BE...derivative

"BE" by Mayumana at the Union Square Theatre, June 23, 2007

Think of:

• Stomp
• Tap Dogs
• Cirque Du Soleil clowns
• Bobby McFerrin

...and a taste of flamenco tossed in - but none of it done nearly as well. (Although, I did think the flamenco number wasn't bad.)

What Was Up With The Lollipops?

"Old Acquaintance" presented by the Roundabout Theatre Company at the American Airlines Theatre

Oh, the glamour of pre-war NYC! Kit and Millie have been friends and friendly competitors since college. Millie married, had a child and divorced, while Kit has moved from romance to romance, never managing to settle down. Millie cranks out at least one novel a year, always a good seller, but rarely the critics' choice. Kit is much less prolific, but the critics' darling when she does publish. Now Millie's daughter, Deirdre has finished school and at the age of 19 is ready to take on life in NYC as a modern woman of 1940. Kit's current affair is with a younger office worker at her publisher's.

John Van Druten's script, originally ran on Broadway in 1940 is in its first revival. Mr. Van Druten, also the author of "I Remember Mama," "Leave Her to Heaven," Bell, Book and Candle," and "I Am a Camera." This effort, one of his first, seems to follow the style of George S. Kaufman and other drawing room comedies of the '20s and '30s holds a couple of clever lines, such as Kit's first reference to Millie, "She has an extraordinary gift of common sense that never finds its way into her books." (Inexplicably, Kit also has some sort of oral fixation, appearing in nearly every scene sucking on a lollipop or candy cane.) Millie, ever the on-the-verge-of-hysterics mother of the period is totally involved her daughter's life, feeling incomplete since her husband left and now feels worse when she learns he is to remarry a young artist whom Millie herself had promoted a few years before. Deirdre, a classic ingenue looking to shake off the shackles of her mother and her youth, and considers kick-starting her new life via an affair with a well-heeled cad. Kit's inamorata, Rudd, has proposed and was quickly and kindly declined. Of course, when Rudd and Deirdre meet, true love appears, confusion arises, hilarity ensues and all is resolved by the end of Act 3.

As Kit, Margaret Colin is ever-lovely and elegant, but missing the fun her character is described as having. We know her affection for Rudd is real, but she seems to have lost sight of the care-free sophisticate she's playing. I was looking for Rosalind Russell a la "Auntie Mame," but she came across more like Norma Shearer from "The Women."

As Rudd, her much-younger boyfriend, Cory Stoll is earnest with a touch of callow. Diane Davis' Deirdre is very much a 1940 version of her willful daughter from "Regrets Only" earlier this year at Manhattan Theatre Club. Stephen Bogardus gets the thankless role of her father, who only shows up to give Millie another chance to chew some scenery.

And chew she does. Harriet Harris' Millie sparkles, wails, cries and staggers in this performance of a manic woman on the crest of middle age. She sweeps in on every entrance, whether in Kit's pseudo-edwardian/eclectic Greenwich Village garret, or the pepto-pink damask and white marble Park Avenue apartment she sublets for the winter. She seems to be the only one on stage having any real fun in this comedy.

Director Michael Wilson keeps a brisk pace with this three-acter, but he doesn't seem to have connected with Ms. Colin. Why else would she come across so dour? Alexander Dodge's NY apartments are in keeping with the period, complemented but not overly enhanced by Rui Rita's lighting. David Woolard's costumes lean heavily in favor of Ms. Harris' character as well. The rest are appropriate though not exemplary.

In The Eye Of The Beholder

"Phallacy" at Cherry Lane Theatre, June 9, 2007

In an Austrian art museum, Dr. Regina Leitner-Opfermann rules (get it?) as a foremost authority on ancient sculpture. The pride of the museum's collection is an original Roman Bronze statue of a nude youth dating back to something like 300 BC. She authenticated the find several years before, published a book about it and is so totally invested in its artistic and historic value, that she cannot (or will not) see room for error. Enter Dr. Rex Stolzfuss, renowned scientist of chemistry, who has done a bit of his own testing on the statue, discovering that the statue is more likely a Renaissance reproduction than a Roman original. When he comes to Dr. Leitner-Opfermann to discuss his findings, she dismisses him out of hand, insulted that her word and work could have been questioned.

The plotting and scheming starts immediately, with Dr. Stolzfuzz ("Proud Foot") out for revenge. Dr. Leitner-Opfermann ("Lead-Victim") instantly knows where she went wrong in her own analysis and begins to search for a way to acknowledge the fact without losing face in the art community. Each is assisted in their efforts, Regina by Emma Finger, a Renaissance Art expert assigned by the museum and Rex by Otto Ellenbogen ("elbow"), his graduate assistant. It's all tied up nicely in that Otto and Emma have their own brief history of flirtation, which may have included one lusty encounter. He's smitten, but she knows it and plays it to her advantage even though she's equally as smitten, which in turn plays to his advantage.

Sounding a little contrived yet?

There's more - a sub-plot connected to the illegitimate son of HRE Charles V and his mother that ties back to the statue in question.

Playwright Carl Djerassi is by training and education a scientist and professor of chemistry at Stanford University, with both a National Medal of Science for developing "the Pill" and a National Medal of Technology, just to name a few of his professional accomplishments. Some 10 years ago, he began writing plays which have been performed around the world. "Phallacy" represents his fifth play and premiered in London in 2005. Written with a broad stroke, its exploration of art vs. science receives treatment which is, at time, a bit heavy-handed. Just the naming of the characters demonstrates that. Rex and Regina - king and queen, he the proud foot kicking down her world, she the lead victim, assistants named for bodily extremities. It doesn't really qualify as subtle, does it? Not to say that the play is without entertainment value or even a bit of education along the way. I would not have otherwise known that during the Renaissance, artists were paid by the pound for bronze sculpture which lead to pretty thick and heavy statues - a big reason why so many more survive, as opposed to the much thinner and therefore more vulnerable bronze castings from the Roman era.

As Regina, Lisa Harrow excels during her lecture monologues about the statue. She conveys a passion and love for this art that might have led to her divorce from Herr Opfermann. This actually seems like a plot point that went unexplored and might have provided some interesting depth to an otherwise simply arrogant woman. In her scenes, Ms. Harrow occasionally gets caught up in the lines, losing some of that passion so well-displayed when she described each square centimeter of the bronze.

Simon Jones' Rex doesn't quite get the same opportunity to shine. Reduced to an insulted academic with an ax to grind, he comes off as rather petty, seeking revenge against Regina for having tossed out his offer to release the news of the true age of the bronze.

As Emma, Carrie Heitman does the best she can with what she's given. She did come off a little colder than necessary in her scenes with Vince Nappo as Rex's assistant, Otto Ellenbogen. Mr. Nappo's moments to shine were in the few flashback-subplot scenes where he and Ms. Harrow played the illegitimate son of HRE Charles V and his mother.

Director Elena Araoz keeps a nice pace on this little pot-boiler, but there's not enough fuel in the material for it to really build into something worthwhile. Susan Zeeman Rogers' sets place everything just a bit off-center in her abstract setting that allows for easy transition from office to museum gallery to 16th Century Luxembourg. Katy Tucker's projection design is a clever technique projecting images over Mr. Nappo's and Ms. Harrow's bodies to effect a costume change.

Questioning Faith

"Horizon" at New York Theatre Workshop, June 7, 2007

(Disclaimer: I was invited to attend this performance by NYTW. Thanks for the seats!)

Reinhart Poole, minister and professor of ethics at a seminary has just been fired and is preparing to teach his last class. This is Rinde Eckert's premise for his evening of exploring theology and faith through a highly theatrical performance of song and scenes. A quote from the NYTW press release:

Rinde Eckert says, "The basis for many of the ruminations in Horizon is a modest study of the life and ideas of Reinhold Niebuhr, an influential American theologian and social theorist. But although those familiar with Niebuhr's ideas may see the ghost of them here, one ought not to strain the comparison. My grandfather Thomas D. Rinde, a Lutheran minister, taught religious history at a seminary in Fremont, Nebraska, also serving as its director for many years. I like to think he would be pleased to find himself implicated here in my imagined teacher Reinhart Poole."

For more information about Mr. Niebuhr, check out the article from the NY Times here.

Having been raised Lutheran, my personal spiritual state is one of moderation in life and deeds. I found this discussion of faith and its meaning in one's life one a most interesting evening. This is not a play where one sits back and is "entertained." This thoughtful play kept me engaged for the entire 90 minutes. It was both the subject matter and the clever and skillful staging and direction which accomplished this.

The structure of the evening seemed to follow something of a Lutheran church service presenting, in effect, two Lessons and a Gospel, followed by a Sermon and Benediction. Not having been a regular church-goer since high school, there was a comforting familiarity with this approach. There was one scene transition that felt much like the dressing of an altar.

One of the Lessons showed two men walking along a road. One of the men (Howard Swain) is looking for God. The other (David Barlow) reveals himself to be Lucifer, guarding the road to God. Like an Oedipal Sphinx, the man has to answer three questions to gain entry to God. Otherwise the road never ends. Lucifer appears again later in a creepy monologue that starts out sounding like a fundamental evangelist (an apt likening - Jim Bakker comes to mind), discussing how his intense love and loyalty to God led to his own dismissal from Heaven. Mr. Barlow then makes an even creepier transition from evangelist to evil angel when his voice drops several octaves as his intensity increases. Lucifer becomes the original stalker.

Mr. Eckert explores various teaching methods of Allegory and Parable to communicate, with simple yet clever staging techniques. The play opens with Mr. Poole (Eckert) onstage, reviewing his notes for his final class. Understandably needing an outlet for his thoughts, Mr. Poole has also been writing a play as a means to exorcise/distract him from his personal situation with his job.

In his play (which I interpreted as the Gospel delivered as an Allegory), two stone masons are building the foundation for a cathedral, but never finish because they don't have enough stones to complete the work. This theme continues periodically throughout the evening as he adds to that story. Cinder blocks are used as their stones and a small wall rises over the course of several scenes. The stone masons learn that they are only characters in a play and discuss the ramifications of that. "No wonder I feel incomplete," one of them says. The other responds, "You look well-drawn to me." They learn that they've been working on the foundation for 1750 years and finally find comfort when they realize that their play will remain unfinished, just like their task.

His Sermon addressed the parable of the Prodigal Son. In its own way, this was a parable of Reinhart's own life when his older brother ran away as a child following an argument between the two of them, but without the triumphal return. This spurs much questioning by Reinhart and leads nicely into the last section of the play.

The largest concept/theme I found in this work was the discussion of belief and faith - something of the Benediction. Mr. Eckert posits that belief, when seen as the absence of doubt, undermines faith. Unquestioning faith is blind faith and, therefore, no faith at all. From this, I can only draw my own conclusion that in our current environment of blind faith among the religious right, this is a dangerous truth. For me, it brings to mind the following quote,

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing."

Edmund Burke

Irish orator, philosopher, & politician (1729 - 1797)

I'm not sure that I'm following the mental path Mr. Eckert might have intended, since he did not take the opportunity to get into the evil that men do, but it stuck out in my mind.

All three actors are skilled, talented and compelling. Mr. Eckert, bald and deadpan, gives us a very human man, questioning the world around him. He struggles to both learn and teach, even if he is only teaching others to ask more questions. In the various supporting roles ranging from Reinhart's wife to the stone masons, to Reinhart's brother, father and mother, Howard Swain and David Barlow excel. Mr. Barlow's Lucifer was particularly chilling.

Alexander Nichols' sets and lighting are particularly effective while simple. Seven lighted easels with chalkboards line the back of the stage and serve as Reinhart's classroom as he punctuates each topic with visual representations.

Director David Schweizer is to be commended for his contribution to this work. What could have been a dreary theological dissertation is instead a significant evening of thought and theatre.

I've rambled in this review - sorry about that. The concepts are large and thought-provoking. This is an important and powerful piece. I recommend it highly to anyone who has the opportunity to see it.

Eurydice's Lament

"eurydice" at 2econd Stage Theatre, June 3, 2007

(Photo by Joan Marcus)

Sarah Ruhl follows her last play "Clean House" at Lincoln Center Theatre with this retelling of the Orpheus myth at 2econd Stage Theatre. (Spoiler alert - if there can be one about a Greek Myth).

With an eye for significant theatricality, but lacking a bit of the polish she achieved at Lincoln Center, the published premise is that this version will tell the tale from Eurydice's perspective. What we get is not quite as clear, with much of the perspective delivered from her father, who has been waiting for his daughter to join him in the underworld.

Director Les Waters, who has directed this play in other productions at Yale Repertory and Berkeley Repertory Theatres has retained many in the cast from both the Yale and Berkeley productions. The result is a mix of skills.

This Eurydice arrives in the Underworld as a traveler with suitcase in hand and umbrella opened, shielding her from the water of the river which washes away one's memory of life before (shown as a shower of water pouring over her as she exits an elevator). Greeted by three stones, Big Stone (Ramiz Monsef), Little Stone (Carla Harting) and Loud Stone (Gian-Murray Gianino), this truly Greek Chorus establishes that the language of the dead is silent and that all who enter the Underworld forget their lives above existing in peace and quiet for eternity. (Some folks need an extra dip, on occasion.)

She quickly starts to forget anyway, and is met by her father (Charles Shaw Robinson) whom she doesn't recognize. (Apparently he didn't get much of a dip in the river either.) He has continually written letters to her, but not being able to send them, he pastes them on the tiled walls creating a mosaic of sorts. Only one had gotten through. It was that letter, delivered by The Nasty and Interesting Man (Mark Zeisler) that lead to Eurydice's death as he lured her away from her wedding to give her the letter. The death sequence was a bit inelegant.

In the Underworld, she soon recognizes her father and longs for Orpheus to come find her and take her home. In an interesting bit of business, she asks where her "room" is and he creates one outlined in string using hooks in the floor and a hanging framework.

As Eurydice, Maria Dizzia seems limited by a role missing significant depth in the writing. This tone-deaf, rythm-less Eurydice wants to be more interesting than she is - reading books because they are "interesting" yet not really understanding Orpheus' (Joseph Parks) devotion to his music when she asks him repeatedly, "What are you thinking about?" to which he repeatedly responds, "Music." How does a musician as intense as Orpheus fall in love with someone who has no clue what motivates him?

As Orpheus, Joseph Parks has some wonderful moments, but they are few and far between. His heartbreak at losing Eurydice on their wedding day only grows as he manages to send her letters in the underworld. Once he finds his way down and convinces the Lord of the Underworld (Mark Zeisler) to let her return to him, he obediently takes up his task. I felt a little short-changed when Eurydice calls his name before they finish their journey, sabotaging her own return. That moment should have been one for him to indicate his grief at losing her for a second time. It also strikes a bitter chord when Orpheus dies in the end, hoping to join Eurydice but is dipped in the river (presumable Styx, though unnamed) and loses all memory from life.

Charles Shaw Robinson as the Father gives an uneven performance, coming across weak and unsure in his first scenes, but finding his footing once the relationship with Eurydice is reestablished. He has a touching moment as he says good-bye to her, sending her to follow Orpheus back to her life above. In his grief, he dips himself back in the river and loses his memory of her.

Scott Bradley's set is an interesting blue-green tiled creation, with no flat or plumb levels or angles and just enough water not to make the audience feel they should have worn swim fins. Russell Champa's lighting is a key to the successful theatricality in this production and serves well through most of the show. Meg Neville's costumes are an odd mix, from Dickensian England for the Stones' attire, to a blue and pink wedding dress for Eurydice. (I'm still trying to figure out what her goal was for Eurydice's pink suit worn during her time in the Underworld since it seemed to make no connection to any other character or style of dress.)

Director Les Waters has been involved with this play, now in its third production. I can't help but wonder if he's too close to see where shortfalls remain in the play and cast.

The production is an interesting work, but felt a bit like a workshop of a play that still needs some attention. The Orpheus tale should be heart-wrenching, but here we only get that Eurydice was confused about what she wanted, and only a little sad at the result. As she returns to the Underworld, she writes a letter to Orpheus that oddly reminded me of Eve's song "What Makes Me Love Him" from The Apple Tree, sweet but not tragic. Mary Zimmerman's "Metamorphoses" from 2002 at Circle in the Square presented the Orpheus myth in her evening with much more interest and emotion.

Star-watch: Deborah Rush (Sara Blank: "Strangers With Candy") and Michael Emerson (Ben Linus - head bad guy of "the others") in the house.

Grief Has Its Limitations

"The Year of Magical Thinking" at the Booth Theatre, May 31, 2007

(photo by Brigitte Lacombe)

Joan Didion's memoir of the same title is the basis for the 90 minute recitation now in a limited run in New York. It is billed as a play, but with only one character's point of view expressed, it is more an abridged version of her book told aloud by the very compelling Vanessa Redgrave. It's certainly not a happy tale, of the loss of both husband and daughter in a year's time.

Miss Redgrave's demeanor and vocal qualities, though compelling in skill, don't seem to create a character of a woman in the kind of denial and grieving she describes. Attired in an off-white silk tunic over a full bias-cut grey skirt, she does mention throughout the evening of her need to maintain control, to "manage" the events as they transpire in order to correct the errors and bring her loved ones back. And, she never loses that control as she tells her story. Wouldn't this have been the opportunity to increase the drama? She does describe her emotions, but never displays them so that the audience can share this tale of grief. Perhaps it was the release of the tension of being onstage alone for 90 minutes, but I felt more emotion from Miss Redgrave as she accepted her applause than anytime before during the evening.

Bob Crowley's sets, primarily a series of abstract drops, washed in greys, evoke a cloudy sky or beach scene, each dropping through the floor to reveal the next as the tale continues.

Director David Hare is quite spare in his role here. Much of the recitation is performed with Miss Redgrave sitting in a plain wooden armchair on a bare stage. She delivers certain lines and questions directly to audience members, but these gesture feel terribly forced. It's a difficult task, setting a reading as an evening of theatre. I think his goal was to juxtapose the color of Ms. Didion's language and story against the severe neutral palette of the sets and costumes, as well as a neutral delivery by Miss Redgrave. I wish he had been more successful.

"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.