Weekly Margin 2022, W52: the bandaged place, Little Women

12/14/22: the bandaged place

What: Roundabout presents a new play by Harrison David Rivers (and directed by my former classmate David Mendizábal), about Jonah, a dancer balancing raising his daughter with the help of his grandmother, struggling with a knee injury, and recovering from surviving an abusive relationship with his ex, who is trying to worm his way back into his life.

And? Anyone who reads my reviews knows how particular I am about alley, thrust, or arena staging. I love that they open up possibilities of more dynamic staging, if the director knows what they're doing. Friends, David Mendizábal knows what they're doing. The Black Box Theatre at Roundabout has a low ceiling, and yet the production is not only well-lit by Nic Vincent, it also doesn't feel at all claustrophobic on Wilson Chin's set design. The walls are mirrors to reflect the dance studio in both Jonah's mind and Ella's reality, and give the audience new angles as well: some staging which might have originally just presented an actor's back now gives us a deep personal insight to the expressions they think they're hiding (Nic Vincent's lighting also cleverly reflects off the mirrors to facilitate this). The play itself, beautifully sketched by Harrison David Rivers, is a nuanced examination of how hard it is to reconcile the knowledge that someone you love deeply can also be a deep emotional and physical danger to those around them. The cast is all uniformly excellent, especially Jhardon Dishon Milton as the beleaguered Jonah. I'm so grateful I got a ticket before the rest of the run sold out.

Jhardon Dishon Milton as Jonah Irby (with Stephanie Berry as Geraldine
Irby visible in the reflection on the left). Photo by Joan Marcus.

12/18/22: Little Women

What: Chance Theater in Orange County, California presents the Howland-Dikstein-Knee musical adaptation of Louisa May Alcott's beloved novel, about four sisters and their mother in Concord, Massachusetts during the American Civil War.

And? I wish this were a stronger script. I think my somewhat muted response to this story and its adaptations in general all stem from this musical being my first exposure to the story, and though some songs do soar, a lot of it doesn't feel as special as I think those who love the novel deserve it to be. Still, The Chance is always good at making a strong production out of the scripts they choose, and director Casey Long (also doing great work on sound and projection design, for the record) keeps the story running swiftly enough that we don't linger on the weaker elements of the script. Sarah Pierce is a fantastic Jo, feisty and loving, her heart worn proudly on her sleeve (and what a voice!). Camie Del Rosario also does great work as Amy, not letting her turn into the cartoon she could very easily be in less nuanced hands.

Camie Del Rosario, Emily Abeles, Maggie Randolph, Katherine Chatman,
and Sarah Pierce as Amy, Beth, Marmee, Meg, and Jo. Photo by Doug Catiller,
True Image Studio.

Yesterday is Done: Best Theater of 2022

Hey, old friends, what do you say, old friends? Another exhausting pandemicky year of theater: vaccine and masking restrictions have mostly lifted, so of course my anxiety has doubled down. I saw fewer shows than usual this year, partly because of burn-out, partly because see above, and partly because I am trying to be more selective regarding what on Broadway deserves my time, attention, and money. So I saw less. And a lot of that less felt less than whelming, especially in the Fall season. But, as always, there's still worthwhile work happening. Looking at my shorter-than-usual list of top theater for the year, and at the overall list of everything I saw, there are some clear themes of stories being produced: examinations of anti-Black racism, historically and currently; examinations of antisemitism, historically and currently; and the damaging effects of the patriarchy, rape culture, and toxic masculinity on all genders.

My overall theater tally, before we get into the list itself: 23 streaming productions, 63 live plays, and 32 live musicals (+2 repeats), totaling to 118 (+2 repeats). And for those who might ask why certain shows didn't make the cut below, I'm not counting things like A Christmas Carol (either one), A Strange Loop, the Yiddish Fiddler, or the new Merrily We Roll Along, as none of them were new productions for me, just slightly new iterations.

My top theater, in viewing rather than ranking order:

Skeleton Crew (MTC/Friedman, B; watched January): Dominique Morisseau is a terrific writer and this play is a symphony of good notes (humor, aching pain, anger, shame, hope) with a terrific cast.

Joshua Boone and Chante Adams as Dez and Shanita in Skeleton Crew.
Photo by Matthew Murphy.

Original Theatre (Regional/Digital): Into the Night (watched February) & Tikkum Olam (watched August): Into the Night is a heartbreaking live-shot studio play about the Penlee Lifeboat Disaster in 1981 in Cornwall. Tense and heroic and so ably choreographed as the whole thing seems to be happening live in front of us. Tikkum Olam was presented as a staged reading in conversation with two other plays and is a compelling and thought-provoking examination of the complicated intersectional identity of a Black Jewish woman in the U.K.

Prayer for the French Republic (MTC/City Center, Off-B; watched March). Probably my favorite show I've seen this year. In terms of ambition and scope, I'd call it an Angels in America approach to the Jewish identity (except calling anything the new Angels in America is setting yourself up for mockery of one kind or another, either for hyperbole or cliche).

Molly Ranson, Jeff Seymour, and Yair Ben-Dor as Molly, Charles, and Daniel
in Prayer for the French Republic. Photo by Matt Murphy

Confederates (Signature, Off-B; watched March): Did I mention how amazing Dominique Morisseau's writing is? She's got two plays on my list this year, and well-deserved. This play is absolutely brilliant.

Kristolyn Lloyd, Elijah Jones, and Andrea Patterson as Sara, Abner, and
LuAnne in Confederates. Photo by Monique Carboni.

How I Learned to Drive (MTC/Friedman, B; watched April): Mary-Louise Parker helped me cross something off my time travel bucket list by returning to this role so I could finally see it how it was meant to be performed.

Mary-Louise Parker and David Morse as Li'l Bit
and Uncle Peck. Photo by Jeremy Daniel.

for colored girls who have considered suicide/ when the rainbow is enuf (, B; watched April): This gorgeous production deserved a much longer life than it got, with an incredible communal ensemble building a space for vulnerability and strength.

Tendayi Kuumba, Kenita R. Miller, Okwui Okpokwasili, Amare Granderson,
Alexandria Wailes, Stacey Sargeant, and D. Woods as Lady in Brown, Lady
in Red, Lady in Green, Lady in Orange, Lady in Purple, Lady in Blue, and
Lady in Yellow in for colored girls who have considered suicide/ when the
rainbow is enuf. Photo by Marc J. Franklin.

A Case for the Existence of God (Signature, Off-B; watched April): God, I loved this one so much. Odd and intimate, a study of two lonely men learning how to become friends even as they both struggle to keep their families from falling apart. I would love for this one to come back in some capacity. My second favorite, after French Republic.

Will Brill and Kyle Beltran as Ryan and Keith in A Case for the Existence
of God. Photo by Emilio Madrid.

Back to You (Turn to Flesh/FUERZAfest/Hispanic Federation, Off-Off-B; watched September): A lovely two-hander written by and starring my friend Chris Rivera, tracking two young gay Mexican American boys who fall in love but aren't sure they can sustain a relationship with their conflicting life plans and access.

Remember This: The Lesson of Jan Karski (Theater for a New Audience/Polonsky Shakespeare Center, Off-B; watched September). My third favorite of the year. Infuriating and inspiring, and incredibly performed by David Strathairn.

David Strathairn as Jan Karski in Remember This: The Lesson of Jan Karski.
Photo by Teresa Castracane.

Monstress (Hunger and Thirst/New Ohio Theatre, Off-Off-B; watched October): Although I had an intense reaction to what felt to me a contradictory message in the show, I can't deny what affecting theater it was. Hunger and Thirst keep getting better and better.

Philip Estrera as Catch with Allison Kelly, Adam Boggs McDonald, and
Rheanna Atendido as the Sirens in Monstress. Photo by Al Foote III.

Wilma Theater (Regional/Digital): Those With 2 Clocks (watched October) & School Pictures (watched November): I'm so grateful Wilma Theater is continuing to put content online, especially original works like these two. 2 Clocks deconstructs toxic masculinity and how it informs humor in a series of satirical sketches that suddenly break into an aching, moaning catharsis of agony released and comfort given. School Pictures is Milo Cramer's song cycle about tutoring children in New York, a collection that seems at first whimsical but ultimately breaks down how truly broken the school system is here.

Top: Jenn Kidwell, Mel Krodman, and Jess Conda in
Those With 2 Clocks. Bottom: Milo Cramer in School
Pictures. Both photos by Johanna Austin.

Parade (City Center Encores!, Off-B; watched November): Another bucket list show for me, finally getting to see Parade performed onstage. A flawless cast, intelligently staged, beautifully sung. I really hope it comes back (I hear it might).

Ben Platt, center, as Leo Frank, with the company of Parade. Photo by Joan
Marcus.

Ain't No Mo' (Belasco, B; watched November): As I said in my write-up at the time, holy shit. This is the kind of satire we need to be seeing, one that makes us laugh until it's extremely no longer funny. Jordan E. Cooper is a talent to watch (as is his costar Crystal Lucas-Perry). I'm devastated the production seems to have been cut off at the knees.

Fedna Jacquet, Shannon Matesky, Marchant Davis, Crystal Lucas-Perry,
and Ebony Marshall-Oliver as Passenger 1, Passenger 3, Passenger 2,
Passenger 5, and Passenger 4 in Ain't No Mo'. Photo by Joan Marcus.

Weekly Margin 2022, W51: Downstate

12/07/22: Downstate

What: Playwrights Horizons presents Bruce Norris's new play about four sex offenders living in a group home in downstate Illinois, and a confrontation with a survivor.

And? The thesis of the show, and it walks a very careful line, is not that we should feel sympathy for these sex offenders -- each of whom molested at least one minor -- but that we should recognize they remain human. Or at least that's what I walked out with. Because as charismatic and compelling as the four actors are, we are continually reminded of the abhorrent acts each character has committed, including how unrepentant some of them are about those acts. I understand Norris's intent to shine a light on how broken the system is, the lack of dignity and access available to ex-cons, particularly those without money or white skin. But, as with his Pulitzer-winning Clybourne Park, I find myself questioning some pretty basic and troubling decisions he has made about the stories he wants to tell. (with Clybourne it was his explanation that the impetus to write it stemmed from seeing A Raisin in the Sun and feeling recognition once the white character showed up. I'm paraphrasing, but that's squicky to me) Here, it's not that I'm questioning his depiction of the four offenders, but rather that of Andy, Fred's victim, who is portrayed as self-righteous and unreliable. I'm sorry, but with victims still constantly not being believed when they tell their stories, I am not here for a perpetuation of the narrative of victims lying about their experiences. This isn't the play being edgy. This is the play telling the same infuriating story we keep seeing when victims, especially male victims, come forward. K. Todd Freeman's Dee is the sharpest and cleverest person onstage but his refusal to either own up to his own crimes or give any space to Andy's processing of his trauma, makes him the clear villain of the play to me, though from the structure I'm certain he's the intended protagonist.

It's hard. I don't think I can like this play, well-crafted though it is, because its basic stance is to me not a helpful addition to the discourse. But I can still say this is an impeccable production. Todd Rosenthal's scenic design of a seedy apartment littered with too many insufficient light sources (track lighting, ceiling bowl lights, wall sconces, at least four lamps, and sunlight filtering thinly through vinyl blinds) and in collaboration with Adam Silverman's lighting design add a dim yellow tint to every moment. Freeman, as I mentioned, is absolutely extraordinary (he often is, but it's worth highlighting each time), and the rest of the cast is also great: Francis Guinan as the fuddy-duddy Fred, understudy Matthew J. Harris as the fast-talking glad-handing Gio, Eddie Torres as the broken-hearted reclusive Felix.

Francis Guinan, Glenn Davis, Susanna Guzmán, Eddie Torres, and K. Todd
Freeman as Fred, Gio, Ivy, Felix, and Dee. Photo by Joan Marcus.

Weekly Margin 2022, W50: Ain't No Mo', The Collaboration, School Pictures

11/30/22: Ain't No Mo'

What: A Broadway transfer from The Public of Jordan E. Cooper's comedy, a series of vignettes wrapped around the premise that America's solution to reparations to Black people for centuries of abuse is to send them all back to Africa for free--so long as they don't miss the last flight out, piloted by Barack Obama.

And? Holy shit. This play is so sharp, so smart, biting and hilarious, and at the last--devastating. Because the hand that seems to giveth will most assuredly taketh back. Playwright Jordan E. Cooper, who also stars in the play as flight attendant Peaches, is at 27 the youngest playwright in Broadway history, and this is a fucking hell of a debut. I can't wait to see what he does next, and I hope this production, which opens this week, gets the accolades it so well deserves. Also also I am now obsessed with Crystal Lucas-Perry, who is extraordinary in every scene, but particularly in the posh scene and the prison scene.

Fedna Jacquet, Shannon Matesky, Marchant Davis, Crystal Lucas-Perry,
and Ebony Marshall-Oliver as Passenger 1, Passenger 3, Passenger 2,
Passenger 5, and Passenger 4. Photo by Joan Marcus.

12/1/22: The Collaboration

What: Manhattan Theatre Club presents a new play by Anthony McCarten about the artistic collaboration between Andy Warhol and Jean-Michel Basquiat.

And? It's fine. Not terribly deep, but not cringingly bad. I like Anna Flieschle's scenic design.

Jeremy Pope and Paul Bettany as Jean-Michel Basquiat and Andy Warhol.
Photo by Marc Brenner.

Streaming Theater Related Content I Watched

• Wilma Theater's School Pictures.

Weekly Margin 2022, W49: Only Gold, A Man of No Importance, Fiddler on the Roof, Leopoldstadt, Sraight Line Crazy, Merrily We Roll Along, A Christmas Carol

11/21/22: Only Gold

What: MCC presents a new musical by Kate Nash, about a king of a small country who brings his wife and adult daughter to Paris in 1928 to prepare for his daughter's wedding, and the watchmaker-turned-jeweler and piano soloist whose lives are changed by the royal family's arrival.

And? If you look at this as strictly a dance piece (directed and choreographed by Andy Blankenbuehler) underscored by Kate Nash songs, then this is some absolutely stellar storytelling. If you look at this as a musical, you're in a bit more trouble. The dialogue (book by Blankenbuehler and Ted Malawer) is very not good. The story itself is built entirely of tropes we've seen many times over. The use of Kate Nash as narrator who sometimes (but not always) sings the characters' thoughts, feels too arbitrary a device to be an effective storytelling move. The placement in 1928 Paris feels even more arbitrary. Why are we here? Where is the evidence of a generation lost to the Great War, of a city rebuilding? What, besides the love stories, makes any of this demand to take place in France? The only reason I can see for why it takes place in a specific year is to make it clear why Camille, as a woman, feels unable to pursue her music career.

But let's be kind. Let's look at it as a dance piece underscored by Kate Nash. Then, oh boy.  After hearing the pedestrian dialogue I didn't expect to invest in any of these characters' journeys, but the dances--each feeling in a way like their own individual one-acts--are a true emotional journey, a clarity of storytelling that reminds us why we love Blankenbuehler's work. This production is a true showcase for Karine Plantadit and Gaby Diaz, who play queen and princess to Terrence Mann's king. They are both utterly transcendent and vividly alive through their numbers. Heck, the whole cast is great, I just really wanted to highlight these two. I wish I could list specific songs/dances that spoke to me, but it's hard to remember the songs that were sung under the dances, so even a title list doesn't help me here. From a theater historian standpoint, it's rather charming that though Terrence Mann is cast in one of the three non-dancing roles, he still comes from a dance background (early projects for him include OBC Cats and the film of A Chorus Line); and luckily he also gets to have a great musical catharsis singing--he may not dance anymore, but his voice is still as wonderful as ever. And the framework for the space is lovely too: Jeff Croiter knows how to light dancers to show off their beauty and grace, and they glow against David Korins's romantic coppery scenic design.

Hannah Cruz and Karine Plantadit as Camille and Queen Roksana. Photo
by Daniel J. Vasquez.

11/22/22: A Man of No Importance

What: Classic Stage presents a revival of the McNally, Ahrens, and Flaherty musical about a bus conductor in Dublin, closeted and enamored of the works of Oscar Wilde, trying to stage a community production of Salome.

And? I think this musical just isn't for me. The production is fine, with some flaws (the flaws: the accent work is turrible, and the sound design isn't a lot better--I struggled to hear the cast over the instruments, and I was in the front row), but it's just not for me. John Doyle is a great actor's director, giving us fully realized humans onstage, which I always value. Jim Parsons gives a subtle and understated performance as Alfie, quietly sad and quietly hopeful. Thom Sesma, always solidly good, is a hammy delight as the butcher turned theater actor. A.J. Shively is dopeishly sweet as bus driver Robbie Fay, but the orchestrations by Bruce Coughlin don't allow his big song, "The Streets of Dublin," to soar the way it needs to. A really lovely thing to note: there is fantastic body diversity in this production, and the costume design by Ann Hould-Ward outfits them all beautifully. Yes, this, more please.

Shereen Ahmed, Da'Von T. Moody, Alma Cuervo, Joel Waggoner, William
Youmans, Mary Beth Peil, A.J. Shively, Jessica Tyler Wright, and Kara
Mikula as Adele Rice, Peter, Miss Oona Crowe, Ernie Lally, Baldy O'Shea,
Mrs. Grace, Robbie Fay, Mrs. Patrick, and Mrs. Curtin.
Photo by Julieta Cervantes.

Weekly Margin 2022, W48: Ohio State Murders, Chester Bailey

11/14/22: Ohio State Murders

What: Playwright Adrienne Kennedy makes her long-awaited Broadway debut in the newly-renamed James Earl Jones Theatre. This play, originally written in 1992 as part of the Alexander Plays--a cycle of plays featuring Suzanne Alexander--shows Suzanne remembering her time as one of the few Black female students at Ohio State University, and the circumstances surrounding the violent conclusion of her time there.

And? Adrienne Kennedy is an incredible writer. She does not let the audience off the hook. This play, a poetic stream of consciousness, a monologue of memory for Suzanne where the other characters softly enter, softly exit, is unflinching in Alexander's recounting of her grief. Audra McDonald's performance is meticulous and affecting; she keeps mostly in her higher range as she speaks, in what I think is meant to be an imitation of Kennedy's own voice (pre- and post-show the sound system plays an audio of an interview with the playwright), as a nod to the acknowledged autobiographical threads in much of Kennedy's work. The design and direction by Kenny Leon echo the poetry in Kennedy's writing, with snow falling softly but unendingly through a large crack in the back wall, a space that is both a corruption of the sacred academic space and also a bird's eye view of the ravine where one of the murders took place (scenic design Beowulf Boritt).

11/16/22: Chester Bailey

What: Irish Rep presents real-life father and son Reed Birney and Ephraim Birney in the New York premiere of Joseph Dougherty's play about a young man working in the Brooklyn Navy Yard in 1945 who suffers a catastrophic injury, and the attempts of his doctor to bring him to terms with the reality of his new existence.

And? John Lee Beatty's scenic design--creating simultaneously Chester's hospital room, Penn Station, the inside of a warship--is frankly stunning, and an excellent incorporation of Irish Rep's load-bearing columns. It's beautifully and subtly illuminated by Brian MacDevitt's lighting design and given a cavernous sense when needed by Brendan Aanes's sound design. Both Birneys gives excellent and nuanced performances. Truly, there's a lot of good here. But. I can't get past two fairly large problematic elements inherent to the writing of this play. 

One, which the NYT review also calls out, is the tired, troubling, and frankly angering bogeyman of the queer predator. Can we not? Can we please, at long last, not? Yes, when I hear a character's diagnosis in 1945 to include among his illnesses an "uncontrollable homosexual impulse," I cringe but also know that's a sign of the times. But to have it then equated without interrogation with sexual predation, I just. Can we please not?

My other issue is the romanticizing yet again of mental illness. To be clear, I'm not here to stigmatize mental illness, or to equate it with neurodiversity. But I find romanticizing delusion a rather dangerous tendency in the theater and film (areas where we have been hearing way too many stories of excusing or romanticizing toxic behavior in the name of art); it's no accident reviews keep comparing this play to Equus. That one was a problem, too.

Reed Birney and Ephraim Birney as Dr. Philip Cotton and Chester Bailey.
Photo by Carol Rosegg.

Weekly Margin 2022, W47: A Christmas Carol

11/08/22: A Christmas Carol

What: Michael Arden directs man of a thousand characters Jefferson Mays in this one-person production of Dickens's classic story about a cold man's redemption and the Christmas spirit.

And? Halloween's over, bring on the Christmas ghost story! I saw the filmed version of the George Street Playhouse's version of this production in 2020 and loved it, so I was excited to get to see in person. And wouldn't you know it, for the second week in a row I found myself inadvertently at a first preview. So my small quibbles (the sound levels are too high, they haven't perfected some of the set movement so we kept catching sight of the crew when the turntable spun forward) are ones that hopefully will be fine-tuned as the show goes on. My other issue is probably something they would call a feature, not a bug: it's very dimly lit, especially at the beginning. While this allows for a few spoilery magic tricks and creates the spooky ambiance, it also means we can't really see the work Jefferson Mays is doing (it also means, when bright light finally makes an appearance, I had to cover my face because it actually hurt my eyes). Still, it's a moving show that moves along at a 90 minute clip, and Mays is always a treat to watch in his element: playing 300 characters.

Jefferson Mays as Ebenezer Scrooge. Photo source.

Weekly Margin 2022, W46: The Rat Trap, The Piano Lesson, What Passes For Comedy, Parade

11/01/22: The Rat Trap

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.

Margin Notes: What Passes For Comedy

What Passes For Comedy

Alain Pierre as Tory Browne. Photo by Reiko Yoo.

Seen on: Thursday, 11/03/22.
My grade: B-. An interesting argument, but an uneven execution.

Plot and Background

The Chain Theatre presents a new play by G.D. Kimble, a look in the writers room of a late night talk show in early 1960s America. After the show's host Jack Harrod says a (scripted) antisemitic slur live on air, hell breaks loose as showrunner, network head, and stars all demand answers, apologies, and a new script from the show's three relatively novice writers: Tory, a Black Harvard grad hired specifically to write for the show's Black bandleader Bunny Brown; Adam/Zep, the Jewish writer responsible for the Yiddishisms in the host's monologues (as well as the slur); and Will, a blonde-haired gentile raised in privilege who's cut himself off from his wealthy family. Tensions rise as each man's insecurities and inner furies come hollering to the surface in an examination of, well, what passes for comedy.

Playwright Kimble and director Rick Hamilton workshopped this play in the 2020 Chain Play Writing Lab before bringing it to full production here.

What I Knew Beforehand

I've reviewed for The Chain before, when they were still based in Queens. 

Thoughts:

Play: Playwright Kimble has chosen a messy topic, and I respect that he deals with it as messily as it deserves. There's no clean finish, either in the early 60s or now, over half a century later. What Passes For Comedy is asking not just what jokes we can tell, but also who's allowed to tell them. It's significant that the antisemitic joke, though spoken by a gentile host, was penned by the staff's one Jewish writer. It's significant that Tory, the one Black writer, is the only one allowed to write for the show's Black bandleader (it's also significant that Tory, while inept at the style of joke they want for the bandleader, has been covertly writing jokes for the white host and having them pitched by the staff's gentile writer). The play digs into some complex issues within these marginalized identities as well: Tory, young and educated, is disgusted at the "shucking and jiving" that Bunny has to perform, but cannot see the battles that Bunny has won in order to get to his position and power, compromised though they may be; Tory and Zep's friendship began as the two Others at a greeting card company, but as Tory reminds Zep he has white privilege, even as a Jew, Zep grudgingly tells Tory of his history of getting beaten up by Black children on his walk to school. It's all messy, and it should be, and the only part of the argument I bristled at was, at least to my perception, a bit of imbalance in each side's attempt to dismiss discrimination against the other's identity. The 1960s is beyond too early to tell a Jew to get over the Holocaust, just as it's too early to tell a Black person to get over slavery, especially as both communities are still being actively discriminated against. But I do think Kimble, a Black playwright, did his best at balance, and I can't say I could have done better. What I wish had been said, however, is what both communities need to hear: It is not a contest. It's not Enslavement and Jim Crow vs Pogroms and the Holocaust. Pitting the Black community against the Jewish community is, besides erasing the intersectionality of Black Jews, falling victim yet again to White Supremacy, the actual villain here. Let's not forget that when two characters in the play finally come to blows, it's the old white studio head who storms out yelling the N word. 

And then of course the final beat (spoilers, darlings) hammers home the deeply uncomfortable truth: what passes for comedy? Host Jack Harrod can't say the antisemitic slur, but he can make as many Black stereotype jokes as he wants, the audience eating it all up, as Bunny's wide smile becomes a rictus of agony, his eyes filling with angry tears.

I think Kimble's play is a better script than is being served by director Rick Hamilton. It still needs some editing (the second act gets too lecture-y, and there are unearned reconciliations between Tory and Zep, and Tory and Bunny, an attempt at a cleaner exit than this argument deserves), but the story and characters move along at a clip--or rather they should, but they don't in this production, which flows a little too relaxed for its stakes. And especially in the first act, where the writers are spitballing jokes faster than they can write them down, this stuff should be fast and funny but most of it doesn't land. The writers are scripted to be spitting out punchlines almost in spite of themselves, those guys who just can't keep their mouths shut; but here they're just taking their turn without any internal conflict. When the whole cast is failing to make me laugh at lines that are objectively funny, that lands more in the director's lap for me than the actors'.

Weekly Margin 2022, W45: Wuthering Heights, Monstress, A Strange Loop, Mike Birbiglia: The Old Man and the Pool, Those With 2 Clocks

 10/25/22: Wuthering Heights

What: St. Ann's Warehouse hosts the NY transfer of Emma Rice and Wise Children's adaptation of the Emily Bronte novel, about the toxic love between Heathcliff and Catherine.

And? A repeat for me, since I saw the livestream via Bristol Old Vic last November. This production is a great demonstration of me falling in love with the storytelling without actually liking the story being told. I love Emma Rice's work so much, y'all. She's a beautifully inventive storyteller and is amazing at drilling into the core emotion, breaking our hearts when moments ago we were laughing at how silly everything is. If she were to direct a story I loved, it would probably land in my Best Theater Ever list.

Lucy McCormick as Catherine and the cast of Wuthering
Heights. Photo by Teddy Wolff.

10/27/22: Monstress

What: Hunger and Thirst presents Emily Kitchens, Ben Quinn, and Titus Tompkins's bluegrass musical

And? A bit confused on its thesis, but an affecting night. Full review here.

Philip Estrera as Catch with Allison Kelly, Adam Boggs McDonald, and
Rheanna Atendido as the Sirens. Photo by Al Foote III.

Margin Notes: Monstress

Monstress

Olivia Billings, Allison Kelly, and Adam Boggs McDonald,
with Jordan Kaplan in background. Photo by Al Foote III.

Seen on: Thursday, 10/27/22.
My grade: A-. A bit confused on its thesis, but an affecting night.

Plot and Background

Hunger and Thirst Theatre present a new musical by Emily Kitchens, Ben Quinn, and Titus Tompkins, a collection of myths of female monsters (Mother Nyx, Echidna, Sirens, the Graeae, Sphinx, and Medusa), interspersed with bluegrass music. Hunger and Thirst, whose past productions reviewed here include Your Invisible Corset, Strangers in the Night, and Discus, is a company dedicated to communal storytelling and retellings of old stories with new lenses.

Note: the show is prefaced by a detailed content warning, and as I will be discussing its contents, I'm going to include that same warning here: "physical violence, gun violence, bondage, sexual violence (including threats of rape and incest), derogatory language, and the word 'master.'"

What I Knew Beforehand

I knew pieces of some of the myths explored here (chiefly the Sirens, the Sphynx, and Medusa), and I knew from my previous visits to H&T productions that even when the evening isn't perfect, there's always something deeply compelling and emotional at the heart, and that I like the lenses they bring to their stories.

Thoughts:

Play: I loved so much of it. The rich aural landscape of the show is gorgeous: the cast provides sound effects with voice, with instruments, with props (the whispering story of Mother Nyx, especially the final hiss from stage left, is one that's sticking to my ribs). The show bills itself as a musical. I'd say it's more a play with music, as the songs are more interstitial than plot beats: breaths to carry us from tale to tale. The individual stories, each their own unique beast (if you will), show again and again the tragedy these monstress women actually face: if they are monsters, it is men who made them so. It is men who told the stories. If these women are violent, if they lash out, it is in self-defense against those who come to destroy them. And, tragically, that keeps happening: Echinda is imprisoned by her lover-brother so that he can continue to take his pleasure in her and force her to birth monsters; the Sphinx is executed by a man arrogantly outraged at the supposed damage she causes from her isolated home; Medusa, beheaded but still alive, is toted around by Perry for his own amusement and abuse of power, and she is denied her final rest. Again and again and again, the women lose. We lose. In the wake of the repeal of Roe v. Wade, I can't help but connect to that despair, over and over, feel the ache of it with each new loss. (the one exception is The Sirens and Catch, a tale which ends with at least the possibility of hope; but perhaps playwright Kitchens felt her hands tied by the canon of monster and vanquisher for the rest) What's strange then is the show's final song, "Look Up," which encourages us to embrace what is monstrous in us, to own that power. To not let ourselves be victims. And while that's a powerful message (and a catchy, beautiful melody), it's a left turn from everything that precedes it, everything which says it doesn't matter how we fight, they'll still win. I also find myself incredibly frustrated and a little hurt that a show that wants us to "be ugly/Be so unusual and grotesque/They have to pay heed" is cast entirely with thin, beautiful, able-bodied actors. If there was any show crying for body diversity, it was this one.

Anyone who reads my reviews knows I have a soft spot for collaborative storytelling. This production definitely utilizes that trope with its "Cump'ny" of folx, all welcoming us to the space, all playing instruments, all helping scenic transitions, singing and dancing through the interstitial songs, and creating an environment where these mythic creatures can be resurrected for another attempt to break out of their stories. I think it could be even stronger with a surer integration of these elements. I would love for the interstitial songs to exist, not in isolation, but activated as part of each transition (I cannot tell you how much I craved for the singer of "Now, Then, and To-Come Tree" (Rheanna Atendido) to free Echinda from her chains as she sings "How do I let you know about eternity," to continue to sing "Take heed and take comfort in the place that you are from" as she helps build the rocky island for the Sirens, as she herself dons her Siren robes to join that scene). The material in this play is so strong, but a bit of momentum is lost in the blue light of a scenic transition. Let the forming and re-forming of the world be part of the telling and re-telling of the stories. Activate it all. We're here for it.

Weekly Margin 2022, W44: The Night Alive, A Raisin in the Sun, KPOP

10/19/22: The Night Alive

What: Maiden Productions and Team Theatre present Conor McPherson's play about Tommy, a Dubliner no longer young, living in a makeshift bedsit in his uncle's house, who rescues a woman from a brutal beating and shelters her in his home, not realizing the baggage she brings with her.

And? A strong play with some good performances, a bit unfocused. Full review here.

John Duddy as Tommy. Photo by Valerie Terranova.

10/20/22: A Raisin in the Sun

What: The Public presents Lorraine Hansberry's tremendous play about the Younger family trying to carve out happiness in a world hostile to their presence.

And? It's not surprising, knowing director Robert O'Hara's resume, that this production contains moments intended to provoke. Intended, even, for some of us to clutch our pearls. My biggest gripe is probably that these choices and the ensuing discussion are probably overshadowing our engagement with the rest of the production. And honestly I'm mixed on the additional elements he's added here. [spoilers incoming! skip to the next paragraph if you don't want to know] The ghost of Walter Sr. doesn't quite work for me, nor does the moment Walter Lee breaks the fourth wall (I think because that doesn't underline his monologue any more clearly than if he were to keep it in the scene. We're either going to hear it or we aren't). The evidence of Mama's stroke after Walter Lee finds out the money is gone, that works. But we have to talk about the final moment, the one that sucks the air out of the room: I can't say that I hate it (even if, obviously, I hate the hate it contains). My issue with it remains that, whatever else, I think Hansberry wrote a play with a heroic, defiant ending. Like Proctor in The Crucible, Walter Lee finds his strength, his dignity, and asserts that against whatever else might follow. The play as written celebrates that moment. O'Hara's production acknowledges what most assuredly comes next: we see Walter Lee's young son Travis slowly walk forward as the facade of their new yellow house appears. And then, as he stands there, embodying the hope of his family's future, the ugliest word America has thrown at Black people appears scrawled across that facade. Because for O'Hara, that heroic and hopeful ending is a facade. It's the next step forward, but he knows that every step forward is faced with an implacable march of hatred ever trying to push back, push away, push down. He knows how many years ago this play was set, and how much violence, prejudice, and institutional discrimination is still inflicted on Black people in America. Mama and Ruth want the dignity and air of a real house to live in, raise their family, and they move to a white neighborhood with their eyes open. O'Hara wants our eyes open too. So, I get it. I get why this is the ending O'Hara chooses. But a part of me (the same part that took issue with some of the choices in the Daniel Fish revival of Oklahoma!, or with the liberties Ivo van Hove takes with every revival he gets his mitts on) wonders why do a play if your intention is to tell a different story than what was written. If you want to tell a different story, write a different play. So, mixy.

[spoilers over!] This production feels a little long, but otherwise I don't have a lot of complaints (other than what I voiced above). We had understudy Bjorn DuPaty on for Walter Lee, and he's absolutely riveting, full of charisma and disappointed hopes. The whole cast is great (how many times can Mandi Masden's performance of Ruth break my heart in one night? at least three), and led by the exemplary Tonya Pinkins as Lena (Mama). It's such a powerful script and it's always a gift to see Hansberry's work on the stage.

Mandi Masden, Tonya Pinkins, and Toussaint Battiste as Ruth, Lena, and
Travis. Photo by Joan Marcus.

Margin Notes: The Night Alive

The Night Alive

John Duddy as Tommy. Photo by Valerie Terranova.

Seen on: Wednesday, 10/19/22.
My grade: B+. A strong play with some good performances, a bit unfocused.

Plot and Background

Maiden Productions, in collaboration with Team Theatre, makes its New York debut with this production of Conor McPherson's play about Tommy, a Dubliner no longer young, living in a makeshift bedsit in his uncle's house and performing odd jobs with his friend Doc. One night Tommy breaks up a fight to rescue a woman in distress, not realizing the baggage that may follow her home.

Per the show's website, this production was originally staged at the Stella Adler Studio of Acting in October 2021. Maiden Production is founded by two Stella Adler graduates, Molly Ehrenberg-Peters and Haydn Harvey, who both costar in this production.

What I Knew Beforehand

Very little about the play itself, which is always exciting to me, though I know other plays by McPherson (including the timeless and scary The Weir and the bewildering Girl from the North Country).

Thoughts:

Play: McPherson's play is an interesting meditation on masculine virility: Tommy is built like an athlete (and played by a former professional boxer) but is hamstrung by his life circumstances--estranged from his wife and two teenage children, living in his uncle's house, perpetually out of pocket--and unable to take any step forward; Doc, his best friend, is about "five to seven" seconds behind everyone else, as well as impotent; Tommy's uncle Maurice, who needs a cane and a flask to function, weeps in grief for the monstrosities in the world he feels helpless to prevent; Kenneth, Aimee's ex, is walking menace but unleashes most of that on a woman who can't fight back; and Aimee, the sole woman, is at the mercy of men who profess to love her but can too easily break her. Theme-wise I find the questions this play and production ask interesting, but structure-wise it meanders a bit too much. The joyful song and dance that Tommy shares with Doc and Aimee never quite reaches an ecstasy, and Kenneth's entrance is too immediately menacing, so that his sudden violence is not surprisingly, only inevitable. The final question raised by Doc's insight from his dream is a particularly McPherson move in its unnerving acknowledgement of the supernatural, but at the same time I'm not clear what Tommy's final moment is telling me, or what I should take home with me, tucked in my pocket, to think about as I fall asleep.

Weekly Margin 2022, W43: Candida, Guys and Dolls

10/13/22: Candida

What: Gingold Theatrical Group presents George Bernard Shaw's play about Reverend Morell and his wife Candida, whose lives are thrown into upheaval when a passionate young poet declares his love for her. The play has been updated to 1920s New York.

And? I'll be honest, this has never been a favorite Shaw play of mine. I don't quite see the point. Still, it was nice to see it produced on Lindsay Genevieve Fuori's sumptuously cozy clutter of a scenic design, full of treats and easter eggs for the inquisitive eye. R.J. Foster is excellent and powerful as Morell, but unfortunately this power never feels actually threatened by Avery Whitted's Marchbanks, so the stakes never climb terribly high. Avanthika Srinivasan's Candida also doesn't quite capture the imagination in such a way that she seems worthy the battle between Morell and Marchbanks. I think my favorite in the cast has to be spitfire Amber Reauchean Williams as Morell's assistant Proserpine, full of joyful competence and principles (and eventually full of joyful champagne); she's terrific.

Avanthika Srinivasan, R.J. Foster, David Ryan Smith, Avery Whitted (seated),
Amber Reauchean Williams, and Peter Romano as Candida, Rev. James
Morell, Mr. Burgess, Eugene Marchbanks, Proserpine Garnett, and 
Alexander 'Lexy' Mills. Photo by Carol Rosegg.

10/14/22 & 10/15/22 (yes, twice): Guys and Dolls

What: As part of their Broadway Center Stage season, the Kennedy Center presents Frank Loesser, Abe Burrows, and Jo Swerling's classic musical about New York gamblers and their lady loves, featuring a ridiculously talented cast.

And? I wish I had known going in that this was going to be more along the lines of an Encores! production than a fully realized show, as it took me a bit to readjust my expectations. Still, it's always been a favorite show of mine, and the songs sound great when sung by this terrific cast and backed by the KC Opera House Orchestra. The choreo is a disappointment for me (not because they have to manage it around the onstage orchestra, but because it isn't telling me a clear story; I didn't know where to look). For the cast, I have to say James Monroe Iglehart is talented and funny but miscast -- he's too smooth by half for Nathan.  Steven Pasquale does great work with Sky in a role that seems tailor-made for him, and oh boy the aural bliss of him duetting with the silver-voiced Phillipa Soo. Kevin Chamberlin is fantastic as Nicely-Nicely (as we all knew he would be), but the two stars for me are Jessie Mueller, who keeps getting funnier as the show goes on (her Act Two duets, "Sue Me" and "Marry the Man Today," are mined for every moment she can find, and it's all gold); and five foot tall Rachel Dratch as Big Jule, who manages to steal scenes while barely moving.

Kevin Chamberlin, front, as Nicely-Nicely Johnson, with the cast of Guys
and Dolls. Photo by Jeremy Daniel.

Weekly Margin 2022, W42: Topdog/Underdog, Powerhouse

10/05/22: Topdog/Underdog

What: A revival of Suzan-Lori Parks' Pulitzer-winning play about the rivalry of two brothers, Lincoln and Booth, nursing a deep-seated rivalry and constantly renavigating which brother is topdog, and which underdog. 

And? I saw the original Broadway run, which began my lifelong fandom of Jeffrey Wright, and was excited to now see the show with older, more seasoned eyes. Y'all, it makes such a difference when the two actors are on equal footing. In 2002, Wright acted circles around his costar, but here Corey Hawkins (Lincoln, the elder brother) and Yahya Abdul-Mateen II (Booth, the younger) are both in the same play and on the same page. And they're fantastic. I may have minor notes (Abdul-Mateen's final monologue isn't quite there yet but I think he'll get there) but the entire scene leading up to that monologue is a perfect blend of tension, humor, one-upmanship, and the ecstasy of two performers at the height of their craft. Design-wise I want to pay special note to the way Allen Lee Hughes's lighting design interacts with the show curtains of Arnulfo Maldonado's scenic design: transforming what in one light looked dowdy and aged into shimmery satin and velvet, sudden opulence framing Booth's seedy studio apartment. On this revisit to the play I have to say it's not a story I particularly enjoy (pipe dream motifs just make me get mad at Eugene O'Neill. Just, in general), but it is still a stellar production, and watching Corey Hawkins selling the full scam of Three-card Monte with virtuosity and charisma (nod to Deceptive Practices, who consulted on the production) is really something else.

10/07/22: Powerhouse

What: Manhattan Repertory Theater presents a new play by David Harms about the power dynamics when a high-powered female law partner has an affair with a younger male associate.

And? ambitious but confused. full review here.

Laura Shoop as Regan Van Riper. Photo by Cameryn Kaman.

Margin Notes: Powerhouse

Powerhouse

Seen on: Friday, 10/07/22.

Dominick LaRuffa Jr. and Laura Shoop
as Guy Stone and Regan Van Riper.
Photo by Cameryn Kaman.

My grade: C. Ambitious but confused.

Plot and Background

Manhattan Repertory Theater presents a new play by David Harms, directed by MRT's co-founder and artistic director, Ken Wolf. The play flips the all-too-familiar narrative of a high-powered partner in a law firm having an affair with an associate by having that partner be a woman in her 40s in a relationship with a thirty-five year old man. When HR catches wind, Regan Van Riper must fight not only for her relationship but for her partnership in the firm as well.

What I Knew Beforehand

I knew the blurbed premise, that it was about power dynamics among genders, with the twist being that the higher ranking character is female.

Thoughts:

Play: It's a bit of awkward timing to see this only a week after the Wife Guy scandal broke, the moral of which was: "Don't have sex with your employees. It's an abuse of power no matter which way you slice it." It's especially awkward because as far as I can tell, this play thinks it's okay actually, at least when Regan does it. Because female empowerment maybe? I just. I hate to invoke a meme in a review, but what I kept asking over the course of this play was "What man wrote this?" Unfortunately the play is rife with problematic or tired tropes, including Meena the HR lady who seems to irrationally hate Regan (women disliking other women without actual reasons), to the degree of breaking ethical codes to try to trap her, and refusing to believe Regan's story of an earlier assault inflicted on her by a partner. Yes, I know there are women who don't believe women, but there's just no grounding or textual justification for this. It's just there. Because women are irrational hahaha? I don't know. Couple that with the fact that the Chairman, Norris Peebles, is a Black man and would know as well as Regan the challenges faced when climbing the corporate ladder while being anything other than a white hetero cis man. And yet there's no textual acknowledgement of that either, beyond one throwaway line about expecting him "of all people" to be an advocate. So I have to emend my question now to "What white man wrote this?" Unfortunately, it's the wrong one. I don't think Harms is equipped to tell this story--which, to be clear, has an interesting premise, and I would have loved to have seen a complicated examination of what happens when someone has achieved great things but still does something bad enough that it has to end this part of their career. I wanted that story, and I expected that story, but that's not the story that's being told, and I think it's a little too proud of itself for an allyship it's not coming by honestly.