Oscar E Moore

If only!  The bar of excellence has once again been lowered for quality musicals on Broadway.  Perhaps I should rephrase by writing “non-musical musicals” for these productions lack that one very important factor – songs that are memorable with a strong melody.  Melody!  Whatever happened to melody?  It seems to have died.

Where are the new Jerry Hermans?  Bock and Harnicks?  Rodgers and Hammersteins?  Marvin Hamlisch?  Jule Styne?  The golden age of musical comedy composers and lyricists has vanished.  Replaced by mediocrity.

It saddens me tremendously.

DEATH BECOMES HER at the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre (original home of THE SOUND OF MUSIC 1959) has recently opened to rave reviews.  This will not be one of them.  Thirty million bucks reportedly spent on glitz and glamour.  Signifying not much of anything.

Uneven at best.  A very bumpy ride.  Do I dare say that there are many dead spots along the way?  Well, I just did.

The somewhat, at times, vulgar as opposed to witty book with bah-da-boom jokes abounding is by Marco Pennette.  As the audience erupted with laughter which was often, I cringed.

The music and lyrics by Julia Mattison and Noel Carey will not go down in history as one of Broadway’s greatest scores.

However, there are two truly great performances given by Megan Hilty and Jennifer Simard as the two dueling, at odds with one another forever best friend divas Madeline Aston (movie star) and Helen Sharp (would be writer).

Portrayed in the 1992 movie of the same name starring Meryl Streep and Goldie Hawn that was directed by Robert Zemeckis – of WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT fame – a zany 1940’s fantasy/comedy combining animation and live action that I loved.

Now movies are quite a different medium than the stage and therein lies some of the problems with this show directed and choreographed by Christopher Gattelli who tries his best in keeping the momentum of the thread bare plot going throwing in every conceivable gimmick to keep us from realizing the emptiness of the so-called plot.

But first we meet Viola Van Horn (Michelle Williams) the high priestess of an elixir that promises to restore youth and beauty for eternity and her squad of busy little helpers scampering about the stage.

And then we meet the main characters.  Madeline is in a new musical.  Her best friend Helen arrives backstage with her fiancée Ernest (Christopher Sieber) – a cosmetic surgeon.  Mad steals Ernest away from frumpy Helen and they marry which drives Helen mad where next we see her ten years later crazy in a hospital plotting her revenge after successfully being published and totally becoming famous and beautiful.  Still with me?  Mad is pushed backwards down the staircase in her lavish home in slow motion.  This is incredible!  What is even more incredible is that she does not die.  At the end of Act I we hear “It’s alive.”

It’s all so over-the-top and outrageous.  We get to see a decapitated head of Mad on a serving cart and complication after complication adding to the already complicated plot with Ernest reuniting Mad’s head to her body and both Mad and Helen trying to get Ernest to drink the potion so as to keep him around, for whenever they need some fixing up.

There is a LA CAGE AUX FOLLES look to the production numbers to keep our eyes busy while our minds become numb.  And we must never forget the words to the wise from Viola Van Horn – “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Which is my advice to you, future theatergoer.

All of the above might have been better served in a smaller production like LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS – a show with a great score and a person eating plant named Audrey.  Running at the Westside Theatre Upstairs.

CODA

I HAD A DREAM.  A CRAZY DREAM.  Helen and Madeline played by two bitchy drag queens.  Ernest a hunky sexy stud.  The all-male ensemble dressed ala Chippendale escorts with bow ties.  And Ernest winds up with his male nurse after recovering from his near-death experience with Mad and Helen.

Tickets through August 2025.  Two and one half hours including intermission.

PHOTOS:  Matthew Murphy & Evan Zimmerman

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I have never been a fan of Sunday.  Especially a Sunday when I am scheduled to review at 3pm a new musical – TAMMY FAYE – that has gotten less than stellar reviews and some bad word of mouth at the renovated and reopened fabulous Palace Theatre.

And much to my astonishment I enjoyed the much-troubled journey of Tammy Faye (a captivating Katie Brayben) and her husband Jim Bakker (Christian Borle) in the new musical written by Elton John (music) Jake Shears (lyrics) and James Graham (book).

An original musical satire of the rise and fall of televangelist Tammy Faye and her husband Jim Bakker.  A wild combination of a true story somehow reminiscent of two earlier musicals:  HOW TO SUCCEED IN BUSINESS WITHOUT REALLY TRYING (1961) and PSYCHO (1991).

Strange but true.  Here, a sophisticated/satirical look at religion, AIDS and the people who made it all infamous as seen through the eyes and soul of Tammy Faye Bakker.

With Billy Graham (Mark Evans), Jerry Falwell (Michael Cerveris), Jessica Hahn (Alana Pollard) and Pope John Paul II (Andy Taylor) Ronald Reagan (Ian Lassiter) and a host of others in supporting but important guest appearances.

Outrageous, sad and tuneful.  Music supplied by Elton John.  Apt lyrics by Jake Shears with an excellent book by James Graham. I liked what they had to say and how they said it. Tough at times but always truthful, on target and entertaining.

The score suits the material to a T as does the exciting choreography – Lynne Page.   The scenic design by Bunny Christie is eye-popping in its rendition of a Hollywood Squares like atmosphere.  With terrific video work by Finn Ross.  Lighting designer Neil Austin has created a wonderful ever-changing atmosphere.  With costumes by Katrina Lindsay.

All is expertly directed by Rupert Goold.  Couldn’t be better.  The only one who surpasses it all is Katie Brayben as Tammy Faye.

What an excellent portrayal of this troubled and driven crusader.  I believed every second of her life on stage.  With a powerhouse voice to match.  Quite an outstanding achievement.  I felt for her.  Felt her pain.  Her wants.  Her betrayal.  Her kindness.  Her faith.  Her love.  Her perseverance.

Please do not listen to the naysayers.

See TAMMY FAYE for yourself.  You will not be disappointed.

www.tammyfayebway.com

2 hrs 35 minutes One Intermission  PALACE THEATRE 160 West 47^th Street

PHOTOS Bruce Glikas

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Attend the tale of Satchmo’s wives.  Four in all.   For all to see.  In this spotty, chaotic production of A WONDERFUL WORLD – the Louis Armstrong musical at STUDIO 54 where a road map of who and what and where would help tremendously.

I don’t dare write what I felt but I will.  What a strange experience at the Saturday matinee performance November 16, 2024.  Surreal in a way.  PROLOGUE: 1970s.  In CHAPTERS: NEW ORLEANS (1910s).  CHICAGO 1920s.  HOLLYWOOD 1930s.  NEW YORK 1940s-1970s.  Lots of territory to cover.  Lots of love too.  Four wives.

Daisy Parker. Lil Hardin.  Alpha Smith.  Lucille Wilson.  All beauties.  All fine singers and dancers and supposedly in love with Louis.  A difficult man to pin down and to share a life with.   But that’s a whole ‘nother can of beans.

All told in bits and pieces.  Songs truncated.  It comes across as a REVUE ala The Ed Sullivan TV show as if it had been conceived as such.  How was it conceived?  By lots of people seemingly not on the same page.

As is, the production never comes together as a cohesive story.  Armstrong is a part time narrator and sometimes character.  And herein lies the strange part.  As we impatiently awaited the show to begin – it finally did about twenty minutes late.  And when Louis first appeared it was not James Monroe Iglehart.  Not until my exit – after the performance – was I handed a slip of paper that boldly announced that James T. Lane was Louis.   Surprise!  He is the alternative Louis on Wednesday and Thursday matinee performances.  But this is SATURDAY.  Where am I?  What’s going on?  To complicate matters UNDERSTUDY for LOUIS is Brandon Louis Armstrong.  The entire episode was unsettling.

James T. Lane was a bit nervous to begin but finally settled into his performance and was more than sufficient.  But I do not think that seeing James Monroe Iglehart would have made me enjoy this production even though I was looking forward to seeing him as I really think he is terrific.  It’s really about the not so merry wives.  And their unhappy relationship with Louis.  Incident after incident without any insight to flesh them out.

They are fine also.  Wailing their songs and holding out those last notes for dear life as is the style these days.  Boo hoo!  For the record they are Dionne Figgins, Jennie Harney-Fleming, Kim Exum and Darlesia Cearcy.

Co writers and Co directors do not make for a clear interpretation of the interesting material put forth.  A case of too many cooks spoiling the broth business.

The same goes for the “NEW” arrangements of some very well-known songs by Branford Marsalis that at times become unrecognizable.

Best all around number was WHEN YOU’RE SMILING and I wish that could be the finale to this review.  I wish I had been able to smile along, a lot more than I did.

2 hrs 35 minutes with intermission

www.louisarmstrongmusical.com

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I don’t think that this review will sell many tickets.  But with Adam Driver as its star attraction – live and in person, close up and personal – does it matter?  I think not.  The run is almost sold out!

Now, I was anxious to see Mr. Driver once again on stage.  Even Off-Broadway at the Lucille Lortel Theatre where he is now performing a revival of this mundane muted semi-amusing affair written by Kenneth Lonergan.

I did my research.  I reviewed Adam Driver on four separate occasions.  All favorably.  On Broadway.

Mrs. Warren’s Profession 10/4/2010 – Adam Driver, “who is by far the best male member of the cast.  He has a wonderful, reserved humor and honesty about him.”

Man and Boy 10/17/11 – “a fine Adam Driver” as the son of Gregor Antonescu – Frank Langella.

Look Back in Anger 2/11/12 – “Cliff, their boarder – a brutish and sexy Adam Driver lolls around the floor reading the Sunday papers, checking for lice and openly flirting with Alison – the wife – a ravishing Sarah Goldberg.

Burn This – 4/23/19

There is something overpowering about him.  His size.  His charisma.  His talent.  His look.  His way with words.  At first off-putting and then as the relationship between he and Anna develops – despite Pale being a married guy with kids and a cocaine habit, things unexpectedly get out of hand we see a softer and more mature person emerge.  It’s quite a performance.  Especially his first shot out of a canon entrance.  And no one wears a mini silk Kimono as does Adam Driver.

And now, HOLD ON TO ME DARLING.  A case of be careful what you wish for.  Strings McCrane, Country western singer and movie star is rich and famous.  Dressed in black with large hat he looks very much like Richard Boone in Have Gun – Will Travel an old TV series.

Strings has all that he has wished for.  Except peace of mind.  Mama has unexpectedly passed over.  And he is bereft.  Looking for…well he does keep looking for over three hours in this Neil Pepe directed opus.  That’s about a hundred bucks an hour if you pay top price for a ticket to see Adam Driver and company.

In the process we meet his always efficient assistant Jimmy (an excellent Keith Nobbs) his brother Duke (CJ Wilson) who runs a General Store and likes his brew.

And a couple of gals.  Nancy, a massage therapist with a determined twang who allows us to view her at work with Adam Driver down to his black undies and socks – revealing a chiseled, muscular over six feet of body and his once or was it twice removed Kissing Cousin Essie (Adelaide Clemens) a softer version of Nancy who reunite in the funeral home while visiting mama in her open coffin.

Oh, who to choose?  Oh what to do?  While his film company tries to sue him for a no-show.

Frankly, my dear I did not give a damn – looking forward to meeting the mysterious Mitch (Frank Wood) who finally appears in the last fifteen minutes of this overlong quasi-drama.  Too bad he immediately reminded me of Art Carney.

How I wished it was the ghost of Mama who returned to have a face-to-face long overdue conversation with her son Strings.  Now that would have made the long and lazy afternoon worthwhile.

After all this is theater and an after-life visit could happen and liven up the proceedings.

The elaborate turntable set that almost overpowers the actors (all but Adam) is the fine work of Walt Spangler.  Slow but moving.

ONLY THROUGH DECEMBER 22, 2024

PHOTO:  Julieta Cervantes

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OUR TOWN has a new look.  Integrated.

Dr. Gibbs and family are black.  And fit in just as natural as the white folks next door.  The Webbs.  Color doesn’t matter as we all share the same emotions and problems and solutions.

This three act, three hour plus play has been streamlined down to 105 intermission-less minutes.  And is just the tonic Broadway has needed to reinvigorate itself back to life in this rejuvenated, revisal of Thornton Wilder’s Pulitzer Prize winning drama in 1938.

On a simple, quite functional barn like set by Beowulf Boritt – sit various members of the audience.  In pews.  Stage right and stage left.  Like a town meeting.  Assembled to hear the goings on in Grover’s Corners, New Hampshire.  Years 1901 through 1913.

A few chairs and tables suffice as décor.  A choir sings.  A deaf milkman, Howie Newsome (a terrific John McGrath) delivers his goods using sign language to communicate.   A local drunk staggers home.  The gossipy scene stealing Julie Halston brings a roar of laughter from us.

High above a striking galaxy of golden lanterns glow that seem to be a link to the universe or stars in heaven by lighting designer Allen Lee Hughes.

Director Kenny Leon has worked his magic to bring this period piece right up to the present.  We can all connect with and absorb the words and wisdom of Mr. Wilder of this timeless classic.

As the stage manager/narrator Jim Parsons is extraordinary.  He keeps the momentum going and holds together this entire production.  Keeps it grounded as the diverse company of actors – all superb – relate what should be important in living our lives.  To what really matters.  To connect with one another.  Enjoy the simple things.  To pay attention to one another.  No cell phones.  No internet.  Human face to face contact.  To really listen and to pay attention to one another.  To take notice of what should be important to us as we live and understand and love.

Before we know it, it’s over.  The play.  And life.

A LIMITED ENGAGEMENT.  Through January 19, 2025.  Plan a visit.

At the Ethel Barrymore Theatre

PHOTO:  Daniel Rader

*MY REVIEW OF THE DAVID CROMER PRODUCTION 3/7/2009

Thornton Wilder’s Our Town – Timeless Classic Off B’way

Oscar E Moore from the rear mezzanine for Talk Entertainment.com

What if you were “weaned away from life” while giving birth to your second child and after being buried amongst family and friends in the local cemetery you wanted to return home to have one last look at what happened on your twelfth birthday because you were just not ready “not to wake up”.  That’s Emily Webb’s third act dilemma in the most wonderful production of Thornton Wilder’s OUR TOWN which has been given a remarkable and inventive revival at the Barrow Street Theatre, under the inspired and most original, fluid direction of David Cromer who also appears as the Stage Manager.

The Barrow Street Theatre has been reformatted – audience is on three sides of the small center acting area.  It is akin to attending a community meeting of the population of Grover’s Corner in the high school gymnasium.  Two tables and some chairs make do for the set.  The overhead lights, hardly theatrical lighting, are kept up throughout most of the first act, then they are dimmed.  The actors intermingle with the audience.  Walking between the aisles and you feel that you are an integral part of the intimate proceedings.  Thornton Wilder must be chatting up a storm with his cemetery friends about this one.  It is absolutely astounding.

With searing honesty the cast of twenty four with the able assist of the Stage Manager who breaks the action and the fourth wall – speaking to the audience and explaining and commenting on the action we are transformed into this world where family values come first. Where we witness the lives of Dr. Gibbs and newspaper editor Charles Webb and their respective families.  We feel the emotions that young Emily Webb and her neighbor young George Gibbs are experiencing through homework assignments, ice cream sodas, baseball practice, love and marriage, death and loss.  A vivid time capsule of all their lives – from 1901 through 1913.

A thousand years from now this play will still resonate with its real and heartfelt sentiments.  This is the way they were, living and dying.  This is what is really important.  Being happy with your loved ones.  How life should be valued.  It all passes too quickly.

Every family should see this incredibly moving production where we are told that in order to love life we have to have life and to have life we have to love life and that we should not be blind to what is important.  To really look at each other to really listen to one another and to love one another before it is no longer possible to do that.  It’s a beautifully written, theatrical text that is brought to its full potential by this incredible ensemble cast.

Our Town is a must see.

www.barrowstreettheatre.com   www.ourtownoffbroadway.com

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The less said or written about this latest Lincoln Center catastrophe the better.  McNEAL, starring Artificial Intelligence and featuring Robert Downey Jr. making his Broadway debut.  Anyone remember MOOSE MURDERS?

I was looking forward to this one.  However, I was quick to reverse my opinion while watching this confounding, altogether confusing, pretentious overlong exercise (approximately 90 minutes without intermission) by playwright Ayad Akhtar.

And I am being kind.  What a waste of talent and money.  McNEAL doesn’t seem real.  Almost dreamlike.  Slow.  Morose.  Meandering.  A small story without a plot that is blown totally out of proportion by its set design (Michael Yeargan & Jake Barton) with enormous projections by Jake Barton that stun and confuse.  Here’s that word again!

A ton of pseudo intellectual nonsense.  Loosely directed by Bartlett Sher.  A limited run through November 24^th with any luck.

Perhaps it has been composed/created by AI.  The only AI I know about and like is that dark bottle of sauce used to enhance the flavor of whatever.  This production could use some.

ENRON kept creeping back into my memory.  A past technical heavy show.  All show and no substance.

Back to McNEAL.  It’s main character Jacob McNeal (Robert Downey Jr.) is totally unlikeable.  An alcoholic who won’t listen to his doctor (Ruthie Ann Miles) insisting and continuing to take his booze with his meds.  A suicidal combination.  A famous writer who uses other’s stories as his own.  Plagiarism.

He’s at odds with his agent (Andrea Martin) His estranged son (Rafi Gavron) and all others who cross his path.  However, he has just won the Pulitzer Prize, has a couple of firearms at hand and a slow carefully selected way of speaking that annoys.  He pauses.  A lot.  How can I make this line more interesting than written?

Whatever happened to productions that are supposed to enlighten and entertain?  Not confuse and bore us to death.  A conundrum to say the least.

What’s it all about Alfie?

Better luck next time.  At the Vivian Beaumont.

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Did he say he was from New Canaan or New Haven?  I really can’t remember.  It’s been quite a long time that I cared to speak to someone while minding my own business sitting on a bench in Washington Square Park.

But that beautiful and peaceful day – that day with the clear blue sky and bright sunshine and soft winds that rid my boggled down mind of all that bothered me somehow seemed special.

I hardly noticed him at first.  It was just a low constant mumbling that I heard coming from the nearby bench where he sat with a book open that he constantly kept referring to.  That was what caught my attention.  The book.

And speaking softly to himself.  Gesturing throughout.  I must admit that I kept peeking over to see what this guy was up to.  Attempting to do so without him noticing me doing so.  Squinting and turning my head oh so slowly so that I could read the title on the spine of his book.  Which surprised me.  Long Day’s Journey into Night.  A play.  A classic.  By Eugene O’Neill.

I would have imagined, from his looks and age (about 25) that he would be more likely to be reading a comedy by Neil Simon.  It was his nose.  A prominent nose.  A good looking, classic Barrymore nose.  On an average looking face.  Dark hair.  With excellent concentration.  Not paying any attention to my eavesdropping and unobtrusive glances one bit.  Or so I thought.

I always notice two things about a person.  Their nose.  And their feet.  The nose I have described.  The feet were covered by a pair of well-worn classic Converse high tops.  At least that’s what we called them way back when.

So, my mysterious mumbler had me completely intrigued.  I have a problem hearing.  I admit.  I couldn’t actually hear the words (he was going at a rapid rate) but they seemed important.

It was at that point that he took a swallow of water from his requisite backpack supply and spoke.  Looking directly at me.  I was caught.

“I’m working on a monologue.  I hope I haven’t bothered you with my memorization methods.  It’s for tomorrow.  I need to do this presentation perfectly and so I go over and over and over.”  Said matter-of-factly as if we were the best of friends.  No pretense.  Said simply. I liked him immediately.  Connected with him just like that.

“I used to be an actor.”  I replied as simply as I could.

Suddenly a flood of memories was overflowing out of my mind and into my mouth.  And before I could continue, he was just as intrigued with me as I was with him.  But I was caught up in my past.

There I was sitting on the floor of my rented room from Mr. and Mrs. Cabble on Green Grove Avenue with that infamous red telephone booth at the corner of the street (where I made many calls and cashed in, as every once in a while coins would just flow out of its slot when I disconnected after being asked to deposit a coin to continue) right off the Hofstra College (before it became a University) campus in Uniondale, Long Island where I was speaking aloud with an assumed British accent attempting to learn my lines for a production of The Rivals by Sheridan.  My first part.  Over and over and over…

“Movies?  TV? Soaps?  The mumbler asked, suddenly alert and interested in me.

“Theater.  The stage.  Summer stock.”

“Oh, what was your favorite role?”

Interrupting my memory.  “I had quite a few favorites.  But my all-time favorite was and still is Gaston in Waltz of the Toreadors by Jean Anouilh.  No reaction.  “So, you are a theater student at NYU.”

“I wanted to go to Northwestern.”

“So did I but I wound up at Hofstra with a full scholarship and so I jumped on it.”

“So did I when NYU accepted me into their program.”

“What’s your name.”

“Silas.”

“Silas.  Like in Marner.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m Oscar.”  I don’t know why I asked but I did.  “Could I share a few thoughts with you?  I didn’t wait for an answer but plowed right ahead.  “Slow down.  Don’t rush.  Try to make the dialogue sound as if you just thought of the words.  And believe them wholeheartedly.  And make sure they hear you.  Each word.  It seems now that diction and projection aren’t taught anymore.  They are very important Silas.  And break a leg!”

“Well, I must be off.  Thanks for the tips.  I’ll think about them as he gathered his backpack.

“Nice to meet you.”  We shook hands and he departed.

Break a leg!  Such an odd and old theatrical expression for good luck.  Still works, I hoped.  For Silas’ sake.

Next day I went back to that very same spot, thinking I would see Silas and he would give me an update as to how the monologue went.  I was truly interested to have him share this experience with me.

Only someone had left the remnants of a half-eaten blueberry muffin with some purple cream oozing from its top on the bench but there was still plenty of room for me to sit there without worrying that anyone else would sit next to me.  I waited.  I observed.  I had a weird assortment of people and pigeons pass me by.  But no well-worn Converse high top sneakers showed up.

At least I had a new routine. To follow.  To keep me busy.  Something to look forward to.  So, for the next few days there I sat.  Waiting and observing.  With what remained of that melted muffin to keep me company.  Apparently, pigeons will eat anything available.

Suddenly, I thought that I had imagined this entire episode with Silas. Had I been so bored with inactivity that my imagination took complete control of my reality?  Or maybe “the mumbler” thought I was just some busy-body, lonely old pervert.  I hate to think that.  I would hate for anyone to think that of me.  Especially Silas.

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O woe is me!  Well…here goes.

A mild mannered, mediocre, meandering musical.  Music by Mary Rodgers (daughter of Richard Rogers; mother of Adam Guettel – great musical genes inherited and shared.  Original 1959 book by Jay Thompson, Dean Fuller and Marshall Barer (Lyrics as well) and newly adapted by Amy Sherman Palladino.  The resulting goulash on stage at the Hudson Theatre 140 West 44 Street is perhaps a case of too many cooks.

Nonetheless, a welcome diversion for folks starved for something to laugh at.  To be entertained.  No matter what.  A diversion from all that is horrible plaguing the world today is being offered courtesy of Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale The Princess and the Pea and a boatload of zany clowns from comic central in Encores! Production ONCE UPON A MATTRESS.  A little of this and a lot of that.

THAT being everything imaginable (“but the kitchen sink” – an archaic expression) being stuffed into what was a small charming musical by its new visionaries, director Lear de Bessonet and choreographer Lorin Latarro in an attempt to make MATTRESS more palatable, updated and fresh for a new younger Tik! Tok! audience and to tickle our funny bones with puppets, sight gags, and simple magical tricks that are not altogether successful but will sell lots of tickets – they ate is all up at the performance I attended.

And so the latest Encores! Production with its tried and true recipe for showcasing forgotten musicals with STARS has migrated to Broadway.  But what was once a tried and true formula is now a bit tired.

And speaking of stars.  The main reason for seeing MATTRESS is a hardworking, over-the-top Sutton Foster.  A versatile singer, dancer, actor, contortionist extraordinaire who will do anything asked of her.  And she does including an unforgettable scene eating, no stuffing her face with grapes to the extent that she must spit them all out or choke to death pits and all into the front row of the audience.  Not a nice image to be remembered for.

But this one is.  Her entrance about twenty minutes into the sluggish first act as she emerges from the swampy waters of the moat, muddy and bedraggled with a fright wig to end all fright wigs, to great cheering and applause that is a show stopper as well as a show starter.  Everything suddenly perks up and we are off and running.

But it’s an up and down affair as subplots and limp dialogue await her return.

Now the real reason I wanted to see this MATTRESS was that in 1966 I was Dauntless the role now played by Michael Urie in a summer stock production that I remember fondly.  I admire Mr. Urie and he does a fine job but the overall production left me disappointed.  Didn’t cut the mustard (another archaic expression) so to speak.

The orchestra on stage was distracting.  The on-the-cheap-looking costumes (Andrea Wood) tend to be garish attempting to bridge the gap between medieval and modern and only add to the confusion of where we are and when.

The narrator/Jester Daniel Breaker is fine and does a wonderful Soft Shoe number.  Queen Aggravain doing her best in a very annoying role and looking to emulate Meryl Streep finally gets her comeuppance. The King is mute.  Done in by a magic spell.  Sextimus the Silent (David Patrick Kelly) is the only character, the only character I cared for.  Most believable and honest.  The less said about the Wizard (Brooks Ashmanskas) the better.  His fey routine becomes tiresome.  Sir Harry (Will Chase) and Lady Larken (Nikki Renee Daniels – reminding me of Kathleen Battle) as the romantic leads are vocal winners.

Could LITTLE MARY SUNSHINE be next on the horizon?

2 hours 15 minutes One Intermission

CLOSING NOV 30 2024

PHOTOS:  Joan Marcus

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Feeling blue?  Down in the dumps?  Have your tickle bones not been tickled lately?  The extremely talented and wonderfully funny Cole Escola as Mary Todd Lincoln and company might just be the tonic you need.

If ribald humor, zany shenanigans going on in the Presidential household of a praying not to be a homosexual Abe Lincoln (a fine Conrad Ricamora) along with his mad cap frustrated spouse Mary (ex-cabaret star) searching for and sniffing and finding a hidden bottle or two while frantically longing to return to the stage then “Oh Mary!” Escola’s opus could be for you.  And then again…perhaps not.

Extremely loud, pre curtain-up at the Lucille Lortel Theatre, pre-recorded pulsating music harkens one back to those dreary basement gay clubs in New Jersey or the West Village where would be stars would get up and sing their hearts out for one and all.  I had my ears covered in retaliation.

Finally the fun began.

In the grand tradition of Charles Ludlam’s Theater of the Ridiculous Cole Escola shines in the spotlight.  He is a gifted comic and has a way with words.  He just doesn’t know when enough is enough.

There are many laugh out loud moments in the various scenes that remind one of those wonderful Carol Burnett skits.  Here we have skit after skit usually ending quickly in a blackout.  Escola has a delightful audition piece as the Nurse in Romeo & Juliet.

Some of the best moments are with Mary’s Teacher John Booth (James Scully – handsome and quite likable who “rehearses” with Mary to get her in shape for her comeback as a cabaret star and I suppose you guess where this is heading.  And then again you might not.

A gentleman seating next to me nodded off for a short while.  Ummm.

Mary has a chaperone (a fine Bianca Leigh who I thank in a thankless role) to keep her at bay and to report any misbehavior back to Abe.

Tony Macht is Mary’s Husband Assistant – faithful and obedient and taking part in one of the funniest sight gags with old Abe.

But after the assassination trouble brews.  And we are back in cabaret land.  Which does go on and on till the end of said play which is swiftly directed by Sam Pinkleton.  Lovely period costumes by Holly Pierson. Ditto scenic design by DOTS.

But it is COLE ESCOLA’S show all the way.  After all he wrote it.

www.ohmaryplay.com  80 minutes no intermission

Photo:  Emilio Madrid

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As we bid a not so fond farewell to the most recent Broadway season with this car wreck of a musical THE GREAT GATSBY we ask ourselves why?  Why import a mediocre musical from New Jersey’s Paper Mill Playhouse?  Why spend a huge amount of money on an adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s sprawling novel THE GREAT GASBY – a most complicated compilation of characters from the roaring and corrupt 1920’s.  Why bother?

Unless you can create a world with characters that are interesting with music and lyrics to match.  With a clear and developed book that isn’t one big bore.  It is a difficult task that the creative team is just not up to fulfilling.   Mostly superficial.  They sure do try hard though.

But huge sets and glitzy costumes with lighting effects galore do not a hit musical make.

Even with a yellow Rolls Royce and midnight blue Pierce Arrow thrown in for good measure.  Oh and an orchestra pit pool.  Needed for a very important scene.  It’s all glossed over.  All effect and no substance.   Spectacle.  We need to care about someone.  And we don’t.

I won’t bore you with the plot.  A quick look at SparkNotes’ synopsis of the novel will suffice.  And if you so desire to spend your hard earned bucks on a ticket, a reading of said notes will help tremendously as the sound system is just as awful as what they are attempting for your ears to absorb.

The rich and the rotten.  Unfulfilled and unhappy.  With a dash of crime and loose sex.

Looking to connect with a love that once was.  I speak of Gatsby and Daisy.  Jeremy Jordon (a long way from charismatic) and Eva Noblezada.  She is now married and has a baby.  Trouble is they have no romantic chemistry at all and are given unmemorable and unmelodic songs to sing in a very odd way.  The range for him goes from a soft falsetto to bombastic and hers fare no better.  It’s the new style of singing on Broadway.

If you can’t root for these lovers the ball game is over.

Now for the better news.  I did like our narrator Nick (Noah J. Ricketts) who gets lost in the shuffle of quick changing sets and foggy plot.

Also Samantha Pauly who seemed natural and fun and sang well.  She fortunately or unfortunately was made to appear to look like a young Streisand, whose birthday it was 4/24/24 and yet she held her own throughout.

The young audience high above in the Broadway theatre whooped and hollered loving every minute of it.  Seemed like a lot of high school theatre loving kids out to enjoy a show.

Director Marc Bruni and choreographer Dominique Kelley have opted for a quick pace throughout.  At times the too quick succession of song and dance reminded me fleetingly of Bob Fosse’s CHICAGO, RAGTIME, PHANTOM, GUYS AND DOLLS, PLAZA SUITE, 42^nd STREET, SOME LIKE IT HOT and SUNSET BOULEVARD – reminiscent of the Old Ed Sullivan TV variety show.  Entertaining yes but not in the context of the tangled affairs of the rich and rotten in GATSBY.

www.broadwaygatsby.com

PHOTOS:  Matthew Murphy & Evan Zimmerman

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