Oscar E Moore

In this splendid revival of Lanford Wilson’s 1980 Pulitzer award winning play TALLEY’S FOLLY the language of love reigns supreme.  It’s July 4^th 1944.

As beautifully directed by Michael Wilson this romantic tale of two unlikely people falling in love with each other is a Valentine to the theatre going public delivered by the Roundabout Theatre Company in 97 minutes.  97 minutes in real time and theatrical time.

The wonderful production is playing Off Broadway at the Laura Pels Theatre and should not be missed.  Even if you are not a romantic you will succumb to the spell cast by its two leading actors who couldn’t be a better match for each other.

A sensational Danny Burstein is Matt Friedman.  He is forty something, an accountant and Jewish and had fallen hard the previous summer where he became smitten with Sally Talley (a spellbinding Sarah Paulson) who is a nurse’s aide and thirty something and not Jewish.

In fact, her wealthy family considers her well on the way to becoming an eccentric old maid in the land of Missouri as they reconnect in the dilapidated old boathouse where they first met.

She, with her refined elegance, is attracted to him in a certain way but holds back, thinking that their continuing on in a relationship would never work.  He is a grand storyteller and sets us up in a most delightful theatrical manner trying his best with humor and restrained flirtation to ease her into moving on with him even though he is considered “a commie infidel” by her family.

They have more in common than meets the eye and it is delightful to see them baiting each other, arguing and eventually opening enough about their pasts to have us swooning and rooting for their being together.

These two may be different but they are smart.  Along the way is a very amusing scene that has Matt donning ice skates.  Danny Burstein is a most accomplished actor, with expert comic timing and an agility that has him giving his all for love.

A love that Ms. Paulson tries her best to deter and derail.  Luckily for everyone involved there is a happy ending.  How romantic is that?

The exceptional lighting design is by Rui Rita which adds to the magical mystery of what constitutes love on the Laura Pels stage in this very satisfying production that has been extended through May 12^th.

www.RoundaboutTheatre.org  Photos:  Joan Marcus

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Texas is noteworthy for two things – the Alamo and Ann Richards who became the 45^th Governor of the Lone Star State quite by accident, a twist of fate, her tenacity and hard work ethic instilled in her by her dad who was a master story teller as is Holland Taylor who has written this wonderfully theatrical piece, ANN, which examines the highs and lows, warts and all, of this feisty Texan who overcame the bigotry of her being a woman, a divorced woman at that, an alcoholic and a Democrat to become one of the most well known, controversial, outspoken and opinionated Governors of these United States.

Holland Taylor, eerily looking every inch a replica of Ann Richards – in her trademark white suit, pile of hair and diamond star pin and speaking her mind with a Texas drawl to the students in a school auditorium – the Vivian Beaumont Theater – addressing us, the audience, giving the commencement address for the graduating class reflects on her life, past and present with transitions as smooth as silk. 

Surprising sets (Michael Fagin) and projections (Zachary Borovay) keep the show flowing nicely aided by the detailed direction of Benjamin Endsley Klein – right down to the massaging of her sore feet.

Giving speeches was Ann Richard’s forte.  She loved to talk.  And boy was she funny and fun by her own admission.  Holland Taylor is Ann Richards and has written this illuminating bio/drama with total passion and obvious love.

There is some live footage of the Democratic National Convention Atlanta 1988 where Ann Richards gave her now famous Keynote Speech.  And then Holland Taylor takes over, literally filling the stage with her larger than life portrayal of a woman who was herself larger than life.  It’s a marvel to see her re-enact the most interesting life of Ann Richards as she plays off the audience as if telling her story for the first time.

As Governor in her opulent office she orders her assistant (the offstage voice of Julie White) via intercom while multi tasking – signing documents, talking to Bill Clinton, a couple of her four children (arranging for Thanksgiving), mending the fringe of a flag, dealing with nuclear waste, buying boots for her staff and trying to decide about granting clemency of a young man on Death Row.  All with her trademark humor.  Although this could be trimmed a bit making the two hour two act show tighter.

There are so many terrific quotable lines but Ann Richards will be most remembered for her devotion to her family, her devotion to minorities and the rights of women, gun control (she had a very amusing way of dealing with it) and for the last great speech that she never got to give that Holland Taylor has cleverly found a way of presenting that almost has the audience cheering in its seats.

It’s a fantastic embodiment of a larger than life personality who had some mighty fine things to say that we should all listen closely to, most importantly to have a conscience.  We have the power.  We must use it well and please stop whining and VOTE.

www.theannrichardsplay.com  Photos:  Ave Bonar

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At the couldn’t-come-fast-enough conclusion of Amy Herzog’s newest foray into drama BELLEVILLE being presented by The New York Theatre Workshop, Amina (Pascale Armand) the French/Senegalese wife of Alioune (Phillip James Brannon) is on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor as her husband collects items in the recently vacated apartment of their rather strange tenants – a young married American couple with multiple problems Zack (Greg Keller) and Abby (Maria Dizzia) – exclaiming under her breath “incroyable” with the intended translation of “unbelievable”.

I couldn’t agree more.  Heralded at Yale in 2011 – this commissioned piece has gone through multiple revisions and drafts.  The resulting BELLEVILLE is unconvincing and unsatisfying, hardly the psychological nail-biting thriller promised with characters that are unlikable, medicated and reliant upon pot and sex to solve their many tribulations.

It’s Christmas time in Paris and a disturbed and jumpy Abby unexpectedly returns home with her Yoga mat (she teaches) and an armful of gifts for her family back in the States where her sister is awaiting the imminent birth of a baby only to discover Zack watching some porn on his laptop in the adjoining bedroom and well doing what comes naturally when watching porn. 

He has stayed home from work and thus starts the at-home with Zack and Abby story complete with carving knife, locked bathroom door, stubbed toe, red herrings, pot smoking, problems with their work visas, naked butt, blood and a lot of blank stage time with the obviously impatient audience waiting to see how all this will turn out., which really isn’t worth the time or energy exerted.

The landlord gives them an ultimatum as they are four months in arrears with the rent.  I don’t think any French landlord would wait four months before speaking up – anyway he shares in the pot smoking with Zack.

Zack and Abby hold back truths from one another and they slowly share them with us in one of the most agonizing afternoons I’ve spent at the theatre.

Of the four, Pascale Armand stands out as the level headed feisty wife of the landlord giving an interesting bi-lingual performance that at least holds our interest for the short time she spends on stage.

The set (Julia C. Lee) costumes (Mark Nagle) and lighting (Ben Stanton) do not help at all under the lackadaisical direction of Anne Kauffman.  BELLEVILLE is hardly up to the high standards and past productions of The New York Theatre Workshop. 

Through March 31^st.

Photos Joan Marcus

www.NYTW.org

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Why?  Why resurrect the most notorious flop in Broadway history?  In 1983 MOOSE MURDERS opened and closed in a heartbeat – murdered by the critics.  This production presented by The Beautiful Soup Theater Collective certainly lives up to its reputation.  It is an excruciating mess on all accounts.  So, why bother?

From the opening sounds of crickets chirping, sounding as if they are on steroids to the closing moments that do not come soon enough we wonder what possessed Arthur Bicknell to write this so-called “farce” in the first place – a farce with only a single door that is a closet.  Mr. Bicknell has reworked and rewritten and the results are ridiculous.

I went as I was tempted to see if MOOSE MURDERS could be as bad as everyone seems to have thought.  It is worse.  The cast is amateurish at best.  The direction: absent.  And the creative elements: not even laughable.  The audience (and there were a lot more than I expected at Saturday’s matinee at the Connelly Theatre way over on East 4^th Street) sat stone faced throughout and dumbfounded.

Briefly here is the plot:  The Holloways have bought an old Hunting Lodge that has a creepy legend attached – an axe wielding Moose on the loose.

Mama, Hedda the family Holloway arrives with her brood of misfits – Gay, a precocious tap dancing brat, her stoned out brother Stinky who has an odd attraction for his mom, Lauraine who is married to Nelson Fay and her wheel chair bound, paralyzed and silent husband Sidney who is attended by Nurse Dagmar – and English improve actress.

There is an effeminate caretaker dressed as a Native American Indian – Joe Buffalo Dance – and two of the most annoying so-called entertainers Snooks Keene and Howie Keene.  He is blind and she is tone deaf.

One wonders when the murders will start after the first half hour of waiting for something to happen.  Act II – there is an Act II which happens to be worse than Act I mostly occurs off stage and in the dark.  You will either be looking at an empty stage for long stretches of a time or sitting in the dark wondering why you are sitting in the dark.

Quotes from the dialogue:  “You’re embarrassing us all” – “A huge mistake” – “Even the phone is dead” and “Got no pulse” could all be used to describe how I felt about MOOSE MURDERS. 

May it finally “rest in peace”.   Through February 10^th 

Note:  Bring back Bullwinkle!

Photo:  Samantha Mercado Tudda

www.beautifulsouptheatercollective.org

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Hamish Linklater is one of our most promising A-list young actors.  He is clever, concise and quirky.  He did a brilliant job in David Ives’s “The School for Lies” at the Classic Stage Company, shone in “Seminar” and might be better known to most for his role on the television show “The New Adventures of Old Christine”.

He is now a most promising playwright.  His ninety minute enigma, THE VANDAL, has just opened at The Flea Theater on White Street, Off-Off Broadway and it is a refreshing and most welcome relief from the many sorry revivals being produced on Broadway.

Believability is foremost.  Believability in the characters, their actions and relationships make for a sharp and intriguing production helmed by Jim Simpson who with his creative team (David M. Barber, set – Brian Aidous, lighting and Claudia Brown, costumes) keeps the audience on its toes for the ninety minutes running time as the story detours here and there, twisting and turning and being most original.  Keeping us wondering who is being truthful.  Who is really who?.  And having us devour every crisp word of dialogue.

The cast is exceptional.

Deirdre O’Connell gives a mesmerizing and multi-textured performance as Woman – as she waits on a cold bench for a bus on a cold night in Kingston, New York – a place that one wishes never to have to be waiting for a bus – a bus that never seems to be on time or arrive, somewhat akin to waiting for Godot, going from anxious to out of control to acceptance.

Boy (Noah Robbins giving another most memorable performance) enters and tries to strike up a conversation with this seeming troubled and cold and taciturn woman who doesn’t trust herself to open up to this stranger who tells the most disturbing and curious stories as he attempts to lure her into buying him some beer.

The bus stop is somewhere between the local hospital and cemetery.  The nearby liquor store is where Man (a finely tuned Zach Grenier) sells beer and cigarettes and has his own stories to weave.  We wonder who is telling the truth and you will be swayed back and forth as revelations unfold.

Everyone has a friend who has a problem.  But who is the friend?  Is it you? – as you try to explain your feelings without stating that the problems are really yours?

Marriage, death, sickness, drinking, connecting, lies and honesty are touched upon with a fresh voice and insight in this smart and satisfying and yes, entertaining production that features a couple of odd false endings.

With a fine ear for language Mr. Linklater manipulates with great skill.  One surprise follows another in this dark comedy leading to an emotional, riveting and unexpected ending that you should experience for yourself.   Through February 17^th.

Photos: Joan Marcus

www.theflea.org

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This most recent revival of CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF by Tennessee Williams, another Pulitzer Prize winning drama from the 1950’s (PICNIC being another) starring Scarlett Johansson who won a Tony for her performance in Arthur Miller’s A VIEW FROM THE BRIDGE, doesn’t enhance the reputation of either person.

It’s a long, three act evening and I have been scratching my head to find something positive to write about the lukewarm production directed by Rob Ashford that scratches only the surface of the play with actors that deliver one dimensional performances. 

The gossip along Broadway has is that Mr. Ashford’s original concept for CAT had to be abandoned to a nearby alley.  He wanted to add some musical numbers and the appearance of Skipper as a ghost-like presence – the football buddy of Brick whose death causes Brick to find solace in numerous bottles of booze as opposed to the bed of his wife Maggie. 

A bed he has not shared for some time.  The ghost is gone but there are remnants of songs sung offstage and on.  There are intermittent fireworks but they are not from the actors.  There is a huge storm that passes as fast as it starts.  Unfortunately the play slowly limps along.

What’s left is what I saw and it’s not a pretty picture.  Literally.  The enormous, operatic looking, cavernous bedroom set by Christopher Oram with its four, rickety floor to the highest of ceiling French doors swathed in gauzelike fabric all but dwarfs the diminutive Ms. Johansson whose garbled Southern dialect makes her almost monologue of Act I difficult to understand.    

She comes on like a bitch in heat – angry at all those “no-neck monsters” the children of Brick’s brother Gooper (Michael Park) and his again pregnant wife Mae (Emily Bergl).  She berates and complains and smokes while Brick drinks and listens and hobbles around with a cast on his broken ankle that he got jumping hurdles at 3a.m.

Brick is played by an underwhelming Benjamin Walker.

It is his father’s birthday, the coarse, red-neck Big Daddy (Ciaran Hinds).  He has cancer but he thinks it’s simply a “spastic colon” – No one tells him the truth.  In fact no one tells anyone the truth or they are in denial. 

Act II is Big Daddy’s time to “shoot the breeze”, “go on a talking jag” and “run off at the mouth” trying to find out the REAL problem with Brick while Maggie all but fades into the background.

Could be his Big Mama (Debra Monk) who repeatedly adores her Greek God of a son – her “precious baby” while ignoring his brother Gooper. 

Not much is resolved by Mr. Williams whose tale must have been shocking when it opened but is old-hat now.  Mr. Ashford’s choice of having the little kids running around the bedroom with pistols chasing and shooting is a dubious choice as was the decision to revive this play.

www.CatOnAHotTinRoofBroadway.com  Through March 30th

Photos: Joan Marcus

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It’s difficult to imagine that the classic William Inge 1953 play PICNIC was awarded a Pulitzer Prize after seeing this unacceptable, clumsy and clunky production at the American Airlines Theatre produced by the inconsistent Roundabout Theatre Company.

Taking place in a small Kansas town in the 1950’s where the women are hungry and not for the potato salad they are preparing for the Labor Day annual picnic we see them literally salivate over the new hunky hired hand Hal Carter (Sebastian Stan with forced charisma) as he struts and poses with his torso bared and oiled as he hauls some wood off stage helping out Mrs. Potts (a believable Ellen Burstyn) who has hired him – mainly to look at it seems.  They are all starved for affection and sex.  Where’s Carrie Bradshaw when you need her?

Not much work is accomplished in the communal yard she shares with Mrs. Owens (Mare Winningham) who has two daughters – the pretty one Madge (Maggie Grace) and the tom boyish and bookish Millie (a terrific Madeline Martin) whose one desire is to get out of town and go to New York.  No one can blame her for that.

Hal has come to town to seek work from his “frat” buddy – Alan Seymour (Ben Rappaport) whose family has connections and money.  But poor Alan who is going steady with Madge (mom advising her to marry him ASAP) doesn’t feel that he could ever be worthy of her and she feels that she is too pretty to fit in.  That is, until she meets up with Hal.  Too bad they have no sexual tension or chemistry going on – it’s a case of the sizzle fizzling.  Hal too, has “fit in” problems.  They all do.  Inge might have called the play THE MISFITS.

Living in the same house is the “old maid school teacher” Rosemary (a marvelous Elizabeth Marvel) who longs to marry Howard (a forlorn Reed Birney) a shopkeeper who needs liquor to get his juices flowing.  Their story is the most interesting and I remember vividly seeing Rosalind Russell in the movie version when I was ten.  What I was doing at PICNIC at ten I don’t remember.  But I do remember her performance and Ms. Marvel matches it.

I also remember the music.  The theme from PICINIC combined with MOONGLOW.  It was sublime.  And a bit of that might have helped as the choice of music here is annoying to say the least.

The awful set by Andrew Lieberman would probably get a D is set design class.  It’s cramped and that back wall that the Owens house abuts is ridiculous as their second floor goes right through it.

The usually spot on director Sam Gold should have caught that.  In addition, his awkward staging makes this PICNIC almost unbearable.

One bright spot:  Chris Perfetti as the newspaper delivery boy, Bomber Gutzel, who exhibits all of the adolescent charm and horniness without going overboard in his desire to woo Madge.  He’s delightful.

Through February 24^th.    Go see THE MYSTERY OF EDWIN DROOD instead.  That’s a real feast.

www.RoundaboutTheatre.org   Photos:  Joan Marcus

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Juliana Smithton (an extraordinary Laurie Metcalf) – caustic, condescending, mocking mother of a distant runaway daughter, successful neurologist and scientific researcher who is in the throws of a divorce has lots of problems as she pitches her new “wonder dementia drug” that doesn’t seem to be helping her one bit as she experiences “episodes” that cause her to lose focus, go blank, and have horrible mood swings.  

Least of her problems but one that Juliana obsesses over is the young, attractive woman in the yellow string bikini sitting among those doctors listening to her sales pitch as we are lured into her complicated life that is slowly descending into dementia.

Juliana has always had problems as we discover in the compelling new memory loss play THE OTHER PLACE by Sharr White that is expertly directed by Joe Mantello who has assembled a fine creative team to bring this stark and stirring drama to life as produced by the Manhattan Theatre Club at the Samuel J. Friedman Theatre on West 47^th Street.  It’s a production that sneaks up on you and hits you with a hard emotional wallop that is what good theater should accomplish.

Laurie Metcalf sits center stage in a cage like set by Eugene Lee & Edward Pierce as we enter the theatre to hear her lecture.  She sits almost motionless.  It’s eerie.  She seems deeply troubled but sits there calmly like a wax mannequin from Madame Tussauds.  

She is dressed simply but chicly (David Zinn) in black.  Spike heels show off her gorgeous legs.  She is physically fit until she begins her dark journey that will leave her shrunken and barefoot on the floor being fed by a woman she has mistaken for her daughter (Zoe Perry – in one of three roles – giving an equally remarkable performance) Ms. Perry, by the way is Laurie Metcalf’s daughter which adds just another intriguing aspect to their portrayals. 

Then the problems surface, bubbling up until they reach a boiling and breaking point allowing Ms. Metcalf to give a layered and multi textured performance that stuns and is award worthy.

Her husband Ian (Daniel Stern) is impressive as he grapples with the loss of his wife’s memory and her inability to cope. 

John Schiappa as the older husband of their daughter who had his career ruined by Juliana is a noticeable good presence in the non-linear short scenes he is in that intermittently break up the lecture with its excellent projections (William Cusick) and appropriate non-intrusive original music by Fitz Patton.

Being told you do not have brain cancer should be a good thing.  Unless you haves something far worse that cannot be treated.

www.ManhattanTheatreClub.com  Photos:  Joan Marcus

NOTE:  THE OTHER PLACE had its world premiere at MCC Theater March 11, 2011.

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Hi Oscar,

I hope this finds you doing great and enjoying the Holidays. I wanted to get you my new single release. I know it’s late in the season to release a Holiday song, but I never really liked following the rules. LOL

I have been wanting to record this song for a while but life just got in the way. Then just 3 weeks ago, I told life to get out of my way. 

So with the title, “Just in Time For Christmas”, it’s being marketed that way. This song was first recorded by Nancy Lamott.

My version is the sound of today that makes one feel so good by the end of the song. The arrangement was done by Edward B. Kessel, who did all the arranging of “A Tale of Two Cities”. And we managed to shoot a video as well. The video should be launched sometime today on You Tube.

Anyway, was wondering if you can take a listen for your review.

Let me know if this is something you can do or even want to this late in the season.

Thank you for your time. And I wish you all the best.

NATALIE

Please listen and enjoy this lovely new Christmas recording by Miss Natalie Toro at www.NatalieToro.com and help spread the cheer.  It is sure to become a classic! OR

https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/just-in-time-for-christmas/id587984720

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HAPPY HOLIDAYS

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Lincoln Center Theater has delivered a one-two punch in its gritty, powerful and sterling 75^th anniversary revival of GOLDEN BOY by Clifford Odets now playing at the Belasco Theatre where it originally opened to rave reviews produced by The Group Theatre in 1937 and later made into a movie starring William Holden as Joe Bonaparte.

Seth Numrich has inherited the role and is wonderful as the 21 year old Italian violin virtuoso who decides that being a boxer will bring him the fame and fortune he so desires, leaving his God given talent behind much to the sadness of his devoted father played beautifully and touchingly by Tony Shalhoub. 

Master director Bartlett Sher has cast his nineteen actors perfectly and his creative team (Sets – Michael Yeargan, Costumes – Catherine Zuber and Lighting (Donald Holder) has brought to stark life the look of the troubled thirties in a noir B film – with the tenement buildings dwarfing the characters trying to make a go of it in the boxing ring called life.

Mr. Numrich is an eager beaver and will do anything to convince manager Tom Moody (the excellent Danny Mastrogiorgio) to let him fight.  Fighting is what he needs to do.  Fighting is what propels the drama to its tragic end.

As Tom verbally spars with his mistress Lorna Moon (the extraordinary Yvonne Strahovski – a combination of Joan Blondell and Veronica Lake) – “a tramp from Newark” Joe enters their lives and immediately falls for Lorna – just to complicate things a bit more.  She too has choices to make and is as torn as Joe is as to what direction to follow.

Over the course of three acts we see the development of Joe’s career – from “cockeyed wonder” to just plain cocky, his growing stature and ability to afford an expensive car – a Duesenberg, his involvement with Eddie Fuseli (an intense Anthony Crivello) a mobster who buys a piece of Joe and has a penchant for being well dressed and perhaps young men, and the love relationship between Joe and Lorna, Lorna and Tom and Joe and his father.  A father who spends his hard earned money on a special violin for Joe that is heartbreakingly laid aside.

All of the supporting cast members are superb.  Especially Danny Burstein as Joe’s trainer Tokio, Jonathan Hadary – a Jewish neighbor/philosopher Mr. Carp who adds a touch of humor (in fact Mr. Odets was very funny and caustic when not dealing in the larger picture of choosing one’s course in life) and a very special charismatic Michael Aronov as Joe’s cab driving brother, Siggie who along with his wife Anna – (Dagmara Dominczyk) add spice to the family at home scenes.

If the play itself has moments that are tarnished the dialogue still resonates profoundly and the acting more than makes up for any odd moments – like the off stage playing of the infamous violin and the lethargic scene changes.

You can almost smell the sweat in the beautifully staged gym locker room scenes as we hear the roar of the crowd above witnessing the prize fights.

Some say to follow your passion, your dreams and you will be successful and the money will follow.  But young Joe had two passions (actually three if you include Lorna) and chose to follow, in this case, the wrong fork in the road he traveled on.

GOLDEN BOY is a great theatrical experience and might just bring back vintage Fedora hats.

www.LCT.org  Photos:  Paul Kolnik

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