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.

Weekly Margin 2024, W46: Drag: The Musical

11/13/24: Drag: The Musical

What: A new musical about two competing Drag clubs across the street from each other: their rivalry, the bitter history behind their founders, and the encroaching threats to their little paradises by gentrificiation and the IRS. Oh, and countless fantastic costumes, wigs, tea, reads, shade, and celebrations of the world of Drag.

And? I'm not immersed enough with the Drag world to fully engage with it on that level. As a piece of theater, it's fine. (my friends I went with are more in that world, and they had a damn blast at the show, for what it's worth) The stuff with the nephew Brendan is really effective (kinda mad I went to a Drag show and then had to have feelings about the fate of queer kids in America, but here we are), and my god the costume and wig work (especially everything worn by Popcorn/Luxx Noir London). And it was fun to see the very talented Nick Adams again.

Alaska and Nick Adams as Kitty Galloway and Alexis Gilmore, with the cast
of Drag: The Musical. Photo by Michael Bezjian.

Weekly Margin 2024, W45: A Wonderful World, Ragtime, Swept Away

11/04/24: A Wonderful World

What: A new bio/jukebox musical about Louis Armstrong and the four women he married.

And? It's still previews, so things could tighten up a bit. Right now it feels like it's between two shows: the generic biomusical where the main character narrates to the audience (the absolute laziest of telling, not showing), and a more compelling different lens, where the phases of his life are charted more by the four women he loved, and who he was with each of them. The scenic design by Adam Koch & Steven Royal is appealing, and the performances of Jennie Harney-Fleming, Dionne Figgins, and Darlesia Cearcy are fantastic. I went on a night that alternate James T. Lane was on for Armstrong, so while I can't give a verdict on James Monroe Iglehart in the role, I can say that James T. Lane is absolutely, well, wonderful.

11/07/24: Ragtime

What: New York City Center Encores! series gala presentation of the Ahrens, Flaherty, and McNally masterpiece.

And? It's more complicated to talk about this show than I thought it would be, especially after discussing it with the friends I attended it with. My friend who is a person of color pointed out that for Black people especially, the show is trauma porn. Much as I have always adored the show, that conversation was a stark reminder that this is a show for white people to see: Black people don't need to be told that Black people deserve dignity, humanity, and survival. Even if Coalhouse and Sarah get some of the best songs in this tremendous score, they also both die horrible deaths, leaving behind an infant child to be raised by parents who can never understand the experience of growing up Black in America.

Another friend of mine was coming to the show fresh: they didn't know the source material, the score, or the story. So while I was crying my little face off, they were thrown by just how many things were going on in one show. "It's a lot" sums it up pretty succinctly. I had the luxury of watching the show already having everyone's full arcs in my head; my friend was at sea over whose story it was.

And it all got me thinking. The buzz around this show is so loud that another Encores-to-Broadway transfer rumor has taken over the theater community. Who can blame them? This was a show with a perfect original cast album and a deep bench of talent in its original cast, cut short due to a certain embezzling producer. Its first Broadway revival was okay, but a bit of a letdown. But here we have Joshua Henry, the only performer I can think of who stands ready to take on the mantle previously worn by Brian Stokes Mitchell in the part: both men tremendous actors, full of charisma and power, and voices that can shake the walls of the theater. If nothing else, I'd like Mr. Henry to finally win his Tony. If something else, I'd also love an album of him singing Coalhouse's songs.

But. I wonder if this is the right time for this or not, especially in light of the election results this week. Part of why I wept through the act one finale when I saw the show was because it seemed like we'd made so little progress in over a century. "Til We Reach That Day" sings of a day that, over a century later, has still not yet been reached. Additionally, I'm concerned that if they transfer this production they will leave it as is, much like the recent Into the Woods revival. Don't get me wrong, I loved the revival when it played at City Center. But that's still officially a concert setting. There need to be additional steps taken to make it a full production. Michael Arden's production of Parade was able to toe this line, expanding and further developing its staging while still keeping the spirit of what it had at City Center.

The staging of what's playing right now at City Center is fine for a concert. But it is not a full production staging, and for a show this complex and full, with such an ensemble of players, we need strong staging and vision. We need the ambition of a civilization ready to call a shooting in 1906 the "crime of the century," though the century still has, as the show says, "94 years to go!" We need that staging not only to do the show itself justice, but to also do right by the audience members who don't already know and love the show. This production isn't ready for that yet.

But damn if we aren't lucky to have both Joshua Henry and Brandon Uranowitz here to breathe new life into Coalhouse and Tateh. There aren't words for how full the performances of these two men are, and after only ten days of rehearsal.

Nichelle Lewis and Joshua Henry as Sarah and Coalhouse Walker, Jr.
Photo by Joan Marcus.