Weekly Margin 2026, W21: Well, I'll Let You Go, Proof, Cable Street, Fallen Angels, Titaníque, Cats: The Jellicle Ball

5/18/26: Well, I'll Let You Go

What: Studio Seaview hosts an encore presentation of Bubba Weiler's play about a newly-widowed woman receiving visitors one by one in the immediate aftermath of her husband's death.

And? This play owes a large debt to Thornton Wilder's Our Town, but it's more than able to pay it back: a narrator explains the layout of the main room in a farmhouse, pointing to a piano we can't see, a sectional couch that for us is just five folding chairs. He sets both the space and the mood in this way, bringing us gently into Maggie's suddenly small world. With each visit from a friend or relative, new detritus is brought into the house: used bowls and coffee mugs, a surfeit of white floral arrangements, an incongruous bouquet of purple balloons, a case of Coors beer, a wheelbarrow full of mulch, a stack of half-opened storage boxes. With each visit, more is unveiled about the man with whom Maggie spent most of her life, the man whom she may not have known as intimately as she thought. Surrounded by a mess as chaotic as the turmoil in her head, Maggie wonders when the last time was she had known real ease.

I really loved this one. It's so delicately and deftly crafted, treating Maggie with the gentle compassion she deserves while simultaneously brutally pulling out the rug from beneath her feet. Jack Serio's direction fully grounds the performances even in this ungrounded space, and earning the transformations revealed later on in the work. Weiler's play is a beautiful study in the stages of grief, and the mess of life we accumulate over time. The play could have been leading to an ending of devastation and emptiness, but instead -- it's still devastating because he's still gone, but it's not empty, what he left behind. The walls that were closing in on Maggie are fading away, leaving her air to breathe and a horizon to see. This play isn't sentimental in the way that Our Town, is -- it won't wallow in that -- but it still knows how to give space to loss. Quincy Tyler Bernstine is remarkable as Maggie, messy and frank and wounded and still here. Matthew Maher's narrator is warm and matter of fact, allowing the actor to stretch muscles I don't often get to see him stretch. Emily Davis, as the mysterious Angela, perfectly balances the tightrope of revelations and tensions her arrival brings.

Danny McCarthy as Jeff, Matthew Maher as Narrator,
and Quincy Tyler Berstine as Maggie. Photo by Emilio Madrid.

5/19/26: Proof

What: Thomas Kail directs the Broadway revival of David Auburn's Pulitzer-winning play about the daughter of a math prodigy, who may be either a math prodigy herself, or as mentally unwell as her father was at the end of his life.

And? It's really hard to get out from under certain shadows. I still have vivid memories from seeing the original Broadway run of Proof with Jennifer Jason Leigh. The hard cut to black after the final line of Act One. The dryness of Catherine's delivery, originated by Mary-Louise Parker, continued by JJL. The too-quick-to-seem-possible scene and costume changes. The sweetness and eagerness of Cathereine's romance with Hal. The genuinely worrying ambiguity regarding the validity of her story, and her quiet monotone voice as she reads aloud her father's proof. All of this remains crystalline clear in my memory, 25 years later. So it's not really fair. If this were my first experience of the play, I'd probably appreciate it a lot more -- it's an amazing play, perfectly constructed. This production is fine, Ayo Edebiri is continuously vibrating as Catherine (simultaneously compelling and exhausting to watch), and Teresa L. Williams's scenic design is striking even if it never lives up to its original promise. The production is fine but it is unable to eclipse my memories of the original run.

Ayo Edebiri as Catherine, Don Cheadle as Robert, and Jin Ha
as Hal. Photo by Matthew Murphy.

Weekly Margin 2026, W20: American, Italian, Giant, Joe Turner's Come and Gone, MCC Miscast 2026

5/11/26: American, Italian

What: SOOP Theatre presents the world premiere of Anthony P. Pennino's new play, as part of The Chain Theatre's 2026 The Factory Series. Pennino's play follows a family of second- and third-generation Italians, as teenager Gio and his older cousin Vin attempt to navigate the expectations of their fathers and their own inner demons. As Vin descends into addiction, Gio tries to keep him from drowning.

And? full review here.

Donovan Counts as Gio and Dante Palminteri
as Vin. Photo by Grace Romanello.

5/12/26: Giant

What: Mark Rosenblatt's play exploring celebrated children's author Roald Dahl and his antisemitism, in the wake of his incendiary book review of Tony Clifton's God Cried, in which equated Jewish people with Nazis.

And? I was pretty wary going into this show, and I don't think I would have gotten a ticket without having it vetted by more than one Jewish friend. I was worried the show would somehow try to let Dahl off the hook, on the strength of his writing and how much his books mean to people. I was also worried I'd be sitting within a hostile audience ready to applaud some of his rhetoric, since antisemitism has become more and more permissible in recent years. But the audience was very well-behaved, not stopping the dialogue to applaud certain arguments, as if we were watching a debate (I really hate how often that happens at shows these days -- it happened a lot when I saw The Ally and it was distracting and disheartening). And Giant does not let Dahl off the hook. A note in the program indicates that, while aspects of the play itself are invented, both the text of his review and every word of the phone call that ends the play are verbatim. There is no hiding from what he said, in print and on the record to a reporter. And, as a great relief to me, the repudiation of his outrageous statements, delivered by a young Jewish woman representing his publisher, is clear and firm--and is everything I wish I could say to the people spouting hate-speech at every Jewish person they see. Chillingly, every cruelty spouted by Dahl is one we're still hearing today, with new rigor. Forty years after the founding of Israel as a sovereign state, Dahl was calling for its dissolution; forty years later now, people are calling for that yet again. Everything old is new again, and I wish this play wasn't as timely as it is.

John Lithgow is perfectly cast as Dahl -- not just because he bears an uncanny resemblance to the man, but because he moves so effortless, almost imperceptibly, from the avuncular if tetchy beloved children's book author to a chilling manipulator, glaring out with cold reptilian loathing and spitting insults like he's throwing darts in a pub. We knew Lithgow had that ability to turn on a dime from his run as Trinity on Dexter, but it's a treat to see him do it live in front of us. A treat, and profoundly unnerving. Aya Cash, as the main focus of his venom, is a worthy adversary, masking her iron spine with the friendly and slightly apologetic veneer women in the corporate world often adopt to smooth any ruffled feathers.

Aya Cash as Jessie Stone and John Lithgow as Roald Dahl.
Photo by Joan Marcus.

Margin Notes: American, Italian

American, Italian

Seen on: Monday, 5/11/26.

Donovan Counts as Gio and
Dante Palminteri as Vin.
Photo by Grace Romanello.

Plot and Background

SOOP Theatre presents the world premiere of Anthony P. Pennino's new play, as part of The Chain Theatre's 2026 The Factory Series. Pennino's play follows a family of second- and third-generation Italians in the 1980s, focusing on teenager cousins Gio and Vin navigating the expectations of their fathers and their own inner demons. As Vin descends into addiction, Gio tries to keep him from drowning.

Thoughts:

Pennino's play feels deeply personal: a study of an Italian family who still very much feel the invisible wall between "white" America and their relatively new status, not yet allowed past their conditional stage. This is a family afraid of failure but taking pride in the success of Italian Americans like Frank Sinatra and Mayor LaGuardia. While 17-year-old Gio is supported in his academic ambitions by his father Frank, 19-year-old Vin is regularly abused, both verbally and physically, by Frank's older brother Vincenzo. White collar Frank creates space for autistic Gio to exist safely; blue collar Vincenzo refuses to even consider the idea that Vin's academic struggles might be chalked up to dyslexia. Despite their disparate upbringings and support, Gio and Vin remain fiercely close, each thinking they're the one looking out for their "younger brother." But as the play goes on and Vin's addition to heroin worsens, he finds his support structures slip away one by one: a father who turns him out, a sister who won't--or can't--help him, an ex-girlfriend who needs distance, and an absent uncle. Gio tries to be all that Vin needs, but even Vin can see that's not enough, if he is unable to save himself.

Weekly Margin 2026, W19: The Emporium, The Fear of 13, The Censorship of Dreams, The Totality of All Things

5/05/26: The Emporium

What: Classic Stage Company presents Thornton Wilder's unfinished final play about a young orphaned man who dreams of working at an enigmatic department store called The Emporium. Everything is profoundly metatheatrical and self-aware.

And? It's pretty slow, and requires patience for the way in which the story is told. A number of people left at intermission, so it's definitely not for everyone, but I was interested enough to stick around for the whole show. Some of the self-awareness gets a bit twee, and I do wish we could have had Wilder's full intended version of the play, rather than this combination of his drafts and notes and Kirk Lynn's completion of the script. It's a bittersweet exploration of idealism and compromise, and the eternal promise of trying again, and maybe getting it right next time. It lands a bit unsatisfactorily at the end, but I'm still glad I saw the show.

Eva Kaminsky, Derek Smith, Candy Buckley, 
and Mahira Kakkar. Photo by Marc J. Franklin.

5/06/26: The Fear of 13

What: Based on David Sington's documentary, Lindsey Ferrentino's play traces volunteer Jacki Miles's series of visits to Nick Yarris, a man on death row for a murder he claims he didn't commit. Through their conversations, both in person and later over the phone, the play offers a non-linear lookback on the tumultuous youth of Yarris and the poor decisions that led him to spending two decades in prison.

And? David Cromer truly is an excellent director, consistently crafting ensembles into one beautifully cohesive entity, all telling the same story and in the same world (this may sound like a "duh Zelda, that's what directing is," but the last time I saw Tessa Thompson on stage, she and her costars were all awful and because they were all awful in the same way, I blame that director). Adrien Brody and Tessa Thompson do excellent work leading the cast, both performers offering quietly understated but deeply felt portrayals of Nick and Jacki. There's one scene in particular, as they're both struggling to keep that stiff upper lip in the face of a new devastation, that just broke my heart. It's also always a treat to see Ephraim Sykes and Eddie Cooper onstage, albeit in small roles, especially when they're able to let their voices fly. Arnulfo Maldonado's scenic design, especially under Heather Gilbert's precise lighting, is evocating and haunting without overwhelming the story being told (but goddamn, that one stool ... the final moment with that stool kind of wrecked me). The play itself inside these strong storytelling elements is fine, though some moments feel shoehorned in to achieve faithful adherence to the narrative of the documentary, rather than taking narrative liberties that come with any adaptation, to tell a coherent story.

The  cast of The Fear of 13. Photo by Emilio Madrid.

Margin Notes: The Censorship of Dreams

The Censorship of Dreams

Seen on: Thursday, 5/07/26.

Jess Dugger as Ellie and Kat Warnusz-Steckel
as Professional. Photo by Marina Levitskaya.

Plot

In a time not too far from now, society exists under an increasingly restricted vocabulary: citizens, with no memory of the time before the Restart, go to the "Post Office" to sell their dreams, and receive daily words on little slips of paper, to eat and immediately forget. The stated goal is the erasure of conflict and dissatisfaction, but the central couple, Thomas and Ellie, struggle to navigate their relationship with each other and with the world, when they have fewer and fewer words with which to do so.

Thoughts:

As the audience enters the space we see an uncanny valley display of a couple at home in spartan domesticity: two school desks face each other, and a young woman in a mint green cardigan (a sweet and nervy Jess Dugger) sits in one, sipping from a clear square glass of water. A young man in an autumn polo (an earnest and bewildered Bryce Michael Wood) paces in slow motion the inner perimeter of their white-painted floor. Encasing them both, like bars on a cage at the zoo, are plastic strips covered in lines of text, the most notable reading in large font "DON'T LET THE PRINTER EAT YOU." Further surrounding the couple's cage are low barriers, as if to prevent the audience from getting too close to an art piece in a museum. And there, against one side of the space, the stepped platforms normally used for audience seating now display pair after pair of used shoes, low-lit as if they are rare books at the Morgan Library. Scenic and lighting designer Christopher Annas-Lee has built a mysterious puzzle box, a display case of humanity preserved by a docent who doesn't quite remember the meaning behind the moment. Is this a place from which the characters can escape to a life more like the one we know now? Or is this all that's left of a dying society, struggling through the last gasps before extinction?