New York, Spring 2009 -- Day 13 "Happiness"

There's a reason why you can only copyright a script and not an idea for a script: a good idea isn't enough. This was made crystal clear to me on my last night in New York during the performance of "Happiness," the new musical by the same team that brought us the brilliant "Contact." The new show director/choreographer Susan Stroman and writer John Weidman (with help from the musical team behind "Grey Gardens") have staged at the Mitzi E. Newhouse Theater at Lincoln Center takes a clever concept and cripples it with cliches and rampant two-dimensionality.

The set-up of "Happiness" is this: a group of people find themselves on a New York subway car that stops suddenly, leaving them all trapped below ground. We first meet the characters (nine of them) as they rush to get wherever it is they're headed and are bludgeoned with the fact that they are either all so self-absorbed, depressed or out of touch that they aren't appreciating the joy of life.

As it turns out, they've lost their last chance to do so. They're all actually dead and the subway car is the waystation to the afterlife where Stanley the Train Man (Hunter Foster, doing his best to rescue this bit of treacle) informs them that they are each to choose one "perfect moment." Each of the moments is remembered via song and dance. In the first vignette the music and dance are organic -- an old woman chooses a WWII USO dance when a young private asked her to be his girl -- but in most of the other situations the music is stapled in place.

Once each has chosen their moment, the car doors will open and they will be able to live in that moment for eternity.

Unfortunately, virtually all the moments are ridiculous cliches and all the characters cardboard cutouts of real people. Joanna Gleason as a right-wing radio host (a more senior version of Ann Coulter it seems) gets off some good lines (of the senior citizen member of the group she says: "She'd make a great book -- the greatest generation remembers. But not much."), but she never feels real. Especially when her perfect moment turns out to be a night in the 60s when she was celebrating an election win by Eugene McCarthy, dropped acid and gave Mick Jagger a hummer. Apparently it represented the last night she held on to the liberal ideals she once loved. Yeah, didn't make sense to me, either. There's the doorman who remembers going to a World Series game with his dad; they were supposed to get the best seats in the house as a gift, but that didn't work out so dad buys the worst seats -- that turn out to be the best. There's the cruel lawyer, the clueless bike messenger/deadbeat dad who finally comes through, the harried (married) medical interns who choose the same perfect moment (everyone now..."awwww!"), the gay interior decorator with the sassy comebacks, etc.

This could be an interesting show if it had some of the tension and honesty that "Contact" did. As it is, it begins weakly, sputters with signs of life from time to time (e.g. one of the deceased remembering the embarrassing web page he left on his computer screen), but finally circles the drain before slipping off into its own afterlife. I can't imagine anyone in the audience choosing that night at the theater as their perfect moment.

New York, Spring 2009 -- Day 12 "Irena's Vow"

It's always difficult to criticize a play (or movie or book or mini-series) about the Holocaust. (It's even harder to applaud at the end of the play for an actor in a Nazi uniform; it just feels odd.) I don't really intend to criticize "Irena's Vow" too deeply. But I don't intend to praise it, either.

The show, by Dan Gordon, now playing at the Walter Kerr Theater, competently and simply tells the story of Irena Gut Opdyk, a pious Polish Catholic woman who was pressed into working for the Germans during their occupation of Poland. At the same time that she learns of plans to exterminate the Jews of the region, she is also offered the position of housekeeper for the German commandant. Irena decides -- in a brilliant bit of strategic thinking -- that the best place for the 11 Jewish men and women who had been working under her would be in the cellar of the commandant's new villa.

It's an amazing story by any measure (and became even more amazing when the daughter of Irena Gut Opdyk walked onstage at the conclusion of the play to answer questions and share some additional aspects of the story), but for a Broadway offering, "Irena's Vow" never really finds its feet. It's workmanlike, and if the story interests you, it's worth seeing, but it lacks the oomph required for me to wholeheartedly recommend it.

New York, Spring 2009 -- Day Nine "33 Variations"

The big news about "33 Variations," the new Moises Kaufman play at the Eugene O'Neill Theatre, was the return to the Broadway stage (after a three decade absence) of Jane Fonda. Broadway seems to love it when big Hollywood stars return to the boards. They bring in new audiences and call attention to the world of legitimate theater, which mostly flies under the entertainment world radar.

Unfortunately, critics are rarely kind to the stars of the silver screen when they are there for the viewing night after night, in ordinary life-size proportion. Perhaps it's a case of familiarity breeding contempt. Once stars are there before our eyes in flesh and blood form, instead of gigantic representations in dancing light, perhaps something is lost in the minds of critics.

But this time around, Jane Fonda has bucked the trend and received mostly positive notices for her performance. Unfortunately, the play itself is coming under fire. I say unfortunate because I had a delightful evening. Not only was Jane terrific -- sincere, honest, displaying a wonderful, graceful physicality -- the play was compelling and entertaining, if occasionally a tad facile and predictable.

Fonda plays Dr. Catherine Brandt, a musicologist who has fallen ill but is obsessed with completing a final monograph before she dies. The subject of the paper is Beethoven's "33 Variations on a waltz by Anton Diabelli." Brandt has, after months of pleading, been given access to the Beethoven archives in Bonn, where she hopes to discover why Beethoven, in the last years of his life, spent so much time composing so many variations on such a simple, almost amateurish piece of dance music.

The scene shifts between the present day (incorporating the conflict between Brandt and her daughter, plus a budding relationship between the daughter and Brandt's nurse, Mike, and a friendship between Brandt and the scholar who oversees the archive and works closely with Brandt), and the early 19th century, where we see the imagined interaction between Beethoven, his assistant Shindler, and Anton Diabelli, Beethoven's publisher and -- for this project only -- collaborator/inspiration.

There's an intellectual mystery being solved here -- and like all mysteries, it takes a little attention. Dr. Brandt pores over the maestro's sketchbooks, even searching the "conversation books" used late in his life when he had gone completely deaf and visitors had to write their comments and questions to him. There's something compelling about watching a powerful mind attempt to solve a puzzle using only limited and ultimately inadequate evidence.

The bigger story, however, is not the search for the reason Beethoven chose to spend so much time on variations of what has been deemed an inconsequential piece of music, but the search for meaning in any life. Almost everyone in this play is obsessed: Catherine with solving the mystery, Beethoven with plumbing the depths of Diabelli's waltz, Diabelli with getting the variations published, Catherine's daughter with helping her mother deal with her illness, Mike with winning the daughter's love. Everyone, it seems, it caught up in the unsatisfying business of trying to explain the unexplainable or grasp the incomprehensible.

The mystery Catherine has taken on is really the ultimate mystery. As she says in the second act, "Beethoven exists in the silences." There is triple meaning to this, as she is referring first to the conversation books where only Beethoven's visitor's questions and comments were written out -- the maestro's replies were spoken and therefore lost to history. The second silence is the silence between notes; without it, music would not be music, but continuous noise, lacking rhythm, melody or dynamic range. But it's the third silence that is most important -- the silence of the void looming over both Beethoven and Catherine, both facing a too-imminent death.

Kaufman does a fascinating parallel to highlight the journey to silence: Beethoven is losing his hearing, Catherine her ability to speak. Too soon, both of these brilliant minds will be forced into a quiet neither desires -- but which may deliver unanticipated blessings. As they travel this hard, narrow path, Kaufman allows we in the audience to focus on our own search for the ineffable.

"33 Variations" is beautifully staged, well-acted, elegantly and efficiently directed, and well worth your time -- though you'll have to hurry, as Jane Fonda will be returning to the life of a movie star all too soon.

New York, Spring 2009 -- Day Eight "Shrek: The Musical"

In the transition from animated film to ginormous Broadway production (and I love that "ginormous" has become an actual word, in that my spell checker doesn't highlight it), some projects become casualties of the process ("Tarzan" "The Little Mermaid"), while others go on to find a way to reinvent the film and let audiences experience the story in new, powerful ways, as happened with "The Lion King" and "Beauty and the Beast."

Then there are the films that recycle their stories, losing some of the magic of the movie, but compensate with some new, stage magic, so the whole thing is a wash. You get a production that is better than the movie in some ways, worse in others, so that in the end the entertainment value kind of balances out. "Mary Poppins" is an example of this. The film is one of the most beloved of all time. The musical, still playing on Broadway, is a tour de force of stagecraft, but lacks the subversive heart of the movie.

"Shrek: The Musical" is another example of this film:Broadway show equivalence. I found much to love in the production: great performances by Sutton Foster, Brian D'Arcy James, Daniel Breaker, Christopher Sieber and John Tartaglia; a funny, ironic, smart book by David Lindsay-Abaire (one of my favorite contemporary playwrights); tons of witty pop culture references (including one to Siamese twins Chang and Eng, that I'm certain went over the heads of 99% of the audience); great costumes and plenty of new lines to make the experience fresh, even for those who have seen the film several times.

Yet there is an undercurrent to "Shrek: The Musical" that caused the show to lose traction and miss out on some of the vigor and vibrancy of the original. Hence, the equivalence. "Shrek: The Musical" is about as good as "Shrek" the film. Which, fortunately, is pretty good.

The basic story remains in place: Shrek, the ogre, is surprised to find "his" swamp overrun by fairy tale characters who have been expelled from the kingdom of Lord Farquaad. Except Lord Farquaad can't have a "kingdom" unless he's a king, which he can't be unless he marries a princess. So when Shrek comes to complain about his swamp being invaded, Farquaad sends him off to rescue Princess Fiona for him.

The underlying tone that beauty is in the eye of the beholder remains in place, as well, but it's brought even more to the surface here. The song "Let Your Freak Flag Fly" is a celebration of diversity, and Shrek cuts to the heart of the matter when he says, near the end of the show, "beautiful ain't always pretty." (In fact, "Shrek: The Musical" might make an interesting double bill with Neil LaBute's "Reasons To Be Pretty.") Or, as Pinocchio says, "I'm wood, I'm good -- get used to it!"

There is also a sub-theme of despotism, control and torture (Farquaad breaks the legs off the Gingerbread Man) that resonate with our recent political past and our current attempts to deal with it.

Ultimately, though, "Shrek: The Musical" isn't about anything more important than having a good time. And on that level, it mostly delivers.

New York, Spring 2009 -- Day Six "The Marvelous Wonderettes"

Not quite. More like "The Perfectly Adequate Wonderettes." This cute, but ultimately insubstantial, offering at the Westside Theater is perfect for your aunt or grandmother looking to relive high school days in the 50s or 60s. Or, for young teens and tweens who will love the pop music, colorful costumes and silly humor.

"The Marvelous Wonderettes" is split into two acts. In the first, these four high school girls (Betty Jean, Missy, Cindy Lou and Suzy) are performing at their senior prom, singing the hits of the day -- "Sincerely," "Lollipop," "It's My Party" etc. Then, after the intermission, the show fast forwards to their 10-year reunion -- of both the group and their class. The songbook also shifts to the 60s -- "Respect," "Wedding Bell Blues," "Rescue Me," etc. The show is 90% singing -- which is great, because these four women have terrific voices -- and 10% the story of the girls' ups and downs in love.

It's the story that brings "The Marvelous Wonderettes" down. I liked the performers, but it's not much of a story, the characters aren't terribly well-developed and there are very few good lines.

As I said, not marvelous, but adequate.

New York, Spring 2009 -- Day Five "Rock of Ages"

According a review excerpted on an ad for the new Broadway musical "Rock of Ages," the show "does for 80s rock what 'Mamma Mia!' did for Abba." Thing is, I'm not sure that's something that needed doing. Don't get me wrong, I liked "Mamma Mia!" I thought it was silly, saccharine fun. To a certain extent, "Rock of Ages" follows the same model: a collection of existing songs that tell an all-new story. Well, maybe not "all" new: it is, after all, the oldest of stories -- boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl. Along the way, other boys get other girls (and one boy gets another boy), the bad guys are thwarted and Rock rocks on.

I was hesitant to go to "Rock of Ages," since the music (from Bon Jovi, Whitesnake, Poison, Twisted Sister, Pat Benatar, Journey, REO Speedwagon, etc.) was never my cup of tea, even in the 80s. But when the show got mostly positive reviews, I decided to give it a shot.

Though "Rock of Ages" has much to recommend it -- a terrific performance by Mitchell Jarvis as Lonny the sound man/narrator, a great backing band and the overall raucous experience in the Brooks Atkinson Theater (where you can buy drinks at your seat during the show) -- I still don't recommend it unless you are a huge fan of that genre of music. There are some good lines, and fun is poked at mullet-coiffed metalheads, but the show never really connects on an emotional level, and it never delivers (for me) the pure fun that "Mamma Mia!" or "Xanadu" did.

New York, Spring 2009 -- Day Four "The Singing Forest" and "Next to Normal"

The Singing Forest
Save yourself. It's too late for me, but you still have time to avoid this stinker at the Public.

As we are told several times during this three-act, two-intermission debacle, "there are no coincidences." Thing is, there are coincidences...
...it's just that most of them aren't worth talking about. And even though the coincidences are cresting well above flood level here, there's still no reason to focus on them. Act two is exceptionally awful, with some of the worst farcical, physical comedy I've seen in New York.

I've liked other Craig Lucas shows (especially my first, "Reckless" at Berkeley Rep), but this one should quietly fade away.



"Next to Normal"
When art works, it works because it has layers of appeal. "Hamlet" isn't just a story about revenge, or an indecisive prince. It's also about the beauty of language and the ephemeral nature of consciousness and the bonds we share with others...and a thousand other things. Jasper Johns' paintings aren't great just because they show us ordinary things in new ways, they're great because they cause a reaction within us, and because they force us to examine our world in ways we might not have if we hadn't seen his work. And because they are amazing technical creations.

Although "Next to Normal," the new musical that just opened at the Booth Theater is ostensibly about how a family copes with a mother who suffers from bipolar disorder with delusions, it's also about the condition of being human. It's about how we connect -- or not -- with our fellow beings. It's about what we give up in order to grow, and how we grow up by giving. It's about the fragility of love, the tenacity of biology, the frustration of not getting what you want -- and the perils inherent in getting it.

"Next to Normal" took hold of me from the moment I walked into the theater and saw Mark Wendland's amazing tri-level set and never really let go. I was drawn into the story of Diana (Alice Ripley), a wife and mother struggling to balance the meds that keep her on anything close to an even keel. Her husband, Dan (J. Robert Spencer) does what he can, but the strain is showing. Their daughter Natalie (Jennifer Damiano) has compensated for her mother's madness by excelling at school and music -- until the stress of mom's relapse (due to failing meds) finally send her off the adolescent deep end, as well.

But the real troublemaking teen is brother Gabe, who haunts and torments mom in ways the rest of the family can't truly comprehend. (Though you will, about mid-way through the first act.)

"Next to Normal" put me in mind of one of my favorite works of art, Dennis Potter's "The Singing Detective." Like that brilliant little mini-series, "N2N" is partly about the thin line between madness and sanity, fantasy and reality, selfless love and love of self. Things that seem to be there but aren't really -- or are they?

The music by Tom Kitt, combined with book and lyrics by Brian Yorkey, deliver a powerful punch of jangling sweetness and tough-minded emotion. Nothing is really hummable in the standard musical sense, but that's not really what "Next to Normal" is about.

In fact, what may be most brilliant about this show may be that it's about whatever is most important to you right now. And isn't that what makes art, art?

New York, Spring 2009 -- Day Three "God of Carnage" and "Mary Stuart"

"God of Carnage"
"Bravado is a kind of courage, isn't it?" This statement, uttered by Veronica, the character played by Marcia Gay Harden, seems to sum up the conflict at the heart of this excellent new play by Yasmina Reza, best-known for her Tony award-winning "Art." (Which didn't really move me, to tell you the truth.)

"God of Carnage" is one of those shows where you rather despise the characters as people, but love them as characters because they entertain. I'd never want to actually be in a room with Veronica, her husband Michael (James Gandolfini), or the couple they have invited into their home, Alan (Jeff Daniels) and Annette (Hope Davis). Michael is a self-confessed "total fucking Neanderthal" and Alan is wedded to his cell phone in the most impolite, self-centered way imaginable. (He's an attorney doing emergency damage control for his client, a drug maker who has been covering up some dangerous side effects of one of their meds.) Annette and Veronica display a tad more humanity, at least in the early going. But by the time the play reaches its exhausting conclusion (in which the characters are completely spent, as though they'd just completed an exceptionally draining four-way), the two wives have displayed quite a bit of false bravado themselves.

The two couples have come together because Annette and Alan's child had attacked Michael and Veronica's son with a stick, knocking out two of the boy's teeth. So yeah, there's some tension in the room.

What's great about the play -- besides four terrific performances from four seasoned pros -- is how the constrictions of the theater help lay bare the insecurities of the characters. How it puts their bravado on display, revealing a terrible lack of courage.

Although it sounds grim, "God of Carnage" is actually quite funny. Hard to imagine how you can milk laughs out of lines like "Every word that comes out of your mouth is destroying me!", but Reza's text (with exceptionally able direction from Matthew Warchus) manages it.

Terrific fun.



"Mary Stuart"
Intrigue never seems to lose its appeal. Subterfuge, double-dealing, mendacity -- all are staples of drama. And all are in full display at this British import that is a revival of Friedrich Schiller's classic play, first performed in 1800. This version is a new translation by Peter Oswald that opened in 2005 at the Donmar Warehouse in London.

The story of Mary, Queen of Scots has been told in many forms (none more to the point than the Monty Python version). Mary Stuart is cousin to Elizabeth I, and pretender to the throne -- though I suppose pretension is in the eye of the beholder. Ostensibly arrested for her role in the murder of her husband, she is held in custody primarily because of her ambition.

Although the rampant duplicity is fun to watch -- and reminds us that lying in the service of blatant self-interest is far older than the Bush administration -- the real draw here are the performances by Janet McTeer at Mary and Harriet Walter as Elizabeth. These are bravura performances, the sort of thing young stage actors ought to study if they want to learn how to hold a large audience in a Broadway theater.

Not many laughs here, but lots to learn.

Departure Day

It's been a while since I posted here. Haven't had much to say, and what I did say I said on Facebook.

However, after nearly a year, it's time to head back to New York for another infusion of theater and culture. (Along with visits to friends we haven't seen in some time.)

As I write this, I am sitting in the waiting area in the Continental terminal at SFO, waiting to board the flight to Newark. (Hooray frequent flier miles!) Over the course of the next two weeks, we will see 18 shows. 10 Broadway, eight off-Broadway. Six musicals, 12 plays. Of the 12, one is comedy, one a monologue. The others all look to be relatively heavy. I mean, "God of Carnage"? Can't be too lightweight. (Of course, the one comedy is called "Why Torture is Wrong and the People Who Love Them" so what does a title really say.

Anyway, watch this space for what should be daily (or almost daily) updates and mini-reviews.