Lawrence Harbison, The Playfixer, brings you up to date with what’s hot and what’s not in New York. This week, Larry tells you about THE COMMON AIR, AS YOU LIKE IT, TIME STANDS STILL, HAPPY NOW? ReENTRY, BLACK ANGELS OVER TUSKEGEE and A CABLE FROM GIBRALTAR.
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The Common Air, Alexander Lyras’ latest solo show at the Theatres at 45 Bleecker, is typical of this gifted performer’s work. Lyras, who co-writes his plays with Robert McGaskill, is a dark satirist, rather like Eric Bogosian. The Common Air is a series of interlocking monologues which buzz around a central event, in this case a purported terrorist attack on Kennedy airport which affects the days of disparate characters, from a manic middle-eastern cab driver with what he believes is a great idea for a reality TV show to a gay businessman to a war vet, etc., all of whose lives intersect in or near the airport. Lyras and McGaskill are brilliant writers, and Lyras is one heckuva performer.

The Common Air is several cuts above your usual one-man show.

And, Sam Mendes’ fascinating production of Shakespeare’s As You Like It, at BAM’s Harvey Theatre, is several cuts about your usual Shakespearean production. This is part of the Bridge Project, wherein a repertory cast of American and British actors play Shakespeare at BAM and then in London (next up: The Tempest). There seems to be a trend a-borning to find dark undertones in Shakespeare’s comedies. Theatre for a New Audience has taken a similar tack with its fine production of Measure for Measure, which I will be writing about next week. Shakespearean production is, at best, a reflection not only of Shakespeare’s time but also of our own. It’s the winter of our discontent, even in the Forest of Arden.

The Duke’s court, where the play begins, is a dark, sinister place. We feel we are in a totalitarian state. When the action shifts to the Forest of Arden, we find not a sylvan glade, but a wintry, seemingly impenetrable forest, where the exiles shiver in the cold. It’s a novel concept, which works well though it does tend to undercut the laughs sometimes.

Mendes’ cast is superb. I particularly enjoyed Juliet Rylance’s perky Rosalind, Christian Camargo’s well-spoken yet insecure Orlando and Stephen Dillane’s archly pessimistic Jacques. Thomas Sadosky is excellent, too as Touchstone, and Alvin Epstein is very touching as old Adam.

This one’s a don’t-miss

As is Donald Margulies’ TIME STANDS STILL, produced by Manhattan Theatre Club at the Friedman Theatre on Broadway. Laura Linney and Brian D’Arcy James star as a couple who come home from the war only to war at home. She is a photographer who was almost killed in an IED explosion which killed her Iraqi translator. He is a journalist whose career is floundering and who wonders, what is the point of reporting incessantly the suffering of the victims of war? Also in the play are a photo editor and his much younger girlfriend.

Linney and D’Arcy James are very compelling in their roles, as is Alicia Silverstone in hers. Eric Bogosian is, as always, excellent but here he is playing a solid, rather nice guy; in other words, he does a fine job in a role that many other actors could have played. He is rather wasted, I thought. Daniel Sullivan, who seems to be one of the few directors who gets to direct plays on Broadway these days, has done his usual excellent work.

Time Stands Still is a fine new play by one of our best playwrights, and not to be missed.

Also not to be missed: Lucinda Coxon’s trenchant comedy Happy Now? produced by the always-reliable Primary Stages at 59 E. 59 Theatres. Coxon is a hot, up and coming British playwright. This is, to my knowledge, the first British play Primary Stages has ever produced. Since this production is “In Association With,” I assume it has been enhanced by commercial producers. To whom we should be grateful in this case. This is a terrific play about a woman who has a good career, a loving husband and two children, who can’t stop asking herself the Big Question: Is this all there is? Is this my life, my one and only life?

Liz Diamond, a fine director who most likely will never get to direct plays on Broadway since apparently only Sullivan and Doug Hughes qualify for that, has done a superb job with Coxon’s funny/poignant play, and Mary Bacon is giving a breakthrough performance as Kitty, Our Anti-Heroine. Everybody in the cast is wonderful, though I enjoyed most particularly Quentin Mare’s performance as Miles, a friend of Kitty’s husband who is an alcoholic. Seldom have I seen a stage drunk so convincing.

Again, this one’s a don’t-miss.

Emily Ackerman and KJ Sanchez, two refugees from The Civilians, have a Civilian-esque documentary play, Re-Entry, up and running at Urban Stages. They have interviewed Marines and their families and have put together an evening, largely comprised of monologues, about the harrowing experience of war, and about the difficulties of returning to civilian life. Sanchez has directed this with a gifted hand, and the evening features performances which are very strong; particularly, that of Joseph Harrell, a career Marine now turned actor who really is The Real Deal.

Re-Entry helps us to understand the sacrifices our service men and women make. It is not a pro or anti-war play. It accepts war as a given, and examines its effect on the combatants. It is riveting.

Layon Gray’s Black Angels Over Tuskegee, at the Theatre at St. Luke’s, is also a military drama. It tells the story of the famed Tuskegee Airmen, a squadron of Black fighter pilots who served in North Africa and Italy during World War II. The first act gives us six men at a testing center in Utah, where they hope to pass the examination which will get them into the war as pilots. The second act shows them during the war.

It’s a compelling story, tied together by lengthy expositional monologues by a man who turns out to be a descendant of one of the six airmen. The device pays off at the end, but along the way it just serves to halt the play in its tracks; or, rather, to ground the planes, as do numerous stories Gray gives his characters to tell, about Important Events which happened in the past. Had Gray pruned much of this expositional material an overlong play would have been much better. What makes me give this one a thumbs-up though are the terrific performances by the cast.

Finally, I saw Daniel Meltzer’s dark comedy A Cable from Gibraltar, at the Medicine Show Theatre, directed by Robert Kalfin. This is a suite of three related one-acts which focus on a somewhat archetypal Man and Woman. When we first meet them they are newborns in a hospital ward who try to understand the difference between “M” and “F.” In the second act they become a couple while fishing, though they part when she receives a cable instructing her to travel to Gibraltar. In the final act they are two semi-senile generals on opposite sides of a conflict which has gone on forever, so long that no one remembers what started it.

The play is written in an arch, faux British style which makes it seem somewhat like Samuel Beckett as adapted by Noel Coward, or perhaps vice-versa, and Kalfin has perfectly captured this odd style in his staging. His actors are excellent, too.

This one is definitely worth checking out.
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THE COMMON AIR. Theatres at 45 Bleecker, 45 Bleecker
St.
TICKETS: www.telecharge.com 212-239-6200
AS YOU LIKE IT. BAM Harvey Theatre, 651 Fulton St.,
Brooklyn
TICKETS: 718-636-4100
TIME STANDS STILL. Friedman Theatre, 261 W. 47th St.
TICKETS: www.telecharge.com 212-239-6200
HAPPY NOW? Primary Stages, 59 E. 59th St.
TICKETS: www.ticketcentral.com 212-279-4200
BLACK ANGELS OVER TUSKEGEE. St. Luke’s Theatre, 308
W. 46th St.
TICKETS: www.telecharge.com 212-239-6200
A CABLE FROM GIBRALTAR. Medicine Show Theatre, 549
W. 52nd St.
TICKETS: www.smarttix.com 212-868-4444

“It requires a certain largeness of spirit to give generous appreciation to large achievements. A society with a crabbed spirit and a cynical urge to discount and devalue will find that one day, when it needs to draw upon the reservoirs of excellence, the reservoirs have run dry.”

—– George F. Will

“Who is this guy?”

For over thirty years Lawrence Harbison was in charge of new play acquisition for Samuel French, Inc., during which time his work on behalf of playwrights resulted in the first publication of such subsequent luminaries as Jane Martin, Don Nigro, Tina Howe, Theresa Rebeck

Lawrence Harbison, The Playfixer, brings you up to date with what’s hot and what’s not in New York. This week, Larry tells you about CIRCUMCISE ME, VENUS IN FUR, A VIEW FROM THE BRIDGE, ROUGH SKETCH and My trip to Vermont.
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My theatergoing was quite eclectic last week, ranging from stand-up comedy (Circumcise Me) to gut-wrenching tragedy (A View from the Bridge). All in all, it was a very satisfying week. I ended it by venturing far afield, to the frozen mountains of Vermont, where I saw two terrific productions, one of a new play. We tend to believe that we in New York have a monopoly on good theatre. Not so.

Yisrael Campbell is, to say the least, one of a kind. He’s an Orthodox Jewish stand-up comedian, living in Jerusalem, who was born and raised as Christopher Campbell before he converted to the Jewish faith. He tells you how this came to pass in his hilarious stand-up act, Circumcise Me, which has been extended into mid-May at the Bleecker Street Theatre.

Searching for an alternative to a life of drinking and drugs, Campbell found it in Judaism. After taking lessons from a Reformed rabbi, he converted – which involved a ritual circumcision (just a little snip, as he was already circumcised). Reformed Judaism didn’t quite cut it for him, though, so he converted to Conservative Judaism – which involved yet another ritualized snip – only to come to the realization that to be a True Blue Jew he had to convert yet again – he had to become Orthodox. You guessed it: he had to be snipped again. He now looks like one of those guys you see selling diamonds in W. 47th St., or on the street in Crown Heights or Midwood. The hat, the long black coat, the beard, the temple curls – the works.

Campbell’s tale of how this came to pass, of how and why he followed his bliss, is hilarious. Mazel tov, Yiz – you’re one funny schlemiel.

CSC is an off Broadway company which specialized in productions of classic plays by Famous Dead Europeans. Recent FDEs include Shakespeare and Chekhov. The problem with this business model is that plays by FDEs usually have large casts, at least by present-day standards, which are expensive. With David Ives’ Venus in Fur, the company has saved its dough for the Ostrovsky play they’re doing in the spring by presenting a play with only two actors, a play within-a-play adaptation of a notorious novel from 1870 by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, from whose name the term “masochism” derives.

Rather than adapt the novel in a straightforward way, Ives has set the play in an audition room, where a director is casting the role of Vanda in his own adaptation of Venus in Fur.
He has seen scads of actresses but nobody has impressed him. He’s about to head home when a dizzy, ditsy actress arrives with a satchel full of excuses as to why she’s late. He’s tired and wants to go home but she is relentless, so finally he agrees to give her a shot. Gradually, he and she get into the play, becoming their roles; and, gradually, we begin to wonder, who is this woman? Is she just a scatter-brained actress, is she spying on the guy for his girlfriend, or is she Something Else Entirely? I love a good mystery, don’t you? And Venus in Fur is a doozy.

Walter Bobbie’s direction is just wonderful, as are the two actors, Wes Bentley and Nina Arianda, the latter of whom has the showier role so, in the true tradition of Critics’[ Darlings, she has gotten the raves. Both deserve them.

This one’s a don’t-miss.

As is Gregory Mosher’s compelling production of Arthur Miller’s A View from the Bridge, at the Cort Theatre, which emerges here as Miller’s best play after Death of a Salesman and The Crucible.

The play is set in Brooklyn’s Red Hook neighborhood and focuses on a longshoreman, Eddie Carbone, who has taken in a raised his niece, Catherine. His tragedy is that he lusts after her, and this leads to his doom.

Live Schrieber, as Eddie, demonstrates once again that he is one of our finest stage actors, able to segue almost effortlessly from The title role in the Scottish Play to the provocative radio host in Talk Radio to the suave Ricky Roma in Glengarry Glen Ross to the sullen Eddie Carbone. This man, it seems, can play anything –so it’s no surprise that he is terrific in this play.

The big surprise is Scarlett Johanson, who plays Catherine beautifully, with a sweet innocence which belies her screen persona as a glam femme fatale. Jessica Hecht is solid, as she always is, as Eddie wife Beatrice, and there is fine work here too from Michael Cristofer as the lawyer Alfieri, who functions as something of a Greek Chorus, as well as from Corey Stoll and Morgan Spector as two illegal Italian immigrants, Rudolpho and Marco, staying with the Carbones. When Rudolpho and Catherine fall in love, and Eddie is faced with losing Catherine, Miller’s tragedy spurs towards its endgame.

You missed Shawn Nacol’s fascinating Rough Sketch, at 59 E. 59 Theatres, as it closed 31 January. This terrific play was about two animators at a studio which makes children’s cartoon films. Although they have worked side-by-side for several months they have never actually spoken to each other until both come in while the office is closed during the week between Christmas and New Year’s. Both are oddballs, obsessive about their work. They start out with diffidence, proceed to passion and wind up fight-to-the finish enemies, as each has a different attitude about the meaning of the work they do.

Nacol’s writing was fresh, funny and full of insights, sort of like David Hare on speed, and Ian Morgan’s direction was clever and matched the script perfectly. The two actors were mighty fine. Matthew Lawler was exceptional. Tina Benko was phenomenal.

Sorry you missed this one.

Finally, I journeyed up to Burlington, Vermont at the behest of a local playwright to meet with a group of VT playwrights and see the playwright’s new play. I was surprised to find the area a hotbed of theatrical activity, most of which is at the amateur level – which is to say everyone does it for love, not for pay, and which is not to say that the quality of the work was not up to what we here would consider professional standards.

After meeting with the playwrights, telling my jokes and wowing them with my vast knowledge and Good Advice, I saw a terrific play by local playwright Maura Campbell called Rosalee Was Here, about a disturbed teenaged girl and a teacher’s valiant attempts to save her. Liz Gilbert, the teenager who played this girl, was astonishing.

The next night I went to Vermont Stage Company in Burlington to see their production of Stephen Temperley’s Souvenir, about the deluded, tone-deaf soprano Florence Foster Jenkins. This was the fourth time I had seen the play, and it has never failed to amuse me. I saw it at the York Theatre and on Broadway – both with Judy Kaye, and then at the Wilma Theatre in Philadelphia with Ann Crumb – and VTSC’s production was as good as any of these. In some ways, Nancy Johnson was the best Flo or all those I have seen – she certainly was the funniest – and Carl J. Danielsen was a scream as Cosme McMoon, Mrs. Foster Jenkin’ accompanist who narrates this odd tale.

NYC sharpies who denigrate “regional theatre” don’t know what they’re talking about.

CIRCUMCISE ME. Bleecker Street Theatre, 45 Bleecker St.
TICKETS: 212-260-8250
VENUS IN FUR. CSC. 136 E. 13th St.
TICKETS: 212-677-4210
A VIEW FROM THE BRIDGE. Cort Theatre, 138 W. 48th St.
TICKETS: www.telecharge.com 212-239-6200
ROUGH SKETCH and ROSALEE WAS HERE. Alas, closed.
SOUVENIR. Vermont Stage Co., 110 Main St., Burlington, VT
TICKETS: 802-863-5966

“It requires a certain largeness of spirit to give generous appreciation to large achievements. A society with a crabbed spirit and a cynical urge to discount and devalue will find that one day, when it needs to draw upon the reservoirs of excellence, the reservoirs have run dry.”

—– George F. Will

Lawrence Harbison, The Playfixer, brings you up to date with what’s hot and what’s not in New York. This week, Larry tells you about SMUDGE, LOVE LOSS AND WHAT I WORE, ZERO HOUR, LITTLE GEM and PRESENT LAUGHTER.

Rachel Axler’s Smudge, at the Women’s Project’s Julia Miles Theatre, is another impressive production from this company, which seems to be thriving under the leadership of Artistic Director Julia Crosby. It’s beautifully directed (by Pam MacKinnon) and wonderfully acted. But, for me, it was awfully hard to watch.

The play is a comedy on a horrifying subject. A young couple has a baby, who is horribly deformed, and we observe their attempts to cope with this terrible situation. Nick does it by pretending there is nothing wrong; whereas Colby copes by pretending that there is no monster baby in her home. Gradually, both go rather bonkers, before retreating into imaginative ruminations about the future life of their daughter.

Cassie Beck and Greg Keller are tremendously compelling as Mommy and Daddy, and Brian Spambati contributes several hilarious turns as Nick’s bombastic brother, Pete.

If you can take the subject matter, this one is worth checking out.

Love, Loss, and What I Wore has been running a while at the Westside Theatre. I finally caught up with it last week, and had a very good time. Nora and Delia Ephron have adapted Ilene Beckerman’s book of interviews with women about their struggles with fashion. Five women sit on stools with scripts on stands, performing various roles. I was one of the few men in the audience. I felt like a spy.

As for said audience, it was yucking it up with guffaws of recognition as Katie Finneran, Michele Lee, Debra Monk, Ellis Ross and Casey Wilson enlightened us about the various travails women experience in their quest to find the right shoes, handbag, dress, etc. If you’re a guy you surely have experienced this with the women in your life, so you might find the show even funnier than did the ladies in the audience.

The above fivesome are in the show through 31 January, to be replaced by Carol Kane, Janeane Garofalo, Caroline Rhea and others.

Zero Hour has also been running a while, at the Theatre at St. Clement’s, and I finally caught up with this, too. It’s a one-man show, written and performed by Jim Brochu, who looks and sounds astonishingly like Zero Mostel. We are in Z’s studio, his sanctum sanctorum where he engages in his first love, painting, when an interviewer (unseen) from the New York Times arrives. Z proceeds to tell the guy his life story, much of which focuses on his travails when he was black-listed. He gets pretty worked up about this, and a lot of shouting goes on – but that’s the way Mostel was, always larger than life.

We also get wonderful anecdotes about A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum and Fiddler on the Roof, even as we learn to our surprise and dismay that Mostel hated The Producers; though why, he doesn’t say.

Brochu is absolutely wonderful in the show. Highly recommended!

Elaine Murphy’s Little Gem, at the Flea Theatre, is an import from last year’s Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Carol Tambor, an American producer, has made it an annual rite to import what she feels was the best Fringe production. Here, she presents Ireland’s Guna Nua Theatre Company in the play, which consists of interlocking monologues by three generations of women – a grandmother, her daughter and the daughter’s daughter. These stories are most compelling; but they are just that – stories. I am starting to get a bit concerned that I am seeing so many plays these days which are narrated. This seems to be a genre particularly popular with Irish writers (Conor McPherson comes to mind). What usually makes these narrative plays work is the acting, and the actors here do not disappoint. They are simply wonderful.

Little Gem appears to be something of a hard-to-get ticket. It’s worth the extra effort, though.

Finally, I quite enjoyed Roundabout’s revival of Noël Coward’s Present Laughter, at the American Airlines Theatre. In fact, of the three productions I have seen of this show-biz comedy, this one is much the best.

Victor Garber stars as Garry Essendine, an aging London matinee idol. Garry is always “on” – even when he is at home, and as he prepares to go off on a tour of Africa he must contend with a feisty secretary, his devoted ex-wife, an ingénue who is in love with him, the wife of his producer who throws herself at him and an almost demented playwright who is a fanatic fan.

Nicholas Martin, the director, keeps this craziness running along smoothly and wittily, and the cast is just great; starting with Garber, who is having great fun with this role of an actor who is always acting. Also wonderful is Harriet Harris as his secretary, and Brooks Ashmanskas is hilarious as the demented playwright/fan.

Present Laughter is great fun. Don’t miss it!

SMUDGE. Julia Miles Theatre, 424 W. 55th St.
TICKETS: 212-757-3900
LOVE, LOSS AND WHAT I WORE. Westside Theatre, 407 W. 43rd St.
TICKETS: www.telecharge.com. 212-239-6200
ZERO HOUR. Theatre at St. Clement’s, 423 W. 46th St.
TICKETS: www.telecharge.com. 212-239-6200
LITTLE GEM. Flea Theatre, 41 White St.
TICKETS: 212-352-3101
PRESENT LAUGHTER. American Airlines Theatre, 227 W. 42nd St.
TICKETS: 212-719-1300

“It requires a certain largeness of spirit to give generous appreciation to large achievements. A society with a crabbed spirit and a cynical urge to discount and devalue will find that one day, when it needs to draw upon the reservoirs of excellence, the reservoirs have run dry.”

—– George F. Will

Lawrence Harbison,The Playfixer, brings you up to date with what’s hot and what’s not in New York. This week, Larry tells you about SMUDGE, LOVE LOSS AND WHAT I WORE, ZERO HOUR, LITTLE GEM and PRESENT LAUGHTER.

Rachel Axler’s Smudge, at the Women’s Project’s Julia Miles Theatre, is another impressive production from this company, which seems to be thriving under the leadership of Artistic Director Julia Crosby. It’s beautifully directed (by Pam MacKinnon) and wonderfully acted. But, for me, it was awfully hard to watch.

The play is a comedy on a horrifying subject. A young couple has a baby, who is horribly deformed, and we observe their attempts to cope with this terrible situation. Nick does it by pretending there is nothing wrong; whereas Colby copes by pretending that there is no monster baby in her home. Gradually, both go rather bonkers, before retreating into imaginative ruminations about the future life of their daughter.

Cassie Beck and Greg Keller are tremendously compelling as the Mommy and Daddy, and Brian Spambati contributes several hilarious turns as Nick’s bombastic brother, Pete.

If you can take the subject matter, this one is worth checking out.

Love, Loss, and What I Wore has been running a while at the Westside Theatre. I finally caught up with it last week, and had a very good time. Nora and Delia Ephron have adapted Ilene Beckerman’s book of interviews with women about their struggles with fashion. Five women sit on stools with scripts on stands, performing various roles. I was one of the few men in the audience. I felt like a spy.

As for said audience, it was yucking it up with guffaws of recognition as Katie Finneran, Michele Lee, Debra Monk, Ellis Ross and Casey Wilson enlightened us about the various travails women experience in their quest to find the right shoes, handbag, dress, etc. If you’re a guy you surely have experienced this with the women in your life, so you might find the show even funnier than did the ladies in the audience.

The above fivesome are in the show through 31 January, to be replaced by Carol Kane, Janeane Garofalo, Caroline Rhea and others.

Zero Hour has also been running a while, at the Theatre at St. Clement’s, and I finally caught up with this, too. It’s a one-man show, written and performed by Jim Brochu, who looks and sounds astonishingly like Zero Mostel. We are in Z’s studio, his sanctum sanctorum where he engages in his first love, painting, when an interviewer (unseen) from the New York Times arrives. Z proceeds to tell the guy his life story, much of which focuses on his travails when he was black-listed. He gets pretty worked up about this, and a lot of shouting goes on – but that’s the way Mostel was, always larger than life.

We also get wonderful anecdotes about A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum and Fiddler on the Roof, even as we learn to our surprise and dismay that Mostel hated The Producers; though why, he doesn’t say.

Brochu is absolutely wonderful in the show. Highly recommended!

Elaine Murphy’s Little Gem, at the Flea Theatre, is an import from last year’s Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Carol Tambor, an American producer, has made it an annual rite to import what she feels was the best Fringe production. Here, she presents Ireland’s Guna Nua Theatre Company in the play, which consists of interlocking monologues by three generations of women – a grandmother, her daughter and the daughter’s daughter. These stories are most compelling; but they are just that – stories. I am starting to get a bit concerned that I am seeing so many plays these days which are narrated. This seems to be a genre particularly popular with Irish writers (Conor McPherson comes to mind). What usually makes these narrative plays work is the acting, and the actors here do not disappoint. They are simply wonderful.

Little Gem appears to be something of a hard-to-get ticket. It’s worth the extra effort, though.

Finally, I quite enjoyed Roundabout’s revival of Noël Coward’s Present Laughter, at the American Airlines Theatre. In fact, of the three productions I have seen of this show-biz comedy, this one is much the best.

Victor Garner stars as Garry Essendine, an aging London matinee idol. Garry is always “on” – even when he is at home, and as he prepares to go off on a tour of Africa he must contend with a feisty secretary, his devoted ex-wife, an ingénue who is in love with him, the wife of his producer who throws herself at him and an almost demented playwright who is a fanatic fan.

Nicholas Martin, the director, keeps this craziness running along smoothly and wittily, and the cast is just great; starting with Garber, who is having great fun with this role of an actor who is always acting. Also wonderful is Harriet Harris as his secretary, and Brooks Ashmanskas is hilarious as the demented playwright/fan.

Present Laughter is great fun. Don’t miss it!

SMUDGE. Julia Miles Theatre, 424 W. 55th St.
TICKETS: 212-757-3900
LOVE, LOSS AND WHAT I WORE. Westside Theatre, 407 W. 43rd
St.
TICKETS: www.telecharge.com. 212-239-6200
ZERO HOUR. Theatre at St. Clement’s, 423 W. 46th St.
TICKETS: www.telecharge.com. 212-239-6200
LITTLE GEM. Flea Theatre, 41 White St.
TICKETS: 212-352-3101
PRESENT LAUGHTER. American Airlines Theatre, 227 W. 42nd St.
TICKETS: 212-719-1300

“It requires a certain largeness of spirit to give generous appreciation to large achievements. A society with a crabbed spirit and a cynical urge to discount and devalue will find that one day, when it needs to draw upon the reservoirs of excellence, the reservoirs have run dry.”

—– George F. Will

Lawrence Harbison, The Playfixer, brings you up to date with what’s hot and what’s not in New York. This week, Larry tells you about THIS, BRIEF ENCOUNTER, FASCINATING AIDA, PRINCES OF WACO and EARNEST IN LOVE.

Melissa James Gibson first hit the radar screen a few seasons back with what I take to be her first play, (sic), a title which made no sense to me. Anyway, she got a lot of traction with this play, and critics were impressed with her use of an unusual dramatic structure and “inventive language.” I myself was not impressed. I felt the play was boring and impenetrable. Imagine my surprise when I found her new play, This, at Playwrights Horizons, not only to be penetrable but actually entertaining and interesting, though I wouldn’t call it the best new play of the season, as did Mr. Ish in the NY Times.

There’s not much of a plot; but what there is is choice. The first part takes place at a party held by Marrell and Tom, a married couple with a baby, to which have been invited their friends Jane and Alan, and a French doctor named Jean-Pierre. Jane is a recent widow. Alan is a bitchy, alcoholic gay dude and JP has been invited as a potential New Guy for Jane. Later, Tom hits on Jane, his wife’s best friend, and begins an affair with her. Of course, the you-know-what hits the fan.

Ms. Gibson writes witty dialogue. She also writes in this new-fangled faux free verse style, even eschewing punctuation, which manages to come out sounding like good old fashioned Circle Rep realism. She, like Sarah Ruhl, seems to be heading in the direction of The R-Style, which must concern their “downtown” fans but which makes their work far more accessible to the rest of us.

Daniel Aukin’s direction was superb, and his cast excellent. I particularly enjoyed Julianne Nicholson’s performance as Jane. She had a lost quality which I found most appealing.

This will have closed by the time you read this. I hope you saw it, and am sorry if you missed it. Now about that title. This? Could have just as easily been “That.” Or (this). What’s up with this meaningless titling???

I appear to be one of the few people I know who has not seen the David Lean/Noël Coward film “Brief Encounter,” so I went to St. Anne’s Warehouse, which was presenting a British company called Kneehigh Theatre’s production of Emma Rice’s stage adaptation of Brief Encounter with no preconceptions. My friend Tondelayo, who loves the film, felt that Ms. Rice had deconstructed it/sent it up, almost in the manner of Ann Bogart, although she agreed with me that, unlike a typical Bogart/SITI event, the production was terrific. My companion SJ, who also loves the film, loved what Ms. Rice did with it, both as adaptor and director.

As for me, this was one brilliant piece of theatre. Whether or not it had much to do with the film.

Ms. Rice made terrific use of film, occasionally having her actors step right into the screen, which I found delightful. Her actors also performed several songs by Coward before, during and after the show, which was also delightful. And her pair of lovers, Laura and Alec (Celia Johnston and Trevor Howard in the film, Hannah Yelland and Tristan Sturrock here), were just wonderful.

Kneehigh Theatre operates in Cornwall, but occasionally brings its production to London. Few of us ever get to Cornwall; but next time you’re in London if Kneehigh is there don’t miss them.

FASCINATING AIDA was back recently, at 59 E. 59 Theatres. I somehow missed them before, so I took this opportunity to find out what all the buzz was about. They are an all-female British comedy group which specializes in satiric songs, which they write themselves, and which were for the most part very witty. These reminded me a lot of good old Tom Lehrer-style songs. For variety, they threw in two “serious” songs both of which, for me, were the highpoints of the evening.

I assume they’ll be back. They are definitely a don’t-miss.

Robert Askins’ Princes of Waco which is, I think, still running is a rather improbable drama about a troubled teen who falls in with a middle-aged man who turns out to support himself by petty thievery. He sets the kid up, and steals his girlfriend. When the kid gets out of the slammer, he’s boiling for revenge.

There was some good writing here, and I loved the actors – particularly, Megan Tusing as the girl and Christine Farrell as a bartender who’s seen everything and doesn’t give a damn about any of it.

Finally, Irish Rep is presenting a fine production of the Anne Croswell/Lee Pockriss musical adaptation of The Importance of Being Earnest, Earnest in Love, which is a hit and which has been extended. Amazingly, Ms Croswell, who wrote the book, has managed to include all of Wilde’s greatest lines while managing to find space for the songs, which are wonderfully witty.

My problem with the show was only that the actors were so wonderful, I wished I could see them in The Importance of Being Earnest. Beth Fowler, in particular, is a terrific Lady Bracknell, a steely-eyed battleaxe in the manner of Judi Dench in the recent film of the play, though she doesn’t do much with the performance-defining handbag line, and Peter Maloney is the best Chasuble I have ever seen. Well, I had another problem, too. As usual, director Charlotte Moore completely ignores the small audience to the side of the stage, directing as if she were in a traditional proscenium theatre, which she is not. This was fine for those of us sitting in the main section; but those sitting off to the side spent the evening looking at the actors’ backs.

So – by all means don’t miss this charming production; but if they try to sell you a seat on the side, tell them no thanks, you want to look at the actors’ faces, not their backs.

THIS. Playwrights Horizons. Alas, closed.
BRIEF ENCOUNTER. St. Ann’s Warehouse, 39 Water St., Brooklyn.
TICKETS: Alas, all remaining performances are sold out, but a
small number of “Rush” seats are available starting
one hour before the performance. You have to get
there and stand in line.
FASCINATING AIDA. 59 E. 59. Alas, closed
PRINCES OF WACO. Ensemble Studio Theatre, 549 W. 52nd St.
TICKETS: www. ensemblestudiotheatre.org. 866-811-4111
EARNEST IN LOVE. Irish Repertory Theatre, 132. W. 22nd St.
TICKETS: 212-727-2737

“Who is this guy?”

For over thirty years Lawrence Harbison was in charge of new play acquisition for Samuel French, Inc., during which time his work on behalf of playwrights resulted in the first publication of such subsequent luminaries as Jane Martin, Don Nigro, Tina Howe, Theresa Rebeck, José Rivera, William Mastrosimone, Charles Fuller, and Ken Ludwig, among many others; and the acquisition of musicals such as Smoke of the Mountain, A…My Name Is Alice, Little Shop of Horrors and Three Guys Naked from the Waist Down. He is a now a free-lance editor, primarily for Smith and Kraus, Inc., for whom he edits annual anthologies of best plays by new playwrights and women playwrights, best ten-minute plays and best monologues and scenes for men and for women. For many years he wrote a weekly column on his adventures in the theater for two Manhattan Newspapers, the Chelsea Clinton News and The Westsider. His new column, “On the Aisle with Larry,” is a weekly feature at www.smithandkraus.com.

He works with individual playwrights to help them develop their plays (see his website, www.playfixer.com). He has also served as literary manager or literary consultant for several theatres, such as Urban Stages and American Jewish Theatre. He is a member of both the Outer Critics Circle and the Drama Desk. He has served many times over the years as a judge and commentator for various national play contests and lectures regularly at colleges and universities. He holds a B.A. from Kenyon College and an M.A. from the University of Michigan.

He is currently working on a book, Masters of the Contemporary American Drama.

“It requires a certain largeness of spirit to give generous appreciation to large achievements. A society with a crabbed spirit and a cynical urge to discount and devalue will find that one day, when it needs to draw upon the reservoirs of excellence, the reservoirs have run dry.”

—– George F. Will

Lawrence Harbison, The Playfixer, brings you up to date with what’s hot and what’s not in New York. This week, Larry tells you about The Starry Messenger, Race, A Little Night Music, Misalliance and Sister’s Christmas Catechism.

The early buzz and Kenneth Lonergan’s new play The Starry Messenger, at the Acorn Theatre, was that it was gong to be a disaster. Then it opened for the critics and got mostly favorable reviews. Mostly, but not all. This seems to be happening a lot lately. Take a look at the reviews for the film version of “Nine.” Some say it’s a mess; others, a masterpiece. Well, The Starry Messenger is neither mess nor masterpiece.

The story concerns a namby-pamby astronomy professor named Mark who teaches night classes at the Hayden Planetarium. He is played, of course, by Matthew Broderick, who does namby-pamby like no one else and who seems to have become our generation’s Wally Cox. Mark is a perfectly nice middle-aged man who realizes that life is passing him by, so he does what many men do at his stage of life – he has an affair with, of course, a much younger woman. Although much of Lonergan’s dialogue is witty and perceptive, I found it difficult to care much about Mark’s problems; and, at almost three hours, this play seems like an hour too long. Broderick is fine, though, as Mark. Jay Smith Cameron is under-employed as Mark’s terminally loquacious wife.

I guess I had sort of a namby-pamby response to this play. I neither liked nor disliked it. I wouldn’t say it’s one you’ll regret having missed.

David Mamet’s Race (at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre), on the other hand, is a don’t-miss. We appear to believe that the Great Divide between black and white people has finally been bridged in the Age of Obama. Mamet, that curmudgeon, demonstrates in his new play how this just ain’t so.

We are in the office of a posh law firm. An extremely wealthy white man, also something of a celebrity, has been accused of raping a young black woman in a hotel room, and two law partners are trying to decide whether or not to take his case. One partner is white; the other, black. Also on hand is a young female associate in the firm, who is black – and who inadvertently (we think) forces her partners to take the case when she takes the client’s retainer check and notifies the court that her firm are the attorneys of record. What ensues is a crash course on how race scrambles justice in court, and about how perception, rather than truth, is what is most important as a jury decides a case.

Many will find this play very unsettling, because many would prefer to believe in the fantasy that, now, all is forgiven between the races in this country. As for me, I think this is Mamet’s most brilliant play in years, and right up there with American Buffalo, Glengarry Glen Ross and Speed-the Plow. Mamet has done a fine job of directing his play, and the cast is perfect. James Spader and David Alan Grier are the brilliantly cynical law partners, Richard Thomas is the naïve accused rapist and Kerry Washington is the young associate who just might be something other that what she seems.

This one’s a don’t-miss, if you like plays which provoke and challenge you.

Stephen Sondheim’s A Little Night Music was the first Broadway show I ever saw. I was a callow college student who had a somewhat cynical attitude about Broadway. I guess you could say that A Little Night Music was The Play That Changed My Life. After seeing it and, I must admit, several other wonderful plays and musicals on Broadway at that time, I decided that somehow, I had to find a niche for myself in the NY theatre. Which, fortunately, I did.

I have seen three productions of the show since my first encounter with it, but none was as entrancing as Trevor Nunn’s production, currently at the Walter Kerr Theatre. Nunn has reconceived the show on a smaller-scale, using a chamber group rather than a full orchestra. Heavy on the harp, light on lush strings. This worked just fine by me. His cast is wonderful. Catherine Zeta-Jones is a luscious tigress of a Desiree, easily the best I have ever seen in this role – including Glynis Johns, who originated it. Brit Alexander Hanson, imported from Nunn’s staging of the work last year in London, is a charming Fredrik, and Ramona Mallory and Hunter Ryan Herdlicka are charmingly adolescent as Anne and Henrik. And then, of course, there’s living legend Angela Lansbury, whose Madame Arnfeldt is a wonderfully caustic old bag.

A Little Night Music is the best musical revival on Broadway since Ragtime (which, sadly starless, is hanging on by the wispiest of threads). Both shows are a don’t-miss.

It is always a pleasure to see a play by George Bernard Shaw, even one I have seen several times, like Misalliance, which is currently up and running at City Center Stage II, where the Pearl Theatre Co. is now comfortably in residence.

This is one of Shaw’s plays about, among other things, what was known then as The Woman Question. Its heroine is Hypatia, the pampered daughter of a wealthy underwear magnate, engaged to be married to an impossibly pansy man whom everyone calls Bunny because, as she says, she must marry somebody. What other alternative does she have? Then, out of the blue as it were, an aeroplane crashes on the estate and out of it climb, unscathed, a dashing aviator and a Polish trapeze artist, a female who turns everything topsy-turvy. She lives an independent, go where I like and do what I want to do life, without having to ask any man’s permission. What ensues is a wonderful consideration of morality, sex and love.

The production has been ably directed by Jeff Steitzer, whose cast is as good as any I have seen in this play. I particularly enjoyed Lee Stark as Hypatia, Dan Daily as the underwear manufacturer/pater familias John Tarleton and Sean McCall as a distraught young man with a gun determined to revenge his wronged mother by shooting Tarleton.
Daily sounds uncannily like Philip Bosco, whom I once saw in the role. Close your eyes and you’ll swear it’s Phil.

If you love Shaw, this Misalliance is not to be missed.

I was most amused by Maripat Donovan’s Sister’s Christmas Catechism, at Downstairs at Sofia’s, a charming piece of Christmas fluff wherein we are part of a catechism class preparing for the church’s annual Nativity Tableau, led by a cheerful though sometimes caustic nun. This is something of a sequel to Late Night Catechism, which ran for several years off Broadway, and is almost as funny. In this one, Sister enlists audience members to take on the various roles in the Nativity Story – and, she solves the mystery of what happened to the gold one of the magi brought.

It’s all great fun – particularly if you’re Catholic, as was my jolly companion. I was disappointed not to see Ms. Donovan as Sister (she did the role the first two weeks of the run) but her replacement, Kathryn Gallagher, was very funny.

Sorry to be telling you about this show so late. It was great fun.

THE STARRY MESSENGER. Acorn Theatre.
Alas, closed.
RACE. Ethel Barrymore Theatre, 243 W. 47th St.
TICKETS: www.telecharge.com. 212-239-6200.
A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC. Walter Kerr Theatre, 219 W. 48th St.
TICKETS: www.telecharge.com. 212-239-6200.
MISALLIANCE. City Center Stage II, 151 W. 55th St.
TICKETS: 212-581-1212
SISTER’S CHRISTMAS CATECHISM. Downstairs at Sofia’s.
Alas, closed.

Lawrence Harbison, The Playfixer, brings you up to date with what’s hot and what’s not in New York. This week, Larry tells you about THE BROTHER/SISTER PLAYS, SO HELP ME GOD, THE HEART IS A LONELY HUNTER and SHOLEM ALEICHEM: LAUGHTER THROUGH TEARS.

The Brother/Sister Plays, currently at the Public Theater, is a trilogy by a gifted young playwright named Tarell Alvin McCraney, who is in my opinion one of the more promising of the younger generation of 20-something writers. He made quite a splash a couple of years ago at the Vineyard Theatre with Wig Out, a drama about a family of transvestites which shocked some conservos but wowed most of the critics. His new trilogy continues his development and is oneof the most exciting theatre events of this season.

I never made it to Part One, containing solely In the Red and Brown Water, but I thought Part Two was brilliant. It consists of two plays, The Brothers Size and Marcus, set in a rural Louisiana black community. The first pay is about two brothers – one, an auto mechanic (Ogun) and the other, a recently-released convict (Oshoosi). A third character is a man named Elegba who became friends with Oshoosi in prison and who just may be “sweet” on him. Marcus takes place many years later. It’s eponymous character is Elegba’s son, a teenager in the process of discovering his sexuality. Is he or is he not “sweet”?

Both plays I saw display a unique and original theatrical voice, one I am sure we will continue to hear from. They have been beautifully directed by Robert O’Hara, and the acting ensemble is just wonderful. My only quibble was the device of having the characters mouth not only their lines but also the stage directions. This is the playwright’s choice, not the director’s, as it is written into the script. I found this intrusive and unnecessary, and I hope the playwright will leave this device behind in his future work.

I have always championed the Mint Theatre’s valiant mission to rescue worthy plays from obscurity, so you will not be surprised to learn that they have another doozy up and running, this time not at their small space in W. 43rd St. but at The Lucille Lortel Theatre in Christopher St. I guess Artistic Director Jonathan Bank felt he needed a larger space for a play with a cast of fifteen, but I think his decision to produce Maurine Dallas Watkins’ So Help Me God at the Lortel was also influenced by the casting of TV star Kristen Johnson in the star part of an impossibly, hilariously egocentric star actress. The gamble of a move to a larger, more expensive theatre has paid off, as Bank’s production has gotten much-deserved raves. The raves have also come for the play, a forgotten gem by the author of the original stage play Chicago, the source of the Broadway musical. Headed to Broadway in 1929, So Help Me God fell afoul of the stock market crash, so this is its New York premiere. It’s a classic backstage comedy, in a league with Light Up the Sky and The Royal Family about a “serious” play, which would probably have been a bomb, destroyed into a successful piece of boulevard dreck by its star actress and pretentious director, as the poor playwright stands by, helpless (this was in the days before the existence of the Dramatists Guild).

Ms. Johnson is giving nothing less than a glorious star turn as the Star, Lilly Darnley, but everyone in the cast is wonderful. This terrific production should have a commercial transfer but it probably won’t, so get thee to the Lortel Theatre for some wild fun.

I also enjoyed Rebecca Gilman’s fine dramatization of Carson McCullers’ The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, at the New York Theatre Workshop. The novel has been faithfully adapted, and Doug Hughes’ production is very fine.

At the heart of the play is a kindly deaf mute named Singer, played in the movie by Alan Arkin and here by Henry Stram, who rents a room with a family and becomes friendly with his landlord’s teenaged daughter, Mick, who is itching to break free into womanhood but not quite sure how to do it. This is a tragic and very poignant exploration of loneliness. Stram is terrific, but so is Cristin Milioti as Mick. She is fast becoming one of the finest actresses of her generation, and could wind up becoming the heiress to Julie Harris if TV and film don’t snatch her away.

This one, too, is a don’t-miss.

Finally, I caught Theodore Bikel in his one-man show about Sholeim Alechem, presented by the Folksbiene Theatre at the Baruch Arts Center. Sholeim Aleichem: Laughter Through Tears is an endearing evening with the great Yiddish humorist, made most endearing by Mr. Bikel who, now in his mid-eighties, still is robust of voice and body. The show is comprised of stories and songs, which Mr. Bikel sings in both Yiddish and English. Yiddish speakers will love this show, but even if you don’t know a word of Yiddish, like me, you will find the show delightful.

Recommended!

THE BROTHER/SISTER PLAYS. Public Theatre, 425 Lafayette St.
TICKETS: 212-967-7555
SO HELP ME GOD. Lucille Lortel Theatre, 121 Christopher St.
TICKETS: www.ticketcentral.com. 212-27904200.
THE HEART IS A LONELY HUNTER. NY Theatre Workshop, 79 E. 4th St.
TICKETS: 212-460-5475
SHOLEM ALEICHEM: LAUGHTER THROUGH TEARS. Baruch
Performing Arts Center. 55 Lexington Ave.
TICKETS: 646-312-5073

“Who is this guy?”

For over thirty years Lawrence Harbison was in charge of new play acquisition for Samuel French, Inc., during which time his work on behalf of playwrights resulted in the first publication of such subsequent luminaries as Jane Martin, Don Nigro, Tina Howe, Theresa Rebeck, José Rivera, William Mastrosimone, Charles Fuller, and Ken Ludwig, among many others; and the acquisition of musicals such as Smoke of the Mountain, A…My Name Is Alice, Little Shop of Horrors and Three Guys Naked from the Waist Down. He is a now a free-lance editor, primarily for Smith and Kraus, Inc., for whom he edits annual anthologies of best plays by new playwrights and women playwrights, best ten-minute plays and best monologues and scenes for men and for women. For many years he wrote a weekly column on his adventures in the theater for two Manhattan Newspapers, the Chelsea Clinton News and The Westsider. His new column, “On the Aisle with Larry,” is a weekly feature at www.smithandkraus.com.

He works with individual playwrights to help them develop their plays (see his website, www.playfixer.com). He has also served as literary manager or literary consultant for several theatres, such as Urban Stages and American Jewish Theatre. He is a member of both the Outer Critics Circle and the Drama Desk. He has served many times over the years as a judge and commentator for various national play contests and lectures regularly at colleges and universities. He holds a B.A. from Kenyon College and an M.A. from the University of Michigan.

He is currently working on a book, Masters of the Contemporary American Drama.

“It requires a certain largeness of spirit to give generous appreciation to large achievements. A society with a crabbed spirit and a cynical urge to discount and devalue will find that one day, when it needs to draw upon the reservoirs of excellence, the reservoirs have run dry.”

—– George F. Will

Lawrence Harbison, The Playfixer, brings you up to date with what’s hot and what’s not in New York. This week, Larry tells you about FINIAN’S RAINBOW, RAGTIME, FELA! and IN THE NEXT ROOM; or, THE VIBRATOR PLAY.

The current production of Finian’s Rainbow, at the St. James Theatre, started life in last season’s Encores series at City Center. The Encores productions are very bare-bones and there the emphasis is always on the score. This is why the reviews for Encores’ production were so outstanding. This is indeed, one heckuva score, with one wonderful song after another by Burton Lane (music) and E.Y. Harburg (lyrics). On Broadway, though, the book comes more into focus. Said book, by Harburg and Fred Saidy, is a fairy tale with an edge. That edge deals with the ever-thorny American problem of racial prejudice. In 1947, the treatment of this issue in the show must have seemed very cutting-edge. In 2009, it just seems dated and silly. In fact, just about everything in this book tries to be cute and whimsical but winds about just being contrived and inane.

MORE

The story concerns a small town in the rural South, in a state called “Missitucky.” Everyone is under the thumb of a venal senator – the black sharecroppers most of all. Well, an Irishman arrives with his daughter. He’s the eponymous Finian, and he has stolen the leprechauns’ pot of gold, which he plans to bury in the ground. Since we are near Fort Knox, Finian reasons that the gold will grow and make him rich. I mean, really… A leprechaun named Og comes after the gold. Since its removal from Ireland, he is becoming more and more mortal as, I guess, are all the little fellas back home. It’s a crisis! Meanwhile, the evil senator is scheming to get his hands on all the local land. Finian’s daughter makes a wish – near the pot o’ gold, that the senator were black and WHOMP! He’s turned into a black guy. Well, the locals are going to burn Finian’s daughter as a witch (in 1940s America???) – but the day winds up being saved. They don’t burn her, and she gets to marry a handsome local yokel.

Director/Choreographer Warren Carlyle has staged this in a fashion absolutely true to the way it must have been staged in its original incarnation, except for his clever choice to hire a black actor (here, the always-excellent Chuck Cooper) to portray the transmogrified senator, instead of having the senator quickly blacked-up as it’s usually done. You feel as if you have time-travelled back to the Broadway of 1947, right down to the cheesy set. I think this was the right choice, because I can’t think of any other way to stage this cornball show.

All that said, the performers are quite delightful. Jim Norton makes a sly, foxy grandpa of a Finian, and Kate Baldwin is charming as his daughter, Sharon. My only quibble here is that Norton looks old enough to be Sharon’s grandfather. Ah, well – this is a typical though somewhat annoying casting convention. Cheyenne Jackson is a sweet-singing, charming hunk as local yokel Woody, and Christopher Fitzgerald is delightfully goofy as Og.

I have to say that the elderly couple seated in front of me loved this show. They had recently seen In the Next Room; or, The Vibrator Play and hated it, so this was more their cup of Irish coffee.

It has been reported that the new production of Ragtime, at the Neil Simon Theatre, is dying the death and will probably close in January. This is a terrible shame, because the show, based on E.L. Doctorow’s great novel, is a masterpiece of the American musical theatre; and this production, wonderfully directed and choreographed by Marcia Milgrim Dodge, is a beautiful rendering of this story, based on E.L. Doctorow’s great novel, about America in the early 20th Century. It has a great score by Stephen Flaherty (music) and Lynn Ahrens (lyrics), and a great book by Terrance McNally. It is astounding to me that the show hasn’t caught on.

All the performers are superb, with particular kudos to Quentin Earl Darrington as Coalhouse Walker Jr. and Stephanie Umoh as Sarah. I also enjoyed Christiane Noll as Mother, Bobby Steggert as Mother’s Younger Brother, and Robert Petkoff as Tateh.

So, you don’t have much longer to see this wonderful production of this wonderful show. Alas …

I also enjoyed Fela!, which has transferred from Off Broadway to Broadway’s Eugene O’Neill Theatre. This is the story of Nigerian musician and political activist Fela Kuti, originator of a style of music called “Afro Beat.” We are in a club in Lagos called The Shrine, which Fela built and where he performs regularly, at the last performance there before it closes. Fela announces from the start that he is leaving Nigeria, as the political situation there is hopeless. He then relates the story of his life – how he developed his musical style, how he became radicalized in America, and how he tried to change things in Nigeria, inspired by his mother, a feminist and political activist there. This is in fact an inspiring show, though way too much is narrated rather than dramatized, and Fela, a complex individual, is here canonized as a modern saint –move over, Mother Theresa –where a warts-and-all portrait would have been far more interesting.

There is also far too much wheel-spinning for my taste. A 2.5-hour evening could easily have been cut by 30 minutes. But quibbles aside, Bill T. Jones’ choreography is incredible, and Sahr Ngaujah’s performance in the title role is astounding. Also terrific is Broadway veteran Lillias White as Fela’s martyred mother. The show makes use of Fela’s music, so it is, in effect, an example of that much-maligned genre, the so-called “Jukebox Musical.” Nobody seems to have noted this. I wonder why? The music is infectious, but rather repetitive; but it is wonderfully played by an onstage band, joined often by Mr. Ngaujah on saxophone and trumpet.

Overall, I would say that Fela is definitely worth a go; but if you can only go to one, I’d choose Ragtime.

Finally, I want to trumpet Sarah Ruhl’s brilliant IN THE NEXT ROOM; or, THE VIBRATOR PLAY, produced by Lincoln Center Theatre at Broadway’s Lyceum Theatre. In my opinion this is the best new play of the season so far – and to my mind this has been a pretty impressive season for plays, if you count Beyond Broadway, as I do.

All of Ms. Ruhl’s other plays I have read or seen are theatrically-inventive examples of that genre so ubiquitous in the not-for-profit theatre – Anything But Realism. This new one, though, is surprisingly realistic in style. It concerns a doctor in the late 19th Century who has developed a method for treating women with “hysteria” – a general catch-all for female crazy behavior – using a miracle of modern technology, an electric device which stimulates his patients “down there.” After just a few minutes of his treatment, during which he induces in them a “paroxysm,” they leave with a smile on their face, on the road to recovery. The play works on one level as a satire of the way sex was viewed in the Victorian Age, but it is also an impassioned plea for what eventually became known as “Women’s Liberation.”

Les Waters’ production is just beautiful, and his cast is superb. Michael Cerveris is wonderful as the doctor, playing him as a sincere, earnest man who truly believes he is in the vanguard of medical science, and Laura Benanti is charming as his rather ditzy, repressed wife. In fact, all the cast is terrific. I particularly enjoyed Chandler Williams, as a male patient whom the doctor diagnoses as suffering from “male hysteria” – which is extremely rare, he tells him. His treatment for this condition is hilarious. Maria Dizzia is excellent, too, as a patient whom we watch being treated. Her paroxysms are as convincing as was Meg Ryan’s in “When Harry Met Sally,” if you know what I mean. Lord, I love a Moaner! In my opinion, they can’t be portrayed too often.

My guess is that Lincoln Center will run this play as long as there’s an audience. The question is, are most Broadway theatre-goers as prudish and conservative at that couple I met at Finian’s Rainbow, or are they up for a brilliantly staged and acted play which seeks to challenge its audience rather than soothe it?

FINIAN’S RAINBOW. St. James Theatre, 246 W. 44th St.
Tickets: www.telecharge.com 212-2390-6200.
RAGTIME. Neil Simon Theatre, 250 W. 52nd St.
Tickets: www.ticketmaster.com 2877-250-2929
FELA! Eugene O’Neill Theatre, 230 W. 49th St.
Tickets: www.telecharge.com 212-2390-6200.
IN THE NEXT ROOM; or, THE VIBRATOR PLAY. Lyceum
Theatre, 140 W. 45th St.
Tickets: www.telecharge.com. 212-2390-6200.

“It requires a certain largeness of spirit to give generous appreciation to large achievements. A society with a crabbed spirit and a cynical urge to discount and devalue will find that one day, when it needs to draw upon the reservoirs of excellence, the reservoirs have run dry.”

—– George F. Will

Lawrence Harbison, The Playfixer, brings you up to date with what’s hot and what’s not in New York. This week, Larry tells you about FINIAN’S RAINBOW, RAGTIME, FELA! and IN THE NEXT ROOM; or, THE VIBRATOR PLAY.

The current production of Finian’s Rainbow, at the St. James Theatre, started life in last season’s Encores series at City Center. The Encores productions are very bare-bones and there the emphasis is always on the score. This is why the reviews for Encores’ production were so outstanding. This is indeed, one heckuva score, with one wonderful song after another by Burton Lane (music) and E.Y. Harburg (lyrics). On Broadway, though, the book comes more into focus. Said book, by Harburg and Fred Saidy, is a fairy tale with an edge. That edge deals with the ever-thorny American problem of racial prejudice. In 1947, the treatment of this issue in the show must have seemed very cutting-edge. In 2009, it just seems dated and silly. In fact, just about everything in this book tries to be cute and whimsical but winds about just being contrived and inane.

The story concerns a small town in the rural South, in a state called “Missitucky.” Everyone is under the thumb of a venal senator – the black sharecroppers most of all. Well, an Irishman arrives with his daughter. He’s the eponymous Finian, and he has stolen the leprechauns’ pot of gold, which he plans to bury in the ground. Since we are near Fort Knox, Finian reasons that the gold will grow and make him rich. I mean, really… A leprechaun named Og comes after the gold. Since its removal from Ireland, he is becoming more and more mortal as, I guess, are all the little fellas back home. It’s a crisis! Meanwhile, the evil senator is scheming to get his hands on all the local land. Finian’s daughter makes a wish – near the pot o’ gold, that the senator were black and WHOMP! He’s turned into a black guy. Well, the locals are going to burn Finian’s daughter as a witch (in 1940s America???) – but the day winds up being saved. They don’t burn her, and she gets to marry a handsome local yokel.

Director/Choreographer Warren Carlyle has staged this in a fashion absolutely true to the way it must have been staged in its original incarnation, except for his clever choice to hire a black actor (here, the always-excellent Chuck Cooper) to portray the transmogrified senator, instead of having the senator quickly blacked-up as it’s usually done. You feel as if you have time-travelled back to the Broadway of 1947, right down to the cheesy set. I think this was the right choice, because I can’t think of any other way to stage this cornball show.

All that said, the performers are quite delightful. Jim Norton makes a sly, foxy grandpa of a Finian, and Kate Baldwin is charming as his daughter, Sharon. My only quibble here is that Norton looks old enough to be Sharon’s grandfather. Ah, well – this is a typical though somewhat annoying casting convention. Cheyenne Jackson is a sweet-singing, charming hunk as local yokel Woody, and Christopher Fitzgerald is delightfully goofy as Og.

I have to say that the elderly couple seated in front of me loved this show. They had recently seen In the Next Room; or, The Vibrator Play and hated it, so this was more their cup of Irish coffee.

It has been reported that the new production of Ragtime, at the Neil Simon Theatre, is dying the death and will probably close in January. This is a terrible shame, because the show, based on E.L. Doctorow’s great novel, is a masterpiece of the American musical theatre; and this production, wonderfully directed and choreographed by Marcia Milgrim Dodge, is a beautiful rendering of this story, based on E.L. Doctorow’s great novel, about America in the early 20th Century. It has a great score by Stephen Flaherty (music) and Lynn Ahrens (lyrics), and a great book by Terrance McNally. It is astounding to me that the show hasn’t caught on.

All the performers are superb, with particular kudos to Quentin Earl Darrington as Coalhouse Walker Jr. and Stephanie Umoh as Sarah. I also enjoyed Christiane Noll as Mother, Bobby Steggert as Mother’s Younger Brother, and Robert Petkoff as Tateh.

So, you don’t have much longer to see this wonderful production of this wonderful show. Alas …

Finally, I want to trumpet Sarah Ruhl’s brilliant IN THE NEXT ROOM; or, THE VIBRATOR PLAY, produced by Lincoln Center Theatre at Broadway’s Lyceum Theatre. In my opinion this is the best new play of the season so far – and to my mind this has been a pretty impressive season for plays, if you count Beyond Broadway, as I do.

All of Ms. Ruhl’s other plays I have read or seen are theatrically-inventive examples of that genre so ubiquitous in the not-for-profit theatre – Anything But Realism. This new one, though, is surprisingly realistic in style. It concerns a doctor in the late 19th Century who has developed a method for treating women with “hysteria” – a general catch-all for female crazy behavior – using a miracle of modern technology, an electric device which stimulates his patients “down there.” After just a few minutes of his treatment, during which he induces in them a “paroxysm,” they leave with a smile on their face, on the road to recovery. The play works on one level as a satire of the way sex was viewed in the Victorian Age, but it is also an impassioned plea for what eventually became known as “Women’s Liberation.”

Les Waters’ production is just beautiful, and his cast is superb. Michael Cerveris is wonderful as the doctor, playing him as a sincere, earnest man who truly believes he is in the vanguard of medical science, and Laura Benanti is charming as his rather ditzy, repressed wife. In fact, all the cast is terrific. I particularly enjoyed Chandler Williams, as a male patient whom the doctor diagnoses as suffering from “male hysteria” – which is extremely rare, he tells him. His treatment for this condition is hilarious. Maria Dizzia is excellent, too, as a patient whom we watch being treated. Her paroxysms are as convincing as was Meg Ryan’s in “When Harry Met Sally,” if you know what I mean. Lord, I love a Moaner! In my opinion, they can’t be portrayed too often.

My guess is that Lincoln Center will run this play as long as there’s an audience. The question is, are most Broadway theatre-goers as prudish and conservative at that couple I met at Finian’s Rainbow, or are they up for a brilliantly staged and acted play whish seeks to challenge its audience rather than soothe it?

FINIAN’S RAINBOW. St. James Theatre, 246 W. 44th St.
Tickets: www.telecharge.com 212-2390-6200.
RAGTIME. Neil Simon Theatre, 250 W. 52nd St.
Tickets: www.ticketmaster.com 2877-250-2929
FELA! Eugene O’Neill Theatre, 230 W. 49th St.
Tickets: www.telecharge.com 212-2390-6200.
IN THE NEXT ROOM; or, THE VIBRATOR PLAY. Lyceum
Theatre, 140 W. 45th St.
Tickets: www.telecharge.com. 212-2390-6200.

“It requires a certain largeness of spirit to give generous appreciation to large achievements. A society with a crabbed spirit and a cynical urge to discount and devalue will find that one day, when it needs to draw upon the reservoirs of excellence, the reservoirs have run dry.”

—– George F. Will

Lawrence Harbison, THE PLAYFIXER, brings you up to date with what’s hot and what’s not in New York. This week, Larry tells you about OR, CREATURE, THE UNDERSTUDY, THE LATE CHRISTOPHER BEAN and THE NEW ELECTRIC BALLROOM .

As I reported last week, this is a particularly good season for Lady Playwrights. I saw three more plays by women last week, with Sarah Ruhl’s In the Next Room; or, The Vibrator Play coming up this weekend. I heartily recommend all three, though with a few minor quibbles.

Liz Duffy Adams’ Or, produced by the Women’s Project at their Julia Miles Theatre, is a wild romp set in Restoration England about Aphra Behn, the first commercially successful woman playwright and, in fact, the first woman to make a living from her pen. When we first meet up with her, she is in a debtors’ prison, unable to pay her debts because money promised her by the king has not materialized. Aphra has been serving him as a spy against the Dutch. Well, who should show up but King Charles himself, to tell her that he will pay her debts after all – and, of course, to try and put The Moves on her. Aphra is able to deflect his amorousness, telling him that she has decided to be a writer and asking him for a stipend to do so, which he grants. Aphra returns to her lodgings and starts to try and write a play when who should show up but the actress Nell Gwynne, dressed as a boy (she has just come from the theatre, where she specializes in “breeches parts.” Nell has the hots for Aphra, and these hots are reciprocated until a former lover of Aphra’s, and a fellow spy, shows up. He’s on the lam from the King’s men, as the King thinks he’s a double agent. Then, the King himself shows up, to give it one more shot with Aphra, who manages to fob him off on Nell. The play then becomes a rollicking, door-slamming farce, with one actor playing the King, the suspected double agent and a dotty potential patroness of Aphra’s, and one actress playing Nell and Aphra’s particularly crusty maid – all more or less at the same time.

Both play and production have been justly praised, a rare occasion when the critics seem to have gotten it right. Wendy McClellan’s production is a delight (although I think she let Andy Paris go more than a little over the top in his portrayal of Lady Davenant (the widow who may just produce Aphra’s play); but Paris is terrific in his other two roles, as is Kelly Hutchinson in hers. The best performance, though, comes from Maggie Siff as Aphra Behn. She’s a TV star with real stage chops (wonder of wonders), and she is just plain wonderful.

This one’s a don’t-miss.

As is Heidi Schreck’s Creature, produced by New Georges and Page 73 Productions at Ohio, about an English mystic in the early 15th Century, named Margery Kempe (a real historical figure), who claimed to have visions of Christ and who set out to try and become a saint, much to the consternation of her husband, as this of course meant no more sex.

Director Leigh Silverman has taken a rather too contemporary approach to this story for my taste, filtering Margery’s religious ecstacy through our skeptical eyes rather than taking it seriously through the eyes of her time. This often makes the play very funny; but I think the playwright takes the character more seriously than did the director, because she has Sofia Jean Gomez playing Margery as if she were a hysteric, sort of a Desperate Housewife. That said, I have to say that within this concept Ms. Gomez is absolutely wonderful. I also enjoyed Jeremy Shamos as a priest to whom Margery comes for advice from time to time. Margery’s role model is an ascetic woman named Juliana of Norwich, here played by Mary Louise Burke. Nobody plays dotty better than Ms. Burke, and she is hysterical here. The problem is, I think the character is more than just an eccentric nutcase. She is also a devout woman with sincere religious convictions, which Ms. Silverman and Ms. Burke settle for lampooning.

Even with all of the above quibbles, I quite enjoyed Creature.

I also enjoyed Theresa Rebeck’s The Understudy, produced by Roundabout at the Laura Pels Theatre. It takes place at a rehearsal for a new understudy in a Broadway production of a lost play by none other than Franz Kafka, starring two action-movie stars – one A-List, one B-List. The understudy, Harry, played with aplomb by Justin Kirk, is to cover for the B-List dude, Jake, who is on hand with the stage manager to show him the moves. The rehearsal goes from bad to worse. To start, we learn that six years ago Harry was to marry the stage manager, Roxanne, but left her waiting at the altar and disappeared. Needless to say, this creates a lot of tension for Roxanne. Meanwhile, Harry has little but contempt for Jake, even though Jake’s latest action film grossed $67 Million it’s first weekend. Harry doesn’t seem to get that he is not there to provide any creative input, but merely to learn the blocking in case he has to go on. Also on hand, off stage, is a particularly incompetent technician up in the booth, which adds to Roxanne’s craziness.

The play is very funny, and has a lot to say about the Kafka-esque world of show business. It also has some rather irritating improbabilities. It seems that Harry is only to cover for Jake. Jake does his role, and is covering for Bruce, the A-List star who is not present at the rehearsal. In the Real World, Harry would be understudying both roles. No way would a movie star – even a B-Lister – be covering another role. Ms. Rebeck has done this, I think, because she wants to have a better possibility that Harry might actually go on. But it just doesn’t make sense. Also in the doesn’t-make-sense category is the off stage role of the techie. In the Real World, she would be fired faster than you could say “metamorphosis.” Ms. Rebeck has failed to provide a credible reason why she hasn’t been sacked, such as she’s the director’s/producer’s girlfriend or something. This device gets a lotta laffs; but, again, it doesn’t make sense. Also: When Harry arrives for the rehearsal Roxanne is surprised to see him, because the name she has on her call sheet is not his name. Turns out, Harry has recently changed his name. Here’s a guy with a lot of stage credits. It could Never Happen that such an actor would change his name, unless he has a Secret Reason for doing so – which Ms. Rebeck fails to provide. The playwright needs Harry to have a different name in order to surprise Roxanne. That’s not the right reason.

Aside from these minor quibbles, if you can suspend your disbelief regarding them you’ll have a good time at The Understudy. Julie White is a scream as Roxanne, and Justin Kirk and Mark-Paul Gosselaar are delightful as Harry and Jake.

I also enjoyed The Actors Company Theatre (TACT) production of Sidney Howard’s The Late Christopher Bean, at the Clurman Theatre in Theatre Row, a very amusing comedy from the 1930s still in print and still produced (mostly by community theatres) which appears to be getting its first NYC revival since the original production. It takes place in a small New England town, in the home of a local doctor. Several years before the play begins, the doctor gave lodging to the eponymous character, a struggling artist who died of TB, obscure and unknown. All of a sudden, people from New York start showing up on his doorstep, asking if he has any of Chris’ paintings laying around. There’s a slick guy who claims to have been his best friend, an unscrupulous art dealer and a prominent art critic. It turns out that Chris Bean’s painting are all the rage in New York, and he is being hailed as a modern master – which makes his paintings extraordinarily valuable. It’s the depths of the depression, money is tight and the doctor just could become rich – if he can come up with the paintings Chris left when he died.

Beautifully constructed, and lovingly staged and acted, The Late Christopher Bean is just plain wonderful. Veteran supporting player James Murtaugh plays the doctor, who gets progressively more consumed with greed, and with desperation, when he can’t come up with the paintings, and he is hilarious. Also good is Mary Bacon as a housemaid who loved Chris Bean; but the entire cast is terrific.

This one, too, is a don’t-miss.

On the other hand, you could stand to miss Enda Walsh’s The New Electric Ballroom, at St. Anne’s Warehouse in Brooklyn. It’s about three Irish sisters who live together in a house which looks, as designed by Sabine Dargent, like a bughouse ward. Two sisters are middle-aged; the third is younger. The two older sisters go on and on about the night each went to the eponymous dance hall, there each to receive her first kiss before being dumped by a callow man whom they saw having it off with another woman in the car park. From time to time, a manic, rather dimwitted fishmonger bursts in, carrying a tray of dead fish, which are deposited in a bin in the floor. He natters on and on about the goings on in the town. In other words, this play is comprised largely of lengthy narrated monologues about the past and about offstage events. The Irish, with their long tradition of story-telling, must have loved this play; whereas I think most Americans will find it extremely tiresome, even though the cast is just great.

OR. Julies Miles Theatre, 424 W. 55th St.
TICKETS: www.telecharge.com. 212-239-6200
CREATURE. Ohio, 66 Wooster St.
TICKETS: 866-811-4111
THE UNDERSTUDY. Laura Pels Thatre, 111 W. 46th
St.
TICKETS: www.roundabouttheatre.org. 212-719-1300
THE LATE CHRISTOPHER BEAN. Beckett Theatre,
410 W. 42nd St.
TICKETS: www.ticketcentral.com. 212-279-4200
THE NEW ELECTRIC BALLROOM. St. Ann’s
Warehouse, 38 Water St., Brooklyn
TICKETS: 718-254-8779

“It requires a certain largeness of spirit to give generous appreciation to large achievements. A society with a crabbed spirit and a cynical urge to discount and devalue will find that one day, when it needs to draw upon the reservoirs of excellence, the reservoirs have run dry.”

—– George F. Will