Theater Reviews

Susan Granger’s review of “I Never Sang for My Father” (Clurman Theater 2009-2010 season)

    “Death ends a life…but it does not end a relationship, which struggles on in the survivor’s mind…toward some resolution, which it never finds.”

    And so begins and ends the off-Broadway revival of Robert Anderson’s absorbing, provocative and disturbing 1968 play about the timeless universality of the complicated, angst-ridden father/son relationship.

    Middle-aged widower Gene Garrison (Matt Servitto) is still trying to forge an emotional connection with his stubborn, selfish father, Tom (Keir Dullea) whose health is failing. Dividing his time between Florida and Westchester County, where he once served as the town’s Mayor, truculent, loquacious Tom has dominated not only vulnerable Gene but also his ailing wife, Margaret (Marsha Mason), and Gene’s older sister Alice (Rose Courtney), who moved to Chicago when she was banished for marrying a Jewish man.

    Sensitively and perceptively directed by Jonathan Silverstein, the somber, intimate drama about guilt and responsibility recreates vignettes from Gene’s memories that illustrate the contentious awkwardness that always existed between father and son, enhanced by Bill Clarke’s spare set, Josh Bradford’s evocative lighting and Theresa Squire’s period costumes. The acting ensemble is extraordinary. At the top of his game, Keir Dullea delivers a crusty, pugnacious, powerhouse performance, while Matt Servitto exudes a seemingly effortless naturalism, a remarkable combination of lived-in face, warmly modulated voice and subtly calibrated expression and Marsha Mason’s nervously anxious cheerfulness and tender compassion is pitch-perfect – with congenial Melissa Miller and Hal Robinson adroitly covering various supporting roles.

    For people who really care about first-class, quality, intelligent theater, merging seamless playwriting, directing and acting, “I Never Sang for My Father” is at Theatre Row’s Clurman Theater through May 1.

Susan Granger’s review of “Million Dollar Quartet” (Nederlander Theater 2009-2010 season)

    What a clever idea! On Dec. 4, 1956, in Memphis, there was a legendary recording session featuring Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins and newcomer-on-the-scene Jerry Lee Lewis. With a book by rock historian Colin Escott and Floyd Mutrux and directed by Eric Schaeffer from a fictionalized concept by Mutrux, it revolves around this impromptu afternoon jam session, arranged by Sun Records owner/producer Sam Phillips (Hunter Foster), who ‘discovered’ them all, along with Ray Orbison and others.

    Fresh off his sensational appearance on “The Ed Sullivan Show” and signing with RCA Records, Presley (Eddie Clendening) is in town to visit his parents with Dyanne (Elizabeth Stanley), a singer/girlfriend, in tow. Desperately eager for a new hit, Carl Perkins (Robert Britton Lyons) is still miffed that – because of an accident – it was Presley who became famous for the song he wrote called “Blue Suede Shoes.” Having reached the end of his Sun Records contract, Johnny Cash (Lance Guest) drops by, intending to tell Phillips he’s decided to sign with Columbia Records so that he can record more hymns. And aggressive, loquacious Jerry Lee Lewis (Levi Kreis) is just looking to pick up some extra bucks by pounding the piano.

    Together, they – along with bassist Corey Kaiser and drummer Larry Lelli – blast through 22 jukebox numbers, including “Brown Eyed Handsome Man,” “Down By the Riverside” and “Peace in the Valley.” Lance Guest’s renditions of “Folsom Prison Blues,” “Sixteen Tons,” “I Walk the Line” and “Riders in the Sky” are sensational, while Levi Kreis nails Lewis’ signature “Great Balls of Fire,” among several other songs. Since the actor/rockers were chosen primarily for their impersonations, their line readings of the occasionally portentous dialogue are barely adequate. Basically, it’s a stroll down rock ‘n’ roll memory lane – and, for that, Derek McLane’s ramshackle set is spare and economical, Jane Greenwood’s costumes are authentic, but the sound could better.

Susan Granger’s review of “The Addams Family” (Lunt-Fontanne theater: 2009-2010 season)

    It’s cotton candy: appetizing-looking spun sugar, soft and fluffy, sticky and sweet. While servings are large and colorful, since it’s mostly air, it dissolves quickly, offering only a fleeting, decidedly temporary satisfaction, leaving one, as Uncle Fester suggests, “feeling vaguely depressed.” So what are we to make of audiences who seem to adore this mindless drivel and fuel the thriving box-office?

    Like Hollywood, Broadway has learned that nostalgic pop culture sells, particularly when the overture begins with the catchy ‘60s TV show theme song and the audience starts snapping its fingers immediately in recognition and appreciation. When the curtain goes up, revealing Charles Addams’ classic cartoon Gothic vision, set in Central Park, with Nathan Lane leading his family and ancestors from a graveyard crypt subversively singing “When You’re An Addams,” the show brims with creepy fantasy and promise.

    But reality sets in all too soon with the pedestrian music and lyrics by Andrew Lippa (“The Wild Party”) and sit-com book by Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice (“Jersey Boys”). While the family patriarch Gomez (Lane) is having relationship issues with his wife Morticia (underutilized Bebe Neuwirth), his nubile 18 year-old daughter, Wednesday (Krysta Rodriguez), has fallen in love with and plans to marry Luke Beineke (Wesley Taylor), a ‘normal’ boy from Ohio. So when Luke’s parents (Carolee Carmello, Wesley Taylor) arrive for a get-acquainted dinner, it’s a challenge for the entire Addams clan, including young Pugsley (Adam Riegler), campy Grandma (Jackie Hoffman), oddball Uncle Fester (Kevin Chamberlain) and the butler Lurch (Zachary James).

    While director/designers Phelim McDermott and Julian Crouch (“Shockheaded Peter”) deliver macabre sight gags, the spooky concept is never realized, despite Jerry Zaks’ doctoring. And Serge Trujillo’s choreography can only be described as clunky. So it’s left to devilish Nathan Lane to carry the show – which he does to the very best of his ability. But Da Da Da Dum! Snap Snap! is just not enough for him to work with.

Susan Granger’s review of “Cirque du Soleil: Ovo” (2009-2010 season)

    “Ovo,” Cirque du Soleil’s new touring show, encamped until June 6th under the bright blue-and-yellow Grand Chapiteau on Randall’s Island, entices young and old into a spectacular web of fantasy and enchantment. At the center of the festivities is the thematic egg. Named for the Portuguese word for ‘egg,’ it is symbolic of our entire ecosystem. Under the watchful eye of clown-like Master Flipo (Joseph Collard), the enigmatic egg is toted in through the audience by a spiky, mysterious Foreigner (Francoise-Guillaume Leblanc) who falls in love with a sassy, plump Ladybug (Michelle Matlock). As their courtship ensues, they interact with a bio-diverse insect colony as Gringo Cardia’s elegant scenic design transforms from habitat, to forest, to cave. Clad by Liz Vandal in boldly colorful spandex, greedy Grasshoppers stalk the stage, glancing into the audience for their next morsel, a Dragonfly darts, a Firefly flutters, Fleas and Ants nimbly flit, sinuous Spiders slink across a large cobweb and one dazzles on the slackwire, Butterflies metamorphose and perform an aerial love duet while, in the background, Cockroaches make music, its roots drawn from New Age, Brazilian, Afro-Cuban and Motown. Buoyant, astonishingly agile Insects swarm everywhere with surprisingly slick fluidity – this is what a live stage version of  Pixar’s “A Bug’s Life” would look like!

    Staged/choreographed by Deborah Colker (Cirque’s first female director), the cast includes 54 performing artists from 13 countries. Six Russian aerialists, costumed as Scarabs, soar 40 feet in the air, and the faultless, breath-taking trampoline finale features 20 sleek Cricket acrobats running, jumping and leaping up a 24-foot vertical wall.

    Evolving since 1984 from a group of Montreal street performers, Cirque du Soleil is a wondrous Quebec-based phenomenon. In 2010, Cirque is presenting 21 shows simultaneously throughout the world. A luxury VIP Tapis Rouge package includes a prime seat as well as access to drinks and tasty hors d’ouvres before the show and dessert during intermission. All tickets are available at www.cirquedusoleil.com/ovo or 1-800-450-1480. Or search the web for discount ticket brokers. For directions, seewww.cirquedusoleil.com/en/shows/ovo/tickets/newyork/maps-infos.aspx

Susan Granger on “Looped” (Broadway’s Lyceum Theater: 2009-2010 season)

    Do you remember Tallulah Bankhead? Does that name mean anything to you? Apparently not – because the comedy about her called “Looped” is closing on April 11^th.

    The appropriately-named “Looped” describes a real incident that took place one long and difficult day at a Los Angeles recording studio in which the boozed/coked-up Bankhead struggled to re-record – a.k.a. loop – one garbled line of dialogue for what turned out to be her final film, the 1965 horror camp clunker, “Die! Die! My Darling!” Legend has it that the session lasted eight hours. Fortunately, the play doesn’t.

    It’s a star-vehicle for Valerie Harper, who endeared herself as feisty, wise-cracking Rhoda Morgenstern in the long-running TV series. And formidable Ms. Harper acquits herself admirably, making a flamboyant entrance wearing sunglasses and a fur coat (despite it being summer in L.A.), bleating, “Fuck Los Angeles!” in Tallulah’s trademark gravelly, Southern-accented voice with her exaggerated mannerisms. William Ivey Long’s slinky gown, Charles LaPointe’s wig, Adrian W. Jones’s set design,  Ken Billington’s lighting add to the bawdy, convincing caricature but not many theater-goers remember the eccentric, perpetually inebriated Ms. Bankhead who enjoyed only a brief film careers and whose last stage appearance was more than a half-century ago. So sympathy goes to Danny (Brian Hutchison), the uptight studio rep given the thankless task of overseeing this session, and Steve (Michael Mulheren), the sardonic soundman.

    Hartford, Connecticut, playwright Matthew Lombardo and director Rob Ruggiero made their Broadway debuts with “Looped,” which made its debut at the Pasadena Playhouse in Southern California and moved on to the Arena Stage in Washington, D.C.  Their contributions are admirable, even though the one-note comic shtick wears thin pretty quickly and even her reminiscences about playing Blanche in “A Streetcar Named Desire,” bisexual liaison with Joan Crawford and bedding Gary Cooper grow tedious. Matthew Lombardo’s next play is “High,” which will have its world premiere with Kathleen Turner at Hartford’s TheaterWorks in July.

Susan Granger’s review of “Come Fly Away” (Marquis Theater: 2009-2010 season)

    Choreographer/director Twyla Tharp’s dancers swirl in on Frank Sinatra’s coattails in this new dance musical that focuses far more on kinetic dazzle than Ole’ Blue Eyes’ vocals. Indeed, one might even say Ms. Tharp exploits the legendary Sinatra cache for her own abstract purposes.

    The scene is a lively nightclub, where various modern dancers interpret 34 different Sinatra songs. But not really. Their slinky, almost-perpetual motion is often disconcertingly discordant with the tone and lyrics, a detail which doesn’t seem to concern Ms. Tharp in the slightest. While the archetypal characters are named, they’re never defined and there’s no narrative thread – so there’s no emotional payoff.

    But there’s certainly a lot of kinetic energy expended, as the highly trained, admirably athletic dancers – seemingly inexhaustibly – interact in pairs, in quads and as an ensemble. Dancers include Holly Farmer, Karine Plantadit, Keith Roberts, Laura Meade, Rika Okamoto, John Selya, Matthew Stockwell Dibble (formerly with the Royal Ballet), and, particularly, gymnastic Charlie Neshyba-Hodges in “Pick Yourself Up.”

    Previously, Twyla Tharp created innovative concepts based on the songs of Billy Joel (“Movin’ Out”) and Bob Dylan (“The Times They Are A-Changin’”) and this effort falls somewhere between the first and the second. Russ Kasoff’s live band performs classic Nelson Riddle/Quincy Jones/Billy May/Gordon Jenkins-like ‘big band’ arrangements that have been adapted by Don Sebesky and Dave Pierce. There’s an Art Deco-like set design by James Youmans, lighting by Donald Holder, sound by Peter McBoyle and generic costumes by Katherine Roth. And, while the finale is predictably set to “My Way” and “New York, New York,” it never rises to the stellar heights set by the Chairman of the Board. As a result, “Come Fly With Me” emerges as more of an elaborate cabaret-act than a full-fledged Broadway tribute to the seductive genius of the legendary Frank Sinatra.

 Susan Granger’s review of “Next Fall” (Helen Hayes Theater, 2009-2010 season)

    It’s not star-studded. There’s no music, no dancing. But “Next Fall” was produced by pop star Elton John and his companion David Furnish, and it turns out to be one of the most touching comedic dramas to open on Broadway in years. Spanning an intimate, angst-ridden, five-year relationship between two gay men in Manhattan, it resonates emotionally.

    Luke (Patrick Heusinger) is a hunky, young cater-waiter/aspiring actor who’s a devout fundamentalist Southern Christian, viewing his own homosexuality as a sin. Older, neurotic Adam (Patrick Breen) is an acerbic, hypochondriac agnostic who works as a salesman in the candle shop run by his best female friend, Holly (Maddie Corman).

    After Luke is taken, seriously injured, to a hospital after being hit by a taxi, Adam and Holly are joined in the waiting room by their ‘closeted’ friend, Brandon (Sean Dugan), along with Luke’s divorced parents: his chattering, stereotypical “Steel Magnolia” mother Arlene (Connie Ray) and bigoted, mucho-macho father Butch (Cotter Smith), who has no idea that his son is homosexual and can’t understand why Adam is there.

    Playwright Geoffrey Nauffts subtly, sensitively and non-judgmentally explores the often hypocritical religious divide between right and left, while director Sheryl Keller keeps the transitions between the jumbled timelines running smoothly and the breezy banter sounding spontaneous. Walter Chin’s sparse set is, nevertheless, evocative, particularly -.in one of the funniest scenes – when Luke frantically tries to “de-gay” the flat he shares with Adam before his unsuspecting father arrives from Florida. Kudos also to Jess Goldstein’s costumes, Jeff Croiter’s lighting and John Gromada’s original music and sound, as “Next Fall” moves from Playwrights Horizons off-Broadway to the Helen Hayes Theater.

Susan Granger’s review of “Time Stands Still” (Samuel J. Friedman Theatre 2009-2010 season)

    With “The Hurt Locker” winning the Academy Award, one is struck by the relevance of Donald Margulies’ new play about the uneasy relationship between an injured female photojournalist and her reporter boyfriend as they cope with the physical and emotional effects of horrific violence and her near-fatal encounter with a roadside bomb in Iraq.

    The domestic drama begins as badly wounded Sarah Goodwin (Laura Linney) and James Dodd (Brian d’Arcy James) return to their upscale Brooklyn loft (courtesy of John Lee Beatty) after she’s discharged from a hospital in Germany. They’d been working together in Iraq until James fled back to the United States in a mental breakdown a few weeks before the accident that’s left Sarah limping and facially scarred. Now they have different agendas: he’s looking forward to resuming a more stable, normal life, while she desperately wants to recover and return to the front lines as soon as possible.

    When their longtime friend/editor Richard Ehrlich (Eric Bogosian) and his amiable, much younger, party-planner girlfriend, Mandy (Alicia Silverstone), arrive, they try to dissuade Sarah. And there’s a funny scene as James and Sarah verbally spar with Richard about the appropriateness of good-hearted, if shallow, Mandy Bloom whom acerbic Sarah derisively describes as “embryonic.” It’s also revealed that Sarah had a romantic relationship with her Iraqi interpreter who was killed in the roadside blast.

    Along with the timeliness, Donald Margulies’ multi-dimensional characters and witty, insightful observations, particularly about the moral ambiguities of the press in covering atrocities, add to the appeal, enhanced by director Daniel Sullivan’s superb staging.

    In brilliant performance, Laura Linney captures impatient Sarah’s ambitious drive and sharp intelligence, while Brian d’Arcy James adroitly reflects his character’s guilt/anger and desperation at the idea of losing the woman he loves. Eric Bogosian embodies male mid-life angst, as bubbly Alicia Silverstone exudes bewilderment about why Sarah and James thrive on conflict. This is Margulies’ best since his Pulitzer Prize-winning “Dinner With Friends” and this taut production rings with emotional truth.

Susan Granger’s review of “A View from the Bridge” (Cort Theater)

    Best known as Woody Allen’s current cinematic muse, Scarlett Johansson soars onto the Great White Way in the superb revival of Arthur Miller’s 1955 drama, playing opposite titanic Liev Schreiber. He’s Eddie Carbone, the doomed Italian-American longshoreman who informs on two illegal Sicilian immigrants (Corey Stoll, Morgan Spector), relatives he had been temporarily sheltering in his home, in order to stop one, the handsome Rodolpho, of them from marrying his wife Beatrice’s (Jessica Hecht) orphaned 17 year-old niece, Catherine, whom they’ve raised since childhood. That’s Scarlett. She’s the awkward yet self-possessed young woman who unnerves Eddie in a semi-incestuous way by growing up.

    “That guy ain’t right,” Eddie keeps repeating, referring to Rodolpho’s sexuality, projecting his own impotence and guilt.

    Breaking moral and family codes by his denunciation, Eddie loses not only his self-respect but also his place in the community – and, therein, lies the tragedy, as delineated by Alfieri (Michael Cristofer), the troubled lawyer who serves as a sort of narrator/Greek chorus, trying to steer Eddie off his disastrous course of betrayal.

    Who would have thought that Arthur Miller would provide two Hollywood actresses with legitimate theatrical transitions in subsequent seasons? Last year, it was Katie Holmes who shined in a supporting role in “All My Sons.” Now, it’s Scarlett, center-stage, with Liev Schreiber, whose dominating performance is subtly tinged with guilt. (An aside, the late Brittany Murphy played the same ingénue role during a 1997 Broadway revival with Anthony LaPaglia.)

    Impeccably directed by Gregory Mosher with a creaky, imposing Brooklyn waterfront set by John Lee Beatty and Peter Kazorowski’s brooding lighting, “A View From the Bridge” is scheduled to play through April 4^th although the producers are hoping to extend the run after Johansson fulfills her publicity commitments for “Iron Man 2.”

Susan Granger’s review of “Love, Loss and What I Wore” (Westside Theater)

    Some people look for the deeper meaning of life in theater; others are more than delighted with a superficial soupcon of laughter. Happily, this play delivers both.

    Partly based on Ilene Beckerman’s eponymous 1995 memoir, the expanded concept is by sisters Nora and Delia Ephron, augmented by observations from their friends. What emerges is a beguiling collection of revealing stories about disastrous prom dresses, the humiliation of trying on outfits in the unforgiving light of stores’ dressing rooms, the frustration of mail order shopping from the Spiegel catalogue, short skirts, cowboy boots, and the inevitable conclusion that there’s nothing in your closet to wear. Clothing is the vehicle through which we learn the intimate, often poignant intricacies of women’s lives.

    All-in-all, there are 27 stories, some exploring life-defining moments, like what one wore to a parent’s funeral or how a young college co-ed who had been raped by a stranger recovered from the trauma by donating her mini-skirts to Goodwill – but kept her beloved boots. Others vignettes are outrageously funny and some are downright silly,

    Perched on chairs with music stands holding their script segments, the ensemble cast is superb with each woman tackling a variety of parts, except for Tyne Daly who plays the narrator-in-chief, Gingy, over a lifetime, as her wardrobe tells her story, beginning with her 1940s Brownie uniform. Among the others, Rosie O’Donnell was most memorable, delivering the comedic “I Hate My Purse” and the serious “My Mother.” But Samantha Bee, Katie Finneran and Natasha Lyonne acquit themselves admirably, evoking happy and painful personal memories as well as a fashion pastiche of the last six decades of the twentieth century, including the dictum, “Never wear velvet before Rosh Hashanah.”

    Director Karen Carpenter balances the diversity and cross-cutting dialogue, while Jessica Jahn’s black costumes work to unify the participants. It’s also gratifying to know a portion of the production’s profits will be donated to the Dress for Success charity. With rotating casts, this popular production has been extended through March 28^th.