Apocalypse Neo

Apocalypse Neo is a series of three Neo-Futurist plays commenting on the apocalypse, and one of those ("In which...") is certainly worth seeing. But "Monkeyland" seems like an experiment and "Revelations" is just basking in its own conventions, so as a whole, the night's a bit uneven. Perhaps it's just a little too trendy of a fringe production.


Reviewed by Aaron Riccio

Including, but not restricted to, scenes from a musical adaptation of Apocalypse Now, the Neo-Futurists' "prime-time production" of Apocalypse Neo uses the possibly impending apocalypse as an excuse to showcase three plays on the end of the world as we know it. Of those three plays, "In which the end of the world..." is a solid hit, using the pretense of a live debate to give way to a comic poignancy as two teams of three set up delightful presentations for their case. "Monkeyland II (anatk 21.10)" is a little too disconnected for anything other than the overarching theme to come across. We get the epic parody of our need to place our faith in things (expressed via a toy monkey tirelessly clapping its cymbals across the "wasteland" of a stage), but it's an unflinching, unassertive thirty minutes of theater. "Revelations of a City of Us" is the least substantial of them all--a series of pop-culture musings that try to support their flimsy premise by pulling people up from the audience--but it succeeds only in terms of stagecraft.

There are many interesting elements of theater presented in the whole of Apocalypse Neo, from a choreographed dance to Muse's "Knights of Cydonia" to a series of exhibits worthy of a fourth-grade science fair that will make you think 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee in their simplistically devious humor. There are also some surprisingly emotional performances, as with Erica Livingston, who shares her tax report with us even as she passes around a sympathy card to be filled out for a friend of hers and then tells us that we have to act now, as there may not be much time left.

Given that the Neo-Futurist movement is supposed to deny nothing, and that "In which the end of the world..." was a collaborative effort between Justin Tolley and his cast, there's no telling how much was real of the evening, and how much was just clever writing, but I've got no desire to break the illusion. I only wish that so much of Apocalypse Neo itself didn't go about forcefully reminding us of the long-gone fourth wall: it doesn't do enough with the audience to deserve losing that barrier.

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Kraine Theater (85 East 4th Street)
Tickets (212-868-4444): $15.00
FINAL PERFORMANCES: 2/8, 2/9, and 2/10 @ 8:00

The Silent Concerto

An emotionally-resonant exploration of love triangles, plot twists and the never-ending process of growing up and moving on, The Silent Concerto pulls notes from The Seagull and Private Lives to create a brilliant and bittersweet sound all its own.

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Reviewed by Cait Weiss


What is the problem with Masha?

The Silent Concerto, written by Alejandro Morales and produced by Packawallop Productions and The Hypothetical Theater Company, poses many questions, but none quite as metaphorically delicious as this. The problem with Masha, we find out, is that she’s drab, failed, worn-out, all memories and no possibility… She’s the last thing a 22-year-old drama-major aspires to be (as much in The Seagull as in real life). Even without the snuff addiction, Masha is not the stuff of doe-eyed daydreams. Unlike the boundlessly beautiful Nina, Masha is not only a dream deferred – she is a dream forfeit. And, in the 14th Street Theater’s current production of The Silent Concerto, Masha epitomizes the constant fear Morales’s characters simultaneously flee and feed.

However, for a play fixated on failed dreams, The Silent Concerto has been a refreshing success. In 2005, Fringe NYC awarded the show with Best Director and Best Set Design and both the writing and the acting are as accomplished as they are ambitious. This is what young theater in New York should be – smart, challenging, and ever-so-slightly heart-wrenching.

The play, which takes place in a two bedroom East Village apartment over the course of 10 years, begins with three bare lightbulbs – the direction, by Scott Ebersold, draws a clear distinction between the character’s realities and their revisionism – and soon we see Naldo, dressed in a Morrissey t-shirt, played by the immensely likeable Drew Hirschfield. Immediately the play bursts into a meta-meltdown and Naldo’s desperately and repetitively incants, “This is a play.” And what a play indeed…

Naldo’s search for structure proves far more than simply a self-conscious plot trick – Morales uses the play’s loose and malleable meta structure as a mirror for his characters. Form fits function here, and the play’s self-conscious construction reflects the character’s self-absorption. Morales gives us a world full of possibility, both within the play and through its construction. Daydreams and imagined scenes shift into real time and then back again. This is a wildly unformed world – this is youth.

Naldo isn’t our only guide in this world, but, as our narrator, he is the most trusted. To spice things up, we’re also given two queens: Mallory, Naldo’s roommate in New York (played the captivating and adorable Susan Louise O’Connor), and Benny, Naldo’s flaming flame from Florida (played by the blond boy-bombshell Julian Stetkevych). When Benny shows up at Naldo and Mallory’s door, a love triangle pops up as quickly as a pitched tent, and we’re suddenly thrust into a drama-rific battle of hearts in which even Tori Amos’ "Crucify" becomes a lip-synched threesome.

While the show is consistently strong, some of the characters age more convincingly than others. While Hirschfield’s Naldo is the most believable as a college student, Stetkevych’s Benny isn’t nearly as compelling as a 20-something as he is once he’s evolved into his bitter, wounded adult self. O’Connor, however, gives a great performance throughout – her Mallory seems so true to life that when she reemerges as a thirty-year-old with a bag full of therapeutic drugs, it’s as if she’s ushering in the compromise of a full generation’s dreams.

The most surprising thing about this play, though, isn’t the choreographed Passion, the where-are-they-now Third Act, or even the sporadic demolition of the traditional fourth wall. No, the most shocking part of this show is that it centers on young, naïve, over-privileged, sex-obsessed drama students and, here’s the real shocker: the play is still fresh, intelligent and enjoyable. The Silent Concerto takes the most mundane, over-stocked subjects (those poor struggling white upper-middle class students…) and makes them into beautifully tangled, existentially adrift individuals, each heartbreaking in his or her unrealistic will to succeed.

True to the play’s Chekhovian influences, everyone we meet yearns to be the seagull, but at the end of the day (or at the end of Act Three, if you’d prefer), we’re left with a flock of stool pigeons. The Silent Concerto is as much about the limits of age as it is about the possibilities of youth, and while you may not leave the theater uplifted, you will leave it a little wiser.

In essence, this play is the story of Masha’s problem. And, by the end of The Silent Concerto, you finally get it. Masha’s problem is this: she remembers what it was to be Nina and she knows she can never go back.

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14th Street Theater (344 E 14th Street, b/t 1st Ave. & 2nd Ave.)
Tickets (www.smarttix.com, 212.868.4444): $18.00
Performances: January 25th through February 17th, Mondays and Thursdays at 7pm, Fridays and Saturdays at 8pm.

Dutchman

Reviewed by Jessica Freeman-Slade

Dulé Hill and Jennifer Mudge in the Cherry Lane Theatre revival (credit: Gabe Evans.)


Though this Dutchman only scratches the surface of what it could be, the revival at Cherry Lane leaves its audience searching for answers, explanations, and a way out of Baraka's tragic cycle.

To read Amiri Baraka’s 1964 play Dutchman is to weigh a parable of overt archetypes against a reality so fantastic it demands to be metaphorized. To see it staged, as in the current revival at the Cherry Lane Theatre starring Dulé Hill and Jennifer Mudge as the naive black man and his white femme fatale, is to confront the words of a militant black beat poet emerging from a 21st-century perspective. Baraka’ glorious language flows beautifully, yet the audience remains uncomfortable because of how unconscious the characters seem to be. Lula (Mudge) enters a subway car, seduces the upwardly mobile Clay (Hill), and prods him into an appropriately stereotypical rage; then, just as he seems to affirm his right to a strong, self-sustained black manhood, she stabs him and throws him off the train. Another young black man takes the now unoccupied seat, Lula sizes him up, and the cycle continues.

Hill, best known as Charlie Young on The West Wing, plays Clay as Lula first sees him: pleasant, unoffensive, entirely willing to accept her schizophrenic flirtation. Personifying all the obsequiousness and good humor for which Lula calls him an Uncle Tom, Hill’s Clay expresses no resistance to Lula whatsoever—he fully looks at her as she steps onto the train, and expresses no shame in it. Though there is something bold about this choice, it is hard to imagine that a black man in Baraka’s time was unconscious of the implications of that sidelong glance. Though she fully explores the possibilities of sexual sadism by jumping from suggestion to epithet in a single phrase, Mudge gives the audience little reason to be seduced along with Clay. Beyond her wicked smile and her long legs, her appeal is entirely metaphorical, perhaps as Baraka intended but certainly not enough to satiate audiences.

The problem behind Baraka’s allegorical play is a question of contextual awareness: are Clay and Lula playing out their own beliefs of how interracial sex might work, and how much does Clay acknowledge his role as a black man creating a sexual dynamic with a white woman? Director Bill Duke has included the presence of a train conductor (the wonderfully sly Paul Benjamin), camping between acts in a minstrel show fashion, and we are aware from his shuffle-along that Baraka's train heads in only direction: to a tragic, unavoidable end. Though Cherry Lane's revival of Dutchman only scratches the surface, it leaves the audience searching for answers, explanations, and a way out of Baraka’s tragic cycle.

Cherry Lane Theatre (38 Commerce Street)
www.telecharge.com: $36.00
Performances are Monday and Tuesday at 7:00pm, matinee on Wednesday at 1:00pm, and Thursday-Saturday at 8:00pm.

The Burial at Thebes

Exploring current political issues through an ancient lens, The Eleventh Hour Theater Company presents a topical but tepid production of Seamus Heaney's translation of Sophocles' Antigone, entitled The Burial at Thebes.

Frank Anderson as Creon, surrounded by members of the Chorus.

Photo by Jonathan Slaff

Reviewed by Ilena George

The question of what it means to be a patriot during wartime has become increasingly relevant to our society. Seamus Heaney's new translation of Sophocles’ Antigone, explores this question, and works to sound out the resonance and parallels between the current American political landscape and King Creon's dictum of either obeying his mandates or being branded a traitor to Thebes. Director Alexander Harrington takes some risks in his interpretation of the ancient story, but it is Heaney's translation that stands out most notably in this otherwise uneven production.

Antigone, the doomed-since-birth daughter of Oedipus' accidental incest with his mother, insists on burying her brother Polyneices, killed while battling the city of Thebes. King Creon has declared Polyneices to be an enemy of the city, unworthy of burial, and Antigone refuses to accept this; she buries her brother and is buried alive as punishment for defying the king. Standout performances from Frank Anderson as Creon and Jessica Crandall as Antigone pit the two main characters against each other as worthy adversaries: Antigone has youth and religious conviction on her side while Creon relies on his position as all-powerful ruler. Antigone is an easy character to fall for, and despite Creon's poor rationale for his decisions, he still evokes pity as an old, stubbornly dogmatic man watching all he's worked and stood for ripped from him by a young girl.

Heaney’s poet’s eye provides a graceful lyricism to his translation that alternates between poetic description and accessible idiomatic speech. His interpretations of the choral sections were powerful when half-spoken and half-sung by the eleven members of the chorus; the words seemed meant for song. Except often the chorus' singing was underscored by Carman Moore's oddly upbeat-sounding music, which jarred with the tragic events the chorus described and lessened the words' impact. Overall, the play lacked cohesiveness; the chorus switched from its operatic recitations to different styles—including a section styled after spoken-word and one with a rhythm that seemed more appropriate for ballroom dance—that abutted each other and felt awkward and inconsistent. This was just one rough edge to the production; the staging was at times gauche—speeches delivered with the actor's back to the audience, chorus members placed in positions that blocked the audience's view of the stage—and it wasn't just Moore's music that was inconsistent in tone. The performances of the rest of the cast were not on the same level as the leads, both in terms of skill and in the style of delivery.

The bare-bones set and costumes, including cheekbone-highlighting face paint eerily reminiscent of death masks, were simple but effective, allowing Heaney's translation to remain the real focus of the show. For hardcore aficionados of the classics, that alone may make this production worthwhile. For those less devoted to ancient drama, a trip to Barnes and Nobles to browse Heaney's translation may suffice.

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The Burial at Thebes, translated by Seamus Heaney,
directed by Alexander Harrington.
January 25 - February 11, 2007
La MaMa E.T.C. (First Floor Theatre), 74A East Fourth Street
Thursday through Sunday at 8:00 pm plus Sunday matinees at 2:30 pm.
Tickets: $18, Box Office (212) 475-7710. Online ticketing available at www.lamama.org

The Mammy Project

This critical and, at times, educational jaunt through the past 140 years of historical and pop culture representation of the African American woman is marred by the writer's need to lighten the mood and shock the audience. This one woman show which was created out of the desire to, in the artists words, "show my abilities and talents beyond what the industry could fathom," proves that even the most personal project doesn't spell success.
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Reviewed by Kristyn R Smith

The Mammy Project attempts a difficult mission in its short hour-long running time. The goal- to cultivate a discussion of the stereotypes that have plagued African American people from the days of slavery, and thereby alter our perceptions - is not consistently effective. Reasons include the short-scene method used for covering such a vast time span, as well as the clown-y shock-value style acting. The solo performance by Michelle Matlock, who is also the writer/creator, has moments of poignancy. Her strengths, and in turn, the piece's strengths, derive from the historic creation of Aunt Jemima and the woman who was the first to bring this “larger than life” character to the world, Nancy Green. Character development here is minimal, as Matlock seems intent on portraying as many different people as she can, story notwithstanding. Even then, the speech excerpts from the likes of Booker T. Washington and Fredrick Douglas are intriguing. If only these dramatic vignettes weren’t interspersed - interrupted - by poorly executed mime, prat falls, obscenities, and sexual innuendo. One glance at the publicity poster below says it all.

I can appreciate the message that this work tries to get across. It is important to tear down walls built by stereotypes. Unfortunately, this mission derails through missteps inherent in the writer-performer relationship. For Michelle Matlock composing and starring in her own show is an excellent way to showcase her skills, but considering what she brings to the table, and the magnitude of her project, it's a challenge indeed to convince her audience of the seriousness of her mission.
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The Mammy Project is playing in repertory at
The American Theatre of Actors
314 West 54th Street
Now through February 10, 2007
Tickets are $18

Silence

(Chosen as one of The New Theater Corps'
FIVE FAVORITES for 2/2/07)
Silence
by Moira Buffini
Dir. by Suzanne Agins
The Roundtable Ensemble
American Theatre of Actors, 314 W 54th St

A tale of medieval corruption, brutality and mysticism by Moira Buffini, Silence is a problem play: interesting material but mishandled. It would be a hard production to pull off on any level and this particular production has it’s moments, but never seems up to speed.

Running in rep with the Taming of the Shrew and a one woman show, the Mammy Project, and sharing similar themes, Silence deals with issues of gender, power, identity, and transformation in Dark Age England. In particular, the play concentrates on the suppression of distinct social sectors- the female sex, servant class, and clergy- with obvious moral lessons for the modern audience.

The plot follows French princess Ymma (Kelly Hutchinson), sent to England in punishment for her wild-ways, where, at the mercy of King Ethelred (played skillfully with growing power and blood lust by Joe Plummer) she is married to an adolescent Duke of Cumbria- the eponymous Viking boy “Silence” (Makela Spielman).

Following a treasonous incident, Ymma’s court, including a patient handmaid (Helen Coxe), fumbling priest (Greg Hildreth) and self-proclaimed clairvoyant guard (Chris Kipiniak), flee to the north pursued by the hot-headed King. It is along this journey that the play looses momentum, puttering into stagnant direct address. A major fault of the play in my opinion, these spoken narratives hinder the play’s dramatic integrity, effectively spoon feeding the plot, with no room remaining to decipher dialogue and actions. The sheer size of the space itself renders the play all the more unsubstantial, swallowing the modest set and pondering characters.

Still, the actors did their best to serve the script, with the comedic Shakespearian rendering of “Roger the priest” by Hildrith and macho, divinely inspired characterization of “Eadric, the king’s man” by Kipiniak adding much needed seasoning. All in all the production was well intentioned and the play is interesting conceptually, but both seem in need of guts and some good old medieval gumption.

The Vertical Hour

Bill Nighy's stage prowess and idiosyncrasies run rings around Julianne Moore in David Hare's new timely, politically-driven drama. Unfortunately, even Bill's magnetic performance is unable to stay the inevitable boredom that seeps in from watching all politics with few and far theatrics in between.

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Reviewed by Cindy Pierre


David Hare is no fool. His ability to chew on foreign policies and the ramifications of capitalism is impressive. The fact that he can package his political awareness in a two-hour drama is admirable, but the feat isn't flawless in The Vertical Hour. In it, Hare foregoes entertainment for intellect with near snooze-inducing consequences.

Julianne Moore is insecure in the role of Nadia Blye, an ex-foreign correspondent who's not quite ready to retire her ideals as a Yale Professor. She finds love with Philip (a watchable Andrew Scott), a british physical therapist with a quiet anguish tied to his n'er do well, ex-physician father, Oliver (Bill Nighy). Philosophies clash when Philip takes his girlfriend to the Welsh border to meet him.

Bill Nighy outshines all when he enters the stage. Most popular for inhabiting the role of Davy Jones in Pirates of the Caribbean: Dean Man's Chest, he bears no facade when portraying the estranged father, living in solitude. He is comfortable in his lovable mannerisms as he challenges Moore in speech and in presence. He shreds through his technique whereas Moore, who is usually sensational, forgets hers. But the credit should also go to Hare for writing such a wonderful role. The best idioms and desire for debate belong to Oliver. He may irritate you with his need to know the specifics about everything, but he is a great, unique character.

In terms of structure, the monologues for each actor are awkward, and they all flail in the pursuit of substance. Seemingly a window into their intentions, I was left trying to spit-shine their meanings. Scott Pask's set design is lush and realistic, complete with a warm, sprawling tree. He makes clever use of the spacious stage, which allows for impeccable scene changes. The pace of the narrative vacillates, often lulling with Moore's distracting inability to connect with the characters or the audience.

With witty and informed dialogue, The Vertical Hour is a nice stroll down government lane. The British perspective of US-Iraq relations delivered by a quirky character is especially interesting. If only Hare had created a drama that was less like C-Span, and more like the Daily Show with Jon Stewart. Still, for political enthusiasts, this is a good one.
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Written by David Hare. Directed by Sam Mendes. Set Design by Scott Pask.
Show Dates:Performances from 09 Nov 2006 Opening 30 Nov 2006 Closing 01 Apr 2007 Performance Schedule: Tuesday - Saturday @8pm Wednesday and Saturday @2pm Sunday @3pm Tickets: Pricing: $76.25 - $96.25 Show Run Time: Approximately two hours and 15 minutes, including one 15-minute intermission Theatre Information: Music Box Theatre 239 West 45th Street New York, NY 10036

SILENCE

The Vikings are running! The Vikings are running! Shenanigans abound in this fast-paced, silly "chase and run" comedy that has a motley crew of people fleeing from King Ethelred's wrath and rule. A coming of age tale with a dark ages backdrop, Silence delves into topics such as paganism, brutality, Christianity, class distinction and much more with verve.

(Chosen as one of The New Theater Corps'
FIVE FAVORITES for 2/2/07)



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Reviewed by Cindy Pierre

You don't need to know much about Viking history or norse mythology to understand Moira Buffini's drama, but that knowledge may enhance your experience. Otherwise, what you are left with is an extremely talky piece whose characters treat emotion as if it were an afterthought. The main perpetrator, Kelly Hutchinson's French princess Ymma, barrels through her dialogue with nary a thought for depth or fiestiness, traits that the script calls for her to embody. With the exception of a delightful Roger, played by Greg Hildreth (a young Vincent D'Onofrio look-alike), a deliciously brooding Eadric, personified by Chris Kipiniak, and Joe Plummer's hammy King Ethelred, Silence's actors are muted in more ways than the playwright intended.

Fortunately, Buffini has a nice plot soup to fall back in. Between the rather keen observations made on religion, royalty, and gender roles, there are enough dramatic twists to propel the story forward even if they're not always congruent. Color it long and comprehensive, but I wouldn't color it dull.

Some of the topics merely broached in Silence should have better representation. The Vikings, exemplified only by a 14-year old, should have a presence that is much more barbaric. And King Ethelred's hokey outbursts are not sufficient to give the illusion of a tyranny. The element of danger needs to be revamped. With the potential to be so explosive, the audience is only given a glimpse of these worlds where there should be a tour.

Because there is often dual-action on stage, the transition from one scene to the next could be more distinct. The use of a two-tiered stage, however, is very effective in communicating Ethelred's grandeur and denoting a different environment.

The light cues are sluggish, and the score is questionable for the era and narrative arc. The set pieces are beautiful, but they should be more rustic. They are too contemporary and refined for the boorish environment that the characters are in.

Silence may speak volumes, but much of its content is either intellectual or amusing. Despite some predictability and re-heated themes, it does tackle many of the issues that consistently trouble human nature. Perhaps a light-hearted approach is a great way for the audience to assimilate them.
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Written by Moira Buffini, and directed by Suzanne Agins. SILENCE plays Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays at 8:00 p.m. and Sundays at 3:00 p.m. through Sunday, February 10. American Theatre of Actors, 314 West 54th Street. TICKETS: $18 212-352-3101

Gutenberg! The Musical!

(Chosen as one of The New Theater Corps'
FIVE FAVORITES for 2/2/07)

Hysterical, sharp, and extremely smart, Gutenberg! The Musical! is one of the best shows off-Broadway this season. Whether you are proficient in musical theater, or going to your first theatrical experience, this show does not fail to entertain. Featuring exceptional writing by Scott Brown and Anthony King, and spot-on direction by Alex Timbers, this musical is definitely not to be missed.

Gutenberg! The Musical! revolves around Bud Davenport and Doug Simon, spectacularly played by Christopher Fitzgerald and Jeremy Shamos, who are trying to get their musical produced on Broadway. To do so, they decide to act out their musical by playing all the characters, distinguished only by the names printed on the baseball caps they wear. Early on, Bud and Doug admit that there is not much information on Johann Gutenberg, the creator of the printing press, so their musical is based on events that could have occurred. They proceed to perform a musical filled with catchy music, witty lyrics, and very entertaining staging. The show openly acknowledges itself as a musical by using numerous theatrical devices, and the audience is made to feel like they are being let in on a very exciting secret; a secret they cannot wait to spill.

Gutenberg! The Musical! is currently playing at the Actors’ Playhouse; 100 7th Avenue South, NY, NY

NTC Editor AARON RICCIO on This Weekend's THEATER TALK on CUNY TV

New Theater Corps' Editor-in-Chief AARON RICCIO is one of the guests, Friday night on THEATER TALK. He joins producer MARK RUSSELL to discuss the UNDER THE RADAR Festival, curated by Russell and now at The Public Theater.

Also, on the show, a new interview with the outspoken Broadway legend ELAINE STRITCH, taped in her suite at the Carlyle Hotel. She weighs in about the new production of COMPANY, Christine Ebersole in GREY GARDENS (see NTC preview below), MOTHER COURAGE and much more.

The show will debut Friday, January 26 on Thirteen/PBS in NYC.

It repeats on CUNY TV in NYC, Saturday, Feb. 3 at 8:30 PM, Sunday, Feb. 4 at 12:30 PM; Monday, Feb. 5 at 7:30 AM, 1:30 PM and 7:30 PM.

You can also view the Russell/Riccio interview here on the blog, below.

The Taming of the Shrew

Like most of Shakespeare’s comedies, “The Taming of the Shrew” relies on the pairings of so-wrong-they’re-right couples and a web of mistaken identity. The Roundtable Ensemble ups the confusion, but also the laughs in its small-cast, 90-minute version of "The Taming of the Shrew,” now playing at the American Theatre of Actors.

Left to right: JONATHAN KELLS PHILLIPS, TOM BUTLER, ARTHUR AULISI (in pink dress in background), and PAUL WHITTHORNE in The Roundtable Ensemble production of "The Taming of the Shrew," directed by Andrew Grosso. Photo credit: JIM BALDASSARE

(Chosen as one of The New Theater Corps'
FIVE FAVORITES for 2/2/07)

Reviewed by Ellen Wernecke

The actors putting on this “Shrew” are variety players in a USO show who pass the time backstage playing cards and annoying each other with their warm-ups until a drunk (Arthur Aulisi) stumbles in. They throw him in a robe, start calling him “Lord” and plant him in the front row of the audience for the duration – or at least until he makes his own stage debut in the final act. Complicit in the duplicity, the audience is roped along into the show, with six actors tackling 23 parts (with the help of identifying props and accents).

It makes sense that for the play-within-a-play to work, there has to be some doubling. And the double casting sets up some interesting juxtapositions: If the same actor (in this case Alex Smith) plays Bianca’s father Baptista and her eventually successful suitor, Lucentio, then her eventual choice of him is both natural – after all, it’s a type she knows and of which he must approve – and slightly alarming, in its confirmation of Baptista’s power over her. (She couldn’t have made it work with the suitor Gremio, whose part actress Autumn Dornfeld takes with a pair of thick glasses and an old man’s affect.)

But the most surprising change about the Roundtable’s adaptation is the male player who takes the role of Katarina – or is forced into it, having assigned all the other parts. Once we’ve gotten over actor Paul Whitthorne’s mustache and his player’s disdain for the role, it presents us with a series of questions about the shrew’s own nature. Having seen her state, why does Petruchio (the swaggering Tom Butler) continue to pursue her? Is “shrewish” just a synonym for “too much like a man?” (Whitthorne drapes himself with a blue checked apron but makes no pretense of raising his voice to play her, foregrounding the difference.)

And it changes the titular taming: With a man in Katarina’s shoes, the struggle between her and Petruchio takes on an erotic subtext which was present in the original play when all the parts were played by men, but which our modern castings have allowed us to forget. Instead of being physically overpowered by him, the implication is that she chooses to submit. There is no pretense at unending love here: Katarina’s final speech to her fellow wives seems like a performance, rather than a lecture, and is thus easier to swallow.

In the interest of time, much of Bianca’s own courting is cut out, though B. Brian Argotsinger as Tranio, Lucentio's loyal servant who disguises himself as a suitor, stands out. But the play ends on an unresolved chord, despite the double wedding; we’re left pondering Butler’s rendition of “You Belong To Me” and wondering how much truth there is in it for Baptista’s daughters.

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Roundtable Ensemble presents The Taming of the Shrew
American Theater of Actors, Chernuchin Theatre (314 West 54th Street)
Tickets (212-696-6699): $18/ $15 students (via Theatermania)
Performances: Wed, Fri, Sun @ 8pm; Sat @ 3pm
For more information, visit the Roundtable's Website.

Silence

Looking for something to talk about? Silence, a contemporary comedy set in the unflinchingly serious Dark Ages, offers plenty of solid observations on heathens, religious woes, sexual ambiguity, and tyranny. And for the first two acts of the production, it does so with panache and charm; not that the final act's bad, it's just not as amusing.

Left to right: CHRIS KIPINIAK, HELEN COXE,
GREG HILDRETH, and KELLY HUTCHINSON in "Silence."
Photo/Jim Baldassare.

(Chosen as one of The New Theater Corps'
FIVE FAVORITES for 2/2/07)
Reviewed by Aaron Riccio

The best part about Silence is that nobody ever shuts up. Whether speaking in a scene or narrating a series of compressed events, the show hurtles forward, filled with a melange of amusing topics and a series of surprising twists. Playwright Moira Buffini writes and "mans" a tight ship (that's a joke on the gender reversals of the play), the only trouble is that by the third act, she's strangled most of the comedy from this play, leaving us dangling in the Dark Ages without a light. But up until that point, you can think of this as an erudite and medieval Road Trip: a cast of five entertaining characters, each with their own secret baggage, flee Christian Canterbury for heathen Cumbria, crossing the open road to do so. A sixth character, a comic and childish tyrant king (like Richard Lewis in Robin Hood: Men in Tights, only darker) pursues them, intent on reclaiming what they have stolen from him.

I'm sorry. The best part about Silence are these characters, without whom there would hardly be a need to shut up. There's an agoraphobic priest, torn between his fears of a godless sky and his growing love for a stern but kind maid, servant to a blessed woman who is cursed with fits of madness, and who shows respect and compassion only to the young boy she is wed to, a boy who is not so much a man as something else entirely, and who has fallen in love with their barbarian escort, a man who has taken enough magic mushrooms to believe he can mindspeak with his companions. Phew! One can hardly shut up about them.

Director Suzanne Agins has managed to compress all this far more succinctly than I, although to be fair, she's got two hours, and Moira Buffini's script is far from complicated. When she uses poetic expressions, they are often debated or appear as confessional narratives, ala The Real World, devoid of subtext or secrecy. To wit, the two manage to build suspense even with the whole second act confined to a wagon (a marvelous feat of physicality), and an unexpected dream sequence and surprisingly dramatic "mushroom" scene keep the pacing from being predictable.

The show continues to build, and the climax is as striking as the plot (though not as satisfying). Because of all this action, the jolting transitions between our travelers and their pursuing king aren't so bad, and though the musical selections clash with the show, they do manage to elicit chuckles from the crowd. Silence isn't golden, but it's a clever play that's worth talking about.

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Roundtable Ensemble presents Silence
American Theater of Actors (314 West 54th Street)
Tickets (212-352-3101): $18.00
Performances: Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday @ 8; Sunday @ 3

Gutenberg! The Musical!

Shameless jokes at the industry's expense, all delivered with the wide-eyed innocence and enthusiasm of the childlike Bud Davenport and Doug Simon: welcome to Gutenberg! The Musical!, a historical fiction riffing off the "adventures" of the printing press' inventor, Johannes. And, thanks to the fantastic performances, you don't have to be able to read to enjoy it!

Reviewed by Aaron Riccio

If you get to Carnegie Hall with practice, you get to Broadway with lasers, a million drunks, and the Holocaust (a show must have gravitas). Gutenberg! The Musical! isn't quite there yet; you see, Bud Davenport and Doug Simon (Christopher Fitzgerald and Jeremy Shamos) have this really exciting musical in their heads, but until a Broadway producer (perhaps the person sitting next to you) picks up their show, they'll have to do it all themselves. That's okay! Bud and Doug have a secret weapon: miles and miles of heart. And if you come to see their "staged reading," you'll marvel at how two talented actors can take on thirty characters, three big chorus numbers, and a fabulous kickline. Forget a shoestring budget: these two are going barefoot for the love of theater, and if you love watching the industry get slammed or want to see a musical dissected, this is absolutely the show for you.

For everybody else: seriously, what's not to love about two good-natured guys singing charm songs as vague and irrelevant as "Biscuits," songs as campy as "Haunted German Wood," or ballads as ridiculous as "Tomorrow is Today"? Fitzgerald and Shamos approach the work with such earnestness, from the bulging eyes of astonishment to the giddy squeals of excitement, that it would take a man far colder than the villainous (and eponymous) Monk to hate this show. Plus, the script was written (and originally performed) by two members of Upright Citizen's Bridgade (Scott Brown and Anthony King), so not a moment goes by that isn't fresh with humor. The music is clever and endearing, and the book is filled with hysterical truisms: "A metaphor is when you say one thing and mean another, but you're not lying" and "Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem."

If characters are your thing, Fitzgerald and Shamos have that covered too. Fitzgerald takes on characters as diverse as the ingenue Helvetica or the sinister Monk, along with all the random characters in between (like Drunk #2 or the Anti-Semitic Flower Girl). Shamos, as the shameless self-promoter Gutenberg, is also all over the place, taking on the roles of Young Monk and Old Black Narrator, just to name a few. They do all this while still playing the overarching roles of Bud and Doug, and it's as smooth as a Dead Child's bum.

There may not be a single true thing said about Gutenberg, but Gutenberg! The Musical! can do no wrong. Like stage adaptations of Matt Stone and Trey Parker's Cannibal! The Musical! or the recent, bloody funny Evil Dead: The Musical, this is a show that doesn't just earn its two exclamation points: it exclaims them, too. Be amused, be very amused.

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Actor's Playhouse Theater (100 7th Avenue South)
Tickets (212-239-6200): $25.00-50.00
Tuesday-Friday @ 8:00; Saturday @ 7 & 10; Sunday @ 3 & 7

Pinkalicious

An enjoyable musical romp with rose-colored glasses for all, Pinkalicious is a sweet slice of children’s theater even a cold, childless adult can digest.

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Reviewed by Cait Weiss


When I was five years old, my mother took me to see my first piece of theater, Into the Woods. I was instantly transfixed by the story unfolding before me, the kings, queens, and assorted bread-bakers of my childhood fairy tales not only alive and well, but dancing and singing just yards away from me. I was amazed. And then, in the second act, when the Baker’s Wife ends up having sexual relations with Cinderella’s Prince, when the a cawing flock of birds peck out the stepsisters eyes until blood runs out down their gory faces, when Rapunzel is crushed to death by the terrifying Giantess – well, by the time the curtain fell, I was in need of therapy for years to come.

Thank goodness for Pinkalicious (playing at Vital Theater through February 25th). This good-natured, whimsical and death-devoid children’s show helped me have a breakthrough – here was the musical I should have been taken to all those years ago.

Based on Elizabeth and Victoria Kann’s children’s book of the same name, Pinkalicious tells the story of a young girl named Pinkalicious Pinkerton (played by the vocally-flat but adorably forgivable Meg Phillips), her overtaxed mom and dad (Kristina Wilson and Korie Blossey, respectively), and her attention-starved and subtly gender-bending brother Peter (Alan Houser). While Mrs. Pinkerton is absorbed in obsessive dusting and compulsive baking, Pinkalicious drops the entire bottle of “pink” into the cupcake batter, creating delicious – though not so nutritious – magic magenta treats. Pinkalicious eats one too many of these rose-hued sweets and wakes up the next morning having mutated into a striking shade of pink. Musical mayhem ensues.

The production is modest – staged in a small theater up on the fourth floor of the Vital building, the show uses ingenious stage tricks to open up the space and trigger the audience’s imagination. Four pink sparkling batons and some good choreography render a bicycle built for four out of thin air. A forbidden midnight snack becomes a journey through animated furniture and dancing cupcakes, thanks to smart set design and blocking. These production decisions are strikingly uncomplicated, but somehow, especially in the late-night kitchen scene, they pulled me back into that eerie and magical mindset of childhood – a mindset where the world can shift into (and back from) that of fairy tales in the blink of an eye.

Taking off the rose-colored glasses, though, the show has its flaws. The singing was simply not up to par, with the exception of the strong-voiced and charismatic Molly Gillman as Dr. Wink and Allison. The lyrics were uneven, at times smart enough to leave even the most senior audience member tickled pink, but just as often forgettable and uninteresting. Also, despite brilliant staging, the show’s dance choreography felt restrained – as if the actors were afraid to fully fill the space, as if the stage was already far too packed with pink to allow the dancers adequate room. Still, the kids watching the show were more than happy to overlook all these problems. The audience, at least half children and at least 90% female, seemed transfixed by the pink parade onstage. I expected children’s theater to be more about the children than the theater, with wails and whines from the seats trumping any scripted song or dance, but during Pinkalicious, even the youngest viewers were calm, quiet and well-behaved. If only Pinkalicious could be performed on airplanes…

Overall, the show was an enjoyable, uplifting experience, and even without a single child in tow, I found myself having a great time at the theater. The Kann sisters, with the help of lyricist John Gregor, told a surprisingly complex and satisfying story. Every character in this play had his or her own arc. From Pete’s wish to finally be seen as the pink-loving boy he truly is, to Mr. and Mrs. Pinkerton’s struggle to keep their marriage fun, to Dr. Wink’s near fetish-level of excitement for studying the rare disease Pinkititis, everyone onstage has their own story to tell. It’s wonderful to see children’s theater meet the standards we use to judge adult productions. In that respect, Pinkalicious is, indeed, in the pink.

Don’t get me wrong, though; I’m not saying discard Hamlet and pick up pink. We all need our Into the Woods now and again – we need our Uncle Vanya, our Ghosts and our Long Day’s Journey into Night – but on a Sunday afternoon, in the middle of a cold snap in the most cynical city in America, it’s nice to have a little taste of Pinkalicous, too. At the very least, it’s something to talk to the shrink about come Monday…

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Vital Children's Theater (2162 Broadway at 76th Street, 4th Floor)
Tickets (212-352-3101 or www.theatermania.com): $18 general, $14 workshop admission
Performances: Saturdays and Sundays at 11 am and 1pm, January 13th through February 25th
For more information on the production or workshops, visit www.vitaltheater.com.

The Brothers Size

Three Yale grad actors emote and sing their way through this gripping tale of brotherhood set in pre-storm Louisiana to west-african rhythms and framework.



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Reviewed by Cindy Pierre


The prep work isn't hidden in Tarell Alvin McCraney's The Brothers Size. Legs splayed and arms akimbo, physical actors Brian Tyree Henry (Oshoosi Size), Gilbert Owuor (Ogun Size), and Elliot Villar (Elegba) are all on display for the audience to see them breathe, motion, and think their way into the drama right up to the opening sequence. It is a welcome sight, one that is coated with warmth and that creates a pathway to the fundamentals of acting. We are instantly part of their community.

A cadence of drums ushers in Oshoosi, recent parolee, and brother Ogun, car mechanic. There is immediate friction as they embody the Spirits of the Wanderer and Iron, respectively. A circle of sand is drawn to denote the stage area, an earthy symbol that seems to have both practical and abstract significance. It seems to function as both a boundary and a dreamcatcher that lets good dreams out, rather than keep them in. The good dreams are Oshoosi's, freshly spit out of the Penitentiary with the belief that freedom and reuniting with Ogun are superlative. But bad dreams also creep in. Ogun, whose body is wracked with insomnia and restlessness, teeters between strength and weakness when his aversion towards Elegba, Oshoosi's friend from the Pen, is solidified by a nightmare. For Oshoosi, Elegba's presence is familial, once serving as the backup brother figure that he so desperately needed while imprisoned. But as Ogun muses, "You don't make no friends in the Pen."

Oshoosi and Ogun are a modern-day Cain and Abel, where the sacrifices are offered up to each other, rather than to God. The source of their conflict is synonymous with what binds them: an unrelenting love for each other that is threatened by lofty expectations. Henry's Oshoosi is carefree and spirit-filled to Owuor's tense and spiritless Ogun. They lobby monologues back and forth to each other like seasoned pros, replete with focus and intensity. Despite muted body language during these monologues and direction that often creates inexplicable, great physical distance between them, these two actors have chemistry even when their characters do not.

Villar's Elegba, the purported evildoer of the play, brings levity to an otherwise dense piece. His predator is likable even during his counterfeit moments with Oshoosi. McCraney cleverly re-enacts these moments between Oshoosi and Ogun, allowing us a glimpse of real sibling tenderness and pointing out the pitfalls of transference.

McCraney uses third-person narrative generously, unfolding the rudimentary components of a myth and the charm of camp-fire storytelling within a modern-day narrative. It is amusing and fresh at first, but quickly loses its weight. Some of the phrases and actions seem to be arbitrarily chosen in the third-person, with no distinction over the rest.

The musical numbers are well-choreographed and appreciated, particularly since the majority of the percussion is done by the actors themselves. These are hard-working actors, multi-talented with techniques that are bred with training.

The Brothers Size is an allegory for lost time and regret. It is an ardent celebration of tradition with a loose structure that seats us inside the action. It is cerebral, spiritual, and innovative. If you're looking for a nice departure from the standard theatrical form, you'll find it here, beautiful in its vibrations and timbre.
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Part of the Under the Radar Festival. Written by Tarell Alvin McCraney, Directed by Tea Alagic (New York). Running Time: 90 minutes. The Public Theater: 425 Lafayette Street. $15 Tickets: publictheater.org or 212-967-7555. Through January 28th.

A Beautiful View

Daniel MacIvor's theatrical restraint and minimalism accentuates the essence of true playwriting: A Beautiful View is first and foremost a story, and everything else falls into place behind it.

Reviewed by Aaron Riccio

(Chosen as one of The New Theater Corps'
FIVE FAVORITES for 1/26/07)

Crickets chirp. Lights come up slow to reveal a stereo. A woman enters in a blue windbreaker. She leaves. Another woman enters in a red windbreaker. She leaves. The stage palpitates with unspoken possibilities. The crickets chirp. The two come back on stage with chairs. "They're going to think you don't like me," says one of the two, calling the other out on the way she's shifted her chair so that it faces away from her. The fragile illusion breaks, and one of the two presses the stop button on the stereo. The crickets stop. The play has already begun.

Daniel MacIvor is a brilliant playwright in this regard: his plays blur the line between performance and scene, and his direction of A Beautiful View simplifies matters even more by reducing the set to a series of props: a stereo, a plastic tree, a tent, and two folding chairs. Nothing happens on that set that isn't important or essential, and in fact whole years--two lifetimes--are compressed into an eighty minute work. The plot is rich in text and subtext too, especially with the actors disagreeing on the narration of the story, or with the way phrases recur and loop around in both the foreground of the show and the meaty scenes. But the reason I highlight the opening of the play is that it creates a mise en scene that drives everything else: by the end of this show, these two fabulous actors, Tracy Wright and Caroline Gillis, are left with nothing to hide behind.

The story resembles that of Brokeback Mountain, in that there are two people who fall in love, only to repress it for thirty years, meeting occasionally and fighting with themselves and each other to accept what is, for better or worse, a better self. The pacing is steady, but by jumping into the key scenes, it seems a lot faster than it is. The natural performances also belie the amount of ground covered: they speak so well that watching the show is like sitting at a bar with two of your friends as they just chat. All of this is a gross simplification for the dozens of complex minutiae that MacIvor pulls off with lighting cues and specific blocking, but that's fine: that's how the show looks, too.

How appropriate that one of the main topics of their conversation is the statement "Nothing is enough." There's the positive meaning, which is that nothing suffices, and there's the negative one, which is that you can never be satisfied. But then there's also the theatrical one, which MacIvor has perfected (drawing from both the positive and negative): A Beautiful View is nothing but what's necessary, and everything else within that.

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Part of the Under the Radar Festival @ The Public Theater (425 Lafayette)
Tickets: $15
Performances vary, through 1/28

Famous Puppet Death Scenes

Watch out: Famous Puppet Death Scenes packs a lethal punch. Go for the comedy of watching puppets die in a wide variety of ways, stay for the poignant finale. The trick is in the presentation: Old Trout Puppet Workshop kills them in pop-up books and moving sets, with human-puppet fusion or just good old fashioned squish-action, and a healthy dose of moralist comedy.

Reviewed by Aaron Riccio

"The Ballad of Edward Grue," in which we learn what happens to little boys who dress up as deer, will shoot you in the funny bone. "Ice Age," in which a cryogenetically frozen man is allowed to die so that the immortal Johnny Depp-lookalike aliens can remember what death means, will warm your insides. "The Swede of Donnylargan," in which suicide is shown to be much like a row of falling dominoes, will make you tumble with glee. But while these Famous Puppet Death Scenes will amuse--with their movable sets, puppet dances, and fragile gunshots--it's "The Last Whale" that will haunt you: the image of a great eye, sunken into a greater gray mass, slowly giving in to the gravity of an unstoppable eyelid. Has there ever been such a tragic, beautiful, poetic (puppet) death on stage before?

The only warning I can give the audience of Famous Puppet Death Scenes is to show up early and sit near the front, as the majority of the work is small and subtle. The exceptions, like a butterfly transformed into a giant bloodsucking monster under the gaze of a magnifying glass (in "La Nature au Naturel") or a scene of domestic violence hidden within the pages of a pop-up book ("Never Say It Again"), are perfect expressions of theatricality, and the Old Trout Puppet Workshop has done a fantastic job of transforming a classic art form into a hip and surprisingly powerful show.

The wide variety of miniature death scenes, tied together by the narration of the Einstein-tufted Nathanial Tweak, range from mocking children's morality plays ("Das Bipsy und Mumu Puppenspiel," in which a triangle-shaped puppet learns the difference between "ja" and "nein") to playing with stark Modernist styles ("The Modern Age [Part 3]") and Gothic horror ("The Beast of Muggditch Lane"). I promise: at least one puppet will die in every scene, and, when appropriate, you will laugh.

The final collection is like watching a live animated-shorts festival (there's even a Bill Plympton-like recurring skit, "The Feverish Heart"). Famous Puppet Death Scenes is a series of vivid visual styles, and with only a few of the 20-plus deaths missing the mark ("The Cruel Sea" and "My Stupid Dad"), you can't go wrong with this hour-long show. And believe me, the Grim Reaper's grand finale is not to be missed: you'll leave the theater feeling glad to be alive.

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Under the Radar Festival @ The Public Theater (425 Lafayette)
Tickets: $15
Performances: Various, through 1/28

ANOTHER YOU

Part of the Under The Radar Festival.

Writer and performer Allen Johnson takes us on a stark, existential journey into his head in this raw, spoken-scream piece that examines God, love, and the pursuit of acceptance.
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Reviewed by Cindy Pierre


Deep within the realm of the uninhibited, where courage takes root and intimacy hangs up pictures, lies Allen Johnson's Another You. In his mentally-arresting bio-logue (a monologue with biological details), Johnson uses a dollop of raunch with a dash of cold facts to manipulate the audience's sensitivities. And it works. From the simple toilet set-piece to the mood-swing inspired light cues, all collaborate to pull on the strings of our fears and whimsies. Johnson uses stream of consciousness storytelling and romantic language to delve into scenarios not readily swallowed, and fantasies that some would deem unapproachable.

Quoting late photographer Diane Arbus, he proceeds to capture some of her notions of non-traditional beauty in anecdotes and desires that are uneasy. Although diminutive in stature, there is nothing small about this performer's ability to make you feel like a chum, even if he lets you in on secrets that you wish he hadn't. However, perhaps he is too relaxed, making us forget that we are there to see a drama in the midst of his gift of gab. His performance lacks showmanship, and could benefit from the semblance of effort.

Johnson intersperses good-natured stories with dark ones, and indulges in child-like behavior almost as much as he asserts his forced adulthood. Touted as a performer who doesn't use the "fourth wall" (the imaginary wall of a box set, separating the actors from the audience), his movements are ironically confined to the center of the stage. He orbits the toilet, a prop he clearly sees as a medium of release, retreat, and clear thinking. The toilet is an imposing prop, and I couldn't help referencing it in every instance, i.e. humor automatically became "toilet" humor, tales of misfortune became "s**t happens."

Johnson's voice-over use is effective, and the sound bytes are eerie where they need to be and ominous when required. He waxes poetic on many topics, but the co-stars of the show are his father and a desperate need for understanding, stars that are not necessarily mutually exclusive. It is not metaphysics that he seeks, but rather proof of life, proof of love, and proof of truth. With an ending that is too abrupt and anguish that is congealed, Johnson leaves us wanting more. He urges us to explore our hidden sides, and make friends with our true selves. It is a daunting challenge, but a good one.

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Written and performed by Allen Johnson (Seattle). Directed by Sean Ryan. Running Time: 70 minutes. The Public Theater, 425 Lafayette Street, $15 tickets: publictheater.org or 212-967-7555. Wed. Jan 17th 8pm,Thurs. Jan. 18th 3pm,Fri. Jan. 19th 9:30pm,Sat. Jan. 20th 4pm,Sun. Jan. 21st 7pm,Mon. Jan. 22nd 7pm,Wed. Jan. 24th 9:30pm,Thurs. Jan. 25th 7pm,Fri. Jan. 26th 9:30pm,Sat. Jan. 27th 4pm,Sun. Jan. 28th 7pm

[PREVIEW] Elaine Stritch Interview

Elaine Stritch comments on working with other actors and gives her reaction to CHRISTINE EBERSOLE's performace on Broadway in GREY GARDENS. Watch the whole Stritch interview on THEATER TALK, Friday, Jan. 26 at 12:30 (est) on Thirteen.

PREVIEW: Under the Radar [Play Festival]

The third annual "Under the Radar" festival is here at the Public Theater, an explosion of complete plays that run the gamut from puppets to classics and back. Below, you can preview Theater Talk's interview with Mark Russell, producer/curator of the two-week festival (January 17-28). Find out why you should get out to see more new plays (and which ones Russell thinks you need to see), tune in to Theater Talk for more interviews, and look for festival coverage and reviews of Famous Puppet Deaths, A Beautiful View, Another You, and The Brothers Size this weekend.

Part One: Why to See It



Part Two: What to See