Oscar E Moore

A breath of romantic fresh air is wafting through the Davenport Theatre on West 45^th Street, where the intimate chamber musical DADDY LONG LEGS based on the should-be-more-famous novel by Jean Webster is percolating and spreading its innumerable charms.  Letter writing – of the hand written type – might just become a la mode once again.

Thankfully this production helmed by director John Caird (also the author of the book) quietly simmers and then sparkles – having little to do with the film musical starring Fred Astaire and Leslie Caron – which was very loosely based on the same source material.  Very loosely.

Mr. Caird has done a masterful job as has the entire creative team in bringing this sweet, honest, touching, witty and intelligent love story to life with a subtle score by Paul Gordon (music and lyrics) that slowly weaves its tunes to magical effect.  By the end of Act II you will be enthralled and enthusiastically in love with love once again.

Jerusha Abbott (Megan McGinnis) – the oldest orphan of the John Grier Home is anonymously befriended by Jervis Pendleton (Paul Alexander Nolan) to further her education.  Requiring that they never meet and that she update him monthly in the form of a letter that he need not answer.

It is through these letters (he eventually gives in answering but using an alias) that their relationship develops.  We see her blossom from a naïve young lass who is hungry for knowledge to a confident young woman confiding in this man whom she has nicknamed Daddy Long Legs.  In turn we see a man grappling with his feelings for her and how he slyly manages to make her dreams come true.

There are nods to A. R. Gurney’s LOVE LETTERS and the musicals ONCE and SHE LOVES ME in its thematic material but DADDY LONG LEGS stands on its own two feet.  It’s a beautiful production of a small, quiet show with an enormous heart.

The scenic design – a wood paneled library, a desk, and various mobile trunks (that house some lovely costumes) by David Farley is just right.

Megan McGinnis with an infectious smile and a head full of cork screw curls is the perfect foil for Paul Alexander Nolan who has a gorgeous voice that is strong yet sensitive to his feelings.  They are a perfect match.  Especially when harmonizing in their duets arranged with great emotional impact by Brad Haak.

Let this show seep into your heart and allow yourself the time to readjust to its mellow pace.  You will be rewarded with going home with the secret of happiness.

Open-ended run.

Photos:  Jeremy Daniel

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www.daddylonglegsmusical.com

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Georgia McBride.  Never heard of her?  Neither did I – until Matthew Lopez’s imagination decided to document her rise to stardom from Elvis impersonator in a seedy Florida dive in downtown Panama City, Florida to morphing into a drag diva in this genuinely entertaining, flamboyant and honest to goodness heartfelt play with music running at the Lucille Lortel Theatre through October 11th.

She is a he – Casey (a wonderful transformative Dave Thomas Brown) a straight guy down and almost out and broke. Trying to make ends meet with his waitress wife Jo (Afton Williamson) whom he adores and just happens to be pregnant.

Casey’s Elvis act is not generating any business much to the dismay of bar owner Eddie (Wayne Duvall) and so he recruits the services of his dressed to impress cousin Tracy (an astounding Matt McGrath) who performs in drag, lip-synching to tunes made famous by real women while wearing colorful gowns and wigs with his mostly drunken and tart tongued partner Rexy (Keith Nobbs) relegating Casey to tend bar. We root for him and them – all the way.

When a soused Rexy can’t go on – Casey is enlisted to don Edith Piaf drag. And right before our amazed eyes, in true Broadway tradition – the show does go on. With the help of a great on stage crew Casey is transformed – many times over into Georgia McBride who becomes a bar favorite. The newfangled act turns into a very profitable enterprise to everyone’s surprise.

The finely tuned, clockwork direction by Mike Donahue, the exciting choreography by Paul McGill, the big-air wigs by Jason Hayes, the over-the-top costumes by Anita Yavich, lighting design by Ban Stanton, sound design by Jill BC Du Boff and the detailed all-purpose set (Donyale Werle) make this show a hoot and a half. However, the musical numbers could benefit from a nip and tuck here and there.

So very well constructed by Mr. Lopez you might not at first catch that Keith Nobbs doubles as Rexy and Jason – friend and landlord to Casey and Jo. You’ve never seen so many costume changes nor enjoyed so many laughs, nor been impressed by the versatility of each actor as Casey faces the fact that he thoroughly enjoys finding his inner drag persona while keeping it all a secret from his wife until…

The Legend of Georgia McBride is sure to become one.

No intermission. Love conquers all.

Photos: Joan Marcus

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www.mcctheater.org

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A mythical musical where mayhem reigns after the death of a Pope – takes place at Theatre 80 and not the Sistine Chapel as stated in the program of this new musical written entirely by Adam Overett.  It isn’t blessed.  In fact, it’s like spending an eternity in Purgatory.

Actually it’s about 90 minutes without intermission where there are 7 wannabe-popes vying for the newly vacated position. The cardinals – both male and female – straight and gay – of various ethnic backgrounds and questionable qualifications arrive to Vatican City singing their hearts out about how each should be the one voted to become the next pope over a sound system straight from hell.

Trouble is that Mr. Overett has reached far beyond his qualifications in penning this opus and hasn’t really decided on its tone or what the show should really be about. The music is perky with vamp after vamp, vamping under the dialogue that is forced funny. There is a gospel number, a Ten Commandments number and many other forgettable numbers (no listing of songs). And a serious, love song between two male cardinals. It is their relationship that is the core of this madcap show and the only people we care about.

Here is the list of contenders: Cardinal McCafferty (Stephen Christopher Anthony) the most pious and honest who holds back his closeted gay feelings for Cardinal Bergenstein (David Perlman) the admittedly gay Jewish Cardinal (don’t ask). They are both excellent and handle themselves well despite being surrounded by stereotypical Cardboard Cardinals.

For instance and this is the worst offender – the over-the-top evil Cardinalissimo Francisco Franco (Rachel Coloff) – costumed to look like Quasimodo and screaming and shouting her lines with a heavy Italian accent – with a lisp. Her sidekick Cardinal Wallaby (Susan J. Jacks) is simply annoying.

Then there is Cardinal Hu-Jin Chao (Jason Veasey) for some calmness. Cardinal Fouette (Lucas Thompson) a flamboyant mute ballet dancer. Cardinal Robin (Alexa Green) a brash white trash, gum chewing South Jersey Shore cussing sort who might want to consult with costumer designer DW. And finally Cardinal St. Louis (Danette Holden) a southern belle who gets to belt out the Gospel Number.

There are three overly long and terribly unfunny challenges for the contestants wanting to become Pope before one is elected. Who will it be? If this sounds like fun to you – pay a visit and then go directly to confession.

Directed and choreographed by Drew Geraci.

Photo:  Jay Sullivan

Art Work:  Or Gotham

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This 1921 obtuse, dense, bizarre, depressing, esoteric and epic 434 line poem by T. S. Eliot has been dramatized and directed by the brothers Domig: concept/installation by Daniel and performed by Christopher who is an excellent actor and the main reason I went to see this theatrical thesis.

Christopher Domig is a compelling actor. A brave actor. Fully committed. Doing challenging work that challenges his audience. Tackling T. S. Eliot’s THE WASTE LAND is a daunting task. It’s not easily understood or accessible.

It’s a far cry from Eliot’s Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats immortalized by Andrew Lloyd Webber.

I first discovered Mr. Domig in 2007 in another Fringe Festival work. A monologue. DIRT. He gave “a dazzling performance” I wrote in my review. “Powerful, mesmerizing and thoroughly enthralling in a somewhat confusing narrative. – The eyes of Christopher Domig convey it all – the heartbreak, the fury, the isolation, the loneliness of an illegal immigrant just trying to fit in.”

History repeats itself at 64E4 Underground. He is still mesmerizing despite the subject matter. Wearing a tux sans socks he delivers this rambling monologue for 55 minutes, meticulously rearranging the table and two chairs and interacting with a ghostlike head on a stick – sometimes crawling on the floor covered with sawdust, sometimes atop the table or underneath all the while spouting words that we try to digest.

It’s as though the poem is a giant puzzle that he is trying to put together.

One woman discreetly left about ten minutes in. Another yawned – progressively growing impatient, frustrated and fidgety. Surprisingly there were two youngsters (aged 7 – I asked). One was curled up in her mother’s lap. The young boy attentive. After the performance I asked him if he understood the play. “Some.” Did he like the acting? “Oh, yes.” There we are.

I suppose it’s never too early to introduce Eliot. Perhaps by the time he’s my age he’ll understand what’s going on.

I do hope that one day soon I see Christopher Domig in a show worthy of his talent.

Photos:Thomas Weitzman

www.wastelandproject.com

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Pure theatrical gold.  Everything about this production is ready to move into the major leagues.  Hopefully it will find a new home AS IS in an open run at a small off-Broadway theatre after its brief stay at 64E4 UNDERGROUND as part of FringeNYC.

This powerful, engaging, surprising and sometimes violent two character play by Jonathan A. Goldberg is based on the true life story of George Edward ‘Rube’ Waddell a prized southpaw pitcher. He led the major leagues in strikeouts for six consecutive years. Drink was his downfall causing Sporting News to nickname him Sousepaw.

As the play begins he is asleep or perhaps passed out in a seedy hotel in Elmendorf Texas, 1913 – a year before he died at the age of 37 – wearing a union suit with a rear drop seat – coughing and confused when there is a knock on the door.

The set by April Bartlett sets the mood immediately. Enter “The Reptile Girl” (Christina Pumariega) with a small suitcase. What ensues is a magnificent character study of these two lost souls in one act that is a little more than one hour long.

He is awkward and naïve. Charming and simple. She is damaged. Sexy and kinky. She works in a circus where they met. She has come to him to help keep him sober as he prepares for his second chance in life – a new contract with a new team – as he had been fired for his drinking.

But not before a little sexual role playing with his hired escort. Unfortunately he has not enough money to pay her. Why does she stay? What will happen to these two people will amaze you and you will never forget them.

Nor will you forget these two excellent actors. James B. Kennedy portrays Rube with confidence and shyness. It is an extremely nuanced performance that is a roller coaster ride of emotions. It’s also uncanny that he resembles the real Rube Waddell. This part seems to have been tailor made for him. He’s a winner. A charmer. A troubled, desperate man.

Christina Pumariega is his match. We slowly learn her back story and root for her. And him. Caring for these two people beaten down by life looking for something better and attempting to help each other make it. They banter back and forth comically and bitter sweetly. It’s amazing how much we care for them. It’s beautifully written. Tennessee Williams came to mind.

Costume design by Deanna R Frieman, Lighting Design by Dan Henry and Fight Sequences (they do not hold back) by Rod Kinter are skillful under the astute direction of Courtney Ulrich making SOUSEPAW the major event of FringeNYC 2015. It’s unequivocally wonderful.

Photos:  Hunter Canning

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www.sousepaw.org

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The question isn’t whodunit? But why did they do it?  I am still bewildered by this dreadful play starring Everett Quinton who portrays a wealthy hot to trot woman of a certain age, Idris Seabright, who has a penchant for painting still lifes, cavorting with a hot young Cuban hunk (cursed with a huge you-know-what) who resembles her long lost lover (who also obviously had a huge you-know-what), wielding a hatchet and changing her fifties frocks and will at will.  It quite literally is a drag.  The actors do their best with what they have and the production itself is handsome (Set:  James J. Fenton; Costumes:  Charlotte Palmer-Lane; Wigs:  Bobbie Zlotnik).

A handsome hodgepodge of Hitchcock in the Florida Keys circa 1952, I Love Lucy, melodrama taken to its melodramatic limits with a few magic tricks thrown in to awe the audience. They don’t. Mostly the audience reacts stoically with a chuckle here and there.

It’s a tribute gone awry to the Ridiculous Theatre Company created by Charles Ludlam. He was a genius of this genre and must also be bewildered from the beyond by the shenanigans on stage at the Theatre at St. Clements where this production is scheduled to run through October 11^th. That will take lots of magic to pull off.

Just the announcement that Everett Quinton (who was the partner of Charles Ludlam) and heir to the zaniness brought to great heights by their company brings expectant guffaws as he is also a master of this type of high camp comedy. Not here.

Unfortunately there is little to laugh at this time around and this would-be thriller is lacking that most important aspect of a thriller. Being thrilling. It’s D.O.A. (dead on arrival) and I remember laughing once and wincing at the same time. Vivien (an excellent scene stealing Jason Edward Cook – the new drag on the block) gets to fall down an entire flight of stairs on her backside brilliantly and hopefully not too bruised.

Vivien is the lame ward of Idris, She has a penchant for sculpting penis art, a lawyer with a Southern drawl (Phineas Fenn – Timothy C. Goodwin who doubles as a narrator), the aforementioned hot Cuban hunk – Ricardo (a smooth Jason Cruz who gets to bare his buttocks) and dancing some hot Latino numbers choreographed nicely by Lorna Ventura.

The plot thickens like pea soup without involving us even remotely. Music swells at appropriate moments. There is a gun and a hatchet and a gold fish and an annoying off stage dog that barks. Nothing is left to the imagination that will all but be deadened by this lame production.

Supposedly the author is first time playwright Erasmus Fenn. But is it? That’s the real mystery behind DROP DEAD PERFECT, directed by the usually fine Joe Brancato who this time round doesn’t have a clue.

Photos:  John Quilty

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www.DropDeadPerfect.com

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Perhaps it is the heat.  Perhaps it is the fact that there are over 185 shows participating in the 19^th New York Fringe Festival to choose from that accounted for such a small turnout at The Robert Moss Theater.  Perhaps it is that WILDE TALES an adaptation of three of Oscar Wilde’s “fairy tales” by Kevin P. Joyce who also directs falls a bit short on originality.  It’s pleasant.  It’s tuneful.  It’s short – one hour.  But it doesn’t seem quite ready yet for packing the emotional wallop that is possible.

Love. Heartbreak. Friendship. The selling of one’s soul. All these are present but WILDE TALES hasn’t yet found a soul or heart of its own. With some clarification and more professional actors the production might be better served.

These tales are for sophisticated children/adults – THE HAPPY PRINCE, THE NIGHTINGALE and the ROSE and THE FISHERMAN and HIS SOUL all deal with mature themes and no amount of puppets (Dorothy James Loechel) will entertain tots. And as presented there is not enough sophistication for adults. Granted this is very difficult to pull off. Sometimes it does work, so there is hope for the future of this work. A bit more style would help.

The six young actors do their best to inhabit the various characters but they need to hone their diction and projection technique. A lot. Especially if they are serious in their pursuit of a theatrical career.

Drew Paramore is the one to keep your eye on. And Sabrina Michelle Wardlaw brings a sparkle to the Witch. The words and wisdom of Oscar Wilde stand on their own. It’s hard to better what he created. Onward! Tickets $18.00

www.FringeNYC.org

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7 rectangular tables.  7 plastic chairs.  Some potted plants.  7 microphones and a large acoustically challenged space (THEATRE 79) normally home to the New York Theatre Workshop greet you as you await the 7 actors (male and female) that will portray Helen Keller in this bizarre concoction conceived by Jack Cummings III for The Transport Group – THREE DAYS TO SEE – “a devised exploration of Helen Keller – in her own words” that literally runs through August 16^th.

7 is usually considered to be a lucky number. Not this time. Director Jack Cummings III in an attempt to make Helen Keller’s life more interesting than it already is has his troupe of Helen Kellers running hither and yon, moving the tables and sometimes throwing the chairs (and food and forks) while quoting from the many published works and lectures of this incredible woman who overcame blindness and deafness to lead an incredibly fulfilled life – learning to master Braille and sign language, learning to speak and to listen to others speak by reading their lips with her hands. If only this was brought to light it may have helped clarify the production.

As is it, it’s a jumble. The importance of Helen Keller’s words and thoughts are undermined by all the movement and pre-recorded music. It’s a battle with the soundtrack that all but derails this concept.

The actors quickly pace back and forth asking questions or spewing thoughts; there is a prolonged segment that brings back The Miracle Worker material when Annie Sullivan got Helen to recognize the word “water” and learned to eat properly as they battle with each other (each actor taking turns at being Helen) to the strains of, I think, Gene Krupa’s mastery of the drums in the swing version of Sing! Sing! Sing! This garnered much applause as the actors clean up the mess of thrown food and water as thoughts continue.

This after a manic opening of tasteless Helen Keller jokes using the aforementioned microphones. They are then removed. The remainder of the too long show (almost two hours without intermission) is a repetition of Ms. Keller’s thoughts on various subjects such as Gone With the Wind, death, racism, socialism, vaudeville, Chaplain, censorship, Sam Clemens and Alexander Graham Bell all at odds with the intrusive musical score. Name That Tune came to mind.

It doesn’t help that some voices are ill-suited to project in the echo chamber of a stage. The result appears to be a collegiate exercise of theatrical excess – to be different for the sake of being different. The words and thoughts and feelings of the intelligent and gifted Ms. Keller suffer. Helen Keller “cultivated the art of silence” and that is nowhere in evidence in this production.

The most interesting aspect – although it too is too long – are the thoughts from Helen Keller about what she would do if she had three days to see. Nice.

It seems to be staged for “in the round” although it’s presented in proscenium. In the past I have admired Transport Group. Its choices and its direction. The success of THREE DAYS TO SEE remains to be seen.

The energetic actors portraying Helen Keller (and sometimes others) are Ito Aghayere, Patrick Boll, Marc delaCruz, Theresa McCarthy, Chinaza Uche, Barbara Walsh and Zoe Wilson.

Sound design:  Walter Trarbach   Musical Staging:  Scott Rink   Dramaturg:  Kristina Williams

Photos:  Carol Rosegg

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www.transportgroup.org

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This ambitious and epic original musical will be remembered for three things:  the Act I faux underwater finale where anti-hero John Newton (Josh Young) is saved by his slave/friend/confidante Thomas aka Pakuteh (Chuck Cooper) in a spectacular Cirque-du-Soleil type rescue – the Act II Hurricane where in its aftermath John Newton after many trials and tribulations finds Thomas and God and the inspiration for the title song which is the third and most amazing thing about this production – the epilogue – where the entire large cast sings an exceptionally stirring and memorable rendition of AMAZING GRACE.

The show has been cast with terrific singers who unfortunately get to voice the monotonous, unmemorable score by Christopher Smith (music and lyrics) and act the melodramatic script by Mr. Smith with the assistance of Arthur Giron.

AMAZING GRACE is a beautiful production to behold.   The late 18^th century gowns by Toni-Leslie James are sumptuous.  The nautical sets (Eugene Lee/Edward Pierce) with its rigging and sails and pulleys allow director Gabriel Barre to travel quickly from England to Sierra Leone to beneath the sea with dexterity.  All beautifully lit by Ken Billington and Paul Miller.

But the story treads water for most of the first act.  It fails to engage despite the fine performance of Josh Young as John Newton – a headstrong young man at odds with his headstrong father Captain Newton (Tom Hewitt) who runs a business that imports and auctions off slaves from Africa.  A very lucrative business both for them and the African Princess Peyai (a headstrong Harriet D. Foy) who just about chews up the Palm trees and anyone else who gets in her way.

John loves Mary (an excellent Erin Mackey) who frowns upon the family business but adores John and the poems he has written to her.

She becomes an activist against slavery and sets out to obtain information from Major Gray (Chris Hoch) – a buffoon who wants to woo her as Captain Newton has had his son abducted into the Royal Navy as punishment for his wayward ways which leads to the grand under water rescue which leads them to believe John is dead which leads us to Sierra Leone where John becomes enslaved by the evil Princess Peyei which allows choreographer Christopher Gattelli to create gyrations which remind us of a far superior Disney show about African lions.

Did it happen this way?  Or have the creators taken great poetic license with the source material?  Read the fabulous A RESPECTABLE TRADE by Philippa Gregory to be further enlightened on this very interesting topic – the horrors of slavery and the selling of humans as merchandise – sometimes two for one in the case of a very pregnant captive.

BUT one cannot fail to be moved by the epilogue – the excellent choral arrangement of Amazing Grace, words by John Newton with music by William Walker – that says it all:

AMAZING GRACE! HOW SWEET THE SOUND

THAT SAVED A WRETCH LIKE ME

I ONCE WAS LOST, BUT NOW AM FOUND

WAS BLIND, BUT NOW I SEE!

Most of what precedes this song is merely superfluous.  At the Nederlander Theatre.

Photos:  Joan Marcus

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I was there.  Thursday July 9^th, the night after the “snatching of the cellphone scandal” when Patti LuPone strode on stage before the start of the ill-fated SHOWS FOR DAYS enunciating clearly “Anything you want to ask me?” to thunderous applause and whoops and whistles from her loyal fans regarding said incident.  More applause and shouts of approval after her short but intense curtain speech.

Then the show officially began. The delightful, adorable and downright huggable Michael Urie arrived on the prop infested stage of The Mitzi E. Newhouse Theater at Lincoln Center as “Car” the alter ego of playwright Douglas Carter Beane in this quasi semi-autobiographical stillborn opus in an OUR TOWN like presentation as he sets up the piece.

He will be our narrator. And furniture mover. Looking back fondly through lavender tinted glasses. Removing said glasses he becomes the fourteen year old (this is not a typo yes he is supposed to be a fourteen year old naïve/precocious youth – use your imagination – who has fallen upon this amateur acting troupe in Reading PA. – 1973.

William Ivey Long has hit the target dead center with his tasteless and tacky costumes of that tacky and tasteless era. He must have been watching re-runs of The Match Game for inspiration.

Back to the play. Or whatever. It’s directed with an extremely heavy hand by Jerry Zaks who attempts to find and highlight whatever humor lies lurking in the script. He’s still looking.

Patti LuPone is the star diva Irene who runs the show. Married to a husband we never see. Taking her meds when needed that we do see. Often. She’s your typical diva queen that typical theater queens adore. No matter what. She could just stand there and ask a simple question like “Anything you want to ask me?” and they’ll go wild. Simply wild.

Her troupe includes Maria (Zoe Winters) the ingénue. The young leading man Damien (Jordan Dean – Mr. AC/DC), the bull dyke stage manager Sid (Dale Soules) and Clive (Lance Coadie Williams – the black and gay older leading man) with a voice suited to portray Othello or Captain Hook. Irene is an equal opportunity employer.

All the characters are one dimensional. Sketchy. And at times deliver their “jokes” straight out. You can almost hear the cymbals clash as an exclamation point. What you will hear – often – is the sound of the wrecking ball – destroying the theater that Irene is trying to save – even going so far as to blackmail – to get what she wants – an official not-for-profit theater!

We get the history of Reading and its environs. Their local reviews. Their attempt to lure in subscribers. Their rival company. Costumes from their production of Peter Pan. And the sexual awakening and initiation to the act (behind a screen – use your imagination) between Car and Damien who has also been doing the deed with Irene. When you remember that Car is all of fourteen – jail bait – funny somehow doesn’t come to mind.

Perhaps that infamous cellphone offender was texting the box office demanding a refund.

For the record I am all for the banning of cellphones during performance.

Even after Ms. LuPone’s speech and widespread brouhaha over said incident don’t you think late in Act II I heard that all too familiar ring tone nearby that was quickly shut down before Patti could muster the militia. Imagine that if you will!

Limited engagement.

Photos:  Joan Marcus

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www.LCT.org

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