What: Mint Theater presents the American premiere of Nöel Coward's play about two young writers who marry, only to learn that his insecurities don't allow her to have a successful writing career at the same time as his.
And? Sometimes you see a preview performance and it feels finished and ready for critics; sometimes you see a preview performance that really really feels like a preview performance. I hadn't quite clocked that I got myself a ticket to this production's first performance but here we are. So I don't want to speak too much to the nitpicks I have with the production (cues, line readings, timing of scene changes, etc.), because those will improve with practice. The play itself though is, I think, not for me. It's just frustrating. Good dialect coaching from Amy Stoller, though.
11/02/22: The Piano Lesson
What: The star-studded Broadway revival of August Wilson's play about two adult siblings, the descendants of enslaved people, navigating their legacy in 1937. That legacy is embodied in an ornately carved piano--carved by their great-grandfather to depict his whole family, but owned by the Sutter family who enslaved him--which Berneice is determined to hold onto, as her father died reclaiming the property, but which Boy Willie wants to sell to allow him to buy the land he farms and no longer be a sharecropper.
And? I like the conflict of what it means to honor a legacy, to reclaim yourself from the people who tried to treat you like property. I like that both Boy Willie and Berneice have valid points (though with his flighty, frenetic energy, it's clear in the play that Berneice's more grounded and steady side is the correct one). I don't know that the direction is serving the script as strongly as it could be: the magic isn't subtle, nor are the scenic or lighting designs, and the final tableau is tidier than it should be. John David Washington seems a bit lost in some of his longer monologues (and I find myself focusing instead on Danielle Brooks's Berneice, engaged in cleaning up daughter Maretha's hair--the difference between clear and muddy intentions), but Samuel L. Jackson is an excellent storyteller in all of his monologues, and an engaging presence. And stealing the show (as he often does, let's be honest) is Michael Potts as Wining Boy, master of palaver and always with another scheme up his sleeve.
 |
| John David Washington and Samuel L. Jackson as Boy Willie and Doaker. Photo by Julieta Cervantes. |
11/03/22: What Passes For Comedy
What: The Chain Theater presents G.D. Kimble's play about the writers room of a late night talk show, and the aftermath of an antisemitic joke.
And? An interesting argument, but an uneven execution. Full review here.
 |
| Andrew O'Shanick, Alain Pierre, Jordan Elman, and Rory Lance as Will Holly, Tory Browne, Adam "Zep" Beber, and Jerry Schaal. Photo by Reiko Yoo. |
11/05/22: Parade
What: Encores's gala presentation of Alfred Uhry and Jason Robert Brown's musical about Leo Frank's murder trial.
And? It's been a recurring trend this year, of certain pieces of theater, none of them last-minute decisions, speaking to current conversations. This week I saw two shows that interrogated the fraught history of white supremacy pitting the Black community and Jewish community against each other (erasing, as is usual, the existence of Black Jews). This show, though, acknowledges who the actual bad guy is. Indeed, the epilogue, projected on the back wall of the space, tells us that after the conviction of Leo Frank in 1913, two important things happened: the Anti-Defamation League was founded to combat antisemitism, and the KKK had a resurgence in the American South. And, to my relief, the show doesn't just use the few Black characters as props (especially as it heavily implies that Jim Conley, the one witness to not recant his damning testimony, may in fact have been Mary Phagan's murderer), but gives them voice, as they sing the infuriating truth: the Northern Liberals are upset because a Jewish man has been railroaded into a death sentence for a murder he didn't commit, but they don't bat an eye at "a Black man swingin' in ev'ry tree." Selective allyship for marginalized identities hurts everyone.
Okay, but what about the show? Y'all, I've been wanting to see Parade since the 1999 Tony Awards when Brent Carver and Carolee Carmello sang "This Is Not Over Yet," even though the show had already closed four months earlier. And this did not disappoint. JRB's Broadway debut is a tremendous score, and to hear it with such an impressive roster of voices, against a full orchestra conducted by the composer himself, is ... it's a lot. I'm so grateful. I cried so many times, I clapped so hard my hands hurt. The cast is, every one of them, amazing. Ben Platt reminds us why we loved him so much in DEH, his emotional intensity, his breath control and vocal range, his commitment to the uncomfortable. Alex Joseph Grayson brings down the house with "That's What He Said." Paul Alexander Nolan, always wonderful even in bad shows, is slimy and charismatic and terrifying as prosecutor Dorsey. Honestly, I could list everyone and say something good about them. They're all so good. Michael Arden's direction brings out the humanity in everyone, both the heroic and the cowardly. I hope we get a cast album. I hope we get a commercial transfer.
 |
| Ben Platt, center, as Leo Frank, with the company. Photo by Joan Marcus. |
No comments:
Post a Comment