As recently noted on the siteÕs home page, IÕm very much in bunker mode, juggling several show deadlines and teaching schedules in addition to the usual life-in-general, and thus beg your indulgence for these drive-by reviews, the better to at least kick off the season in these pages and keep the Ôzine in the game. And here goes:
IÕm usually of the firm opinion that nobody sets out to write crap (a few consciously conceived literary hoaxes aside), but after viewing Edward AlbeeÕs Me, Myself and I at Playwrights Horizons, IÕm not so sure. This continues AlbeeÕs downward trajectory of plays that feature linguistic smugness (rather than create uniquely conceived language, he has his characters step outside their very pedestrian dialogue to skewer common colloquialism, as if the common rabble [us?] who avail themselves of it are fools); hetero bashing (in the Albee-verse there is no straight relationship that isnÕt essentially corrupt or suspect at the core, or that canÕt be easily compromised by a sly predator); and aimless giddy flapping around in a theatrical limbo (in which attenuated situation stands in for story development).
The situation here involves a twentysomething twin brother named OTTO (Zachary Booth) who plans to eradicate the existence of his identical sibling otto (Preston Sadlier) via impersonation. He intends to confuse his blowsy, oblivious, self-absorbed mother (Elizabeth Ashley), which proves to be absurdly easy, because sheÕs not sure which twin loves her; and the crazy doctor (Brian Murray) with whom she took up after her husband left 28 years ago (the day the twins were born) which proves impossible, because, being but an interloper in the family, he knows neither of them do. OTTO also plans to fuck ottoÕs girlfriend Maureen (Natalia Payne) whichÉ
No, IÕm sorry, to even deadpan this any further is to give it credence. The cast and director Emily Mann do what they can, but really, what can they do?
If nothing else, Capsule 33 by Thaddeus Phillips, co-created by Tatiana Mallarino, gets points for originality. With the character of a demolitions
worker as narrator (played by the author), it posits the story of Milo
Dukanovic (played by the author) and his rubber ducky Fumio (not played by the
author) who refuse to move out of their residenceÑCapsule #33 of the
Nakagin Capsule Tower in Japan, a building of modular pod-like dwellings
connected only by four high-tension cables each, infamous for an ÒefficiencyÓ
design that forever anchors each capsule to early 1970s technologyÑon the
day it is about to be imploded.
On
a rotating, upendable mini-set that replicates a pod in selective miniature, in
a production powered only by batteries (the entering audience hand-cranks
generators to contribute juice to the playÕs 70 minute run time), where lighting
is only what we need to see the immediate, practical playing area,
author-performer Phillips satirically explores issues of technological and
socio-political historyÑwhich never quite connect to the Ògreen-mindedÓ
production values, but as an audience member you donÕt strain for the
connection either.
Structurally,
the play meanders a bit, and one might wish that Phillips were a more refined
and versatile enough actor to channel his several characters with more polish
and nuance. Then again, the concept of make-do production values combined with
the co-creatorÕs rough-hewn performance style may only enhance the enterprise
for some. ItÕs hardly a must-see, but for anyone interested in theatre-thinking
out of the box (about a character adamantly within the box), Capsule 33 has enough new and interesting ideas to spark the
imagination.
Through the Night is author-performer Daniel BeatyÕs play for one actor portraying a cross section of African American characters, but even those that hew to familiar tropes are conceived with an interesting spin, and the piece as a whole takes a magic realism approach that is likewise fresh enough in the context to give it some distinction. What ties them together is a refusal to be Òbrought downÓ by inner city roots (or existence), but to keep striving upward. Among the characters are a gay pop music publicity executive, the overweight preacher father to whom he's never come out (who is himself strugglingÑwith food addiction), a graduating student, a young man of the streets trying to turn his wayward life aroundÑand the owner of a health food store, seemingly misplaced and losing ground in HarlemÑand the spiritual sweet spot where they eventually meet, the shop owner's 11 year old son, Eric, a brilliant kid, experimenting with formulas for herbal iced tea, with ingredients from his fatherÕs shop. Obsessed with the Transformers character he misidentifies as ÒOptimist PrimeÓ (for the non-geeks among you, the actual name is Optimus Prime), he is equally obsessed with finding a formula that can trigger a similar positive transformation in a human. Women figure into the mix too, but only as passing side characters, whose presence informs what drives the males.
Beaty plays them all with bold, clean strokes (though it takes a while and context to completely distinguish between the twenty-something characters) and a versatile voice that is exquisitely musical and can also call forth the kind of stentorian power one associates with James Earl Jones and Avery Brooks.
There are nitpicks one can make about the evening, and if I were writing a fuller review I might catalog mine; but then again, I might not. This play, though it has enough universality to appeal to a general audience, contains a powerful, positive message for the African American community in particular, and even with all the forward strides of the last half century and beyond into the New Millennium, one of which there is still some dire need. And maybe itÕs best to let that accomplishment shine, untarnished.
The Paper Mill Playhouse in Millburn New Jersey is featuring one of those ÒrecreationÓ musical productions that is in truth the resurrection of a road tour production, including the original ÒreducedÓ sets and the original directorÕs assistantÑin this case Matt LenzÑrecreating the original staging. In this case, the musical is Hairspray, and itÕs about as engaging and effective as such an enterprise can be, which is to say it pleases the audience mightily and for us spoiled New York brats, doesnÕt tarnish oneÕs memories of the somewhat more opulent Broadway production.
If I nonetheless sound a little low-key, I must confess, Hairspray is not my favorite musicalÑmy generally positive but likewise subdued original review can be found hereÑbut that shouldnÕt dissuade you. I donÕt seem to speak for the vox populi where this show is concerned, nor do I care to deny the show its old and potentially new fans, which it eminently deserves.
All
that need be reported here is that the cast is just fine, partially populated
by a number of familiar Broadway veterans and veterans of the original
production and national tours as well. They include (with their roles in
parentheses) Christine Danelson (Tracy
Turnblad), Christopher Sieber (in
drag as mother Edna Turnblad), Lee Roy Reams (Wilbur Turnblad), Donna English (Velma Von Tussle), Kathleen Elizabeth
Monteleone (Amber Von Tussle), NaTasha
Yvette Williams (Motormouth Maybelle), Tyrick
Wiltez Jones (Gilbert), and Kasey
Marino (Corny Collins) among others.
If
Hairspray is for you, make the trek.
Nothing not to enjoyÉ
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