Weekly Margin 2024, W41: Sump'n Like Wings

10/09/24: Sump'n Like Wings

What: Mint Theater presents Lynn Riggs's play about the tense dynamic between a mother and her grown daughter facing the limited life choice available to a woman in the 1910s.

And? Good costume design by Emilee McVey-Lee. The play itself was not for me.

Joy Avigail Sudduth, Lukey Klein, Julia Brothers, and Mariah Lee as Hattie,
Boy Huntington, Mrs. Baker, and Willie Baker. Photo by Maria Baranova.

Weekly Margin 2024, W40: Vladimir, Cellino v. Barnes

10/01/24: Vladimir

What: MTC presents the world premiere of Erika Sheffer's play about a journalist covering the Second Russian-Chechen war during the rise of Putin, as more and more suppression of truth takes over the news media.

And? Even though the play is called Vladimir and the content is about a journalist and an accountant trying to uncover a governmental embezzlement scandal that could be traced back to the top of the Russian government, it's also very clearly about now, today, in America, with the death of truth and facts in news media coverage. The show ends on a melancholy note, not one particularly infused with hope, but with determination: it's worth it to try to save your home from decay. I left the show with a sick feeling in my stomach, which I assume is the intent.

Norbert Leo Butz and Francesca Faridany as Kostya and Raja. Photo by
Jeremy Daniel.

10/02/24: Cellino v. Barnes

What: A fantasy comedy about the rise and fall of the partnership of injury lawyers Ross Cellino and Steve Barnes.

And? I don't know whether to call this show delightfully stupid or stupidly delightful. I had a fantastic time, laughing loud and long more than once. What a good time at the theater!

Eric William Morris and Noah Weisberg as Ross Cellino and Steve Barnes.
Photo by Marc Franklin.

Weekly Margin 2024, W39: The Counter, Fatherland

 9/24/24: The Counter

What: Roundabout presents Meghan Kennedy's new play about a waitress in a small-town cafe, her regular morning customer, and the bargain the two strike.

And? This was lovely. I clocked a number of Chekhov's guns being placed strategically through the character piece, sure we were headed for heartbreak. And then, out of the foggy morning--hope. Such a small gift, hope. Such an important gift. The cast is very well directed by David Cromer (though that's not a surprise), but I want to specifically highlight the subtle work of sound designer Christopher Darbassie: the ambient noise is so subtle you don't even realize it's going until it will fully cut out for these hidden monologues delivered in utter stillness of sound. Remarkable moments. So glad I saw this. I needed a taste of hope.

9/25/24: Fatherland

What: City Center hosts Stephen Sachs's docuplay about a young man who turns his father in for his participation in the January 6th insurrection, told verbatim from public statements, transcripts, and evidence.

And? Eh. It didn't do enough to lift it out of just being a re-enactment of his court testament. Thanks to Tectonic, Anna Deavere Smith, the Civilians, and the recent verbatim plays from the Vineyard, the bar's pretty high for what kind of transformative work you can do, even using pre-set words.

Ron Bottitta and Patrick Keleher as Father and Son. Photo by Maria
Baranova.

Weekly Margin 2024, W38: Safety Not Guaranteed, Yellow Face, The Very Hungry Caterpillar

9/18/24: Safety Not Guaranteed

What: BAM presents the world premiere of a new musical adaptation of the 2012 film, as part of their Next Wave 2024 & Emerging Visions series.

And? It's possible there's a good show underneath this. I can't tell right now. Even at just under two hours, the show feels overlong. I don't think it's currently well-staged, or particularly well-designed (except maybe Sarita Fellows's costume design), and whoever was in the booth the night I saw it rarely managed to turn performers' mics on in time for their dialog (granted, I saw the second preview, so hopefully this will improve). I also couldn't hear a lot of the lyrics over the the sound of the onstage band. Devotees of this blog will know how ornery I get about the misuse of a thrust stage. BAM Harvey has a lovely curving stage, with an equally curving audience hugging it. Why, then did I keep seeing crew members idling in the wings or pre-setting set pieces ten minutes before the next scene transition? Hide your crew, my dudes. No matter what kind of staging you're directing--proscenium, thrust, alley, arena, immersive--I think it is an absolute failure of directing craft to not spend rehearsals constantly moving through the entire range of where the audience will be, to make sure that everyone has a dynamic and interesting stage picture. If you sit dead center, you're ensuring a good view for fifteen people.

Also, I was under the impression this show was featuring an entirely new score by Ryan Miller (lead singer for the band Guster). So my jaw dropped when, at the eleven o' clock confrontation number, the two leads started belting out "Two Points For Honesty." My entire self flashed back to teenage me listening to a mixtape from my friend Malcolm.

Just. What?

9/20/24: Yellow Face

What: Roundabout's Broadway production of David Henry Hwang's semiautobiographical matryoshka doll of a play.

And? I think if it were just the riff on inadvertently casting a white character in an Asian role, and then that actor adopting that stolen identity to then become an activist, the play might have gotten tired, but DHH manages to spin some fascinating twist and foils within the play, confronting his own conflicted feelings about his own activism, as well as his imposter syndrome. Solid, great work all around, and a brilliant way to recover the lost work of his flop play, Face Value.

Weekly Margin 2024, W37: A Meal, Our Class

 9/13/24: A Meal

What: HERE Arts presents LEIMAY's immersive installation meal slash performance experience.

And? Throughout the three-hour evening, I keep re-evaulating what space I think I'm in, what world I'm witnessing. The preshow is ritualistic and features mason jars of the best tasting tea I've ever had (if all tea tasted like this, I might actually like tea). Then there is the singing by the two cantors and the slow but deliberate movement of the rest of the cast as they condition the space and build the first table. Then the audience group is split and escorted to different parts of the transformed space--for A Meal inhabits not just the ground floor mainstage space, but also the lobby and smaller black box theater below. Here there are more installations in isolated spots of light, and projections, and performers so still they might be statues. Here there is both the grotesquerie of food preparation and the loving care of building a meal. Here there is a commentary on limits of resources, on accumulations of waste. Here there is also a tray of sushi and an arepa cart, and a vendor singing of his wares.

It's a lot. It's many things. The costume design is flowing and sharp. The sound baths--a combination of recorded sound and the voices of the cantors--are hypnotic and lovely. It's a bit too long. But I'm glad I went.

9/14/24: Our Class

What: Classic Stage Company hosts the Manhattan transfer of the production that ran at BAM last year.

And? a repeat visit of a show that remains mostly intact from its last iteration. Still disturbing, still worth seeing, and still with audience members so unnerved they leave midshow. When I saw it last time I went with a gentile friend who was so shocked at the content of the show, that people would do this to their own neighbors and former friends. I, who have long known the history of pogroms, had no words to lighten the weight of that knowledge for her. This time, I went with a Jewish friend, who remarked with angry passion (I paraphrase), "It's not just a history play, this is what's happening now, here, in America, with lies being told about immigrants, with attacks in the streets. This play is about 2024." It's both, of course. That's how good art works. Maybe the actual goal is to not let ourselves becomes resigned to the monstrosity of humankind, but to keep being appalled, so we do not normalize the monstrous. We cannot afford to keep dehumanizing other humans. We're all we've got.

Stephen Ochsner as Jakub Katz. Photo by Pavel
Antonov.