The Light in the Piazza (Saturday, 1.28.06)
Vivian Beaumont Theatre, New York, NY
By: Adam Guettel (music, lyrics), Craig Lucas (book)
Starring: Victoria Clark (Margaret Johnson), Katie Clarke (Clara Johnson), David Burnham (Fabrizio Naccarelli, u/s), Chris Sarandon (Signor Naccarelli), Michael Berresse (Giuseppe Naccarelli), Sara Uriarte Berry (Franca Naccarelli), Patti Cohenour (Signora Naccarelli), Beau Gravitte (Roy Johnson)
This is my first viewing of this show since the major cast changes, and the good news to report is that it is still a strong piece. While none of the replacement actors is as strong as strong as the actors they replace, each brings their own qualities, and still connect in this remarkably beautiful piece. Still soaring is Adam Guettel’s tremendous score, and still touching is Craig Lucas’ beautifully constructed book. This was and remains the most beautiful and most touching new musical of last season.
Katie Clarke joins the cast as the fresh new Clara Johnson. Clarke looks the part and is particularly good as a sweet-faced 12-year-old, what she lacks is that soaring soprano which transforms easily into the more sensual 26-year-old woman that she really is. It is difficult, because Clarke replaced Kelli O’Hara, probably the perfect actress for the part, and by that yardstick she fails miserably. But she is a passable replacement, and certainly over time will grow into the part.
Understudying for Aaron Lazar is David Burnham, who is clearly having fun in a role that is a really well beyond his reach both vocally and dramatically. Burnham seems to be trying a little too hard in all respects. He is obviously playing the character, but he never really inhabits it like his predecessors. Nevertheless, it is fun to see an actor really relish his opportunity to go on stage.
Chris Sarandon is probably the best replacement of the three. His Naccarelli is a little more stern and a little less charming, but equally as compelling and appropriate for his character. He doesn’t sing particularly well, but the character doesn’t really call for that anyway. He counterbalances Victoria Clark’s performance quite well.
Victoria Clark is still the center of this show, and her performance is as rich and as moving, both vocally and dramatically, as ever. Each of her big numbers, particularly Fable, is so beautifully performed, and she peppers in her tremendous comic timing throughout the show. Her performance is truly a revelation, the kind of performance that marks a career. She makes the show truly memorable.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Review-The Voysey Inheritance (1.20.07)
The Voysey Inheritance (Saturday, 1.20.07)
Atlantic Theatre, New York City
By: Harley Granville Barker, adapted by David Mamet
Starring: Michael Stuhlbarg (Edward Voysey), Samantha Soule (Alice Maitland), Judith Roberts (Mrs. Voysey), Peter Maloney (George Booth), Fritz Weaver (Mr. Voysey), Steven Goldstein (Mr. Peacey), C.J. Wilson (Major Booth Voysey), Geddeth Smith (Rev. Evan Colpus), Tricia Paoluccio (Ethel Voysey), Rachel Black (Honor Voysey), Christopher Duva (Trenchard Voysey), Todd Weeks (Hugh Voysey)
Maintaining true to one’s moral center is difficult when one has to face the problem of balancing moral principles with taking care of one’s family. Such is the central premise of The Voysey Inheritance, which pits the morals of the younger Edward Voysey (Michael Stuhlbar), who learns shortly before his father’s death that the father has been improperly handling the firm’s accounts. After his father’s death, Edward decides he must continue to conceal this family secret, all the while attempting to make amends to the clients who have, without their knowledge, been bilked of their entire savings.
Voysey is faced, however, with a largely ungrateful family that is more concerned about its well-being, and with some difficult clients who, upon learning the secret, decide to attempt to blackmail him in order to save their own fortunes, even if at the expense of others. It is never quite clear whether Voysey is in fact being true to his own articulated principles, or whether he is simply talking the talk while doing something else. While there is nothing in Edward’s outer character or actions to suggest he is not being genuine, it is the trick of human nature that leads us to believe he may be deceiving us.
With this as the backdrop, Mamet’s new version of this classic play hops along at a quick pace. Mamet’s script is excellent – it is filled with humor and biting exchanges, and it is sufficiently ambiguous as to make us continually wonder if we really know what is going on. As Edward, Michael Stuhlbarg is quite good. His character is stilted and stiff, but there is a sense of question that he brings to the role that enhances the uncertainty.
There are several other quite good performances to accompany Mr. Stuhlbar’s, including Peter Maloney’s cantancorous George Booth and Steven Goldstein’s seemingly loyal but ultimately despicable Mr. Peacey. The ladies in the cast are also excellent, particularly Samantha Soule’s turn as Alice Maitland and Judith Robert’s fun portrayal of Mrs. Voysey.
The set is beautifully designed and fits appropriately in the Atlantic’s main stage. But it is Mamet’s script that crackles and pops to great effect. There is nothing dated about the Voysey Inheritance. It comes across as fresh and lively as it must have been the day it first premiered.
Atlantic Theatre, New York City
By: Harley Granville Barker, adapted by David Mamet
Starring: Michael Stuhlbarg (Edward Voysey), Samantha Soule (Alice Maitland), Judith Roberts (Mrs. Voysey), Peter Maloney (George Booth), Fritz Weaver (Mr. Voysey), Steven Goldstein (Mr. Peacey), C.J. Wilson (Major Booth Voysey), Geddeth Smith (Rev. Evan Colpus), Tricia Paoluccio (Ethel Voysey), Rachel Black (Honor Voysey), Christopher Duva (Trenchard Voysey), Todd Weeks (Hugh Voysey)
Maintaining true to one’s moral center is difficult when one has to face the problem of balancing moral principles with taking care of one’s family. Such is the central premise of The Voysey Inheritance, which pits the morals of the younger Edward Voysey (Michael Stuhlbar), who learns shortly before his father’s death that the father has been improperly handling the firm’s accounts. After his father’s death, Edward decides he must continue to conceal this family secret, all the while attempting to make amends to the clients who have, without their knowledge, been bilked of their entire savings.
Voysey is faced, however, with a largely ungrateful family that is more concerned about its well-being, and with some difficult clients who, upon learning the secret, decide to attempt to blackmail him in order to save their own fortunes, even if at the expense of others. It is never quite clear whether Voysey is in fact being true to his own articulated principles, or whether he is simply talking the talk while doing something else. While there is nothing in Edward’s outer character or actions to suggest he is not being genuine, it is the trick of human nature that leads us to believe he may be deceiving us.
With this as the backdrop, Mamet’s new version of this classic play hops along at a quick pace. Mamet’s script is excellent – it is filled with humor and biting exchanges, and it is sufficiently ambiguous as to make us continually wonder if we really know what is going on. As Edward, Michael Stuhlbarg is quite good. His character is stilted and stiff, but there is a sense of question that he brings to the role that enhances the uncertainty.
There are several other quite good performances to accompany Mr. Stuhlbar’s, including Peter Maloney’s cantancorous George Booth and Steven Goldstein’s seemingly loyal but ultimately despicable Mr. Peacey. The ladies in the cast are also excellent, particularly Samantha Soule’s turn as Alice Maitland and Judith Robert’s fun portrayal of Mrs. Voysey.
The set is beautifully designed and fits appropriately in the Atlantic’s main stage. But it is Mamet’s script that crackles and pops to great effect. There is nothing dated about the Voysey Inheritance. It comes across as fresh and lively as it must have been the day it first premiered.
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
Review-The Coast of Utopia-Shipwreck (1.7.07)
The Coast of Utopia-Shipwreck (Sunday, 1.7.07, 3 p.m.)
Vivian Beaumont Theatre (Lincoln Center)
Starring: Brian F. O’Byrne (Alexander Herzen), Jennifer Ehle (Natalie Herzen), Josh Hamilton (Nicholas Ogarev), Jason Butler Harner (Ivan Turgenev), Billy Crudup (Vissarion Belinsky), Patricia Conolly (Mme. Haag), David Harbour (George Herwegh), Bianca Amato (Emma Herwegh), Ethan Hawke (Michael Bakunin), Adam Dannheisser (Karl Marx), Martha Plimpton (Natasha Tuchkov), Amy Irving (Maria Ogarev), Richard Easton (Leonty Ibayev)
In the opening moments of Shipwreck, the second part of Tom Stoppard’s Russian trilogy, Alexander Herzen appears, seated, suspended in the air as the sea, while wind-whipped sheets flutter below and around him. It is as if Herzen is out at sea, a single man amidst an ocean. But Herzen is not drowning, he does not seem lost and solitary, rather, he is floating in the heavens, treading treacherously above the raging sea beneath. It is a powerful image that makes the heart race, but more importantly, it is a powerful image that portends what will come in the next three hours.
During the miraculous proceedings that follow, the character of Herzen does struggle -- he struggles with his ideas, with his life, with his love, with his priorities. But Herzen is never swallowed up by it; rather, he remains the rapt focus of our attentions. Played brilliantly by Brian F. O’Byrne, Herzen captivates, with humor, with passion, with emotion -- we remain spellbound, waiting for each subsequent word to be formed by his lips. So captivating is O’Byrne that, were this part not so focused on Herzen, he would threaten to throw the entire proceedings out of balance.
If fact, though, O’Byrne is just one brilliant part of this magnificent second part of the trilogy. Here Stoppard is at his absolute best -- writing witty exchanges of ideas that would seem to be the kind of exchanges that these so-called intellectuals would have uttered. Whereas Part I seemed almost muted in these exchanges (and part of the reason for this, in retrospect, is the fact that Michael Bakunin, who was all about action and no substance, was the center of that part), here they shimmer and crackle.
The production also benefits by getting away from the Bakunin household to tell the much more poignant story of Herzen, Herzen's wife Natalie (a luminous Jennifer Ehle), and his deaf son. For while there is a good deal to admire and enjoy in Stoppard’s witty exchanges, the piece finds its emotional depth in what happens to the individual characters. It is in part two that we not only learn of the tragedies that befall Herzin, but also of the imprisonment of Bakunin, and the death of Billy Crudup’s compelling Belinsky, who figured so centrally in the latter half of The Voyage.
Shipwreck also benefits from historical events, which help to whip forward the action and propel the piece forward by giving more context. In this case, it is the second Paris revolution of 1848 which, while a big flop in the revolutionary sense, figured prominently into the thoughts of these Russian thinkers. The revolution also provides one of the more dramatic and captivating displays and innovative use of set pieces.
There are other excellent supporting performances here, particularly Jason Butler Harner, who is exudes warmth and thoughtfulness as the writer Turgenev. There is also David Harbour’s half-German George Herwegh, who is humorous as the overgrown child who is also Herzen’s wife’s lover. And Amy Irving delivers a delicious cameo appearance as Nicholas Ogarev’s wife, Maria, who refuses to give him a divorce and has some wonderfully lusty exchanges with Natalie.
Jack O’Brien’s seamless direction takes full advantage not only of his terrific central cast, but also of the large “chorus” which simulates the Russian peasantry. His use of simple elements -- such as tree branches -- to ground the piece to mother Russia is exemplary. O’Brien's efforts are well complemented by Bob Crowley’s sumptuous set and Kenneth Posner’s excellent lighting design. While The Voyage was an adequate prelude and introduction to Stoppard’s world of early 19th century Russia, nothing quite prepares you for the breathtaking pace and passion of part two. If in crafting Part III the creators can capture a fraction of the magic on display in Shipwreck, then they will have on their hands an enormous success.
Vivian Beaumont Theatre (Lincoln Center)
Starring: Brian F. O’Byrne (Alexander Herzen), Jennifer Ehle (Natalie Herzen), Josh Hamilton (Nicholas Ogarev), Jason Butler Harner (Ivan Turgenev), Billy Crudup (Vissarion Belinsky), Patricia Conolly (Mme. Haag), David Harbour (George Herwegh), Bianca Amato (Emma Herwegh), Ethan Hawke (Michael Bakunin), Adam Dannheisser (Karl Marx), Martha Plimpton (Natasha Tuchkov), Amy Irving (Maria Ogarev), Richard Easton (Leonty Ibayev)
In the opening moments of Shipwreck, the second part of Tom Stoppard’s Russian trilogy, Alexander Herzen appears, seated, suspended in the air as the sea, while wind-whipped sheets flutter below and around him. It is as if Herzen is out at sea, a single man amidst an ocean. But Herzen is not drowning, he does not seem lost and solitary, rather, he is floating in the heavens, treading treacherously above the raging sea beneath. It is a powerful image that makes the heart race, but more importantly, it is a powerful image that portends what will come in the next three hours.
During the miraculous proceedings that follow, the character of Herzen does struggle -- he struggles with his ideas, with his life, with his love, with his priorities. But Herzen is never swallowed up by it; rather, he remains the rapt focus of our attentions. Played brilliantly by Brian F. O’Byrne, Herzen captivates, with humor, with passion, with emotion -- we remain spellbound, waiting for each subsequent word to be formed by his lips. So captivating is O’Byrne that, were this part not so focused on Herzen, he would threaten to throw the entire proceedings out of balance.
If fact, though, O’Byrne is just one brilliant part of this magnificent second part of the trilogy. Here Stoppard is at his absolute best -- writing witty exchanges of ideas that would seem to be the kind of exchanges that these so-called intellectuals would have uttered. Whereas Part I seemed almost muted in these exchanges (and part of the reason for this, in retrospect, is the fact that Michael Bakunin, who was all about action and no substance, was the center of that part), here they shimmer and crackle.
The production also benefits by getting away from the Bakunin household to tell the much more poignant story of Herzen, Herzen's wife Natalie (a luminous Jennifer Ehle), and his deaf son. For while there is a good deal to admire and enjoy in Stoppard’s witty exchanges, the piece finds its emotional depth in what happens to the individual characters. It is in part two that we not only learn of the tragedies that befall Herzin, but also of the imprisonment of Bakunin, and the death of Billy Crudup’s compelling Belinsky, who figured so centrally in the latter half of The Voyage.
Shipwreck also benefits from historical events, which help to whip forward the action and propel the piece forward by giving more context. In this case, it is the second Paris revolution of 1848 which, while a big flop in the revolutionary sense, figured prominently into the thoughts of these Russian thinkers. The revolution also provides one of the more dramatic and captivating displays and innovative use of set pieces.
There are other excellent supporting performances here, particularly Jason Butler Harner, who is exudes warmth and thoughtfulness as the writer Turgenev. There is also David Harbour’s half-German George Herwegh, who is humorous as the overgrown child who is also Herzen’s wife’s lover. And Amy Irving delivers a delicious cameo appearance as Nicholas Ogarev’s wife, Maria, who refuses to give him a divorce and has some wonderfully lusty exchanges with Natalie.
Jack O’Brien’s seamless direction takes full advantage not only of his terrific central cast, but also of the large “chorus” which simulates the Russian peasantry. His use of simple elements -- such as tree branches -- to ground the piece to mother Russia is exemplary. O’Brien's efforts are well complemented by Bob Crowley’s sumptuous set and Kenneth Posner’s excellent lighting design. While The Voyage was an adequate prelude and introduction to Stoppard’s world of early 19th century Russia, nothing quite prepares you for the breathtaking pace and passion of part two. If in crafting Part III the creators can capture a fraction of the magic on display in Shipwreck, then they will have on their hands an enormous success.
Review-Les Miserables (1.5.07)
Broadhurst Theatre (Friday, 1.5.07, 8 p.m.)
Starring: Alexander Gemignani, Norm Lewis, Daphne Rubin-Vega, Gary Beach, Jenny Holloway, Adam Jacob, Celia Keenan-Bolger, Ali Ewoldt, Aaron Lazar
In bringing back Les Miserables so soon after it closed, Cameron Mackintosh was really constrained to keep the new production very close to the original. The show, which ran for so many years and was seen by so many, is still very fresh in the minds of many theatregoers. Mackintosh's decision to reprise, rather than revive, the show was, I think the right decision, as a total reconception of the show at this early time would be premature, and might cause a revolt by the audience. That said, Mackintosh still made the decision to take a fresh eye to the entire work from top to bottom, tweaking stage direction, lighting, costumes, and even re-orchestrating the entire work. His new casting, too, in some respects sought to break the mold and depart from what we're used to.
So were all these nips and tucks a success? Well, unfortunately they do little to enhance the show. For while this new production sounds and looks similar to what we're used to, in the end it feels like a lesser creature, toned down in impact and mood. The new and revised elements are, by and large, a disappointment, and none of these changes improve upon the originals. Indeed, in several small instances, the "new" work is clearly inferior to the original.
Of course, even the show that left Broadway three years ago was different from the original show that premiered on Broadway in 1987. Upon the approach of the 10th anniversary of the show, Mackintosh famously fired a majority of the company, entirely recast it, and made various “tweaks” to the staging, lighting and direction. He also eliminated nearly 20 minutes of music, trimming the show from three and a quarter hours to just under three. At that time, I was thoroughly impressed by how the show had been rejuvenated by the changes. Although I did not care for the cuts of music, at least they seemed innocuous in view of the entire piece.
But the justification at that time was that the show was sagging -- it was not at its best. It’s hard to understand the justification for many of the changes that have been ushered forth in this version. Let’s start with the new orchestrations. Mackintosh said in an interview that changes in electronic instrument technology justified a new view of the orchestrations, which were originally written back in the early-/mid-1980s. The new orchestrations certainly allow for a smaller orchestra; however, they are also largely a failure. In reorchestrating the score, they seem to have removed many of the melodic counterpoints with which the audience has become so familiar. The orchestra sounds hollowed out and thin -- the dramatic swells and poignant tugs (such as the eloquent oboe/French horn solos in “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables”) have either been removed or are so understated that they cannot be heard.
The production also seems especially dark. While the show has always been fairly dimly lit, everything appeared much dimmer and drab than usual. Sure, this is mid-nineteenth century France, and it was a dark time, but the contrasts in light and dark are necessary if, for no other reason, than to be able to see what is going on.
The changes in orchestration and the lighting are just two examples of how the overall piece has been toned down. Whether intentional or not, it almost seems as though this new production were specifically designed to match the more toned down sensibilities of the 21st century, as opposed to the overly dramatic (or melodramatic) sensibilities on the 1980s when the show was originally written. If this is the case, this was a big mistake.
The subtle changes in direction, too, seem directionless and unfocused, and in some cases don’t make any sense. In “A Little Fall of Rain,” Eponine sings much of the first part of the song sitting up and directly facing Marius, as opposed to lying more prone in Marius’ arms. This looks awkward, and also doesn’t make sense given that Eponine has just suffered a mortal injury and is dying. Similarly, in the final scene, Fantine actually touches Jean Valjean prior to Cosette and Marius’ entrance. In the original, a luminous Fantine hovers over Valjean, and does not actually touch him until he dies. This lovely effect is gone.
This less effective stage direction, as well as the weaker orchestrations, also highlight the various cuts in the original score, to bad effect. Come to Me, a previously lovely and touching number, has been so truncated that Fantine’s death now comes across as a footnote rather than a major event. Even the runaway cart is so short now that this important element of the storytelling is also lost in the shuffle.
In fact, the entire first act has a paint-by-numbers quality to it, with the actors striving to jam in as much storytelling as possible without actually feeling the moment. Whereas the original show swept over you (the details were there, but it was the sweep of the story and emotion that got you), here, it is as if the actors are going through by rote.
Which brings us to the actors, about whom much has been written. Here, while multi-culturalism certainly deserves applause, the results are mixed.
Alexander Gemignani, who has done some fine work previously (particularly in the recent Sweeney Todd revival) takes on the mammoth role of Jean Valjean. I was excited about this prospect, because while I thought he might be a little too young for the part, I thought vocally he could handle the role. Unfortunately, Gemignani appears here as two different actors. During the course of the first act of the show and into the second act, Gemignani appears stoic and emotionless. Although he has a wonderful clear tenor voice, he rarely displays it to its full effect. Even at the beginning of the show, when Valjean is at his angriest and is the most emotionally volatile, Gemignani seems understated. He goes through the motions -- he throws down his bag, he causes a ruckus, but he never seems genuinely angry. That emotional cool may have been effective when he was the Beadle, but just doesn't fit with Jean Valjean.
Suddenly, then, as if responding to some criticism from a judge on a reality show, Gemignani explodes during “Bring Him Home.” Although his rendition is at times a beautiful and impassioned plea, the level of emotion he injects is far too sudden. It's not clear why he should have such a burst of feelings, particularly for Marius, a character whom he has barely met. Given how his character has acted up to this point (he couldn't be more cool to his beloved Cosette), "Bring Him Home" doesn’t make any sense. There through the end of the show, Gemignani is in full emotional tilt. His schizophrenic performance demonstrates his lack of experience, as well as the lack of a steadying director’s hand.
Upstaging Gemignani in every respect is Norm Lewis, probably the most successful of the new casting. Lewis’s delicious baritone wraps around Javert’s persona. He is both hard-nosed and cold in his exchanges, but in his big numbers -- Stars and Javert’s suicide -- he demonstrates the inner turmoil that makes Javert tick. Notwithstanding his role as Jean Valjean's foil, Lewis's Javert feels at root very human. Lewis is absolutely terrific from start to finish.
Much has been written about Daphne Rubin-Vega’s Fantine. On the one hand, I was pleased to find she is not the disaster that has been made out (in particular, very unkind and unwarranted things have been said about her singing, which was completely on-pitch at the performance I saw). That said, she is totally miscast. Rubin-Vega’s Fantine has a lovely delicacy and physical frailty (Fantine is, after all, sick and dying), she comes across as labored (when was the last time your first emotion when she was done singing was one of relief?) The biggest problem is that her mannerisms -- both physical and vocal -- are out of the period and not in keeping with the character. And even though she comes across as physically frail and perhaps emotionally childlike, Rubin-Vega’s Fantine still seems at her core to be a little too emotionally solid. Maybe it's the Latina chutzpah in her that she can't seem to repress. I just didn't sense enough of Fantine's frailty and desperation.
Also disappointing, though in a different way, was Celia Keenan-Bolger’s Eponine. I’m not sure whether I caught her on an off-night, but vocally Keenan-Bolger seemed to struggle with her lower range and almost to come across as a little hoarse. Her rendition of “On My Own” was pretty, but not nearly as desolate and desperate as it should be. This song has been sung by so many actresses, and most successfully when it comes across as a plain cry for someone to hear. (The best example I’ve heard live is Natalie Toro’s heartwrenching and almost deafening rendition when I first saw the show in the 1980s, followed next by Lea Salonga’s somewhat more contemplative, but equally touching version.) Keenan-Bolger’s version is muted. I felt like she had no nuance -- I didn't see even a glimpse of the vulnerability that lies at the heart of Eponine. Keenan-Bolger also fails to register during "A Heart Full of Love," with her interjections with Marius and Cosette. Ordinarily, this is an absolutely heartwrenching song, and Eponine's counterpoints are its highlight. Here, her existence barely registered. It was an odd and unexpected performance, given the fine work she has done in recent years.
Adam Jacob and Ali Ewoldt do some nice work as Marius and Cosette, respectively. Though Jacob lacks the impetuousness of, say, Michael Ball, his Marius is still fraught with personal struggle, trying to figure out where his loyalties lie -- with his love or his country. Jacob also sings well, and is very good in his big Act II solo, Empty Chairs at Empty Tables. Ali Ewoldt delivers some nice vocal moments, and quite competently fills the difficult role of Cosette. She and Jacob also match well and have nice chemistry, and “A Heart Full of Love” is gorgeously performed.
Aaron Lazar is perfectly cast as the student leader Enjolras. Lazar’s powerful baritone and presence are exactly what are required for the role. He does some excellent work and is also a standout.
Finally, Gary Beach and Jenny Galloway are enjoyable as Thenardier and Madame Thenardier. Beach makes the most of the comic moments of his role, and yet is also sufficiently dark and sinister. Mme. Thenardier is quite funny in “Master of the House” and in her exchanges with Valjean, milking the most out of each comic moment.
The stage of the Broadhurst is significantly smaller than at either the Broadway or the Imperial where this show previously played. As a result, we are closer to the action and the show feels more intimate. I liked this feeling when I saw the show in London, where it plays at the Queens, also a small venue. But for some reason, that feeling was not captured here. I instead felt a little claustrophobic. I felt like the dramatic sweep of the show was lost. I do not think this was because of the stage, but rather because the whole show felt muted.
In the end, there is still much to admire about Les Miz, but despite this show's innate power and beauty, much of the dramatic momentum is either lost or never found in the first place. This new version of the show just seems too muted, too sensitive, too scared of wearing its emotional heart on its sleeve. Perhaps the creators have simply had too much time to think about this material. One senses that had the creators taken a little more care in what they changed, and had the director paid a little more attention to the otherwise talented actors, that this could have been a truly memorable theatre-going experience. Instead, what we see is a competent, but otherwise rather unmoving version of this beloved show. Devoted fans of the show, in fact, will likely spend much time recalling past performances where everything was done a bit better.
Starring: Alexander Gemignani, Norm Lewis, Daphne Rubin-Vega, Gary Beach, Jenny Holloway, Adam Jacob, Celia Keenan-Bolger, Ali Ewoldt, Aaron Lazar
In bringing back Les Miserables so soon after it closed, Cameron Mackintosh was really constrained to keep the new production very close to the original. The show, which ran for so many years and was seen by so many, is still very fresh in the minds of many theatregoers. Mackintosh's decision to reprise, rather than revive, the show was, I think the right decision, as a total reconception of the show at this early time would be premature, and might cause a revolt by the audience. That said, Mackintosh still made the decision to take a fresh eye to the entire work from top to bottom, tweaking stage direction, lighting, costumes, and even re-orchestrating the entire work. His new casting, too, in some respects sought to break the mold and depart from what we're used to.
So were all these nips and tucks a success? Well, unfortunately they do little to enhance the show. For while this new production sounds and looks similar to what we're used to, in the end it feels like a lesser creature, toned down in impact and mood. The new and revised elements are, by and large, a disappointment, and none of these changes improve upon the originals. Indeed, in several small instances, the "new" work is clearly inferior to the original.
Of course, even the show that left Broadway three years ago was different from the original show that premiered on Broadway in 1987. Upon the approach of the 10th anniversary of the show, Mackintosh famously fired a majority of the company, entirely recast it, and made various “tweaks” to the staging, lighting and direction. He also eliminated nearly 20 minutes of music, trimming the show from three and a quarter hours to just under three. At that time, I was thoroughly impressed by how the show had been rejuvenated by the changes. Although I did not care for the cuts of music, at least they seemed innocuous in view of the entire piece.
But the justification at that time was that the show was sagging -- it was not at its best. It’s hard to understand the justification for many of the changes that have been ushered forth in this version. Let’s start with the new orchestrations. Mackintosh said in an interview that changes in electronic instrument technology justified a new view of the orchestrations, which were originally written back in the early-/mid-1980s. The new orchestrations certainly allow for a smaller orchestra; however, they are also largely a failure. In reorchestrating the score, they seem to have removed many of the melodic counterpoints with which the audience has become so familiar. The orchestra sounds hollowed out and thin -- the dramatic swells and poignant tugs (such as the eloquent oboe/French horn solos in “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables”) have either been removed or are so understated that they cannot be heard.
The production also seems especially dark. While the show has always been fairly dimly lit, everything appeared much dimmer and drab than usual. Sure, this is mid-nineteenth century France, and it was a dark time, but the contrasts in light and dark are necessary if, for no other reason, than to be able to see what is going on.
The changes in orchestration and the lighting are just two examples of how the overall piece has been toned down. Whether intentional or not, it almost seems as though this new production were specifically designed to match the more toned down sensibilities of the 21st century, as opposed to the overly dramatic (or melodramatic) sensibilities on the 1980s when the show was originally written. If this is the case, this was a big mistake.
The subtle changes in direction, too, seem directionless and unfocused, and in some cases don’t make any sense. In “A Little Fall of Rain,” Eponine sings much of the first part of the song sitting up and directly facing Marius, as opposed to lying more prone in Marius’ arms. This looks awkward, and also doesn’t make sense given that Eponine has just suffered a mortal injury and is dying. Similarly, in the final scene, Fantine actually touches Jean Valjean prior to Cosette and Marius’ entrance. In the original, a luminous Fantine hovers over Valjean, and does not actually touch him until he dies. This lovely effect is gone.
This less effective stage direction, as well as the weaker orchestrations, also highlight the various cuts in the original score, to bad effect. Come to Me, a previously lovely and touching number, has been so truncated that Fantine’s death now comes across as a footnote rather than a major event. Even the runaway cart is so short now that this important element of the storytelling is also lost in the shuffle.
In fact, the entire first act has a paint-by-numbers quality to it, with the actors striving to jam in as much storytelling as possible without actually feeling the moment. Whereas the original show swept over you (the details were there, but it was the sweep of the story and emotion that got you), here, it is as if the actors are going through by rote.
Which brings us to the actors, about whom much has been written. Here, while multi-culturalism certainly deserves applause, the results are mixed.
Alexander Gemignani, who has done some fine work previously (particularly in the recent Sweeney Todd revival) takes on the mammoth role of Jean Valjean. I was excited about this prospect, because while I thought he might be a little too young for the part, I thought vocally he could handle the role. Unfortunately, Gemignani appears here as two different actors. During the course of the first act of the show and into the second act, Gemignani appears stoic and emotionless. Although he has a wonderful clear tenor voice, he rarely displays it to its full effect. Even at the beginning of the show, when Valjean is at his angriest and is the most emotionally volatile, Gemignani seems understated. He goes through the motions -- he throws down his bag, he causes a ruckus, but he never seems genuinely angry. That emotional cool may have been effective when he was the Beadle, but just doesn't fit with Jean Valjean.
Suddenly, then, as if responding to some criticism from a judge on a reality show, Gemignani explodes during “Bring Him Home.” Although his rendition is at times a beautiful and impassioned plea, the level of emotion he injects is far too sudden. It's not clear why he should have such a burst of feelings, particularly for Marius, a character whom he has barely met. Given how his character has acted up to this point (he couldn't be more cool to his beloved Cosette), "Bring Him Home" doesn’t make any sense. There through the end of the show, Gemignani is in full emotional tilt. His schizophrenic performance demonstrates his lack of experience, as well as the lack of a steadying director’s hand.
Upstaging Gemignani in every respect is Norm Lewis, probably the most successful of the new casting. Lewis’s delicious baritone wraps around Javert’s persona. He is both hard-nosed and cold in his exchanges, but in his big numbers -- Stars and Javert’s suicide -- he demonstrates the inner turmoil that makes Javert tick. Notwithstanding his role as Jean Valjean's foil, Lewis's Javert feels at root very human. Lewis is absolutely terrific from start to finish.
Much has been written about Daphne Rubin-Vega’s Fantine. On the one hand, I was pleased to find she is not the disaster that has been made out (in particular, very unkind and unwarranted things have been said about her singing, which was completely on-pitch at the performance I saw). That said, she is totally miscast. Rubin-Vega’s Fantine has a lovely delicacy and physical frailty (Fantine is, after all, sick and dying), she comes across as labored (when was the last time your first emotion when she was done singing was one of relief?) The biggest problem is that her mannerisms -- both physical and vocal -- are out of the period and not in keeping with the character. And even though she comes across as physically frail and perhaps emotionally childlike, Rubin-Vega’s Fantine still seems at her core to be a little too emotionally solid. Maybe it's the Latina chutzpah in her that she can't seem to repress. I just didn't sense enough of Fantine's frailty and desperation.
Also disappointing, though in a different way, was Celia Keenan-Bolger’s Eponine. I’m not sure whether I caught her on an off-night, but vocally Keenan-Bolger seemed to struggle with her lower range and almost to come across as a little hoarse. Her rendition of “On My Own” was pretty, but not nearly as desolate and desperate as it should be. This song has been sung by so many actresses, and most successfully when it comes across as a plain cry for someone to hear. (The best example I’ve heard live is Natalie Toro’s heartwrenching and almost deafening rendition when I first saw the show in the 1980s, followed next by Lea Salonga’s somewhat more contemplative, but equally touching version.) Keenan-Bolger’s version is muted. I felt like she had no nuance -- I didn't see even a glimpse of the vulnerability that lies at the heart of Eponine. Keenan-Bolger also fails to register during "A Heart Full of Love," with her interjections with Marius and Cosette. Ordinarily, this is an absolutely heartwrenching song, and Eponine's counterpoints are its highlight. Here, her existence barely registered. It was an odd and unexpected performance, given the fine work she has done in recent years.
Adam Jacob and Ali Ewoldt do some nice work as Marius and Cosette, respectively. Though Jacob lacks the impetuousness of, say, Michael Ball, his Marius is still fraught with personal struggle, trying to figure out where his loyalties lie -- with his love or his country. Jacob also sings well, and is very good in his big Act II solo, Empty Chairs at Empty Tables. Ali Ewoldt delivers some nice vocal moments, and quite competently fills the difficult role of Cosette. She and Jacob also match well and have nice chemistry, and “A Heart Full of Love” is gorgeously performed.
Aaron Lazar is perfectly cast as the student leader Enjolras. Lazar’s powerful baritone and presence are exactly what are required for the role. He does some excellent work and is also a standout.
Finally, Gary Beach and Jenny Galloway are enjoyable as Thenardier and Madame Thenardier. Beach makes the most of the comic moments of his role, and yet is also sufficiently dark and sinister. Mme. Thenardier is quite funny in “Master of the House” and in her exchanges with Valjean, milking the most out of each comic moment.
The stage of the Broadhurst is significantly smaller than at either the Broadway or the Imperial where this show previously played. As a result, we are closer to the action and the show feels more intimate. I liked this feeling when I saw the show in London, where it plays at the Queens, also a small venue. But for some reason, that feeling was not captured here. I instead felt a little claustrophobic. I felt like the dramatic sweep of the show was lost. I do not think this was because of the stage, but rather because the whole show felt muted.
In the end, there is still much to admire about Les Miz, but despite this show's innate power and beauty, much of the dramatic momentum is either lost or never found in the first place. This new version of the show just seems too muted, too sensitive, too scared of wearing its emotional heart on its sleeve. Perhaps the creators have simply had too much time to think about this material. One senses that had the creators taken a little more care in what they changed, and had the director paid a little more attention to the otherwise talented actors, that this could have been a truly memorable theatre-going experience. Instead, what we see is a competent, but otherwise rather unmoving version of this beloved show. Devoted fans of the show, in fact, will likely spend much time recalling past performances where everything was done a bit better.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Review-A Chorus Line (12.26.06)
A Chorus Line (Tuesday, 12.26.06, 8:00 p.m.)
Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre (Broadway)
Starring: Charlotte D’Amboise (Cassie), Michael Barresse (Zach), Ken Alan (Bobby), Brad Anderson (Don), Michelle Aravena (Tricia), David Baum (Roy), Mike Cannon (Tom), E. Clayton Cornelious (Butch), Natalie Cortez (Diana), Mara Davi (Maggie), Jessica Lee Goldyn (Val), Deidre Goodwin (Sheila), Tyler Hanes (Larry), Nadine Isenegger (Lois), James T. Lane (Richie), Pamela Farello (Vicki), Paul McGill (Mark), Heather Parcells (Judy), Michael Paternostro (Greg), Alisan Porter (Bebe), Jeffrey Schecter (Mike), Lisa Ho (Connie), Jason Tam (Paul), Grant Turner (Frank), Chryssie Whitehead (Kristine), Tony Yazbeck (Al)
In the opening number of A Chorus Line, the would-be choristers dance, learning the steps as part of the audition process. There is electricity in the air. The music pumps and sounds fresh and new, the remarkable dancers strut their stuff. One senses something magical is about to happen. I must confess that I was too young to actually see the original cast in the original production, and while I am familiar with the original cast recording, I can’t really compare the revival to the very original. (Though I did finally see the original run in 1987, about 12 years into its original run.) The opening moments lend a sense that the evening is going to bring an emotional high -- the kind that led the original production to become the huge success that it was.
This spanking new Chorus Line, though, never quite achieves that lift and never reaches the emotional heights that one anticipates in those opening moments of the show. To be sure, most of the important elements seem to be there -- excellent dancing, competent singing, and even a few fine moment of drama here and there. But by the end of the evening, there’s clearly something missing. Even as the dancers in this Chorus Line strut their stuff, they seem to be taking all the right steps without actually feeling the emotional pulse of the show.
It’s hard to say whether this is simply a let down from anticipation, or whether there is in fact something missing from this production. I suspect part of the problem is that this Chorus Line attempts to stay too close and too true to the original production. Rather than trying to bring something new and original, the producers seemed more concerned with recreating as much of the original production as possible. Perhaps a fresh take on things would have brought that fresh emotion to make the piece soar.
The producers did at least try to assemble the most able cast possible. The cast certainly looks good, and they dance with tremendous agility. That says, they never seem able to achieve any emotional lift. In the central role of Cassie is Charlotte D’Amboise. D’Amboise is a very likeable, hard-working theatre veteran. She is a consummate and competent performer who seems constantly to be employed, having taken over lead roles in show like Chicago and Sweet Charity, to name a few. She would seem perfect for the role. In fact, she is a better actor than most of the others on stage. She has some nice moments in her exchanges with Zach, and does well in the chorus dance numbers. But for some reason she falls a little flat in her big number -- the Music and the Mirror, with her voice faltering at times and even her dancing feeling a little hesitant. The number is a built-in emotional crescendo, but for some reason D’Amboise is never quite able to make the most of her moment.
Michael Barresse is rather unmemorable as Zach. He comes across as somewhat wooden, though truth be told the character as written spends most of his time off stage and doesn't get much of a chance to really interact with the other characters. The rest of the cast consists of excellent dancers, and where they excel most is in the chorus numbers. But as individual actors portraying individual characters, nobody really registers. Several of the actors struggle a bit vocally, which does not help, and so Hamlisch’s score at times just doesn’t sing the way it is supposed to. Even when they the actors manage to sing acceptably, they often don’t seem to capture the emotional core of the songs. A good example of this is Natalie Cortez’s rendition of “What I Did For Love?”, which, while sweet, never strikes any hits home. Deidre Goodwin is another example of a performer who has tremendous presence, but whose singing of “At the Ballet” does little to enhance her character.
Of the ensemble, Jason Tam, as Paul, comes the closest to achieving his character’s promise, delivering a beautiful monologue which provides the singular most genuine moment of drama in the course of the evening. (I've seen a number of reviews criticizing him, but I found no obvious fault with his performance.) He is the only one (other than Cassie) who truly gets a chance to reveal himself in any meaningful way, and it is probably the emotional highlight of the evening. Also fully successful in inhabiting her character is Jessica Lee Goldyn, who as Val gives a delicious performance of "Dance 10, Looks 3."
As for the show as a whole, it is all competently told, but in the end, this Chorus Line just doesn’t move us the way you would expect. The dancers form the chorus well, but the spotlights on the individual characters seem just a little dim. There are occasional glimpses of something special, but this Chorus Line ends out just being another show with a couple of good ensemble numbers.
Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre (Broadway)
Starring: Charlotte D’Amboise (Cassie), Michael Barresse (Zach), Ken Alan (Bobby), Brad Anderson (Don), Michelle Aravena (Tricia), David Baum (Roy), Mike Cannon (Tom), E. Clayton Cornelious (Butch), Natalie Cortez (Diana), Mara Davi (Maggie), Jessica Lee Goldyn (Val), Deidre Goodwin (Sheila), Tyler Hanes (Larry), Nadine Isenegger (Lois), James T. Lane (Richie), Pamela Farello (Vicki), Paul McGill (Mark), Heather Parcells (Judy), Michael Paternostro (Greg), Alisan Porter (Bebe), Jeffrey Schecter (Mike), Lisa Ho (Connie), Jason Tam (Paul), Grant Turner (Frank), Chryssie Whitehead (Kristine), Tony Yazbeck (Al)
In the opening number of A Chorus Line, the would-be choristers dance, learning the steps as part of the audition process. There is electricity in the air. The music pumps and sounds fresh and new, the remarkable dancers strut their stuff. One senses something magical is about to happen. I must confess that I was too young to actually see the original cast in the original production, and while I am familiar with the original cast recording, I can’t really compare the revival to the very original. (Though I did finally see the original run in 1987, about 12 years into its original run.) The opening moments lend a sense that the evening is going to bring an emotional high -- the kind that led the original production to become the huge success that it was.
This spanking new Chorus Line, though, never quite achieves that lift and never reaches the emotional heights that one anticipates in those opening moments of the show. To be sure, most of the important elements seem to be there -- excellent dancing, competent singing, and even a few fine moment of drama here and there. But by the end of the evening, there’s clearly something missing. Even as the dancers in this Chorus Line strut their stuff, they seem to be taking all the right steps without actually feeling the emotional pulse of the show.
It’s hard to say whether this is simply a let down from anticipation, or whether there is in fact something missing from this production. I suspect part of the problem is that this Chorus Line attempts to stay too close and too true to the original production. Rather than trying to bring something new and original, the producers seemed more concerned with recreating as much of the original production as possible. Perhaps a fresh take on things would have brought that fresh emotion to make the piece soar.
The producers did at least try to assemble the most able cast possible. The cast certainly looks good, and they dance with tremendous agility. That says, they never seem able to achieve any emotional lift. In the central role of Cassie is Charlotte D’Amboise. D’Amboise is a very likeable, hard-working theatre veteran. She is a consummate and competent performer who seems constantly to be employed, having taken over lead roles in show like Chicago and Sweet Charity, to name a few. She would seem perfect for the role. In fact, she is a better actor than most of the others on stage. She has some nice moments in her exchanges with Zach, and does well in the chorus dance numbers. But for some reason she falls a little flat in her big number -- the Music and the Mirror, with her voice faltering at times and even her dancing feeling a little hesitant. The number is a built-in emotional crescendo, but for some reason D’Amboise is never quite able to make the most of her moment.
Michael Barresse is rather unmemorable as Zach. He comes across as somewhat wooden, though truth be told the character as written spends most of his time off stage and doesn't get much of a chance to really interact with the other characters. The rest of the cast consists of excellent dancers, and where they excel most is in the chorus numbers. But as individual actors portraying individual characters, nobody really registers. Several of the actors struggle a bit vocally, which does not help, and so Hamlisch’s score at times just doesn’t sing the way it is supposed to. Even when they the actors manage to sing acceptably, they often don’t seem to capture the emotional core of the songs. A good example of this is Natalie Cortez’s rendition of “What I Did For Love?”, which, while sweet, never strikes any hits home. Deidre Goodwin is another example of a performer who has tremendous presence, but whose singing of “At the Ballet” does little to enhance her character.
Of the ensemble, Jason Tam, as Paul, comes the closest to achieving his character’s promise, delivering a beautiful monologue which provides the singular most genuine moment of drama in the course of the evening. (I've seen a number of reviews criticizing him, but I found no obvious fault with his performance.) He is the only one (other than Cassie) who truly gets a chance to reveal himself in any meaningful way, and it is probably the emotional highlight of the evening. Also fully successful in inhabiting her character is Jessica Lee Goldyn, who as Val gives a delicious performance of "Dance 10, Looks 3."
As for the show as a whole, it is all competently told, but in the end, this Chorus Line just doesn’t move us the way you would expect. The dancers form the chorus well, but the spotlights on the individual characters seem just a little dim. There are occasional glimpses of something special, but this Chorus Line ends out just being another show with a couple of good ensemble numbers.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
The Apple Tree (12.20.06)
The Apple Tree (Wednesday, 12.20.06, 8:00 p.m.)
Studio 54, New York, NY
By: Jerry Bock and Sheldon Harnick (book, music, lyrics)
Starring: Kristin Chenoweth (Eve, Princess Barbara, Passionella), Brian d’Arcy James (Adam, Sanjar, Flip, The Prince, Charming), Marc Kudisch (The Snake, Balladeer, Narrator), Walter Charles (King Arik, Mr. Fallible, Producer)
Is there a bigger talent that Kristin Chenoweth? Witness her on stage in the Roundabout’s new production of “The Apple Tree,” and it will be difficult to argue that there is. Chenoweth, who plays the lead roles in the three vignettes that form this musical, is at her absolute comic best. She is blithe and joyous as Eve, mischievous as Barbara, and touching as Passionella. She even convinces us that she can’t sing when the part calls for it. She is wonderful.
Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for The Apple Tree which, while a nice vehicle for Ms. Chenoweth, is otherwise rather dull and uninteresting. Sure, Bock and Harnick’s songs sound pretty and have a snap to them, but by and large the piece, which attempts to tell the story of the relationship between men and women starting with Eden, is lacking is any momentum or in anything interesting to say. One or two common “jokes” threaded throughout the show notwithstanding, there is little connection among the show’s three parts.
The first part -- a retelling of the story of Adam and Eve -- is also probably the show’s best. Largely performed on a bar stage using minimal props and some ladders, the piece -- which is the show’s first act -- is both humorous and touching. d’Arcy James and Chenoweth play Adam and Eve, respectively, and are both charming and humorous. Although much of the dialogue and interaction borders on cliché, it is nevertheless accessible and humorous, and not all that intellectually challenging. Marc Kudisch has some nice moments as The Snake. If there were ever an actor right for such a cartoonish character as this, it is Kudisch. It’s a delicious featured performance.
The show, unfortunately, goes downhill from there. The retelling of the Lady or the Tiger falls relatively flat. Quite frankly, we don’t really care whether Sanjar gets the Lady or the Tiger at all. Things get even worse when we get to Passionella. Although Chenoweth is arguably at her most adorable here (and although there is a sweet, happy ending), but of the 60s Passionella feel comes across as garish and even tacky.The Apple Tree is a highly flawed show, and it really must be viewed solely as a comic vehicle for Chenoweth. Viewed as such, it is a resounding success. Viewed otherwise, it falls far short of the mark either for classic musicals or the Roundabout Theatre.
Studio 54, New York, NY
By: Jerry Bock and Sheldon Harnick (book, music, lyrics)
Starring: Kristin Chenoweth (Eve, Princess Barbara, Passionella), Brian d’Arcy James (Adam, Sanjar, Flip, The Prince, Charming), Marc Kudisch (The Snake, Balladeer, Narrator), Walter Charles (King Arik, Mr. Fallible, Producer)
Is there a bigger talent that Kristin Chenoweth? Witness her on stage in the Roundabout’s new production of “The Apple Tree,” and it will be difficult to argue that there is. Chenoweth, who plays the lead roles in the three vignettes that form this musical, is at her absolute comic best. She is blithe and joyous as Eve, mischievous as Barbara, and touching as Passionella. She even convinces us that she can’t sing when the part calls for it. She is wonderful.
Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for The Apple Tree which, while a nice vehicle for Ms. Chenoweth, is otherwise rather dull and uninteresting. Sure, Bock and Harnick’s songs sound pretty and have a snap to them, but by and large the piece, which attempts to tell the story of the relationship between men and women starting with Eden, is lacking is any momentum or in anything interesting to say. One or two common “jokes” threaded throughout the show notwithstanding, there is little connection among the show’s three parts.
The first part -- a retelling of the story of Adam and Eve -- is also probably the show’s best. Largely performed on a bar stage using minimal props and some ladders, the piece -- which is the show’s first act -- is both humorous and touching. d’Arcy James and Chenoweth play Adam and Eve, respectively, and are both charming and humorous. Although much of the dialogue and interaction borders on cliché, it is nevertheless accessible and humorous, and not all that intellectually challenging. Marc Kudisch has some nice moments as The Snake. If there were ever an actor right for such a cartoonish character as this, it is Kudisch. It’s a delicious featured performance.
The show, unfortunately, goes downhill from there. The retelling of the Lady or the Tiger falls relatively flat. Quite frankly, we don’t really care whether Sanjar gets the Lady or the Tiger at all. Things get even worse when we get to Passionella. Although Chenoweth is arguably at her most adorable here (and although there is a sweet, happy ending), but of the 60s Passionella feel comes across as garish and even tacky.The Apple Tree is a highly flawed show, and it really must be viewed solely as a comic vehicle for Chenoweth. Viewed as such, it is a resounding success. Viewed otherwise, it falls far short of the mark either for classic musicals or the Roundabout Theatre.
Review-Spring Awakening (12.19.06)
Spring Awakening (Monday, 12.19.06, 8:00 p.m.)
Eugene O'Neill Theatre
Starring: Starring: Jonathan Groff (Melchior), Lea Michele (Wendla), John Gallagher, Jr. (Moritz), Lauren Pritchard (Ilse), Lilli Cooper (Martha), Phoebe Strole (Anna), Remy Zaken (Thea), Brian Charles Johnson (Otto), Jonathan B. Wright (Hanschen), Skylar Astin (Georg), Robert Hager (understudy, Ernst), Stephen Spinella (adult men), Christine Estabrook (adult women)
When Spring Awakening opened on Broadway, the reviewers could not have raved more. “A Miracle,” “the best new musical in a generation” – the accolades kept coming. Could it be that the reviewers were a bit overzealous in their praise? Could the show be that good?
It just may be.
When I saw the off-Broadway incarnation of this show this past summer, I saw a production that was energetic, young, rough, raw, perhaps even a little unfinished. I enjoyed it, and admired the freshness that the show had. I also thought that with a little work, it could be refined further. But I never really considered it an ideal candidate for Broadway transfer. Yet somewhere between 20th and 49th Streets, the creative team worked its magic and, miraculously turned this rough raw bundle of energy into a true gem. This Spring Awakening is nothing short of exquisite, a gorgeous and moving piece of theatre that is truly transfixing, especially in the blissful second act.
At the center of this diamond are Melchior (Groff) and Wendla (Michele), the two young lovers who could not be more different in tone, but who both have spirits yearning to break free. Young Melchior is handsome and charismatic, a confident leader willing to rebel. Wendla is a fragile child, a delicate free-thinker yearning to be a woman, but lacking the role model to do so and trapped by her own naivete. Groff and Michele are fantastic in their respective roles. Groff is powerful and captivating, a magnetic presence with a crystal-clear tenor capable of matching the rock beats of “All That’s Known” and “Totally Fucked” with precision and clarity, but also equally at ease delivering a delicate tribute to his friend in the gorgeous and moving “Left Behind.” Michele, meanwhile, is delicate and fragile and beautiful, yet with an edgy streak that only occasionally surfaces. Her singing is absolutely captivating, enhanced by her willingness to use softer tones rather than constantly belt. Together, the two characters come across very differently, but they are a terrific pair.
Completing the threesome is John Gallagher, Jr., who is terrific as Moritz. He is alternately sad and jubilant, but always intense. Gallagher sings the rock score well, but it is his awkward presence that lends itself so well to the role. In the show’s penultimate number, Gallagher’s appearance through the mist is breathtaking, his clear but slightly edgy voice piercing through. It is a terrific moment.
The remainder of the ensemble is terrific, singing well and making the most of more limited material. Lauren Pritchard is especially memorable, delivering soulful renditions of two key Act II songs. Filling the various adult roles are Christine Estabrook and Stephen Spinella, both giving terrific performances in a variety of different roles. Estabrook does some fine comic work, while Spinella creates one of the great moments as Moritz’s father late in the second act. The two do a surprisingly good job at capturing the essence of the various roles.
Duncan Shiek’s brilliant score sounds terrific, with some absolutely gorgeous moments particularly in the second act. Although I still find that two or three of the numbers in the first act have an unfinished quality (they almost seem “cut off” before the musical motif has finished), the second act is seamless. The singing is uniformly excellent, appropriate to the moments they intend to create. The on-stage orchestra, including the piano accompaniment by one of the actors, is uniformly excellent.
The more expansive stage has been decorated to mirror the original Atlantic Theatre’s church-setting, but the wider stage gives the actors a little more breathing room. There is some excellent lighting design that complements the period appropriate set. If there is a weakness, it is the choreography, which consists of much stomping and jumping. That said, it is rare that the body movements are not appropriate to the moment or to the piece.
Wedikind’s original play, written more than 100 years ago, is no longer groundbreaking in this day and age, and I heard at least a few comment during intermission that they felt they had seen the story before. That said, Shiek and Sater’s retelling of this tale is very fresh and emotionally raw, and yet they have captured an elegance and exquisiteness in the story’s telling that was lacking downtown. This Spring Awakening is, indeed, an awakening, and one not to be missed.
Eugene O'Neill Theatre
Starring: Starring: Jonathan Groff (Melchior), Lea Michele (Wendla), John Gallagher, Jr. (Moritz), Lauren Pritchard (Ilse), Lilli Cooper (Martha), Phoebe Strole (Anna), Remy Zaken (Thea), Brian Charles Johnson (Otto), Jonathan B. Wright (Hanschen), Skylar Astin (Georg), Robert Hager (understudy, Ernst), Stephen Spinella (adult men), Christine Estabrook (adult women)
When Spring Awakening opened on Broadway, the reviewers could not have raved more. “A Miracle,” “the best new musical in a generation” – the accolades kept coming. Could it be that the reviewers were a bit overzealous in their praise? Could the show be that good?
It just may be.
When I saw the off-Broadway incarnation of this show this past summer, I saw a production that was energetic, young, rough, raw, perhaps even a little unfinished. I enjoyed it, and admired the freshness that the show had. I also thought that with a little work, it could be refined further. But I never really considered it an ideal candidate for Broadway transfer. Yet somewhere between 20th and 49th Streets, the creative team worked its magic and, miraculously turned this rough raw bundle of energy into a true gem. This Spring Awakening is nothing short of exquisite, a gorgeous and moving piece of theatre that is truly transfixing, especially in the blissful second act.
At the center of this diamond are Melchior (Groff) and Wendla (Michele), the two young lovers who could not be more different in tone, but who both have spirits yearning to break free. Young Melchior is handsome and charismatic, a confident leader willing to rebel. Wendla is a fragile child, a delicate free-thinker yearning to be a woman, but lacking the role model to do so and trapped by her own naivete. Groff and Michele are fantastic in their respective roles. Groff is powerful and captivating, a magnetic presence with a crystal-clear tenor capable of matching the rock beats of “All That’s Known” and “Totally Fucked” with precision and clarity, but also equally at ease delivering a delicate tribute to his friend in the gorgeous and moving “Left Behind.” Michele, meanwhile, is delicate and fragile and beautiful, yet with an edgy streak that only occasionally surfaces. Her singing is absolutely captivating, enhanced by her willingness to use softer tones rather than constantly belt. Together, the two characters come across very differently, but they are a terrific pair.
Completing the threesome is John Gallagher, Jr., who is terrific as Moritz. He is alternately sad and jubilant, but always intense. Gallagher sings the rock score well, but it is his awkward presence that lends itself so well to the role. In the show’s penultimate number, Gallagher’s appearance through the mist is breathtaking, his clear but slightly edgy voice piercing through. It is a terrific moment.
The remainder of the ensemble is terrific, singing well and making the most of more limited material. Lauren Pritchard is especially memorable, delivering soulful renditions of two key Act II songs. Filling the various adult roles are Christine Estabrook and Stephen Spinella, both giving terrific performances in a variety of different roles. Estabrook does some fine comic work, while Spinella creates one of the great moments as Moritz’s father late in the second act. The two do a surprisingly good job at capturing the essence of the various roles.
Duncan Shiek’s brilliant score sounds terrific, with some absolutely gorgeous moments particularly in the second act. Although I still find that two or three of the numbers in the first act have an unfinished quality (they almost seem “cut off” before the musical motif has finished), the second act is seamless. The singing is uniformly excellent, appropriate to the moments they intend to create. The on-stage orchestra, including the piano accompaniment by one of the actors, is uniformly excellent.
The more expansive stage has been decorated to mirror the original Atlantic Theatre’s church-setting, but the wider stage gives the actors a little more breathing room. There is some excellent lighting design that complements the period appropriate set. If there is a weakness, it is the choreography, which consists of much stomping and jumping. That said, it is rare that the body movements are not appropriate to the moment or to the piece.
Wedikind’s original play, written more than 100 years ago, is no longer groundbreaking in this day and age, and I heard at least a few comment during intermission that they felt they had seen the story before. That said, Shiek and Sater’s retelling of this tale is very fresh and emotionally raw, and yet they have captured an elegance and exquisiteness in the story’s telling that was lacking downtown. This Spring Awakening is, indeed, an awakening, and one not to be missed.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Review-Company (11.22.06)
Company (Wednesday, 11.22.06, 8:00 p.m.)
Ethel Barrymore Theatre (Broadway)
By: Stephen Sondheim (music, lyrics), George Furth (book), John Doyle (direction)
Starring: Raul Esparza (Robert), Barbara Walsh (Joanne), Keith Buterbaugh (Harry), Matt Castle (Peter), Robert Cunningham (Paul), Angel Desai (Marta), Kelly Jeanne Grant (Kathy), Kristin Huffman (Sarah), Amy Justman (Susan), Heather Laws (Amy), Leenya Rideout (Jenny), Fred Rose (David), Bruce Sabath (Larry), Elizabeth Stanley (April)
Single, 35-year-old Bobby is the center of attention. He’s the only single guy amongst a group of otherwise married friends. Everyone is obsessed with Bobby. They hang out with him, they laugh with him, they live vicariously through him. On some level, they desperately want him to join them in marital bliss; yet at the same time they seem envious of his freedom and lack of commitment.
Although Bobby is the center of attention, he is also an observer, at least with respect to the institution of marriage. Here is where Raul Esparza is so successful in the role. Esparza is at once the center of attention -- he is charismatic, handsome, likeable -- and yet at the same time he is an observer. In scene after scene, while the attention is ostensibly on him, it really is on the situation between whichever married couple happens to be entertaining him. Esparza straddles this fine line between center and observer with ease.
But when he needs to take the reigns and assert himself as the true center of attention, Esparza steps up and does so brilliantly. His Act I-ending number -- Marry Me a Little, and his triumphant and moving final number -- Being Alive -- are marvelous theatrical moments. Esparza brilliantly captures the essence of the Bobby, and in doing so provides a blissful heart to the show.
Esparza aside, this Company is brilliant all around. John Doyle, who rode a wave of success last season with his ground-breaking version of “Sweeney Todd” here employs the same gimmick -- not just putting the orchestra on stage, but actually usurping it with a cast of impossibly talented orchestral actors. To be sure, the effect could not be more different. Whereas in Sweeney Todd the use of the orchestra-actors created an eerie, seamless chamber piece quality, here it creates a slick and cool urban setting. After the first number, one barely notices the instruments, except when Doyle dabbles in musical amusement -- such as the clever saxophone trio of “You Could Drive A Person Crazy” or the triangle-teasing by Joanne in “Side By Side.”
The score this time around is more successfully orchestrated than that was the case with Sweeney. Though Sweeney had a lovely haunting quality about it, the full sound of the orchestra was, at times, missed. Here, the orchestrations glisten. They are sharp and full, and aside from the occasional overbalancing by the trumpets, extremely skillfully played.
The acting and singing, too, is quite universally brilliant. Barbara Walsh gives a particularly stirring performance as Joanne, acting and singing the hell out of her big number, “The Ladies Who Lunch,” and promising to put her own stamp on the role made so famous by Elaine Stritch. Angel Desai also gives a lovely rendition of “Another Hundred People,” while Heather Laws gives a deliciously entertaining turn in “Not Getting Married Today.” The women in the cast generally fare better than the men (who are generally less memorable), though truly there are noticeably weak links in the cast.
The stylish and cool set perfectly complements the piece, the timing of which is unspecified but presumed to be present-day. The glass cubes and elegant grand piano sufficiently set the scene for the entire show -- one really doesn’t miss more traditional set pieces at all. Though some have commented that Bobby's act two scene with April (normally on a bed) is awkward, I did not find it to be so.
This Company is a resounding success. While it might not be thought of as quite as groundbreaking as last season’s Sweeney, this should really only be because Company is itself somewhat more abstract to begin with. To my mind, this production is as groundbreaking as was Sweeney, and perhaps in some ways superior. This remarkable production achieves the perfect synergy of reinvention, design, music, concept, acting, and singing, all the while celebrating the original work. What more could a body ask for?
Review-The Coast of Utopia - The Voyage (11.26.06)
The Coast of Utopia - The Voyage (Sunday, 11.26.06, 3 p.m.)
Vivian Beaumont Theatre (Lincoln Center, New York)
Starring: Richard Easton (Alexander Bakunin), Amy Irving (Varvara), Jennifer Ehle (Liubov), Martha Plimpton (Varenka), Kellie Overbey (Tatiana), Annie Purcell (Alexandra), Ethan Hawke (Michael Bakunin), David Harbour (Nicholas Stankevich), Billy Crudup (Vissarion Belinsky), Jason Butler Harner (Ivan Turgenev), Brian F. O’Byrne (Alexander Herzen), Josh Hamilton (Nicholas Ogarev), Aaron Krohn (Nicholas Sazonov), Baylen Thomas (Nicholas Ketscher), David Pittu (Nicholas Polevoy), Adam Dannheisser (Pushkin)
The Coast of Utopia trilogy promises to be a sprawling adventure -- literally decades out of a crucial period in the intellectual life of Russia. Daunting in scale and subject, one almost suspected you would need to attend class before evening thinking of stepping into the theatre.
How wrong that would be.
This Coast of Utopia is grand from its opening moments. The opening scene is marked by a dramatic swell of music, the simulation of stormy waves, and an image of the multitudes, living in destitution and poverty, freezing and barely eking out an existence. They are constantly in the background. Meanwhile, we enter the home of a middle-class family -- in the business of agriculture (what else). They are well educated and touched by the outside world -- they speak many languages and are influenced by the goings on in France, Germany, England. They talk as if they have grand ideas about life, what should be aspired to, and what would be the ideal to come.
The central protagonist in The Voyage is Michael Bakunin, played with great temper and agility by Ethan Hawke. Bakunin is an idea man, one moment wrapped up in the philosophy of one thinker; the next moment enthralled by the ideas of a different one. Bakunin is all about action; he may seem to spew forth many ideas, but in the end the ideas lack coherence. He talks a good talk, but in the end it seems like he will never contribute anything. He dupes his friends into funding his largesse, and never really seems to give anything back. Is he the intelligentsia that will shape the new Russia?
One hopes the answer is no. And yet one is frustrated not only that he is the center of attention, but that his friends and his family let him get away with it and admire him for being what he is (except his father, of course, who sees through him, but voices disapproval for different reasons).
The Voyage, then, is less about the actual ideas that form the new Russian thinking than it is about the people who think they have such ideas. I understand that Stoppard trimmed his script somewhat to streamline it and give it a greater sense of urgency. I suppose the urgency is there, but the result of the cuts (or so I would imagine) is to “dumb down” the exchanges. I have not read the original version of the play, so I cannot attest to what was trimmed, but The Voyage seems surprisingly devoid of the kind of truly witty and engaging exchanges that one comes to anticipate from Stoppard. The situations are there, and the language is floral, but where is the true exchange of ideas?
That said, The Voyage glides along relatively seamlessly, and the nearly three-hour running time passes by rather quickly. Things especially pick up when Billy Crudup’s brilliant turn as Belinsky begins. Crudup is the king of self-conscious portrayal. One almost doesn’t recognize him at first; his matinee idol good looks disguised in frumpiness, long hair, and a padded suit. But he is marvelous. Lacking the intellectual training of his comrades (he, after all, only speaks Russian), he is nevertheless more genuine in his embrace of new intellectual ideas than his more moneyed friends. Crudup’s sense of urgency is different -- it is not about himself, it is about the ideas. Whereas Bakunin’s cause celebre is about aggrandizing himself, Crudup’s aim is at the philosophers. The contrast is striking.
Also excellent is Brian F. O’Byrne, whose brief appearance as Herzen is nonetheless brilliant and makes you yearn for more. When his character steps to the fore in Part II, it promises to be special. O’Byrne knows how to captivate the audience; his grasp of character and language are miraculous.
At the end of the day, this is a glorious production of a good -- though not great -- play. What it does well is to set the mood for the remainder of the trilogy. The Voyage feels not so much like a complete play as the beginning of a journey. One only hopes that as that journey continues, it grows richer than was this first part.
Vivian Beaumont Theatre (Lincoln Center, New York)
Starring: Richard Easton (Alexander Bakunin), Amy Irving (Varvara), Jennifer Ehle (Liubov), Martha Plimpton (Varenka), Kellie Overbey (Tatiana), Annie Purcell (Alexandra), Ethan Hawke (Michael Bakunin), David Harbour (Nicholas Stankevich), Billy Crudup (Vissarion Belinsky), Jason Butler Harner (Ivan Turgenev), Brian F. O’Byrne (Alexander Herzen), Josh Hamilton (Nicholas Ogarev), Aaron Krohn (Nicholas Sazonov), Baylen Thomas (Nicholas Ketscher), David Pittu (Nicholas Polevoy), Adam Dannheisser (Pushkin)
The Coast of Utopia trilogy promises to be a sprawling adventure -- literally decades out of a crucial period in the intellectual life of Russia. Daunting in scale and subject, one almost suspected you would need to attend class before evening thinking of stepping into the theatre.
How wrong that would be.
This Coast of Utopia is grand from its opening moments. The opening scene is marked by a dramatic swell of music, the simulation of stormy waves, and an image of the multitudes, living in destitution and poverty, freezing and barely eking out an existence. They are constantly in the background. Meanwhile, we enter the home of a middle-class family -- in the business of agriculture (what else). They are well educated and touched by the outside world -- they speak many languages and are influenced by the goings on in France, Germany, England. They talk as if they have grand ideas about life, what should be aspired to, and what would be the ideal to come.
The central protagonist in The Voyage is Michael Bakunin, played with great temper and agility by Ethan Hawke. Bakunin is an idea man, one moment wrapped up in the philosophy of one thinker; the next moment enthralled by the ideas of a different one. Bakunin is all about action; he may seem to spew forth many ideas, but in the end the ideas lack coherence. He talks a good talk, but in the end it seems like he will never contribute anything. He dupes his friends into funding his largesse, and never really seems to give anything back. Is he the intelligentsia that will shape the new Russia?
One hopes the answer is no. And yet one is frustrated not only that he is the center of attention, but that his friends and his family let him get away with it and admire him for being what he is (except his father, of course, who sees through him, but voices disapproval for different reasons).
The Voyage, then, is less about the actual ideas that form the new Russian thinking than it is about the people who think they have such ideas. I understand that Stoppard trimmed his script somewhat to streamline it and give it a greater sense of urgency. I suppose the urgency is there, but the result of the cuts (or so I would imagine) is to “dumb down” the exchanges. I have not read the original version of the play, so I cannot attest to what was trimmed, but The Voyage seems surprisingly devoid of the kind of truly witty and engaging exchanges that one comes to anticipate from Stoppard. The situations are there, and the language is floral, but where is the true exchange of ideas?
That said, The Voyage glides along relatively seamlessly, and the nearly three-hour running time passes by rather quickly. Things especially pick up when Billy Crudup’s brilliant turn as Belinsky begins. Crudup is the king of self-conscious portrayal. One almost doesn’t recognize him at first; his matinee idol good looks disguised in frumpiness, long hair, and a padded suit. But he is marvelous. Lacking the intellectual training of his comrades (he, after all, only speaks Russian), he is nevertheless more genuine in his embrace of new intellectual ideas than his more moneyed friends. Crudup’s sense of urgency is different -- it is not about himself, it is about the ideas. Whereas Bakunin’s cause celebre is about aggrandizing himself, Crudup’s aim is at the philosophers. The contrast is striking.
Also excellent is Brian F. O’Byrne, whose brief appearance as Herzen is nonetheless brilliant and makes you yearn for more. When his character steps to the fore in Part II, it promises to be special. O’Byrne knows how to captivate the audience; his grasp of character and language are miraculous.
At the end of the day, this is a glorious production of a good -- though not great -- play. What it does well is to set the mood for the remainder of the trilogy. The Voyage feels not so much like a complete play as the beginning of a journey. One only hopes that as that journey continues, it grows richer than was this first part.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Review-The Little Dog Laughed (11.18.06)
The Little Dog Laughed (Saturday, 11.18.06, 8:00 p.m.)
Cort Theatre (Broadway)
Starring: Julie White (Diane), Johnny Galecki (Alex), Tom Everett Scott (Mitchell), Ari Graynor (Ellen)
The Little Dog is not so little any more. After a successful off-Broadway run, Douglas Carter Beane’s glossy play makes the transfer to Broadway. And what a big splash it makes.
The creators and producers have wisely retooled the play to give a it more of a Broadway feel. Beane has streamlined several of the exchanges. Although the set looks much like it did off Broadway, certain elements have been upgraded, or at least so it seems.
And the performances, too, are grander. Julie White doesn’t replicate her tremendous off-Broadway performance; she too adjusts it for the larger venue. And she is still magnificent. Her gestures are bigger, her voice is bigger, her performance is bigger. It’s just what the play requires, and it grounds the entire proceedings around her just where it should be – 100 feet in the superficial air of Hollywood.
Johnny Galecki is the other hold-over from off-Broadway. Galecki, who delivered a fine performance off-Broadway, is still likeable in the new venue, although in contrast to White’s performance, which has only grown, his performance seems to have shrunken just a little. He’s still terrific, but it’s unclear why he doesn’t have the same impact he had off-Broadway.
Perhaps some of the reason has to do with his new co-star, Tom Everett Scott, who replaces Neal Huff as the soon-to-be A-list movie star Mitchell. Scott, in contrast to Huff, looks much more like a movie star, and in that respect is a better fit for the role. In this respect, Scott is an improvement over Huff. But gone is the chemistry between Mitchell and Alex, or at least it is severely diminished. One always felt that Huff’s Mitchell genuinely fell in love with Alex. Here, Scott’s Mitchell seems to like Alex, but love? Not that far.
If the missing is chemistry at first seems to be problematic, Beane’s take on superficiality helps to alleviate the problem, since at the heart of his play, the message seems to be that the appearance is what really counts. Scott’s relative indifference to Alex by the end of the play is more believable.
Rounding out the cast is Ari Graynor as Ellen, Alex’s girlfriend. Graynor makes the most of what is easily the weakest role in the play. Graynor, who gave a terrific performance in last season’s “Dog Sees God,” is likewise terrific here. She milks her one-liners and more than plays the part when, at the end of the show, she agrees to partake in Mitchell and Diane’s scheme.
In the end, Little Dog Laughed is terrifically entertaining. It is light and superficial, much like the Hollywood it is attempting to satirize, but it never falls into the trap of overstating its message (if it even has one) regarding homosexuality in Hollywood. The producers have wisely upgraded the show in a manner most befitting its Broadway home.
Cort Theatre (Broadway)
Starring: Julie White (Diane), Johnny Galecki (Alex), Tom Everett Scott (Mitchell), Ari Graynor (Ellen)
The Little Dog is not so little any more. After a successful off-Broadway run, Douglas Carter Beane’s glossy play makes the transfer to Broadway. And what a big splash it makes.
The creators and producers have wisely retooled the play to give a it more of a Broadway feel. Beane has streamlined several of the exchanges. Although the set looks much like it did off Broadway, certain elements have been upgraded, or at least so it seems.
And the performances, too, are grander. Julie White doesn’t replicate her tremendous off-Broadway performance; she too adjusts it for the larger venue. And she is still magnificent. Her gestures are bigger, her voice is bigger, her performance is bigger. It’s just what the play requires, and it grounds the entire proceedings around her just where it should be – 100 feet in the superficial air of Hollywood.
Johnny Galecki is the other hold-over from off-Broadway. Galecki, who delivered a fine performance off-Broadway, is still likeable in the new venue, although in contrast to White’s performance, which has only grown, his performance seems to have shrunken just a little. He’s still terrific, but it’s unclear why he doesn’t have the same impact he had off-Broadway.
Perhaps some of the reason has to do with his new co-star, Tom Everett Scott, who replaces Neal Huff as the soon-to-be A-list movie star Mitchell. Scott, in contrast to Huff, looks much more like a movie star, and in that respect is a better fit for the role. In this respect, Scott is an improvement over Huff. But gone is the chemistry between Mitchell and Alex, or at least it is severely diminished. One always felt that Huff’s Mitchell genuinely fell in love with Alex. Here, Scott’s Mitchell seems to like Alex, but love? Not that far.
If the missing is chemistry at first seems to be problematic, Beane’s take on superficiality helps to alleviate the problem, since at the heart of his play, the message seems to be that the appearance is what really counts. Scott’s relative indifference to Alex by the end of the play is more believable.
Rounding out the cast is Ari Graynor as Ellen, Alex’s girlfriend. Graynor makes the most of what is easily the weakest role in the play. Graynor, who gave a terrific performance in last season’s “Dog Sees God,” is likewise terrific here. She milks her one-liners and more than plays the part when, at the end of the show, she agrees to partake in Mitchell and Diane’s scheme.
In the end, Little Dog Laughed is terrifically entertaining. It is light and superficial, much like the Hollywood it is attempting to satirize, but it never falls into the trap of overstating its message (if it even has one) regarding homosexuality in Hollywood. The producers have wisely upgraded the show in a manner most befitting its Broadway home.
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