Oscar E Moore

Just when you think HOLIDAY INN, the new Irving Berlin Musical can’t possibly get any better – it does.  With an affectionate and respectful wink to the original 1942 film starring Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire book writers Gordon Greenberg & Chad Hodge have given the story a fresh facelift and revitalized the incredibly wonderful songs of Irving Berlin with new and inventive orchestrations by Larry Blank and vocal and dance arrangements by Sam Davis and Bruce Pomahac.  The songs seem brand new.  At least they sound brand new.

And are delivered by a young and ultra-talented cast headed by Bryce Pinkham (Jim Hardy) whose strong tenor has an echo of the past and Corbin Bleu (Ted Hanover) whose stylish dancing doesn’t mimic Mr. Astaire but pays homage to his finesse while making the numbers his own.  The “firecracker” sequence is spectacular.

This terrific Roundabout production at Studio 54 is no slap-dash remake of its source material but a well thought out, clever, reverential valentine to the movies of the period and Irving Berlin’s brilliant musicianship.

The attractive, colorful and fast moving mobile sets by Anna Louizos set the scenes perfectly – appearing magically in all their holiday finery – and know enough to get out of the way when the young and equally attractive multi-racial singers and tappers raise the roof with their precise and exuberant execution of the show stopping choreography by Denis Jones.

I do believe that “Shaking the Blues Away” will become a classic number.  It’s a perfect pearl.  Centered on a necklace of matching pearls created by Mr. Denis Jones – each placed to perfection by director Gordon Greenberg.

The story.  I almost forgot.  Jim and Ted have a club act with Lila Dixon (Megan Sikora).  Jim (Bryce) wants to marry Lila and settle down in a farm that he has bought in Connecticut.  Although she loves him she loves show biz more and goes off with Ted (Corbin) a fine excuse for “Heat Wave.”

Back at the farm that is falling apart Jim meets Linda Mason (Lora Lee Gayer) the former owner and would be performer and her handywoman Louise (Megan Lawrence) who leads the will-become-a-classic “Shaking the Blues Away” production number that I wanted to see repeated immediately.

To save the farm from foreclosure they have hatched the idea that the INN will produce shows only for the holidays – a fine excuse for all those Berlin standards that he wrote for the holidays:  “Easter Parade” “White Christmas” and “Happy Holiday” and a slew of others that will have you humming and bouncing in your seats with glee.  And drooling over the fabulous Easter bonnets.

Needless to say there are complications usually announced by the young Charlie Winslow (Morgan Gao) who commands the stage with his every entrance of impending news.   Love is the other as Lila goes off to Dallas to marry money and Ted tries make a name in Hollywood with the help of his agent Danny (Lee Wilkof).  There is a pitch perfect filmed coda that surprises.

The numerous costumes of the stylish and eye-popping sort are designed by Alejo Vietti.  Sound design by Keith Caggiano couldn’t be better.

HOLIDAY INN is sure to please.  Sure to sprinkle stardust in everyone’s eyes.  This exceptionally entertaining production will have you leaving Studio 54 in a much better mood than when you entered.  Guaranteed.  Through January 15, 2017

2 hours 15 minutes.  One intermission.

www.roundabouttheatre.org

Photos:  Joan Marcus

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Nick Kroll and John Mulaney met in college.  They bonded – obviously having something in common.  Something that some people might consider a bizarre sense of humor.

Soon after they created their alter egos – Gil Faizon and George St. Geegland (supposedly after seeing two old men at the Strand Bookstore buying two copies of Alan Alda’s recently published book and then following them to a diner where their fondness for tuna fish most probably surfaced.

This led them to Comedy Central’s KROLL SHOW – featuring said alter egos – Gil (a novelist of sorts) and George (an actor of sorts) – two seventy something Jewish bachelors living on the Upper West Side.  The show was hugely successful.

As evidenced by the ovation they receive at the Lyceum Theatre where their ten year old routine has been tweaked by director Alex Timbers with the addition of a surprise nightly guest star and is now being hailed by their adoring fans and confounding many others.  Including myself.  But I have to admit that one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

They are stand-up comics in the tradition of Weber and Fields, Stiller and Meara and Statler and Hilton with a lethal dose of Larry David thrown in.  An appreciation of their delivery is necessary to enjoy their Saturday Night Live skit-like and drawn out routines.

If you do not know them you might as I did feel like an alien who has landed in some far off planet where what is supposedly hilarious falls flat IF you are not a hip young person whose sense of humor never graduated from the frat house.  Their comedy is an acquired taste.

And there is no accounting for taste or lack thereof.  The T-shirt, poster and mug concession stand has a long line and their stuff is selling like hot cakes – or rather overstuffed tuna sandwiches.

Personally I prefer chopped liver.

Through January 8^th.  One hour 40 minutes without intermission.

www.ohhellobroadway.com

Photos:  Joan Marcus

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Well, it sure is different.  And eerie.  And fascinating.  And much too long.  Perhaps as long as the mighty Amazon River where Mr. McBurney – who has co-conceived this oddity with Kirsty Housley has us imagine along with him as he tells the rambling philosophical tale of Mr. Loren McIntyre a photo journalist who in 1969 was kidnapped in the Amazon Jungle while on a photography expedition for National Geographic Magazine as we listen along on our very own headphones.

Testing right input.  Testing left input.  We are instructed to make sure we are correctly wired for takeoff into the surreal world of Simon McBurney who is the sole actor and director of this theatrical event that veers into pretension-land.

THE ENCOUNTER gives new meaning to the expression “a captive audience” – there is no intermission in this almost two hour opus and we have to wear the headgear to hear the production.  Sound design by Gareth Fry & Pete Malkin.

And hear it we do – everything from the crunching of a cheez doodles bag, to a mosquito buzzing sweet nothings in our ear to the clicking of a camera to the deep resonant American voice of the captive diarist Mr. McIntyre alternating with Mr. McBurney’s higher somewhat accented tones.

It is indeed ironic that in 2014 the Tony Awards decided to no longer recognize sound design.  And here it is as the star of the show.

THE ENCOUNTER is inspired by the book Amazon Beaming by Petru Popescu and Mr. Mc Burney puts his heart and soul and feet and cell phone and water bottles into his bravura Shakespearean King Lear like performance.  Robin Williams would have had a field day up there.

But the technological gimmick of headphones despite its brilliance overshadows the play as such or rather this live action in your ear audio transmission which after its initial novelty wears a bit tiresome.

It is difficult to care for the character.  We feel alienated despite the closeness of the words in our ears.  And it does ramble on.  The set (Michael Levine) is bare bones – basically a desk and microphones and water bottles and a back drop that resembles the inside of a gigantic speaker where projections back up the physical and verbal descriptive travelogue.

Mr. McBurney passes this endurance test with flying colors.

But be forewarned he does not appear eight times a week.  His standby Richard Katz appears at Tuesday evening and Wednesday matinee performances while Mr. McBurney understandably gears up for the others – at the Golden Theatre through Jan 8^th 2017.

www.theencounterbroadway.com

Photos:  Joan Marcus

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Take a trip back to the past with Primary Stages production of Horton Foote’s pleasant and homey play at the Cherry Lane Theatre featuring six excellent actors bringing an honesty and real life to the nine characters that inhabit this trio of interconnected vignettes.

It is the men who have double duty here as they portray others in the last and shortest scene:  Spring Dance.  The three women are what the play is about.  Great character studies all.  With little action and a plot that is nearly nonexistent.

It is 1924 in the Houston Texas kitchen of Mabel Votaugh (a delightful Hallie Foote) where her best friend and neighbor Vonnie Hayhurst (the always reliable-for-a-good-laugh Harriet Harris) having just returned from a trip gossip and chatter away about the trolley, shopping and movie matinees over coffee when Annie Gayle Long (a superb Rebecca Brooksher) pops in.

She has problems.  She is a nervous lady so wound  up she rattles away, finding it difficult to deal with her two young children after witnessing the murder of her father.  Pow!  Pow! Pow! Reliving the horrible deed as the other two ladies try to put her at ease.  She appears to be on the verge as she attempts to understand her life while breaking into song now and then.  Her distraught albeit calm husband Mr. Long (Dan Bittner) arrives to take her home.  This is scene one:  A Nightingale.

Six months later and we are in the parlor of Mabel’s home.  A reverse set from the kitchen.  Both beautifully detailed by designer Jeff Cowie.

Mabel’s husband Jack (Devon Abner) is in his easy chair taking it easy.  Asleep.  Only to awaken briefly when Vonnie visits to be consoled as her husband Eddie (Matt Sullivan) has asked for a divorce.  It gets a bit melodramatic here in The Dearest of Friends – scene two.  Even though the two ladies stage whisper we can hear them well.  Congratulations.

Intermission.  And then we are taken to Spring Dance in Austin.  In a lovely garden.  It is four years later and Annie we soon realize is in an asylum.  With our three male actors portraying fellow patients.  They are just as confused as Annie but it is sad and poignant as they try to cope without much understanding.  They are clothed in formal wear and appear normal except for their disorientation and confusion.  It is an unexpected and unsettling turn that leaves us a bit confused ourselves.

But the beautiful performances of the six actors overshadow any deficiencies in the structure of the script as we head for home ourselves, glad to have met these quirky characters that we care for.

What could have been static and boring isn’t due to the natural and amusing dialogue of Horton Foote, the detailed characterizations and the subtle and refined direction of Michael Wilson.  It’s a soft and lovely production.  Through Nov 27^th.

Photo:  JamesLeynse

www.primarystages.org

www.cherrylanetheatre.org

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At the Lortel.  A new monologue by Neil LaBute.  Lasting about one hour.  About the same time a psychiatrist would allot a patient to spill ones heart out.  In this case Mrs. Johnson.  A high school English/Drama teacher and guidance counselor of thirty years alone with her memories in her office someplace in the Midwest.

Nervous.  Tentative at first.  Looking back.  Talking to the audience.  Baring her innermost thoughts and deepest feelings about teaching, her husband Eric, her student boyfriend Tommy and “What is the weight of a lie? as if she were speaking with her shrink.  Attempting to sort out her life.  Her complicated life.  Played superbly by Judith Light.  This is a must see performance.

The monologue is extremely well written with detailed direction by Leigh Silverman – leaving no nuance unexplored.  Excellent lighting design by Matt Frey acts as a silent soundtrack adding atmosphere with haunting effects.  The subdued gray and burgundy outfit by Emily Rebholz for Mrs. Johnson is a perfect cover-up for what will boil to the surface as she recounts her past indiscretion and its aftermath.

Mrs. Johnson is torn.  She is tortured and trapped with her feelings for both her husband – a lawyer and the affair she had with Tommy – her student.  She is white.  They are not.  She loves them both in different ways.  Why did it happen?  How did it happen?

You must see this show produced by MCC to feel its full and long lasting effects.  And be quick.  It is only scheduled to run until October 16^th.

Not much else can be divulged in this review except for the fact that the vivid, emotional and truly honest performance of Judith Light as the tormented and otherwise normal Mrs. Johnson is phenomenal.

You will be drawn into her story immediately.  Riveted to every revelation to the very end.  Which is handled with loving care.

www.mcctheater.org

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Tucked away in Chelsea in the 150 seat Linda Gross Theater that arose from a converted church two extremely talented performers Rebecca Naomi Jones as Marie Knight and Kecia Lewis as Sister Rosetta Tharpe reenact their beginnings as a rockin and rollin pop gospel duo in a showroom for coffins where they are having their first rehearsal together in Mississippi 1946.

There was no room at the inn for black folks then.  So they rehearse where no one can be bothered.  Among empty coffins.  Rehearse to sing in warehouses and barns for other black folks who want to hear music bursting with joy.

Sister Rosetta – already a star is on the outs with the Church because she has appeared in clubs.  Looking to make a comeback she plucks Marie out of a Quartet as her protégé.   She sees something in this naïve young girl.  More importantly she hears something.  Her voice and her piano playing.

Marie has been a fan.  Listening to Sister Rosetta’s recordings and cannot believe her good luck.

In a rather surface telling of their similar backstories by George Brant they test their musical comradery and at times it’s difficult to believe how they harmonize so beautifully – in the moment.  The songs are the show.  The performers make the songs.

They have a beautiful rapport.  The powerful voiced and confident Sister Rosetta and the shy wide eyed too serious Marie who voice is clearly a gift from above.  As her confidence grows, she surprises even herself in the music they make together allowing Sister Rosetta to teach her how to loosen up and put a bit of boogie into her life.

Tucked away behind a scrim are two equally talented musicians Felicia Collins  (Guitar) and Deah Harriott (Piano) who will play for the aforementioned Marie and Sister Rosetta as they mime the music (on piano and guitar) to the songs they so expertly sing.

Sometimes softly.  Sometimes loud enough to raise the dead.  It’s a special music.  Churchlike with a hip swaying rhythm that is both beautiful and rousing.

Neil Pepe has staged the show simply emphasizing the songs.  In a bizarre epilogue that you might see being foreshadowed in the opening moments we sadly say adieu to these two gifted women.

www.AtlanticTheater.org

Through October 2^nd.

Photos – Ahron R. Foster

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WARNING:  Using your cell phone may be hazardous to your “privacy” and well-being.   Seeing PRIVACY will open your eyes wide as to the numerous pitfalls and so called advantages of said cell phone use – which we are instructed to keep on during the performance of this sold out event at the Newman Theater through August 14^th – a co-production of The Public Theater and London’s Donmar Warehouse co-created by playwright James Graham and director Josie Rourke.

It’s not a play in the true sense of the word.  It’s more of a seminar.  A lesson in what the internet has wrought.  A happening.   A series of skits.  A very smart, well researched, sometimes amusing, technically proficient, full of surprises, elongated scary gimmick.

Staring with the bios.  And continuing on with the laminated “in flight” instructions secured behind each seat.  Instructions to the use of the cell phone that will be used by the audience members and cast during this two act production which quite frankly after 45 minutes we “get it” and have perhaps had enough of its cleverness.

Mr. Radcliffe is a speed-speaking, bearded British writer who has immediately regretted sending an email to his ex – attempting to un-send it which results in a visit to a shrink (Reg Rogers) who advises him to visit New York to open himself up and to learn along with us what the invasion of the internet means to one and all.

It’s not just games and selfies and texting.  It’s the potential of being hacked – embarrassing photos being leaked.  You can however buy a burial plot or peruse some porn privately in the comfort of your bedroom in your PJs. HOWEVER.  BEWARE.  You are being watched and followed and recorded every minute you are on line.

It’s not all doom and gloom.  Terrorists are also targets and can sometimes be stopped before their main event occurs.

In keeping the surprise elements of PRIVACY – private – not much more can be divulged here.  The audience – you – will be the guinea pigs in discovering what your “security blanket” aka “smart phone” has in store for you.  It’s only the tip of the iceberg.  Smart phones are way smarter than we could ever have imagined.

The cast is exceptional.  Including a video visit by Edward Snowden.  Mr. Radcliffe must be commended for allowing himself to be upstaged by all the technology bombarding him and us.

www.PublicTheater.org

Photos:  Joan Marcus

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You.  Are.  There.  Oslo, Norway.  April 1992 – September 1993.  Behind closed doors. The characters are real.  The situation fraught with intrigue and champagne and egos in this smart, theatrical, longish but never boorish lesson in history.  Eavesdropping on the fragile, secret negotiations between the Israelis and the Palestinians hosted by the Norwegians.

Namely Terje Rod-Larsen (the excellent as usual Jefferson Mays) and his wife Mona Juul (an incredibly accomplished Jennifer Ehle) who is also the narrator.  Together they have hatched a plot to bring the two opposing sides together in the hope that they can bring about a peace accord.  He to fulfill his ego and she to hold everything together when all seems lost.  To facilitate – not meddle.

Act I sets the stage and eventually brings the Israelis and the Palestinians to talk on either side of a table.  One of the many pieces of furniture on casters enabling the director of this sometimes extremely amusing documentary-like theatrical excursion – Bartlett Sher – to have three hours whiz by.

It is a masterful accomplishment.  As is the casting of this large ensemble.  Each and every actor as near to perfection as is possible delivering the dialogue that is a barrage of verbal bullets that ricochet off the whiskey glasses and waffles as these uncomfortable diplomats attempt to loosen up and negotiate that seemingly elusive prize called “peace.”

Act II brings in the charismatic Uri Savir, (an outstanding Michael Aronov) Director-General of the Foreign Ministry of Israel who takes the words of playwright J.T. Rogers to new heights colliding head-on with Ahmed Qurie (Abu Ala) Finance Minister for the Palestine Liberation Organization – an equally impressive Anthony Azizi.  And then we’re off!

Act III gets more complicated with details but is never unclear thanks to Mr. Sher and his expert actors culminating in the video projection in the White House Rose Garden on September 13, 1993 of the iconic image of President Bill Clinton presiding over a handshake between Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin and Chairman Yasser Arafat – signifying Peace!

Unfortunately, as it turns out, more of the same continues.  On and on it goes.  We can only hope for a better outcome one day.  Call me a cockeyed optimist.

At the Mitzi E. Newhouse – Lincoln Center Theater.  Through August 28^th

Photos:  T. Charles Erickson

www.lct.org

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Israel Horovitz is at it again.  After some seventy plus plays – a new sit-com cum sex farce of sorts – a throwback to the days of avant-garde off Broadway when a slight play could be mounted for a pittance and provide some laughs while supplying a paper thin plot.  No questions asked.  Just a fun time with some able bodied actresses with some ridiculous situations to deal with.  And so we have OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF BABES – now at The Cherry Lane Theatre.

These BABES have been around the block.  Circling each other for years.  They have all at one time or another and sometimes at the same time been involved with the same 100 year old randy Frenchman who has just died thus enabling them to reunite in Paris for his funeral.

His most recent and youngest conquest, the heavily accented Marie-Belle (Francesca Choy-Kee) still senses his presence in the art filled apartment overlooking a canal in Paris.  The corpse in question must have had something really special.

Each of these women met said corpse at The Sorbonne.  Each loved the charming cad dearly.  Three married him.  One simply lived with him.  The most recent still feels him “tickling” her.  References are made to his teaching abilities, his tinkling of the ivories, his prowess with his tongue and his many other trysts.

It’s The Golden Girls meets Blithe Spirit.  They compare notes. We get their back stories.  They are sleep deprived.  Jet lag.  One is suicidal.  Again.  Janice (Angelina Fiordellisi) who appeared in ZORBA and is the Producing Artistic Director at The Cherry Lane is the weakest link.

Holding down the fort are Estelle Parsons (Evelyn) and Judith Ivey (Evvie).  Both are fine with what little they are given to play with.  They deserve better.  So do we.

There are not too many new plays written for the older actress.  And this one allows them to spread their wings.  They do not exactly soar but provide enough enjoyment to overlook the inane proceedings as we reach the end of the second act.

The pace thankfully is fast thanks to director Barnet Kellman.  The attractive set by Neil Patel is filled with a collection of art work from A to Z.  A detailed guide is enclosed.  Are they for sale?

There is no mention of a will.  And one wonders why they are so civil to one another.  One would think there would be more animosity over the pate and wine served.

One wonders a lot about this guy who was a collector of women who now haunts his Paris apartment and is hopefully chuckling over the silly goings on.  Tune is next week to see if he seduces someone from the beyond.

www.cherrylanetheatre.org

Photos:  Carol Rosegg

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If you are going to reimagine the legend of Orpheus and Eurydice – a poor poet guitar strumming musician with a voice to die for and his ravishing but hungry counterpart as a sung-through folk opera (that originally was a sixty minute album in 2010) you must at the very least cast actors that appear to like each other and have an iota of chemistry sizzling between them.  These two characters are madly in love with one another.  And “without love life has no purpose” – a quote from Charity Hope Valentine.

Damon Daunno (Orpheus) and Nabiyah Be (Eurydice) hardly fizzle.  Singing their way to hell and almost back on a variety of microphones.  He of the wobbly falsetto and she of the vacant stare who wails we hardly care for either one as they wander through the reconfigured New York Theatre Workshop space that last time round was a gymnasium with lap pool and now is a three quarter in the round tiered space with quite uncomfortable seats – even with a provided cushion.

Responsible for this busy pseudo-poetic edging towards pretentious production is the imaginative and theatrical director Rachel Chavkin who has helped Anais Mitchell – composer/lyricist – develop her work for the stage that is now a seemingly endless two hours plus with intermission.

Thank the gods for small favors.  Here we have as our narrator and charming guide Chris Sullivan as Hermes who can sing and move and beguile.  He alone makes this trip worthwhile.

Down below we have the basso profundo Patrick Page (who at times reminds one of that voice-over guy for movie trailers of the past) as that demonic King Hades who has built a Trump like empire and wall – (to keep out the enemy) and will seduce Eurydice into experiencing what he has to offer leaving Orpheus to walk all the way down into the depths of depravity to rescue his beloved.

Persephone (Amber Gray) long suffering wife of Hades and goddess of the seasons gets to spread her charm each spring escaping from below with her basket of flowers and a full flask.

The music is a combination of New Orleans jazz, blues and ragtime that is mostly enjoyable performed by an on stage band that is excellent.  The lyrics are mundane.  The plot ambles along with three Fates (Lulu Fall – Jessie Shelton and Shaina Taub) a Greek chorus combo of The Andrew Sisters and The Supremes.

If only Orpheus and Eurydice were believable lovers who could enchant us we might care what befalls them as fog annoyingly envelops the arena and fellow actors scurrying around and up and down in and out.

Through July 3^rd www.NYTW.org

Photos:  Joan Marcus

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