her Rose is different than others I've seen--more tunnel-vision drive than brassiness, and a dedication to making her children stars (whether they want it or not) that has no depth too low to stoop, no height too high to scale. Her performance of "Everything's Coming Up Roses" is a terrifying scream of denial and delusion to which Herbie and Louise can only stand silent witness. But she can turn on a dime to a sweet romantic crooning whenever she sings to Herbie. And of course the aria: "Rose's Turn." No shade to Bette, Bernadette, Patti, or Imelda (or the Roses I haven't seen), but this is the first "Rose's Turn" to make me cry. The collapse is so complete: all her delusions melt away to force her to confront that her secret dream of her own stardom was never achievable. Even as we the audience see that Audra's is a talent unmatched, we have also the double-vision that Rose's dreams are for a world that doesn't exist anymore and her refusal to see that truth makes her pathetic. It's awful. It's euphoric. It's tragic. It's everything Sondheim wanted the song to be. As the audience applause fades, Rose continues to bow to a crowd only she can hear, tears streaming down her face.

I doubt I'll be the only one reviewing this production to focus most of the energy on Audra, but it's rather hard not to. I will also say that so much of the arc of Act Two depends on the strength of the actor playing Louise and her ability to track her arc of growing strength and pride. Joy Woods is wonderful in the role: terrified wide eyes desperate for her mother to see her and love her, but also the gradual growing confidence of a woman who knows her own mind. Hearing her duet with Jordan Tyson (both fresh from starring in The Notebook) is thrilling. George C. Wolfe's production isn't necessarily reinventing the wheel but it reflects his intelligence as a director, as well as his gift at nuance: he's able to layer on commentary on colorism to this production without hanging a lantern on every moment (June is noticeably lighter-skinned than Louise; and the young Black Newsboys are swapped out for strapping white Farmboys). It's also important to note that some past directors have tried so hard to reinvent the wheel with Gypsy that they put too much stuff onto it--hats on hats. Wolfe trusts the strong writing of Laurents, Sondheim, and Styne, and his performers, to speak for themselves.

Audra McDonald and Joy Woods as Rose and Louise. Photo by Julieta Cervantes.

Weekly Margin 2024, W47: McNeal, Ruddigore, Left on Tenth, Gatz

11/22/24: McNeal

What: Lincoln Center presents a new play by Ayad Akhtar about a celebrated writer grappling with the rise of AI and the corruption of his own integrity as a writer.

And? I haven't read the reviews but the vibes I'd picked up led me to believe I'd either be bored or disdainful of this production. So maybe with those managed expectations, I had a better time than expected? It's an interesting and complex character study of someone I'd never want to meet in real life: someone who goes from borrowing liberally from other people's real-life stories, to borrowing liberally from an unpublished manuscript, and finally to asking AI to borrow liberally on his behalf and say it's his. If you ask me why a man who would do this is so openly critical of AI, calling it the end of true creative works, I point you to his rampant self-loathing and self-destructive tendencies. Design-wise, I still haven't figured out what story the scenic design is telling, nor fully have I figured out some of the elements of the staging (I was telling myself a different story than the one the play ultimately told), but the lighting design is a clever and sneaky lens to what is going on in the show. Ultimately we're left with an unresolved ambiguity. Sometimes that makes for satisfying theater, something you can go out into the night debating (see: this season's Job); here, it felt like maybe the show itself didn't know the answer and was hoping we might help.

Robert Downey Jr. and Brittany Bellizeare as Jacob McNeal and Natasha
Brathwaite. Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman.

11/23/24: Ruddigore

What: NYGASP presents the Gilbert & Sullivan operetta about the Bad Baronet.

And? An absolute delight. This production has a lot of their stalwart regulars in the principal roles, and they are each of them in wonderful voice with good comic delivery. The score for Ruddigore is full of great songs, and it's a real treat to hear them sung so well.

The company of an earlier production of Ruddigore by NYGASP. Photo by
William Reynolds.