"Let This Be Known As The Year Inspiration Left The Arts"

"Xanadu" at the Helen Hayes Theatre, May 25, 2007

A large circular mirror overhangs the stage as you enter the theatre, hopefully foretelling of Busby Berkely-like singing and dancing to come. Will hopes be fulfilled or dashed??

Actually, a little of both, courtesy of 1980.

The latest in a string of movie to stage adaptations, Xanadu arrives with no pretense as to what it is and what it is not. If you're ever unsure as you watch, just wait a few minutes and someone in the cast will remind you with a line like, "Even though I was suicidal seven minutes ago, I think I can create the apex of the arts!"

The creative team has insisted that all they took from the 1980 movie with Olivia Newton-John, Gene Kelly, and Michael Beck was just the premise and the songs. As miserable a film as it was, they seem to have kept quite a lot from the thin and poorly designed plot. Still in 1980, Sonny Malone (James Carpinello) is a failing artist, stopped from suicide by the Greek Muse, Clio (Kerri Butler) who renames herself Kira-from-Australia. Sonny discovers an empty theatre called Xanadu, which was built 40 years earlier (but never used) by Danny Maguire (Tony Roberts) when Clio visited him under the name of Tangerine (a missed musical opportunity, by the way). Since the Muses' purpose is only to inspire artists, they are forbidden to create art themselves or fall in love with a mortal, punishment for which is death. Naturally, Clio/Kira does both during the course of the evening. Her evil and older sisters, Melpomene (Mary Testa) and Calliope (Jackie Hoffman) are bitter about their younger sister being head Muse and plot against Clio using a love potion (think Cinderella, and yes, she does lose a skate at one point when she realizes she's fallen in love with Sonny and runs away from him). Of course, it's still a musical comedy and everyone lives happily ever after.

As Clio/Kira, Kerri Butler delivers a delightful knock-off of Olivia Newton-John's breathless singing, with a nice Australian accent to boot. Given what's playing around the corner at the Palace, they might have called this show "Heavenly Blonde" but for the confusion it might cause. She's almost comfortable performing the entire show on roller skates, which should not be an issue by the time opening night rolls around (as it were!). Her Clio/Kira ("call me Kira, 'cause that's my name!") is just a little on the ditsy side, making it easier to pull off as the anachronisms and camp are doled out by the handful.

James Carpinello's Sonny seems to have spent a LOT of time in Queens instead of Los Angeles. More than once, I heard line deliveries a la disco-boy Tony Manero, rather than artist-boy Sonny Malone. He gives an earnest performance, but doesn't quite manage the polish that Ms. Butler delivers opposite him.

There's one scene when Clio has returned to Mt Olympus to face her father Zeus for her actions (making art and falling in love with a mortal) that points up whyTony Roberts must have taken the role of Danny Maguire. Sonny shows up, having followed Clio, and points out that the scene looks just like one from "Clash of the Titans" with Lawrence Olivier as Zeus, Maggie Smith as Thetis, Ursula Andress as Aphrodite and Claire Bloom as Hera. (In this go-round, Mr. Roberts is Zeus - didn't get any Olivier from him, and Jackie Hoffman's Ursula Andress-Aphrodite sounded a bit like the Governator - funny though. Only Anika Larsen's Thetis came close to Miss Smith.) He asks them (paraphrasing) "What were you guys thinking? In a crap movie like that - just playing it for the paycheck?" Wasted in this role of Danny Maguire, I can't help wondering the same thing for Mr. Roberts. He doesn't have much to do, and that which he does isn't written very well.

The evil Muses: Mary Testa as Melpomene (who was mother of the Sirens - "My daughters, the sirens? They never call!") and Jackie Hoffman as Calliope ("I'm not wearing a bra.") camp it up and have a grand time, particularly during their rendition of "Evil Woman" backed up by the sirens with black ostrich-plume fans (Chicago, anyone?).

Musically, the show is firmly entrenched in the world of the Electric Light Orchestra from the movie soundtrack. Some songs have been added (the afore-mentioned "Evil Woman") along with "Strange Magic," "Fool," and "Have You Never Been Mellow." I was a bit disappointed in the "Dancin' " segment. Of the songs from the original movie, this was one that would seem to have offered an opportunity for a really impressive number with the mix of the 1940's style from Danny's memory, to Sonny's vision for the 1980's "Apex of the Arts" roller disco. Curtis Holbrook, dancing as a Young Danny in a flashback with Clio/Tangerine shows some superior tap skill, which could have been called on again for the "Dancin' " number that followed.

Douglas Carter Beane has beaten my fellow blogger Gil at Broadway Abridged to the punch with his book. Just check out his latest abridged show to see what I mean. Dan Knechtges' choreography drags the audience back to the days of "Solid Gold" from the outset. Some performers are more comfortable than others on roller skates, but repetition in previews will iron out any remaining wrinkles there. David Gallo's rink set evokes both a LA setting as well as lending itself to the Greek themes that periodically arise. Howell Binkley's lights complement nicely. I did wonder why the projection (using the circular mirror) of Sonny's chalk drawing of the Muses in the opening was upside down to the audience, though - difficult to recognize and connect the Muses to the actors when they enter in the opening number. David Zinn seems to have had a grand time creating the melange of Greek and 1980s revival costumes.

In the end, it's great fun and camp, but it still seems like it would be better suited in an Off-Broadway setting.

From A Dark, Dark Mind

"In A Dark, Dark House" presented by MCC Theatre at the Lucille Lortel Theatre, May 19, 2007

Neil LaBute, resident playwright for MCC Theatre presents his latest effort, "In A Dark, Dark House." From the MCC Theatre's website is this synopsis (Spoiler Alert):

On the grounds of a private psychiatric facility, two family members find themselves brought face to face with each other's involvement in their traumatic past. In court-ordered rehab, Drew calls on his brother, Terry, to corroborate his story of abuse. Drew's request releases barely-hidden animosities between the two; is he using these repressed memories to save himself while smearing the name of his brother's friend and mentor? In Neil LaBute's powerful new play, these siblings must struggle to come to grips with their troubled legacy, both inside and outside their dark family home.

Dark situations, family conflict - not really new ground for Mr. LaBute in this work, but his language feels more wordy than usual. Mr. Labute seems to want a Mamet-like dialogue, but never manages to find the rythm. The result is incomfortable to hear and must be a nightmare for an actor to perform. There's also a what seems to be final revelation which I found very unclear. If I figure out exactly what it was, I'll update this review.

As Drew, Ron Livingston (better known as Berger of the break-up Post-It from "Sex and the City") feels particularly wooden. The character of Drew is practically a train-wreck and Mr. Livingston plays him in a two-dimensional daze. He musters up a bit more emotion late in the play, but at that point it's hardly believable without having seen a bit more vulnerability in earlier interactions.

Louisa Krause's Jennifer comes off as overly precocious, to me, for a 16 year old girl running her father's miniature golf course. (Maybe I need to go back and watch "Pretty Baby" or "Taxi Driver" again to see just what young girls are thought to be capable of.) Even though she's matching wits with a fully grown man, she comes off as more than just wise for her years. Perhaps it's a result of uneven writing, but the result is not totally successful.

It is Frederick Weller who carries the weigh of this play. His Terry (who, by the way, neither looks, nor sounds, nor carries himself in any way that would support the notion that he and Drew are actually brothers) is a spring wound so tightly that the audience is always on the edge of their seats wondering what will set him off and what the fallout will be. From his first entrance, followed shortly by a bit of wrestling with Drew on the hospital grounds, to his seduction (although I'm not sure who really ends up seducing whom) of Jennifer, to his mini explosions in the final scene with Drew, Mr. Weller gives us a man tortured into becoming the facade of a creepy bully.

Director Carolyn Cantor does what she can with a mostly-talented cast and a script that's not quite up to its potential. Right now, it's a long, intermissionless 90 minutes. Maybe a bit of work in the final scene can tighten things up, or at least keep one from noticing the time.

Beowulf Boritt's outdoor multi-level sets show grass sod sliced away that reveal long roots, perhaps indicative of how deep the issues go. I think his interpretation may imply more success in communicating that than Mr. LaBute's script. Ben Stanton's lighting is an appropriate complement.

The Tables Are Turned

Updated 05/22/07: Three reviews of "In The Schoolyard"

Go Brooklyn's Review of "In The Schoolyard" at Theater for the New City, published May 12, 2007

Lost in Brooklyn!

By Christopher Murray

for The Brooklyn Paper

If there is any doubt about the cultural milieu of the charming new musical “In the Schoolyard” being presented this month at Manhattan’s Theater for the New City, the opening lyrics make things crystal clear: “Run, block, make a pass. Come on, Eddie, move your ass!”

Yeah, we’re deep in the heart of Brooklyn, guys. Both the storyline and the genesis of this musical are firmly set in the land of Spaldeens and eggcreams. Here’s the background: in 1998, writer Paulanne Simmons wrote a story for The Brooklyn Paper about a group of grown-up Brooklyn Heights street urchins who return every year to the ‘hood to play basketball and reminisce over a few beers. The story tugged on all those Brooklyn heartstrings: friendship, sports and nostalgia for the good ol’ days.

“I grew up in Brooklyn,” Simmons said recently. “I felt like I knew these guys.” Living in the Heights with her family, but having grown in East New York, Simmons was sure there was drama in the story and in 2001 her play, “Basketball Lessons,” was brought to the stage. Now, with her collaborator, composer Margaret Hetherman, the story that became a play becomes a feisty and warm-hearted musical.

“It happened years ago and yet,” goes one of the songs, “these are the things you don’t forget.” Certainly the fictional characters Simmons has created haven’t forgotten. They are all drawn back to Brooklyn like the swallows to Capistrano, but this year will prove to be a very special reunion of the gang.

Larry (the soulful and sardonic Jimmy Moon), also know as “Killer Dog,” was the golden boy of the nabe and is now a workaholic venture capitalist in California. “Jumping” Jerry (James Martinelli, also the show’s choreographer whose loose joints and full heart reminded me of the Tin Man of Oz), is a family man with small law practice on Long Island. Eddie (the affable Arthur Brown), a high school principal, acts as reunion convener and the show’s chorus. Manny (the solid Richard Bryson), made a mint out of his Tex-Mex restaurant chain. And lastly, Dave (the energetic Mickey Corporon) helped ensure all the guys got through school in the old days, but a succession of failed get-rich-quick schemes have left him broke, with a failing marriage and more-than-a-little desperate.

“But most of us turned out OK,” Larry mused. “I think it’s because we were so close.”

The guys represent the full diversity of Kings County’s Latino, Jewish and Irish sons of immigrants, and are lauded in the song “Protestants, Atheists and Jews.” Most of the show’s tunes are short and slower-tempoed, although Manny (“Best Latin Lover, Dartmouth ‘71”) and his mother — local grocery owner — Mrs. Rivera (“Rice and Beans”), played by Jackie Savage, both add zest with their numbers.

The wives of the fellows (Theresa Marinelli, Barbara Czerner, Jody Bell and Heather Meagher), perhaps predictably, get somewhat short shrift. While the men’s characters, which the show is ultimately most concerned with, are all crispy delineated and well beyond stereotype, the wives all grumble about the reunions and make fun of their husbands for being a little past their prime, with spare tires and balding pates. In a group number, “Our Guys,” however, their love for their tubby hubbies shines through.

The show takes a serious turn in the second act, moving the script beyond just a re-examination of the past with rose-colored glasses. A personal crisis for one of the characters causes all the friends to reflect on what’s truly important to them and how precious the time spent with dear friends and family is.

Although the play’s rudimentary scenic elements — backlit lighting, cardboard sets — convey a community theater-style production, with a few botched sound cues and a flubbed line here and there, these foibles are made up for by the spirit of theater about community that is in harmony with the play’s message. In fact, members of Simmons’s family pitched in with various tasks for the presentation and the Heights Players offered support, too.

The homespun truths captured by “In the Schoolyard,” and the message about your old friends being the truest, was summed up in a comment overhead from an audience member at intermission: “There’s a certain thing in Brooklyn. Those guys, I might not have seen them in years, but I’ll be going to their funeral, or they’ll be going to mine.”

A somber note, perhaps, for a musical with a slightly bittersweet ending, but a shared past has many consolations, as Larry said, “That’s the great thing about coming back to Brooklyn — nothing changes.”

“In the Schoolyard,” will run at Theater for the New City (155 First Ave., between Ninth and 10th streets in Manhattan) through May 20. Tickets are $15. For information, visit www.theaterforthenew....

©2007 The Brooklyn Paper

NYTheatre.com's review of "In The Schoolyard" at Theatre for the New City published May 5, 2007

Michael Criscuolo · May 5, 2007

Paulanne Simmons and Margaret Hetherman's new musical, In the Schoolyard, follows several old high school friends from Brooklyn who reunite in the old neighborhood once a year for a weekend of socializing, reminiscing, and schoolyard basketball. It's a great idea for a show that, unfortunately, falls flat here. Plagued by inconsistency on all fronts, In the Schoolyard undoes its creators at every turn.

Eddie, a middle-aged high school principal in New Jersey, organizes the reunion every year. Among the usual attendees are Larry, a white collar California businessman; Jerry, a Long Island attorney; Dave, a wayward entrepreneur looking to make a quick and easy buck; and Manny, owner of a national Tex-Mex restaurant chain. They all grew up together, and rarely miss an opportunity to hang together no matter how geographically far away they may be from each other. Some of these men are workaholics, others have lost numerous jobs, while others have married and divorced, but their collective friendship has remained constant throughout the years.

On a purely structural level, Simmons's book lets In the Schoolyard down in a crucial way: there's no conflict. Act I takes its time (perhaps a little too much) introducing all the characters. Then, in Act II, the show jumps straight into a slow, gradual resolution, bypassing any and all complications. There's some potential discomfort regarding a risky investment deal Dave wants to get Larry in on, and a life-threatening disease for one of the men late in the show, but they both feel almost like afterthoughts. Simmons never positions In the Schoolyard for any kind of circumstance that might jeopardize the men's reunion or their friendships (or anything else).

Even if she did, we might not necessarily see it. The two places the guys talk most about—the basketball court and the local bar where they hang out afterwards—are the two locations where we never get to see them. In the Schoolyard shows us plenty of who they are individually, but we see very little of who they are together. Without this dynamic, the show feels imbalanced.

Simmons and Hetherman's score has some nice moments, but on the whole sounds too somber and minor-key for this story. The exuberance that the characters keep aiming for is absent from the songs. There are also some dubious choices made concerning which parts of the story get musicalized. "Our Guys," a trio for the tried-and-true wives, and "Rice and Beans," in which one of the guys' mothers rhapsodizes about her signature dish, feel like filler. Simmons and Hetherman fare better in other places, most notably with Manny's introduction, "Best Latin Lover, Dartmouth '71," but, for the most part, I had a hard time understanding why In the Schoolyard is a musical and not a straight play.

The production itself is shaky, and feels severely under-rehearsed. The actors look uncertain much of the time, and there's a mental and emotional disconnect that happens whenever most of them sing. Director Simmons doesn't unify any of the show's various elements, and the result is a production that comes off looking like a first run-through at the halfway point in the rehearsal schedule. Sadly, under such conditions, almost none of the actors comes off looking good. Only James Martinelli makes a positive impression as Jerry. Imagine Tom Sizemore as a song-and-dance man, and you'll understand how disarmingly charming Martinelli is.

As I said at the beginning, there's a good show lurking in here somewhere, but this isn't it.

Update: May 22, 2007

A third opinion from Cait Weiss at New Theater Corps Blog:

Link here

Spacey From Across The Sea

" A Moon for the Misbegotten" at the Brooks Atkinson Theatre, May 8, 2007

As the artistic director at London's Old Vic Theatre, Kevin Spacey has found himself a permanent performance venue for the duration of his contract. His first transfer to Broadway is Eugene O'Neill's A Moon for the Misbegotten. Well-received in London, it's a solid production with a very talented cast.

The premise of the play surrounds Phil Hogan, an Irish immigrant farmer working rocky fields he rents from sometime Broadway actor Jim Tyrone in rural Connecticut in 1923. Having already run off his three sons, he's left with only his daughter Josie for help running the place. Jim has promised to sell the farm to Phil when his father's estate, of which the farm is a part, is finally settled. Josie has few prospects for anything that might lead to a husband and a life away from her father. She claims to be satisfied with her lot, having already found affection in the arms of many. Sadly, her true love is the tortured and alcoholic landlord, Jim Tyrone. She is described in Amazonian proportions to the point of horse-like. During the youngest brother's escape, he encourages her to entrap Tyrone into marriage as her last hope. Her father supports the concept and they work on a scheme to make it happen.

As Josie, Eve Best doesn't carry the physical proportions, but manages a gawky and uncultured demeanor that portrays the bovine specimen she should be. Her portrayal is an earnest performance of a fiery woman with plenty of rough edges. Her success is in that she doesn't sacrifice Josie's underlying vulnerability.

Colm Meaney gives a solid turn as Phil Hogan, a struggling immigrant who has chased off his three sons, perhaps intentionally so that they might have a better life than his.

Billy Carter, as T. Stedman Harder, blusters embarrassedly, to the point of not being understood on occasion.

Mr. Spacey's Jim Tyrone is a man who drops by his tenants' farm to get his ego stroked, his drinking problem enabled and enjoy the show. It seemed as though he was only there to watch the excellent performances of Mr. Meaney and Ms. Best during Act I, occasionally interjecting his lines in a non-sequitur style of delivery. It is Act II that Mr. Spacey "takes the stage." He runs the actor's gauntlet, but only becomes credible in Tyrone's drunken breakdown. At that point, it's almost too little, too late.

Bob Crowley's dirt floor and racked cabin sets give the appropriate air of desperation, with Mark Henderson's lighting almost a perfect companion.

"Shot Who?"

"Our Leading Lady" presented by Manhattan Theatre Club at City Center Stage II, April 25, 2007

Charles Busch's latest offering, "Our Leading Lady" tells the presumably fictional back story of Laura Keen, a 19th century actress-manager, whose production of "Our American Cousin" was playing the night Abraham Lincoln was assassinated at Ford's Theatre.

I couldn't help thinking that this would be great fodder for a musical. Mr. Busch has assembled the stock characters one might have found in the acting company of Ford's Theatre at the time, the dotty older actress, the leading man with a drinking problem, the character actor of questionable sexual orientation married to a former ingenue, etc.

(Spoiler Alert) In the first act, he has created a period melodrama, telling the story of how Ms. Keen has left New York after her acting company there went under. She is now touring her production of "Our American Cousin" across the country, playing the lead and supported by local actors at each stop. On this stop, she is also in secret negotiations to take over the running of Ford's Theatre and staff it with members from her New York company. Needless to say, the local actors are suspicious and unhappy. Egos run from testy to maniacal. When Laura learns that the President has decided not to attend her play, she writes to him immediately, and is able to change his mind. We all know what happens next.

Things take a dark shift in the second act. Laura's efforts of kindness toward her long-time dresser/maid, Wu-Chan (now revealed as a once-runaway slave) are not received as she would have expected. The relationship, founded on a mutual disregard and denial for what was obvious in order to serve each one's purposes, struggles through an attempted switch in roles of care giver and receiver. Wu Chan wants to find her brother and claim six acres promised to her by her former owner. Laura sees this as unlikely, if not impossible, given the war and despite emancipation, begging Wu Chan to stay and travel with her to her next tour stop in Ohio. Laura and the cast are questioned by the authorities about possible involvement with Mr. Booth's actions, since several company members might have a motive to help the assassination plot. The former ingenue is held overnight because of her Southern family ties and previous public statements against the war.

All is resolved, ever-so-theatrically, in a grand monologue delivered by Laura which thoroughly impresses the company, but only befuddles the investigator who writes them all off as not mentally stable enough to formulate, let alone participate in the assassination. Laura's plan to take over the theatre falls through, and her tour is cancelled.

As Laura Keen, Kate Mulgrew gives her best William Shatner version of a pompous and self-important actor. Maxwell Caulfield, as the aging leading man with a teeny-tiny drinking problem is just about unintelligible, but still quite handsome. As the dotty Mrs. Bentley, Barbara Byrne is steadfast and probably the most consistent performer in this production.

Santo Loquasto's versatile set uses a rotating proscenium arch, turning periodically as the scenes shift. In the second act, the proscenium is tilted against the back wall, a metaphor for the collapse in the aftermath of the assassination. Brian McDevitt's lighting gives the appropriate period feel to the proceedings. Jane Greenwood's period costumes were spot on.

Mr. Busch has written some very nice and clever moments into his script. Late in the first act, while railing against the Booths for prior offenses to her career (which may or may not have led to the failure of her New York company) she says, "At least there's nothing the Booths can do to me now." There are plenty of other laughs as well, but the evening still feels a bit unsatisfying. Is the play meant to be just a broad comedy with some dark moments? Is it meant as a commentary on the artificiality of politics? Is it meant to comment on how women survived in the 19th Century? We get these questions, but the answers remain unclear.

(Star-watch: Conrad John Schuck in the audience - I saw a fellow audience member speak to him as someone recognizable but unidentified.)

Perfect Form(ula), Bitter Outcome

"Deuce" at the Music Box Theatre, April 24, 2007

It has all the pieces one needs for a smash. Two award-winning leading actresses, an award-winning director and an award-winning author with 11 Tony wins, 11 Tony nominations, 10 Drama Desk Awards, 14 Drama Desk nominations. How could it go wrong?

Sadly, and much to the pain of theatrical producers, there is no formula to stage a hit on Broadway. The producers of "Deuce" certainly had the right parts of what successful shows have.

Sadly, too, there is no hit here.

Mr. McNally, who has displayed such brilliance in the past with the books for the musicals "Ragtime" and "Kiss of the Spider Woman" and the plays "Master Class" and "Love, Valour, Compassion" seems to have phoned this one in. Even his "Some Men" currently running at Second Stages is stronger than this effort. His tale of former tennis doubles partners meeting for what may be the last time in their lives never rises above mildly amusing and occasionally descends into cheap jokes and bathroom humor. He pulls from his regular bag of tricks, expository monologues in the middle of the action from featured characters, asides and observations from peripheral characters, as well as a pair of inane commentators.

Sometimes a particularly talented cast can keep a play from collapsing from its lack of structure. Angela Lansbury and Marian Seldes would certainly seem to be two actors up to that task, and yet, they both display their own weaknesses. At the top of that list is stumbling over lines. This was my first opportunity to have seen either of these fine actors in a live performance. There has been a certain amount of buzz about the problems with the show. I was hopeful that by the time I attended that many of this issues would be solved.

They weren't.

And sadder still, most of the negative buzz referred to Ms. Lansbury's missing lines while Ms. Seldes was steadfast holding up her side of the show, supporting Ms. Lansbury as best she could. Tonight it was Ms. Seldes that missed the first of many of her own lines. Ms. Lansbury matched her in that category. When one is pulling so hard for performers to do well, it can be difficult to observe characterization. A weak script does little to help.

There is a line near the end of the play which has been mentioned in several other blogs. "We shall not see the likes of these two again." (paraphrased) It was very obviously a larger statement about the two women than just an observation of the two characters. And, he's right.

Turn Up The Heat

"110 in the Shade" presented by the Roundabout Theatre Company at Studio 54, April 21, 2007

Most famous for "The Fantasticks," Harvey Schmidt and Tom Jones collaborated with N. Richard Nash for its first Broadway run in 1963-64, based on Mr. Nash's play "The Rainmaker."

This Roundabout Theatre production is its first Broadway revival and while the book and score are solid, I'm unsure why this didn't turn up as an Encores! production instead. Based on information from fellow theatre-goers, Mr. Nash apparently didn't make significant changes to this adaptation from the original script, which explains why so much of the score repeats information from the dialogue that led up to it. Messrs. Schmidt's and Jones' music and lyrics are certainly enjoyable, but our result is a production that lingers for two and a half hours.

As for the casting, some very talented people are involved. Audra McDonald takes the role of the spinster, Lizzie. Playing her father is the ever-solid John Cullum. Her brothers Noah and Jimmy are played by Chris Butler and Bobby Steggert, respectively.

Ms. McDonald is in beautiful voice for this role - as she seems to be in any role she performs. Despite this, I couldn't help feeling that she's ultimately miscast. Her first song, "Love, Don't Turn Away" is sweet and tender. Even with her thick dark hair pulled back (not nearly severely enough) she still exudes an attractiveness that undercuts the role of this plain, ordinary looking woman longing for love in a dried up Texas town. There too, we don't get to see Lizzie's vulnerability until the second act. By then it's hard to distinguish vulnerability from desperation.

Mr. Cullum's H. C. Curry, Lizzie's father, has realized early on that since tradition (and to a certain point, common sense) has given up on Lizzie, he's willing to entertain new possibilities as to how his only daughter can find happiness.

Mr. Butler's Noah, Lizzie's older brother is much slower to give up on tradition, but more for his own comfort than hers. Also single, having this spinster for a sister provides him with cooking and cleaning without the entanglements or responsibilities of a wife. Younger brother Jim, eagerly and delightfully played by Mr. Steggert, is ahead of his father about finding a man for his sister.

The only local candidate is the local sheriff, File, played by Christopher Innvar. He's got the tall, dark and handsome thing down well. Combine that with a fine voice and subtle but effective performance and it becomes a question as to why Lizzie would ever look anywhere else.

Well, the script brings along Starbuck, a drifter/con man billing himself as a rainmaker who's arrived just to help the poor town end their draught out of the goodness of his heart (and $100 from whomever is willing to shell the cash out). Steve Kazee's Starbuck comes across like semi-skinnied-down Meatloaf crossed with Black Bart (including hat and vest). What ought to be a performance of mystical charisma never seems to arrive. Mr. Kazee seems to have a good voice, but doesn't seem well-suited to this score. Also, he never reveals that inner spark needed to attract others to him. I'd like to see Mr. Innvar in his role for one performance.

Having been in previews for a week when I attended the show, I was surprised that there seemed to still be a problem with lines from time to time - most noticeable from Mr. Cullum and Ms. McDonald.

Director Lonny Price has taken a fairly soft approach with this show. It seems to be missing a certain edge, falling back to predictability as the events of the story unfold. Santo Loquasto has created an excellent foundation with the sun-like turntable stage and an over sized sun which hangs ominously over the set. Christopher Akerlind's lighting hints at the heat only during the opening of the show. Once the story gets moving, everything seems to cool off much too quickly into pastel blues and greens.

It's a solid production, but in the end, an unremarkable one. Maybe they can spark a little life into the show by the time it opens.

18th Century Birth Control - Darker Than the Dickens!

"Coram Boy" at the Imperial Theatre, April 17, 2007

Continuing an impressive season of plays is another arrival from London, the National Theatre's "Coram Boy." Adapted from Jamila Gavin's novel by Helen Edmundson, it's quite a dark tale of pain, love, deception, denial, murder and sexual slavery. Also interesting is that the source novel was written for "young adults."

There are many familiar themes at play, Dickensian and Shakespearean among them. A brief plot summary (Spoiler Alert): In 1742, Alexander Ashbrook (from a family with station and money) and Thomas (not) are music students. Alexander is the eldest son, and scheduled to take over the family title and responsibilities but wants to be a musician instead. Coming home to address this, he meets Melissa, the daughter of staying with his family. They fall in love and conceive a child, about which he knows nothing when he decides to run away to pursue music. Melissa has the child, but her mother has decided that keeping it is out of the question and enlists the aid of Mrs. Lynch, the housekeeper, to have the child sent to the Coram Hospital, an orphanage. Melissa is told that the child was stillborn. Mrs. Lynch is working in cahoots with Mr. Gardiner, who claims to be an agent of the Coram Hospital, but instead demands significant cash donations for the child's keeping to take a child, then buries the child (sometimes alive) and pockets the cash. He has a half-wit/epileptic son Meshak, who helps him with the burials. Meshak is in love with the image of an angel in the church. When he sees Melissa for the first time, he thinks she is his angel come to earth. It is he who takes Melissa's child, but instead of burying him, flees and finds himself a position at the Coram Hospital and gets the child (Aaron) admitted. Mr. Gardiner's crimes are exposed and an execution is held.

Eight years later, Aaron is now the gifted musician at the age of 8, discovered by Handel who is working on "The Messiah" as a fundraiser for the Coram Hospital. Aaron and his friend Toby, who believes his mother was an African Princess, are placed with patrons. Aaron's patron is a composer, Edward Bruck. Toby's is Phillip Gaddam, who will keep him as a liveried house servant. Gaddam is the vilest of villains, "placing" young girls from the Coram Hospital into sexual slavery in Turkey. Meshak, still dim but devoted to Aaron, his "angel child." Aaron knows Meshak brought him to Coram, but can't get Meshak to tell him who his parents really are. All is soon resolved and several true identities are revealed, resulting in good winning over evil with plenty of casualties along the way.

While the story is obviously operatic, with its circuitous plot and twists, it is director Melly Still who, from casting to staging, brings us through this impressive night of theatre. From the use of a Greek chorus of sorts made up of young women, who play various roles including young boys and girls at Coram, the voices of the crying children as they are buried alive, and the clergy for whom the drama is performed (sitting above and watching, a la "Marat/Sade" - this time, however, it is the congregation putting on the performance for the clergy instead of the inmates). I'm not sure I could adequately describe some of the techniques and staging effects well enough to give you an accurate picture of the results, suffice to say that on a relatively simple turntable, the audience is transported from a forest graveyard, to a choir loft, to the deck of a ship, to the interior of several homes and rooms, to a gallows, to the depths of the English Channel.

Performances among the cast were all convincing. Special notice should be made of Jan Maxwell's Mrs. Lynch, the conspiratorial housekeeper who when confronted with her crimes, quickly turns the moment into one of self-reflection for her self-righteous employers accusing Lady Ashbrooke of selfishness for not funding more assistance to the poor than she had already. As Otis Gardiner, Bill Camp brings all of the bile and oiliness of Fagin, with none of the soul - a delightful villain you love to hate.

It is Brad Fleischer's half-witted, epileptic Meshak who gets the corner on sympathy. Wounded and handicapped, his Meshak still yearns for the love his father was incapable of providing. His death scene was a terrific execution of brilliant theatre craft.

Ms. Still is also credited along with Ti Green for sets and costumes, and understandably so. The thorough vision of concept like this couldn't be split completely. Paule Constable's lighting is the hingepin that makes all of this work so beautifully. Throughout, it is the music of Handel and Adrian Sutton, under the direction of Constantine Kitsopoulos that weave all of these aspects together. The "Hallelujah Chorus" that closes the show did feel a bit manipulative, since it is traditional to stand when this movement of the oratorio is performed.

Pardon Me, While I Pause for a Moment of Self-Promotion

I have accepted the role of Larry in the upcoming production of "In The Schoolyard" to be produced at Theater For The New City in the East Village.

Click here for more information about performances and tickets.

I'm apparently replacing another actor (not sure why) so the rehearsal period will be a bit "condensed."

But Where Was Pirate Jenny's Song?

"LoveMusik" presented by the Manhattan Theatre Club at the Biltmore Theatre, April 14, 2007

In what should have been a triumphant return to directing on Broadway, Hal Prince's latest effort is (so far - since the show is still in previews) a long and drawn out affair that seems most interested in trying to present the entire Weill songbook in a single evening of theatre. He's got some significant talent to work with in Donna Murphy as Lotte Lenya and Michael Cerveris as Kurt Weill. Alfred Uhry's book takes a while to find its way, and does manage some interesting moments. There is a tendency to get bogged down in minutiae to accomodate the song coming up next. I liked that they indicated the lyricist for each song, but wish they'd taken the next step and identified the show in which it appeared. MTC has done a nice job with program notes about the four principal characters of Lenya, Weill, Bertold Brecht and George Davis.

As Lotte Lenya, Ms. Murphy works hard to remain compelling with some rather redundant moments. It's established early on that fidelity is not her strong suit, but challenging Weill's ability to love her is. That said, it took a while for that passion to really come through. Though Weill was of a particularly passive nature, I didn't sense that the book provided Mr. Cerveris the chance to really express himself in their first argument. Once that passion was revealed a scene or two later, Mr. Cerveris' awkward and tender portrayal came through beautifully. Even though it's only listed twice in the playbill, it seemed like there were at least three (if not five) reprises of "I Don't Love You."

Ms. Murphy, all gangly knees and hips again like in the recent "Wonderful Town" gives us a Lenya who is free with her love as a defense to mask her fear of rejection. I do have to say, though, that her songs reminded me a lot more of Edith Piaf than Lotte Lenya. I did a quick internet search to find a Lenya recording and think Ms. Murphy's own un-accented voice much closer than that of her performance in this show.

As Bertold Brecht, David Pittu, whose skills remind me more and more of a Stanley Tucci for musical theatre with another chameleon-like turn. His Brecht is trashy and talented, only concerned about self-promotion and pleasure.

John Scherer gets saddled with the standard-required-gay-role of George Davis, Weill's American agent. He does get to show off some nice song-and-dance skills in "The Illusion Wedding Show." I'm still not sure why Patricia Birch didn't put tap shoes on him for that number - he certainly hit the marks from what I could hear in the mezzanine.

I was struck with how many scenes/moments reminded me of Kander and Ebb's "Cabaret, originally directed by Mr. Prince. From the first scene between Weill and Lenya in Weill's tiny apartment, which seemed much like Cliff and Sally's first scene at Frau Schneider's boarding house, to Brecht's first number, "Tango Ballad" and "Schickelgruber," both of which pointed back to Cabaret's "Two Ladies."

I did have a couple of tactical questions about some staging decisions.

• Why did the rowboat bit at the beginning look so cheaply done?
• Why were some parts of scenes staged out of view of the mezzanine?
  
• Why was one of Brecht's companions scrubbing the sand outside his trailer in Santa Monica?
• Why did Alan Lake's costume during "Buddy on the Night Shift" look like a Chelsea-boy sleeveless tshirt?
• Has anyone ever seen such well-endowed figures as were depicted on the first act false proscenium?
• Most of all, with all the music they did manage to put into the show, why would they leave out Pirate Jenny's song from "Threepenny Opera," a number I saw Ms. Murphy sing at the Public's anniversary celebration (summer of 2004?) in a devastating performance? There are many references to TPO throughout the show, but for a role so closely associated with Lenya, how does one leave it out?
  

Overall, I would have to describe the production as slightly awkward right now. It seems like a production that should still be out of town, working through some of these issues, the most pressing of which is the nearly three-hour running time.

Technically, this isn't one of MTC's better efforts. Costumes by Judith Dolan are a mish-mash of styles, with no indication of a unified look. Beowulf Boritt's sets are also an uneven affair, working from a palette of red and black, but tossing in a mix of styles without much apparent attention to theme. It is early in previews, but the Howell Binkley's lighting experienced a few glitches here and there.

That said, there is much to be seen here. When Ms. Murphy sings "Surabaya Johnny," she is mesmerizing, once again earning her reputation as a powerful and charismatic performer. I thought the staging of Weill's death was beautifully done, followed by a heartbreaking delivery of "September Song" by Ms. Murphy and Mr. Davis. Mr. Cerveris is equally compelling, particularly so in the reprises of "I Don't Love You."