“What the Butler Saw”

Review of "What the Butler Saw"

Review of “What the Butler Saw”

Susan Granger’s review of “What the Butler Saw” (Westport Country Playhouse: Aug., 2016)


It’s not a spoiler to reveal that there’s no butler in Joe Orton’s 1967 comedy. The title refers to peeping through a keyhole, heralding a classic British farce, skewering Freudian psychology, social propriety, sexual norms and government institutions.

In a psychiatric clinic, Dr. Prentice (Robert Stanton) is trying to seduce naïve Geraldine Barclay (Sarah Manton) who has applied for a job as his secretary. Having requested that she remove her clothes, his wife (Patricia Kalember) bursts into his office, wearing a black dominatrix corset under her fur coat.

Although admittedly a nymphomaniac, Mrs. Prentice is hysterical about being “raped” in a closet by Station Hotel bellhop Nicholas Beckett (Chris Ghaffari), who is threatening to blackmail her with photographs of their tryst.

Since Miss Barclay’s cowering behind a curtain in her underwear, Mrs. Prentice hastily dons the dress that Miss Barclay discarded before the unexpected arrival of autocratic Dr. Rance (Paxton Whitehead), a supervisor from Her Majesty’s Government sent to evaluate the clinic.

Obviously confused Dr. Rance declares Miss Barclay insane, while Police Sergeant Match (Julian Gamble) searches for a missing body part from a statue of Winston Churchill.

“The final chapters of my book are knitting together,” Dr. Rance declares delightedly. “Incest, buggery, outrageous women and strange love-cults catering for depraved appetites.”

Amid the zany disrobing, cross-dressing and donning of straitjackets, Miss Barclay begs Dr. Prentice to clarify the situation by telling the truth. He brusquely replies, “That’s a thoroughly defeatist attitude.”

Director John Tillinger is devoted to the subversive works of Joe Orton, having successfully revived the playwright’s “Loot” and “Entertaining Mr. Sloane.” And he’s previously staged “Butler” at the Manhattan Theatre Club and Los Angeles’ Mark Taper Forum.

Precise timing is of the essence – and nobody does it better than Paxton Whitehead. He exudes an irresistible lunatic conviction, while the rest of the cast submit to the frenetic silliness involving mistaken identities.

Although its manners and mores seem a bit stale, the levity of “What the Butler Saw” runs through Sept. 10. For tickets and more information, call 203-227-4177 or go to www.westportplayhouse.org


Susan Granger’s review of “Quietly” (Irish Repertory Theatre: August, 2016)


Imported directly from the Abbey Theater in Dublin, Owen McCafferty’s sectarian drama is perfectly suited to the newly renovated Irish Repertory Theater, located off-Broadway at 132 West 22nd Street.

Set in 2009 in a Belfast pub, it begins as Robert (Robert Zawadzki), a Polish immigrant, is tending bar. 52 year-old Jimmy (Patrick O’Kane) walks in, orders a pint and starts to watch a World Cup soccer match between Northern Ireland and Poland on TV.

They’ve been chatting amiably for about 20 minutes when another middle-aged man, Ian (Declan Conlan), walks in – and Jimmy, filled with fury, head-butts him.

Their backstories reveal how – on July 3, 1974 – when they were both 16 years old – their animosity began as Ian hurled a bomb into this same pub, killing six men suspected of being IRA sympathizers, including Jimmy’s father.

It was a savage time when unionist Protestants (“The Orange Bastards”) were battling nationalist Roman Catholics (“Fenian Bastards”).

“I can’t speak for the actions of a 16 year-old child,” Ian says, but he obviously harbors guilt, “not being able to look myself in the eye when I’m havin’ a shave.”

But apologies are of no use to grief-stricken Jimmy.

“Don’t ever come back here,” Jimmy tells Ian, when he eventually shakes his hand.

While its authenticity is never questionable, the terse dialogue often lacks believability, making one yearn for more layering or subtext, although all three actors and director Jimmy Fay do their best to propel the plot. And they’re well served by Alyson Cummins’ set design, Catherine Fay’s costumes, Sinead McKenna’s lighting, Philip Stewart’s sound and Donal O’Farrell’s fight direction.

Running 75 minutes with no intermission, this three-character play has the potential to be riveting theater with a timely message about the dangers of hatred and encouraging terrorism: “Kids can do more damage than you think.”

“Quietly” is scheduled to play through September 11, 2016.



“A Man Like You”

Susan Granger’s review of “A Man Like You” (IATI Theater-Off-Broadway, July, 2016)


Inspired by the real Somali terrorist attack at the Westgate Shopping Mall on September 21, 2013, Kenyan-born playwright Silvia Cassini envisions a conversation between a British hostage, diplomat Patrick North (Matthew Stannah), and his radicalized Al Shabaab captor Abdi (Jeffrey Marc) in a windowless concrete room in Somalia.

Meanwhile, North’s wife Elizabeth (Jenny Boote) provides a monologue counter-point from their home in Nairobi, relating plans for diplomacy that will lead to his negotiated rescue by the military.

During North’s 102 days of imprisonment, they discuss different practical and political points-of-view: who is a really terrorist and who is a martyr, what is good and what is evil, and the nature of a deity called God.

Abdi tells North he’s been targeted as a pawn and his life is no more than “a bargaining chip,” while Abdi’s cohort/enforcer Hassan (Andrew Clarke) ominously holds an AK-47.

Staged by director Yudelka Heyer, it’s a talky interrogation and, as such, more intellectually provocative than emotionally engaging. Yet it does present a psychological insight, along with a rarely-discussed rationale for these terrorist attacks.

As voiced by Abdi, his rationale is reminiscent of the Somali pirate played by Barkhad Abdi who commandeered Tom Hanks’ cargo ship in the movie “Captain Phillips.”

“A Man Like You” premiered in Nairobi earlier this year and has been imported to the New York theater scene by RED Soil, an African/Caribbean-inspired theater/film company, founded by Matthew Stannah (Nairobi, Kenya) and Yudelka Heyer (Dominican Republic). RED Soil’s purpose is to showcase new, innovative work that brings about new waves to share vivid stories, often untold, in which struggle and pain are depicted.

“A Man Like You” runs from July 13 to July 31 at the IATI Theater, 64 East 4th Street. For tickets, visit BrownPaperTickets.com, call 800-838-3006 or ticket directly at http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/2554996

“The Invisible Hand”

Susan Granger’s review of “The Invisible Hand” (Westport Country Playhouse: July, 2016)


During the summer’s heat, Artistic Director Mark Lamos took a gamble – challenging audiences to think about the geopolitical roots of Islamic terrorism – and I suspect it will pay off handsomely.

Pulitzer Prize winner Ayad Akhtar’s riveting thriller begins as Nick Bright (Eric Bryant), a Citibank executive, sits, handcuffed, in a jail cell in Pakistan. He was abducted by mistake by Bashir (Fajer Kaisi), a militant Muslim who really intended to capture his boss.

Bright knows he has to convince his captors to keep him alive, so he’s already advised his guard Dar (Jameal Ali) to stockpile potatoes until the price goes up, then sell them, making a sizeable profit, particularly when he exchanges rupees for dollars.

The terrorists’ leader, Imam Saleem (Rajesh Bose), is demanding a $10 million ransom, which Nick knows won’t be paid. Instead, Nick proposes to use the $3 million he’s stashed in a Cayman Islands account to earn a reduced ransom through strategic futures trading – with Bashir handling the intricate maneuvers on a laptop.

“Making money is intoxicating,” Nick warns, as Bashir’s greed grows.

“Everyone’s self-interest works to check everyone else’s,” Nick explains, referring to the “Invisible Hand” title, a term coined by economist Adam Smith in his 1776 book, “An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations.”

As a Muslim-American and Pakistani-American, playwright Ayad Akhtar utilizes each of the four characters to delineate various practical and political points-of-view. As a result, the result is more intellectually provocative than emotionally engaging.

While director David Kennedy adroitly stages this talky, yet timely, confrontational exchange of ideas, the drama is ominously punctuated by far too many disconcerting blackouts and the roar of U.S. drones hovering outside.

Its authenticity is augmented by Adam Rigg’s simple set design, Matthew Richards’ lighting, Fitz Patton’s sound, and Emily Rebholz’s costumes.

In support of this production, which runs until Aug. 6, the Playhouse is hosting a series of free, community engagement speakers and discussions. For a schedule and more information, visit www.westportplayhouse.org or call the box-office at 203-227-4177.


“Buyer and Cellar”

Susan Granger’s review of “Buyer and Cellar” (Westport Country Playhouse: June, 2016)


Laughter rocks the theater as Michael Urie brings Jonathan Tolins’ hit Off-Broadway comedy to the Westport Country Playhouse.

Urie opens the subtly seductive satire with several disclaimers, making it clear that it’s is a work of fiction, since none of this “could possibly have happened with a person as famous, talented and litigious as Barbra Streisand.”

On a stage sparsely furnished with a round café table, chair and bench, Urie relates how Alex More, a struggling gay actor in Los Angeles, gets hired to be the sole, always subservient clerk in the private mini-mall that Barbra Streisand has created for herself in the basement of a barn adjacent to her Malibu mansion.

Since Barbra’s a compulsive shopper, her quaint, European-styled arcade includes an antique shop and clothing boutique, stocked with her abundant collection of vintage dresses, object d’art, and dolls.

Its creation is detailed in Streisand’s 2010 coffee-table photo book “My Passion for Design.” As Alex notes from the front cover flap, this is the “refuge she’s longed for since the days when she shared a small Brooklyn apartment with her mother, brother and grandparents…”

Often recognized as Marc St. James from TV’s “Ugly Betty,” lanky Michael Urie energetically captures the iconic Streisand persona with a few masterfully nuanced mannerisms, including flipping her hair and shrugging one shoulder asking, “Am I right or am I right?”

Director Stephen Brackett reins in campy caricature, cleverly balancing superstar Barbra’s alleged perfectionism with sensitivity, affection, even empathy, adding emotional heft to a subplot involving Alex’s struggling screenwriter boyfriend Barry.

At the after-party, playwright Jonathan Tolins (“Secrets of the Trade,” “Twilight of the Golds”) revealed that the reason Westport was able to book this original production was because the show will be filmed there for broadcast on Theater Close-Up on Channel 13/WNET, joining a new wave of televised theatrical presentations that includes the current Broadway revival of “She Loves Me.”

The obvious question everyone asks is, “Has Barbra seen this?” Apparently not. If she were in the audience, her reactions to the tart absurdity would divert attention from the stage.  So, when it’s on TV, Ms. Streisand can watch in privacy.

Irresistibly amusing, “Buyer and Cellar” runs at the Westport Country Playhouse until July 3.  For more information, visit www.westportplayhouse.org or call the box-office at (203) 227-4177.

“My Paris”

Susan Granger’s review of “My Paris” (Long Wharf Theater)


It was fascinating watching one of the final performances of this dazzling new musical about Belle Epoque artist Henri Marie Raymond de Toulouse-Lautrec because, around us, were potential ‘investors’ considering moving it to Manhattan.

Inspired by French singer/songwriter Charles Aznavour’s short-lived “Lautrec” concept, it was workshopped at Goodspeed’s Norma Terris in Chester, then moved to Long Wharf in New Haven, and the potential is certainly there.

With a book by Alfred Uhry (“Driving Miss Daisy,” “The Robber Bridegroom”) and English lyrics/additional music by Jason Robert Brown (“The Bridges of Madison County”), it’s expertly staged by Tony Award-winner Kathleen Marshall, utilizing four talented on-stage musicians.

The only son of a swaggering nobleman (Tom Hewitt) who was disappointed that he was born with a congenital disease that crippled his legs, little Henri (Bobby Steggert) always loved to draw. When he grew up, he moved to his family’s apartment in Paris where, briefly, he studied art with Leon Bonnat.

But it was a chance visit to a seedy nightclub in bohemian Montmarte that changed his life. Settling into a tiny studio, he began to earn a living, sketching colorful advertising posters of street performers and can-can dancers even the club’s owner (Jamie Jackson). Henri’s favorite model was aspiring artist Suzanne Valadon (Mara Davi), whom he deeply loved.

While subtly savvy Bobby Steggert is waiflike, director/choreographer Kathleen Marshall cleverly utilizes Derek McLane’s multi-tiered set to emphasize his deformed, diminutive stature.

What’s most impressive is how Paul Tazewell’s costumes, Donald Holder’s lighting and Olivia Sebesky’s projections create a vivid tableau, showcasing Lautrec’s most famous posters and the models who posed for them: La Goulue (Nikka Graff Lanzarone), Jane Avril (Erica Sweany), May Milton (Anne Horak), Yvette Guilbert (Kate Marilley), Valentin  (Timothy Hughes), Clown (Tiffany Mann), and le Chocolat (Darius Barnes). Magnifique!

So what doesn’t work?

The lamenting of Lautrec’s smothering Maman (Donna English) quickly becomes tedious, and the wraithlike Green Fairy (Erica Sweany), representing Lautrec’s toxic addiction to absinthe, is obtuse.

In addition, Suzanne Valadon’s alluring muse character needs to be fleshed out; in real life, she was the mother of artist Maurice Utrillo – as do the bland roles of Henri’s three art-school cohorts (John Riddle, Josh Grisetti, Andrew Mueller) who excel in the rousing “We Drink!” number.

I eagerly await the next incarnation of “My Paris” – with, perhaps, a more haunting, bittersweet title.

“The Father”

Susan Granger’s review of “The Father” (MTC’s Samuel J. Friedman Theatre: May, 2016)


Frank Langella weaves a tantalizing theatrical tapestry as Andre, an 80 year-old man who is declining into the debilitating dementia, rapidly losing cognitive function.

As the play begins, Andre’s exasperated daughter Anne (Kathryn Erbe) is explaining to him that she needs to find a new “helper,” since the previous one quit after he physically threatened her with a curtain rod and called her “a little bitch.”

Not surprisingly, Andre denies this but then dismisses it, saying he’s perfectly capable of caring for himself.  Which, obviously, he isn’t since – in the next scene – he doesn’t recognize her. Nor does the audience, actually, since the character of Anne is played by another actress.

While that’s eventually explained, Andre’s misperceptions continue. Is Anne married to Pierre, or is she preparing to go to London to live with a new lover?

Andre’s confusion continues as a strange man slaps him across the face, his watch gets stolen, and the elegant furniture he’s accustomed to disappears, replaced by a hospital bed.

Expressing the terror that is growing within his consciousness, Langella is a consummate actor, whether he’s oozing charm or claiming that he once was an engineer – or, perhaps, a clown – or tap dancer. His original irritation, manifesting itself in arrogance, becomes a pathetic cry of despair as he descends into helpless dependency.

French playwright Florian Zeller’s work has been translated by Christopher Hampton, directed by Doug Hughes, who stages 15 short scenes, punctuated by blinding flashes of light that seem indicate Andre’s cerebral synapses. Scenic designer Scott Pask and lighting expert Donald Holder have created a stunning Paris apartment, augmented by music/sound by Fitz Patton and Catherine Zuber’s costumes.

But what exactly is the audience experiencing?

Is it “a tragic farce,” which is what it was dubbed when it opened in Paris in 2012?  Tragic, yes, but I found nothing farcical about Andre’s dilemma.

I believe that Florian Zeller is depicting the various stages of the growing plague of Alzheimer’s, an irreversible, progressive brain disorder that has affected and will touch most of us during our lifetime. Estimates vary, but experts suggest that more than five million Americans may have Alzheimer’s.


Susan Granger’s review of “Art” (Westport Country Playhouse: May, 2016)


The psychological and emotional dynamics of friendship are examined in French playwright Yasmina Reza’s Tony-winning comedy, which is playing in tandem with “Red” at the Westport Country Playhouse.

When Serge (John Skelly) buys an expensive abstract painting, he invites his two best friends, Marc (Benton Greene) and Yvan (Sean Dugan), to view it.

Measuring about 4’x5,’ the stark painting is monochromatic white-on-white; although a fictional artist is cited, it’s obviously meant to be the work of Robert Ryman.

Marc arrives first – and he is stunned that Serge, who is a successful dermatologist but by no means wealthy, spent 200 Euros on it. Smug and sardonic, Marc is dismissive of the artist and his vision.

Amiable Ivan’s reaction is far more diplomatic and less denigrating, perhaps because he’s far more concerned with the invitations for his upcoming wedding.

But neither are as understanding and compassionate as Serge had hoped after his huge expenditure, basically questioning his sensitivity and aesthetic taste.

Admirably structured by director Mark Lamos, the three accomplished actors display solid comic timing, make it superficially amusing, utilizing vigorous language. But below the surface, this play is filled with provocative ideas and observations.

Most of all, it’s revelatory about our appreciation of art which, in turn, is a reflection of our often-confusing culture in which the art world is propelled by money and power.

The audience is asked to ponder, “What is art”? Is it the universal legibility, which abstractionists strive for, or should it be more familiar and representational?

Does Serge really adore the painting? Or did he purchase it as a status symbol?

Unfortunately, since the personalities of the three men seem so diverse, it’s difficult to imagine why they became friends in the first place. Since no cohesive connective tissue among them is ever revealed, it’s difficult to invest any emotional energy in the viability of their relationship.

This month, “Art” will be performed on even-numbered days; “Red” on the odd-numbered days. For more information and tickets, go to www.playhouse.org or call 203-227-4177.


Susan Granger’s review of “Red” (Westport Country Playhouse: May, 2016)

The Westport Country Playhouse opened the season with two Tony Award-winning plays – “Red” and “Art” – staged in repertory. Intellectually provocative, they’re about creating and owning paintings.

Set in 1958 in a studio in New York City, John Logan’s “Red” delves into the relationship between acclaimed artist Mark Rothko (Stephen Rowe) and his eager, young assistant, Ken (Patrick Andrews).

Rothko’s potent first words are “What do you see?” as Ken stares out into the darkened theater, transforming the fourth wall into a canvas worth analyzing.

As mentor, Rothko pontificates, often utilizing the imagery and language of academia. He’s part of a generation of “serious” artists who rebelled against cubism, replacing it with abstract expressionism.

Commissioned by architects Ludwig Mies van der Rohe and Philip Johnson, Rothko is working on a series of murals intended to adorn the Four Seasons Restaurant in the new Seagram Building. According to patron Nelson Rockefeller, their intent was to match fine cuisine with magnificent art.

Each painting has a deep reddish-brown base color over which Rothko places a window-like form in red or black or orange. Rothko’s color palate suggests dried blood, evoking in Ken painful childhood memories of the grisly murder of his parents.

Significantly, Rothko was so enraged by the idea of his murals hanging in a trendy restaurant that he cancelled his contract. Nine were donated to London’s Tate Gallery and seven went to the Kawamura Memorial DIC Museum of art. Others are on display in The Phillips Collection in Washington, D.C. and The Rothko Chapel in Houston, Texas.

Written by John Logan and directed by Mark Lamos, it’s a verbal sparring match between mentor and acolyte with Stephen Rowe (who understudied Alfred Molina on Broadway) propelling the play and Patrick Andrews effective as his foil – although I would have loved to see Tony-winner Eddie Redmayne (“The Theory of Everything,” “The Danish Girl”) in this role.

According to Artistic Director Mark Lamos, “Red” and “Art” have never been programmed together before and, while each stands on its own, seeing them together creates a new appreciation not only for the artist’s dilemma but also the spectator’s. I just wish they were more emotionally engaging.

For a schedule and ticket information, go to www.westportplayhouse.org or call 203-227-4177.

“Tuck Everlasting”

Susan Granger’s review of “Tuck Everlasting” (Broadhurst Theatre: April, 2016)


Based on Natalie Babbitt’s beloved fantasy, this poignant, family-friendly musical poses the question: If you could live forever, would you?

High-spirited 11 year-old Winnie Foster (precociously talented Sarah Charles Lewis) has been sheltered by her over-protective mother (Valerie Wright) and tart-tongued Nana (Pippa Pearthree) ever since her father died – and she’s yearning for adventure. Or, at least, to go to the fair.

Sneaking out into the woods behind their home, curious Winnie discovers the Tucks, a mysterious family that inadvertently drank from the fountain-of-youth almost 100 years ago – and, as a result, have never aged.

There’s Angus (Michael Park), the philosophical patriarch; lonely Mother Mae (Carolee Carmello), who always yearned for a daughter; 21 year-old Miles (Robert Lenz), who has suffered painful loss; and exuberant, 17 year-old Jesse (Andrew Keenan-Bolger), who first befriends Winnie, swears her to secrecy, and proposes that they meet again in six years so she can drink from the magical spring and be with him forever.

Every fable needs a villain, so there’s the Man in the Yellow Suit (Terrence Mann), who is determined to find the Tucks and profit from their enchanted elixir. As Nana notes, he’s “an evil banana.”

So – will Winnie succumb to the lure of immortality?

Sweetly adapted by Claudia Shear (“Dirty Blonde”) & Tim Federle with somewhat repetitive country/folk music by Chris Miller & Nathan Tysen (“The Burnt Park Boys”) and directed by Casey Nicholaw (“Aladdin,” “Book of Mormon,” “Something Rotten!”), it oozes gentle warmth and folksy sentimentality, culminating in a subtly beautiful ballet sequence, superbly choreographed by Nicholaw. Walt Spangler’s rustic, forested set is stunning, basking in Kenneth Posner’s undulating lighting.

Problem is: Broadway ticket prices are so high that it’s a difficult ‘sell’ for families yearning for something that’s, honestly, a bit more memorable.

If you loved the book and are determined to see its musical adaptation, buy tickets now – because I doubt that it’s going to stick around too long on the Great White Way. Perhaps a less-expensive regional theater production will fare better….