Theater Reviews

Susan Granger’s review of “Joanna Gleason: Out of the Eclipse” (Quick Center)

 

The death of parents is one of the most emotional and universal human experiences, yet it’s one that’s seldom discussed.  ‘Til now.

Joanna Gleason is the Tony Award-winner as Best Actress in a Musical for her performance as the Baker’s Wife in Stephen Sondheim’s “Into the Woods” on Broadway and lauded for her screen roles in “Boogie Nights,” “The Wedding Planner” and “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels.”

Now she’s created the magical, wonderful “Out of the Eclipse,” wryly delving into the devastating, complicated, surprising and maddening emotions evoked by the traumatic loss of both her parents within a four-month period in 2017 during which there was a solar eclipse.

As she tells it, her father (game show host Monty Hall) and mother (Marilyn) came to the United States from Canada, filled with hopes and dreams. Settling in Los Angeles, they raised three children.

“Humor and love were the greatest currency in our family, and it’s important we share our stories,” she says – and so she does.

Told directly to the audience, their painful, powerful saga is filled with revelation, wonder and remarkable twists of fate.  It’ deeply funny and perfectly peppered with music and songs that build up the narrative.  There’s a Yiddish lullaby, along with music by Rogers & Hart, Paul Simon, James Taylor and others..

Serving as her Greek chorus, Gleason is accompanied by the Moontones (Michael Protacio, Christine Cornell, Christiana Cole) and four musicians: Jeffrey Klitz on piano, Katherine Spingham on cello, Shane Del Robles and Justin Rothberg on string instruments.

Plus, there’s an endearing duet with Gleason’s husband, Chris Sarandon, whom she met during rehearsals for the ill-fated Broadway musical “Nick and Nora.”

Above all, Joanna Gleason acknowledges that being ‘on your own’ is not the same as being alone.  In hindsight, when we experience grief, we often come to a greater understanding of our connection to each other and to the universe.

After her performance at Fairfield University’s Quick Center for the Arts, next stop on Joanna Gleason’s tour is Los Angeles’ LGBT Center’s Lily Tomlin/Jane Wagner Cultural Arts Center on February 15 & 16, 2020.

Susan Granger’s review of “Don Juan” (Westport Country Playhouse)

 

Adapting a classic French play with a new translation has its perils and rewards.  Collaborating with director David Kennedy, playwright Brendan Pelsue sets Moliere’s 1665 comedic drama in modern dress with contemporary allusions.

Known as the “Seducer of Seville,” philandering Don Juan is a snobbish scoundrel who has never met a woman he doesn’t yearn to seduce. An avowed atheist, he continually mocks the tenets of Catholicism. And only his valet Sgandarelle (scene-stealing Bjavesh Patel) dares to chastise him.

Allegedly, Don Juan is so charming that no woman can resist him – a difficult role for any actor to play -and Nick Westrate is hardly up for the challenge. Nevertheless, he acquits himself admirably.

Perhaps his most scandalous conquest is Dona Elvira (Suzy Jane Hunt), a once-pious nun who begs him to repent his evil ways. His caddish behavior has become so reprehensible that his father, Don Louis (Philip Goodwin), threatens to disinherit him.

(To find an actor with that kind of charisma, one need look no further than George Clooney’s TV Nepresso commercial: “The Quest”)

But I digress, which is not difficult since Pelsue’s interpretation of this narcissistic womanizer veers off-course in a multitude of ways, and Kennedy’s direction includes having Don Juan open the second act perched on the toilet and, later, grabbing and kissing one of scorned Dona Elvira’s brothers sent to kill him in the forest. Bisexuality, anyone?

“Don Juan” is the conclusion of Moliere’s satirical hypocrisy trilogy, which also includes “The School for Wives” and “Tartuffe.” So one can easily understand its societal critique and timely relevance, particularly during Sganarelle’s final speech.

Also appearing in this production are Jordan Bellow, Paul DeBoy, Carson Elrod, Claudia Logan, Bobby Roman and Ariana Venturi – with set design by Marsha Ginsberg, lighting by Matthew Richards, and costumes by Katherine Roth.

“Don Juan” runs through Nov. 23 at the Westport Country Playhouse.

 

 

Susan Granger’s review of “The Height of the Storm” (Samuel J. Friedman Theatre)

 

When is a puzzle not intriguing? When it gets so tedious that you just don’t care anymore!

That’s the case in this Manhattan Theatre Club production about the disconcerting relationship between an elderly Parisian couple, one of whom may or may not be dead.

“You think people are dead, but it’s not always the case,” notes Andre (Jonathan Pryce), who has been married to Madeline (Eileen Atkins) for 50 years.

Written by Florian Zeller (“The Father,” “The Mother,” “The Son”), translated from the original French by Christopher Hampton (“Les Liaisons Dangereuses”), its purpose is to confuse and disorient the audience. Which it does, perhaps giving a glimpse into the uncomprehending effects of dementia.

As it begins, Andre’s concerned daughter Anne (Amanda Drew) is in the kitchen, arranging ‘condolence’ flowers and reminiscing about their cluttered childhood home in the French countryside. We see Andre standing by the window, but is he really there?  Did her mother just die?

Hard to tell – because acerbic Madeline then appears, toting a bag of fresh mushrooms to be sautéed with chives for an omelet. Plus there’s Anne’s younger, more self-centered sibling Elise (Lisa O’Hare), talking about her latest lover (James Hillier), along with a mysterious woman (Lucy Cohu) from Andre’s past who prattles on about an affair and an illegitimate son.

Along the way, playwright Zeller drops hints about the play’s essential uncertainty, like when Anne explains she’s reading her formidable writer/father’s diaries, trying to understand his work, and he childes: “There’s nothing to understand. People who try to understand things are morons.”

So I gave up trying to make sense of the cryptic narrative, particularly since director Jonathan Kent has characters, who may or may not exist, look directly at one another. (In contrast in “The Sixth Sense,” some characters never made eye-contact, indicating that one of them might not really be present.)

Jonathan Pryce and Eileen Atkins are acclaimed British thespians but even their insightful performances cannot redeem the frustration of Zeller’s enigmatic theatrical concept.

Andrew Ward’s high-ceilinged set design and costumes contribute authenticity, along with Hugh Vanstone’s dramatic lighting, Paul Groothuis’ sound and Gary Yershon’s original music.

The limited run of “The Height of the Storm” concludes on Nov. 24^th

Susan Granger’s review of “Derren Brown: Secret” (Cort Theatre)

 

For captivating, mesmerizing entertainment, head to the Cort Theatre to see Derren Brown manipulate and maneuver your mind into absolute incredulity.

A two-time Olivier Award-winner, Brown is a charismatic British mentalist who dares his audience to examine how their expectations and beliefs influence how they perceive the world around them, noting, “Sometimes you need to be aware of the bigger picture you’re missing.”

At the beginning of the show, Brown asks the audience (and critics) not to reveal the titular ‘Secret’ so I won’t. But what I can tell you is that he recruits audience members by randomly tossing out Frisbees. Catch one and, suddenly, you’re on-stage participating in mental marvels.

For example, an audience member is asked a series of questions whose answers are determined by subtle non-verbal, physical cues. And Brown doesn’t always get them all right, which only serves to up his ‘likeability’ quotient.

The one ‘secret’ Brown, a former Roman Catholic schoolboy, does reveal is that he’s gay, an admission which sets the tone for a climate of confessions from vulnerable members of the audience.

“There is no actual psychic mind-reading going on, because that would be impossible,” Brown maintains. “I use a spectrum of activity, conjuring through hypnotic and other suggestion-based techniques, blended into a compelling experience.”

Directed by Andy Nyman and Andrew O’Connor, who co-wrote the material with Brown, the show enjoyed a sold-out run in 2017 at the Atlantic Theatre off-Broadway, where it won the Drama Desk Award – and not much has changed.

There’s Takeshi Kata’s scenic design, Ben Stanton’s lighting, Caite Hevner’s projections and Jill BC Du Boff’s sound design. The selection of songs that play before the show and during intermission eventually becomes relevant, as do posters placed around the theatre. It’s all subliminal messaging.

Running two hours and 20 minutes, Derren Brown’s dazzling one-man show is a limited engagement, playing through January 4, 2020.

Susan Granger’s review of “Felix Starro” (Theatre Row – Off-Broadway)

 

This new musical by novelist/playwright Jessica Hagedorn and composer Fabian Obispo marks the first-time-ever that a musical created by Filipino Americans has been presented Off-Broadway and its subject – psychic surgery – is one that’s intrigued me for years.

Based in the Philippines during the Marcos regime, Felix (Alan Ariano) is a famous faith healer whose clients once included politicians and celebrities. But now times are tough. So in 1985, Felix decides to travel to San Francisco for one last healing mission with ailing Filipinos in the Bay Area.

For those who aren’t familiar with the term “psychic surgery,” it’s a pseudoscientific deception in which the practitioner supposedly performs surgery with his bare hands. The fraudulent illusion often involves fake blood and chicken guts which are used to convince the patient that diseased lesions have been excised, leaving no scar.

Travelling with him from Baguio City as his assistant/protégé is Felix’s 19 year-old, orphaned grandson, Junior (Nacho Tambunting), who helps the huckster settle into a seedy hotel room to consult with vulnerable patients for “$200 cash only.” Like Mrs. Delgado (Francisca Munoz), accompanied by her skeptical lawyer son (Ryan James Ortega). But Junior has plans of his own.

Directed by Ma-Yi’s Producing Artistic Director Ralph B. Pena and choreographed by Brandon Bieber (FX’s acclaimed “Fosse/Verdon”), it’s based on a short story from a 2012 collection called “Monstress” by Lysley Tenorio and explores issues of faith, family, love, loss, betrayal and what it means to be an undocumented immigrant in America.

Unfortunately, the music and lyrics are quickly forgettable. Since the concept is so intriguing, perhaps it might have worked more effectively as a straight play.

FYI: In 1984, entertainer Andy Kaufman was diagnosed with a rare lung cancer (large cell carcinoma). He went to the Philippines for a six-week course of psychic surgery with Jun Labo and believed he was cured but died soon afterwards. Then in 2005, Alex Orbito, a psychic surgeon, gained recognition via Shirley MacLaine. In 2005, Orbito was arrested by Canadian authorities for fraud but, a year later, the charges were dropped since it seemed unlikely that Orbito would be convicted.

Extended through Sept. 21, “Felix Starro” runs 1 hour, 45 minutes with no intermission.

 

Susan Granger’s review of “Moulin Rouge! The Musical” (Al Hirschfeld Theater)

 

Based on Baz Luhrmann’s 2001 movie starring Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor, this hyper-stylish musical adaptation re-envisions the bohemian love story, set in turn-of-the-century Paris.

“What was really challenging about the adaptation process was wanting to nurture the intimacy, the romance, the poetry but also create something that had the kinetics and the electricity that the film has in spades,” confesses director Alex Timbers.

The result is a dazzling sensory overload that begins the moment the audience enters the theater, which set designer Derek McLane and lighting designer Justin Townsend have transformed into a gaudy, decadent Montmartre nightclub that caters to men’s carnal fantasies.

Even before the show begins, the audience sees a sparkling windmill in one mezzanine box and a huge blue elephant in the opposite one, along with strutting, sexy chorus girls/boys and a pair of sultry sword swallowers, lavishly costumed by Catherine Zuber.

“Welcome, you gorgeous collection of reprobates and rascals, artistes and arrivistes, soubrettes and sodomites. No matter your sin, you’re welcome here,” intones sleazy impresario Harold Zindler (Danny Burstein), evoking vintage memories of Joel Grey/Alan Cumming in “Cabaret”

The hackneyed plot involves a curious turn of events in which both Christian (Aaron Tveit), the earnest-yet-penniless American songwriter from Lima, Ohio, and the powerful Duke of Monroth (Tim Mutu) are after the same chanteuse/courtesan, Satine (Karen Olivo), who suffers from consumption. And while Zidler understands Satine’s feelings for Christian, he needs the Duke’s financial backing if the bankrupt club is to stay open.

Of course there are can-can dancers and an ever-present incarnation of Toulouse-Lautrec (Sahr Ngaujah). Unfortunately, John Logan’s insipid book is burdened by clichés.

In short: it’s a visual spectacle, featuring a pop score of 70 hits – snippets from Adele, Lady Gaga, the Rolling Stones and more – painstakingly assembled by musical supervisor Justin Levine and performed by an energetic cast that elevates a languid second act with a rousing curtain call.

Susan Granger’s review of “Hershey Felder as Irving Berlin” (Westport Country Playhouse)

 

After dazzling audiences at the Geffen Playhouse in Los Angeles, Chicago’s Royal George Theatre, the Majestic Theatre in Boston, and Allen Theatre at the Cleveland Playhouse, Hershey Felder brings his unabashedly sentimental, one-man show to the Westport Country Playhouse.

According to Felder, before Irving Berlin died at the age of 101 in 1989, he had become a cantankerous old codger, railing at carolers in front of his Beekman Place townhouse, singing “White Christmas.”

“They don’t deserve it,” he barks.

Little Israel Isadore Beilin was born in Belarus in 1888. He arrived in the United States at the age of five and grew up on New York’s Lower East Side. He published his first song, “Marie from Sunny Italy” in 1907, receiving 33 cents for its publication. That was just the beginning.

During his 60-year career, he wrote an estimated 1,500 songs, many becoming major hits, including “Alexander’s Ragtime Band,” “Easter Parade” and “I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm,” plus the scores for 20 original Broadway shows and 15 Hollywood movies. He was Oscar-nominated eight times.

But Irving Berlin’s life had its ups and downs. After his first wife died, he fell in love with Manhattan socialite Ellin Mackay (daughter of an Irish-Catholic billionaire), whom he married and for whom he wrote the ballad “Always” (1925). When their first daughter was born, he wrote “Blue Skies” (1926).

In 1938 to commemorate the end of W.W. I on Armistice Day, Kate Smith introduced “God Bless America,” a fervently patriotic song he wrote in 1918. Berlin’s daughter, Mary Ellin Barrett, maintains that song was ‘very personal’ for her father, expressing his gratitude to his adoptive country. Over the decades, it’s earned millions for the Boy Scouts & Girl Scouts to whom Berlin donated all royalties.

Berlin’s long career as composer/lyricist concluded with an ill-fated show entitled “Mr. President,” which opened the same week that John F. Kennedy was shot.

With book and scenic design by Felder – who duly credits historian Meghan Maiya – the performance is directed as a 1-hour-45 min. biographical songbook by Trevor Hay – without an intermission. Kudos to Christopher Ash & Lawrence Siefert’s production design, Richard Norwood’s lighting and Eric Carstensen’s sound design.

Obviously an audience favorite, Mr. Felder remains on-stage at the conclusion of the show to answer questions.

“Hershey Felder as Irving Berlin” is at the Westport Country Playhouse through August 3.

Susan Granger’s review of “No One Is Forgotten” (Rattlestick Playwrights Theatre)

 

Between the sweltering heat and electrical outages, it wasn’t easy to get to the Rattlestick Playwrights Theater at 224 Waverly Place – and this hour and 30 minute (no intermission) play, inspired by the kidnappings and executions of high-profile journalists like Daniel Pearl and Jamal Khashoggi, sounds daunting. Thankfully, it was worth every moment.

The audience sits on four sides of a dirty, claustrophobic, rectangular concrete cell, where two women, wearing similarly shapeless cotton shifts, are held in captivity.

Imaginative Beng (Renata Friedman), who “knows a lot about a lot,” is a lesbian with a child; practical Lali (Sarah Nina Hayon) has a husband. But all that has been taken away from them. They’ve lost their freedom. They don’t know when they were captured, or how long they’ve been held. And the audience doesn’t know whether they’re journalists or aid workers or activists.

So they pass the time by eating porridge, exercising, talking and playing ‘I Spy.’ When water is scarce, they drink their own urine. Their desperation is constant.

What’s pivotal is the concept that anyone can be taken hostage at any time. A country is only as free as its press – and our press is in great danger. Playwright/director Winter Miller (“In Darfur”) should know. She worked as a research assistant for Nicholas Kristof at The New York Times. And on each seat, there is a flyer from Amnesty International

Difficult to categorize, “No One is Forgotten” is ambiguous, absurdist and abstract yet, at times, disarmingly intense and precise – with existentialism reminiscent of “Waiting for Godot.”

Ms. Miller notes, “I write parts for women because I want to see them on-stage. I want them to have jobs. I also write parts for women who are middle-aged and up. There’s this incredible talent pool that gets shut out between mother and grandmother roles.”

Yet, in the script, Ms. Miller suggests that the play can also be staged with two men or a man and a woman.

And kudos to Meredith Ries’s sparse set design, Rhys Roffey’s dingy costumes, Stacey Derosier’s deliberately harsh lighting and Tyler Kieffer’s subtle sound.

“No One Is Forgotten” plays at the Rattlestick Playwrights Theater, through July 27 under the auspices of Winter Miller’s Community Theater.

 

Susan Granger’s review of “The Bacchae” (Classical Theatre of Harlem)

 

In Bryan Doerries’s exhilarating musical adaptation of Euripides’ enigmatic tragedy, the Greek deity Dionysus appears on Earth in human form as charismatic preacher D (Jason C. Brown), complete with long dreadlocks, metallic codpiece and gold high tops.

While female fans of the God of the Grape, known as Baquettes, go into an orgiastic swoon, young King Pentheus (P.J. Foster) of Thebes isn’t so impressed.

“I hear they worship sex more than god,” authoritarian Pentheus grumbles. “We will run them down from the hill and lock them up. We will build a wall and put a quick end to this mess!”

Disguised as a woman to remain incognito, Pentheus spies on the writhing women’s revels. Although he’s advised to be less dictatorial by the blind seer Tiresias (Brian D. Coats) and former King Cadmus (Charles Bernard Murray), what proud Pentheus doesn’t realize is that hedonistic Dionysius/Preacher D is his first cousin, son of Zeus and his aunt Semele.

And as Tiresias cautions: “Never should man think himself above the law.”

Playwright Bryan Doerries and director Carl Cofield have chosen to adapt the classic concept – which dates back to 405 B.C. in Athens – for contemporary Trumpian relevance, including rap rhythms, an emphasis on gender politics and allusions to jitney pedi-cabs and Uber drivers.  

Christopher Swader and Justin Swader have devised towering, metallic, three-level scaffold set, complete with stairs and platforms, while projection designer Katherine Freer places various evocative images on the translucent scrim panels, astutely augmented by Alan C. Edwards’ lighting, Frederick Kennedy’s music, Tiffany Rea-Fisher’s sinuous choreography, and Les Liang’s shredded, stylized costumes.

The spectacle and originality of this production in the open-air Richard Rogers Amphitheater reminded me of when Aristophanes’ “The Frogs” was performed by the Yale Repertory Theater in the pool in the Payne Whitney Gymnasium in 1974.

“The Bacchae” is performed – free of charge – alfresco in Marcus Garvey Park, located at 18 Mt. Morris Park West between 120^th and 124^th Streets through July 28. For tickets and more information, go to cthnyc.org.

Susan Granger’s review of “Pippin” (Summer Theatre of New Canaan)

Unlike many Broadway pop musicals, “Pippin” has always seemed like a work-in-progress, open to many different interpretations, perhaps increasing in relevance as the years pass by.
Originally conceived with a book by Roger O. Hirson and music/lyrics by Stephen Schwartz, it’s been re-imagined by co-directors Allegra and Christian Libonati for their parents’ (Artistic Director Melody and Producer Ed Libonati) newly redesigned/relocated Summer Theatre of New Canaan.
As related by a mystical group of traveling actors/dancers, the (fictional) coming-of-age story revolves around Pippin, son of Charlemagne, Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire during the 7th Century. After his formal education, Pippin returns home, realizing he has no idea how to spend the rest of his life or, as he puts it, “searching for his corner of the sky.”
In a role originated by Ben Vereen, the Leading Player (Melissa Victor) introduces the absurdist concept with “Magic to Do,” alluding the seductive journey of theatrical storytelling.
Under her guidance, Pippin (Zach Schanne) reunites with his strong ‘n’ stupid step-brother (Omen Sade), scheming step-mother (Jodi Stevens) and self-absorbed father (Frank Mastrone), as he learns truths about war, religion and complicated sexual diversity.
Eventually, Pippin begins to appreciate what life really means, having met a caring widow (Ella Raymont) and her child (Julia Desai/Josh Rosenberry), following the advice of his wise grandmother ((Janelle Robinson), who introduces the catchy “No Time at All” sing-along:
“Oh, it’s time to start livin’
Time to take a little from this world we’re givin’
Time to take time, ‘cause spring will turn to fall
In just no time at all.”
Courtesy of Orli Nativ, each character’s costume/make-up is based on the deck of Tarot cards that’s placed on each audience member’s chair, and the Labyrinth painted on the floor of the stage becomes an integral part of the summer’s most enchanting fable.
Blessed by an excellent ensemble cast, this production delivers fun ‘n’ frolic for a summer’s evening.
“Pippin” plays Thursday through Sunday until July 28 in the big, white tent at 56 South Street, behind the Library in New Canaan. For tickets, call Summer Theatre of New Canaan at 203-966-4634.