"Open" is an award-winning love story by Crystal Skillman that uses magic as the emotional hook, taking an audience on a journey through the trials, tribulations, and triumphs of the challenges some people face in the pursuit of love in a socially and politically complicated world. In this case, two young women are drawn to each other by their love of the magical and mysterious. [more]
The idea presented in this prologue is that Holder, after 20 years in his theatrical life, has reached a dead end in his interest in playwriting. He is looking for something to re-energize himself, or he will give it all up and move on to something else. The prologue reader pulls a string, releasing a cascade of 36 folded cards from a box on the ceiling. The claim is that everything that is to transpire is real, and if Holder doesn't complete all of the tasks listed on the cards, he will quit the theater forever. [more]
John Krasinski, best known for his role as the charming and amiable Jim Halpert on NBC’s sitcom The Office, is inspired casting for Penelope Skinner’s Angry Alan, a perfect showcase for his talents now the opening show at Studio Seaview, the renovated Tony Kiser Theater. In Skinner’s monologue co-created with actor Donald Sage Mackay who first played the part at the 2018 Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Krasinski is Roger, a three-years divorced man, who also lost his executive position job at AT&T and now works as the dairy manager at his local Kroger, a job he hates. Surfing the net, he finds a website called “Angry Alan” which seems to explain his midlife crisis: it is all the result of the “Gynocracy: a female dominated political regime which took over decades ago.” Roger who addresses us directly is still smarting from the fact that his live-in girlfriend Courtney has recently discovered feminism from a community college life class she is attending. [more]
"Machinal" makes use of all of these Expressionistic techniques. However, the current production has added tap dancing, practical foley and heightened movement created by choreographer Hilligoss in all of the scenes which both drowns out much of the dialogue and becomes very distracting. Obviously it is meant to emphasize the mechanical aspects of modern life but it also works as a sledge hammer repeatedly hitting the audience over the head with what is perfectly clear in the text itself. It is as though the director and choreographer do not trust the audience to get the message of the play. [more]
"Lowcountry" by Abby Rosebrock, author of 'Blue Ridge" seen at Atlantic Theater Company in 2019, has a great deal going for it: a fine cast, a play told in real time, scenic design in keeping with the milieu and the plot, and characters quirky enough to keep us interested. However, this talky play doesn’t get where it is going until the last ten minutes and has a great many unanswered questions that perplex as one watches the play. While Jo Bonney’s production is strong on the characterizations, it is weak on pace so the plot seems to go on longer than it needs to and lacks tension until the very end. Ultimately, except for those last surprising minutes, the play eventually becomes tedious and in need of a few cuts – or new devices. [more]
A famous line from the John Ford film "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance" is spoken by the newspaper reporter character, Maxwell Scott, near the end of the film, after hearing the true story about the death of Liberty Valance. When asked if he will print the facts, Scott replies: “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.” These words do not appear in the original story by Dorothy M. Johnson nor the stage version by Jethro Compton. Still, they form the central theme of both. Compton’s play, "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance," directed by Thomas R. Gordon, is a beautifully realized revival of the 2022 production with most of the original cast. It is a classic story of the Old West presented by a solid ensemble. If you enjoy a good story, well-told, see this one. [more]
'Duke & Roya" is an engrossing rom-com with a geo-political background, the sort of story that Hollywood specialized in during World War II. Charles Randolph-Wright’s new play makes use of the war in Afghanistan in 2017 before the American pull out in 2020. The cast is led by television stars Jay Ellis (James in "Insecure") and Stephanie Nur (Aalyiyah in "Lioness") who prove to be engaging company. The cast is filled out by veteran stage performers Dariush Kashani ("The Kite Runner," "The Band’s Visit," "Oslo") and Noma Dumezweni who created the part of Hermione in both the London and Broadway versions of "Harry Potter and the Cursed Child," winning the Olivier Award for Best Supporting Actress. [more]
"A Letter to Lyndon B. Johnson or God: Whoever Reads This First" is a gem of a play written, directed, and performed by Xhloe Rice and Natasha Roland. This two-hander makes a connection between a couple of Boy Scouts in the early 1960s and grunts in Vietnam at the end of the decade. While billed as an "absurdist" production, given the various definitions of "absurd," this show is anything but absurd. The words that come to mind are humorous, poignant, comedic, dramatic, provocative, and compelling. [more]
In a sharply observed and emotionally layered turn, "Prince Faggot" brings a fresh perspective to the classic "meet the parents" trope—with a royal twist. John McCrea’s George, the openly gay Prince of England, brings his boyfriend Dev (an excellent Mihir Kumar) home to meet his parents: the seemingly progressive Prince William (K. Todd Freeman, masterfully restrained) and Princess Kate (a poised and quietly complex Rachel Crowl). At first glance, the royal welcome is warm, even congenial. But beneath the polished surface lies a prickly nest of social expectation, national identity, and unacknowledged privilege. [more]
Manuel Ortiz’s masterful play "Manifest Destiny" lays bare the complicity of the United States in the overthrow of the Chilean presidency of Salvador Allende and the authoritarian repression of Augusto Pinochet in an engaging, thoughtful and entertaining way. Ortiz’s direction seduces the audience into the darkness of political repression with humor and edgy, light-hearted banter, delivering an unforgettable statement on what happened in Chile and the U.S. organizations bearing responsibility for those events. It is a skillful blend of past, present, and perhaps future, and a show to be experienced by everyone who loves a compelling story solidly presented by an outstanding ensemble. [more]
"Prosperous Fools" is like those 1960s and 70s East Village happenings where one never knew what was coming next. Taylor Mac’s tremendous imagination could use some reining in but his satire is pungent and on target. Like happenings, this is a show that must be experienced to feel the import of the event. And one admires Theatre for a New Audience for risking their funding to offer to stage it. Moliere would be pleased that his 18th century comedy gave rise to this 21st century free-for-all. [more]
In great theater, history is not merely recounted but resurrected with breath and pulse, defiance and hope. In 'At the Barricades," the indomitable company What Will The Neighbors Say? breathes new life into one of the 20th century’s most harrowing yet heroic chapters — the Spanish Civil War of 1937. We find ourselves in Madrid not as tourists, but as comrades in struggle, embedded within a city and a country fraying at the seams, on the verge of succumbing to the iron fist of fascism. And yet, in the shadow of tyranny, a radiant flicker of international solidarity takes flame. [more]
This is not merely a delightful evening of theatre—it is a defiant, sequined middle finger to theatrical complacency. The cast, many of whom trained under the maverick George Ferencz at La MaMa, bring authentic chops to the chaos. Morrison is transcendent, as raw as he is precise. Vath is a hurricane in scrubs (and let it be known she is the hardest working actress south of the TKTS line as she races from her curtain call at Theater Row Theater’s production of Cracked Open to aid and abet the sorceress on the cover of Child Abuse Monthly). Howard’s Jason is laughable, pitiable, and oddly endearing—a fallen hero undone by hubris and soap suds. [more]
Portraying the eponymous Izzy--or Isabelle per the formal preference of a long-ago teacher--the charismatic Smart earns our rapt attention throughout the play, though she cannot begin to overcome a first-person narrative that doesn't know that person particularly well. Wax, with journalistic straightforwardness rather than dramatic breadth, essentially reduces Izzy to a collection of abject sorrows and artistic inclinations, much of which Izzy shares while on a lid-down toilet seat in a locked bathroom. A grim sanctuary, it's where Izzy reads and writes poetry nightly, accomplishing the latter with an eyebrow pencil and a roll of toilet paper as her husband, Ferd, menacingly slumbers nearby in the bedroom of their Louisiana mobile home. [more]
A farming couple who have been married 50 years go out into their western Kentucky field to watch a lunar eclipse. Nothing much happens but, on the other hand, they review their entire lives. There is little we don’t know about them by the end of the eclipse. Under the direction of Kate Whoriskey, Pulitzer Prize-winner Donald Margulies’ latest play, "Lunar Eclipse," with veteran actors Reed Birney and Lisa Emery is extremely poetic and sensitive about people and their feelings. If you are looking for action, this will not be for you. However, if you think plays should reveal the human condition, then you will be caught up in this very human story of lives lived with regrets but always to the best of their abilities. [more]
Hassan has managed to raise the strident, repetitive street rhythms and language of rap into an art form that gets to the heart of what ails these three colorful figures. To be frank, the language is often harsh, but just as often poetic. [more]
Creating his third outstanding and needed adaptation in conjunction with director Jesse Berger ("The Government Inspector," 2017; "The Alchemist," 2021), Jeffrey Hatcher has salvaged yet another comedy from the classic world theater which has been sorely neglected in the United States. All of these are large cast plays with lengthy speeches that have long needed pruning and updating for contemporary audiences. With Berger’s light touch and swift-paced production, this Molière is not only a delicious treat but a timely satire. [more]
Smith’s script, which is heartily laden with day-to-day chatter and feels slightly long, still finds perfect opportunities to divulge important messages about friendship, love, empowerment, loyalty, dignity, and perseverance. The play's conclusion is heartwarming, although there is a missed opportunity for rejoicing, when the ultimate success of the strike is written to occur between scenes. Director Awoye Timpo and dramaturg Arminda Thomas expertly weave the energy of the actors and their keenly intentional listening into a compelling tapestry. Though minimal, the opening choreography by Adesola Osakalumi and Jill M. Vallery is striking; this, and the few instances of singing spur the imagination with thoughts of what a great musical could be born from this material. [more]
Wolf’s direction skillfully manages the emotional tension to maintain the horror element of the story while also paying homage to B-movie scare tactics and tropes. Mulligan uses a device between scenes, featuring brief interludes of Rick and Kim watching scary movies, with Rick displaying fear and Kim being bored. It is an interesting and subtle way of adding definition to the two characters. [more]
Although Cobb makes references to Iago, Othello’s, second-in-command, and Barbary, the maid to Desdemona’s late mother who brought her up, Nine Moons does not tell us anything we don’t already know from Shakespeare’s play. Since the one thing we are waiting for is Othello’s wooing of Desdemona which will result in their elopement, this does not begin until one hour and five minutes into this 115 minute play. What transpires before that is chit chat about the state of Venice and Cyprus, Othello’s unease in this new city, and Cassio’s army ambitions at odds with his drinking problem, all of which is covered in Shakespeare’s later tragedy. [more]
If "Chiaroscuro" occasionally falters under the weight of its ambition, it ultimately dazzles with its daring. Rahman has crafted a bold, theatrical puzzle box — part satire, part sermon, part séance — that speaks to the depths and contradictions of Black desire in all its shadowed hues. The play doesn’t just shine a light; it refracts it—casting humor and heartache in tandem. With "Chiaroscuro," Rahman leaves us with a final, luminous testament to her unique voice—both searing and sublime. [more]
Orpheus’ song—aching, persistent—guides him deep into the Underworld in search of his lost Eurydice. Whether or not you’ve encountered this myth before, Sarah Ruhl’s "Eurydice" invites a new question: not just will they reunite, but should they? The tension isn’t only mythic—it’s emotional, intimate. As Eurydice teeters between the memory of her father and the love of her husband, the audience is left to wonder: can love pull them both from the brink, or will they vanish into the River of Forgetfulness, together yet apart?
This revival, directed once again by Les Waters more than two decades after he first helped bring Ruhl’s script to life, is a poignant reminder that some stories don’t age—they resonate. The production hums with urgency and heart, made vivid by a cohesive, impassioned ensemble that grounds the myth in emotional truth. [more]
In this Czech play, a 1930s transgender/intersex athlete, long forgotten, is brought back to center stage. Yet one can’t help but be disappointed at how little this play actually has to say about its ostensible subject matter of professional sports, fascism, persecution, transgender and intersex people, or even Zdeněk himself. Excellent directing and compelling performances don’t save a cruel script. Zdeněk never gets his moment to speak. Instead, he rides off into the sunset to be forgotten again. [more]
At an hour and 40 minutes, "Cracked Open" is an earnest but often exhausting theatrical experience. Its heart is unquestionably in the right place—tackling the vital and still-stigmatized subject of mental illness with sincerity—but the journey can feel more dutiful than illuminating. Despite these shortcomings, the cast’s unwavering commitment and playwright Kriegel’s courage in confronting such difficult terrain deserve commendation. [more]
Now premiering at La MaMa’s Ellen Stewart Theatre in a co-production with the MART Foundation and En Garde Arts, "Seagull: True Story" is a barbed, meta-theatrical cri de coeur from creator-director Alexander Molochnikov, with a script by Eli Rarey. Drawing heavily on Molochnikov’s own experiences, the piece is not a retelling of Chekhov but a searing dispatch from the frontlines of artistic exile. It charts not only the cultural deep freeze imposed by Putin’s regime but also turns its gaze, with mordant wit, on the subtler constraints of the American arts ecosystem. The production skewers both overt authoritarianism and the velvet-gloved mechanisms of Western cultural gatekeeping with equal parts satire and sorrow. Bitterly funny and disarmingly candid, the play asks whether escape from tyranny guarantees liberation—or whether a different kind of captivity awaits on this side of the ocean. [more]
Unfortunately, The Fire Weeds’ production directed by Jaclyn Bethany (who appears in both plays) is very uneven. An attempt at expressionism handled differently in each does not work for these Tennessee Williams’ plays. While “The Pretty Trap” eschews props for pantomiming, in “Interior: Panic” lighting designer Zoe Griffith has taken the stage direction “the light is normal” and literally bathed the stage in pink-red light periodically to suggest Blanche’s hallucinations. However, this is both distracting and intrusive. Of course, theatergoers are likely to know the longer more famous versions which are more fleshed out and have pertinent information not in the one act versions. [more]
The show and production is perfect for the chosen venue, a newly opened theater. Director Lori Kee makes excellent use of the intimate space, full of bookshelves that wrap around the room to give a lived-in look that enhances the setting dramatically. Production manager Akash Inti Katakam and prop coordinator Josie Underwood arrange the set so the audience really feels as if they’re casually inside Ruth’s home. The cramped living room, old desk, and well-worn big chair all create the feeling that someone has lived there for decades. Even the books themselves seem carefully chosen to elucidate Ruth’s life and character, from a copy of "The Autobiography of Malcolm X" to tomes on psychology and classical music. [more]
Scenes progress, and it becomes clear that nothing which happens in Dick and Jane’s house makes a whole lot of sense, and that’s absolutely the point of Leverett’s witty, clever, and smart play. Giving a firm nod to the absurdist playwriting genre first popularized in the mid-1950s, "We Do the Same Thing Every Week" imparts the mindless, repetitive, and boring existence of humankind, which no amount of parlor games, huge vacuums (household or existential), duets, tap-dancing Things, or anthropomorphized cats and fish can overturn. [more]
"The United States vs Ulysses" by Colin Murphy is a multi-layered play about a seminal case concerning censorship in publishing. The story is set in 1933 in the studios of the CBS radio show "The March of Time." The radio show reenacted recent news stories, including one about the trial of James Joyce’s then controversial novel "Ulysses," but the tapes of it no longer exist. Murphy imagined what that show may have been like, and it forms the framework of the play. [more]
Timing, as they say, is everything in comedy—and in revolution. In "Fat Cat Killers," playwright Adam Szymkowicz delivers more than just a sharp-edged satire of corporate greed—he peels back the glossy veneer of big business to expose the raw, unsettling truths beneath. The play skewers the systemic exploitation of workers, the yawning chasm between executive privilege and employee precarity, and the emotional toll of soulless labor with biting wit and unflinching clarity. But while it aims its critique squarely at the power structures of late capitalism, it doesn’t let its would-be revolutionaries off the hook. [more]
The play is a nicely developing mystery fantasy story about the paranormal, but when the teenage boy is revealed as the Spirit Child, the show goes off track. The idea presented is that the Spirit Child is the child who would have been born except for the miscarriage. This idea is a stretch in believability for the dramatic structure of the show. It introduces the idea that a consciousness once attached to a developing embryo continues to be attached to the woman who was carrying that embryo even after the tissue has been expelled through a miscarriage. It turns on its head the whole idea of developmental psychology. How is it possible for the miscarried tissue that was not even old enough to definitively determine sex to become a spirit that ages as if it had been born? [more]
"Stranger Things: The First Shadow" concludes with a Netflix joke that, besides being pretty funny, also represents a bit of chest-thumping for the play's outsized number of developers who manage to successfully blur the line between theater and television. Whether that's a good thing is a matter of taste, or a lack of it, but there's no denying that "Stranger Things: The First Shadow," which has journeyed from the West End to Broadway, is exactly the type of experience it wants to be: immersive; scary; and, even if you've never seen an episode of the streaming series from whence it comes, familiar. That's because, imaginatively befitting its source material, the play is a storytelling stew of cultural callbacks that owes a debt--presumably unpaid-- to Stephen King, Wes Craven, and other unsettling shapers of Gen-X childhoods. [more]
At this vantage point 55 years after its premiere, like the Wilson plays which intentionally cover the previous 100 years, "Ceremonies in Dark Old Men" feels like an historical play wedded to its own time period. Its story and characters are a combination of a Black version of "Death of a Salesman" and a Harlem version of "A Raisin the Sun." Like the story of Willy Loman and his hapless family, the tale of Russell Parker and his two wastrel sons could only have a tragic ending, as their values are so hollow. And like "A Raisin the Sun," the Parker family is so desperate to succeed as Black people in Pre-Civil Rights Era America that they put their hopes in a man that even a child would not have trusted. [more]
That balance—between emotional vulnerability and razor-sharp humor—is what elevates "Hold Me in the Water" beyond the sea of solo shows that mine personal experience for applause. Haddad’s artistry lies in his fierce honesty and unsparing introspection. He examines his own longing, joy, and heartache with something approaching clinical precision, yet never loses the pulse of the deeply human. He never asks for pity, and when disappointment inevitably arrives, he extends surprising compassion—even to the one who’s let him down. [more]
Clarke's direction is uneven, giving the show a rehearsal or community theater vibe. The narrative line is unclear as to whether the main characters are real or a hallucination of one of them. The songs, what few there are, are extraneous to the action, adding nothing of importance to understanding the point of the story. The main characters are Cyrene (Shannon Wong) who is the wife of Caleb (Zachery Michael Shook), a construction manager. According to the play notes they are involved in pushing "the boundaries of love, desire, and intimacy." The major problem with this dramatic idea is Cyrene is a memory of Caleb's dead wife, who is directing him to find new and provocative sexual relationships with other women. The character is a constant presence with Caleb but is not seen by any other person. This dramatic element is hinted at but unclear until halfway through this short play. [more]
The performers inhabit a shared space that hums with latent connectivity, even in the absence of direct dialogue. Their presence to and for one another—unspoken yet palpable—forms the quiet backbone of the piece. What unfolds is a relentless swirl of Marxist theory and grand philosophical overtures, repeated like mantras against a backdrop of absurdist physicality. Narrative cohesion is eschewed in favor of thematic resonance: a professor marks chalk outlines around a silent woman while students volley fervent monologues; later, those same students offer murmured asides as the professor ascends to a pulpit-like presence. Though no linear thread binds them, their trajectories intersect often and with theatrical charge, forming a constellation of meaning just out of reach. [more]
Time passes slowly during "Grief Camp" as a bunch of adolescent characters and the audience watching them struggle collectively to figure out the point of being there. Playwright Eliya Smith fails to provide that enlightenment, though director Les Waters does his best to pretend it might be forthcoming, stretching the emptiness of Smith's script until it simply has to be acknowledged. Set in the actual town of Hurt, Virginia, the play's narrative development is mostly in its title and that correspondingly unsubtle location choice, where Smith hazily depicts a sleepaway camp for young people coping with death at an age when life is painful enough. [more]
The cumulative effect of the four plays is greater than the sum of its parts. The quartet of plays seems to demonstrate Caryl Churchill in a new mode. While the plots are slight, the themes are of major importance and suggest new ways of thinking about them. James Macdonald’s production and the acting of his cast are quite assured even though the plays are mainly non-realistic and require their own kind of suspension of disbelief. [more]
"minor•ity" is a wonder of a play written by francisca da silveira and skillfully directed by Shariffa Ali telling a tale of clashing artistic egos encompassing issues of Black identity, cultural influences, and financial support. The cast of three leaves no question in the viewers’ minds that what is being witnessed are real people telling a story through their actions, not actors playing roles. There is a message in the name of the show presented in the script but not in the show. [more]
While Belflower’s play is clever and insightful, it is also contrived and manipulative attempting to shoehorn almost every feminist hot button topic into one story overlaying "The Crucible": date rape, sexual abuse, sexual harassment on the job, toxic masculinity, patriarch dominance. It makes all of the male characters look like idiots and all of the women victims which is not exactly a reflection of real life. It also overloads the deck while at the same time copping out in the end. While New York teens are probably much more liberated than those in rural Georgia, the language of the play is incredibly devoid of swear or curse words which usually pepper the speech of adolescents. Finally, it borrows from Ivo van Hove’s 2016 staging of "The Crucible" in which a modern classroom also turns into a telling of Miller’s play. [more]
However, it is not just the remarkable video design which uses sometimes up to six screens to convey the action of the story plus live action, but we get inside of the head of protagonist Dorian Gray in ways not possible before. Also seeing or hearing Snook as all the characters in different voices is quite a remarkable feat. Andrew Scott only plays eight in his Vanya one-man show, but here Snook also changes costumes repeatedly before our eyes and emerges as someone else. Beginning as the narrator, she slowly becomes Dorian Gray who eventually takes over completely. We also see her as Lord Henry Wotton, painter Basil Hallward, actress Sibyl Vane and later her brother James, the Duchess of Harley, and former friend and Oxford classmate Alan Campbell. [more]
Bringley, making his theatrical debut as himself, delivers a performance marked by restraint and quiet intensity. His words, drawn largely from the memoir, reveal a man of thoughtfulness and delicacy—someone who seeks refuge not in action, but in observation, retreating to the hushed galleries of The Metropolitan Museum of Art, where he once worked as a guard. “You lose someone,” he tells us, simply, “and it puts a hole in your life—and for a time you huddle down in that hole.” It’s in that stillness, that huddling, that the piece finds its quiet power. [more]
Before he was a Nobel laureate, before his name was canonized in the firmament of world literature, Wole Soyinka was a young playwright—barely in his mid-twenties—when he penned "The Swamp Dwellers" in 1958. And yet, this early work bears the unmistakable gravitas of myth: a compact, hour-long domestic drama that pulses with elemental force. In director Awoye Timpo’s hauntingly grounded revival, the piece reverberates with contemporary resonance. It is at once a family portrait and a parable, steeped in the muddy waters of postcolonial Nigeria and rippling outward into modern-day concerns—climate change, disillusionment with institutions, and the aching silence left by absent gods. [more]
The Steppenwolf Theatre Company production of Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’ "Purpose" follows on the heels of their magnificently staged "August: Osage County," but unlike that dysfunctional family drama, this play has a great deal to say as well as major themes. Like the title of the author’s "Appropriate," "Purpose" has many meaning all used here at the same time. And never forget how much fun it is to have a private look in at the private lives of a rich and famous (but fictional) family when they are on their worst behavior. Do not be surprised if this play wins this year’s Tony Award followed by next year’s Pulitzer Prize. You can say you heard it here first. While the play is quite long, it is tremendously rewarding as great plays should be. [more]
With one exception, however, Marber's cast of notable wisecrackers treats Mamet's punchy dialogue solely like punchlines, even when they're face down on the canvas. As Shelley "The Machine" Levene, a loser among losers, Bob Odenkirk opens an Act I triptych of two-handers that are all set within a capacious Chinese restaurant, nonsensically designed by Scott Pask to indicate a gigantic establishment apparently getting along just fine serving no more than a couple of liquid-lunchers at a time. On the verge of being fired for bringing up the rear in a sales contest for a shiny new Cadillac--that old-timey signifier of virile American success--Levene tries to sweatily sweet-talk the best leads from Donald Webber, Jr.'s insensate office manager, a pleading effort that quickly devolves into a pathetic attempt at bribery. [more]
Horwitz and Williams perfectly match each others’ energy on stage. Indeed, at times it seems as if each is trying to one-up the other’s exaggerated mannerisms. In one scene, a famous artist might dip into nonsensical French phrase, only for an interviewer to ratchet it up further by over-emphasizing an accent on a word that doesn’t need it. One might not-so-subtly flirt by bringing up a mutual past lover while the other awkwardly deflects, only spurring on further attempts. Throughout each scene, the pair’s back-and-forth is consistently excellent. They have an easygoing chemistry that makes every scenario feel fresh. [more]
If only film star George Clooney and his co-script writer Grant Heslov had hired an actual playwright to adapt their acclaimed screenplay for the 2005 film "Good Night, and Good Luck." for the Broadway stage. What worked in close up in the film does not have the same effect on the huge stage of the Winter Garden Theatre. And while David Strathairn as Edward R Murrow in the film, the role now played by Clooney on Broadway, also seemed wooden and unemotional, his every flicker of emotion on his face was telegraphed through the extreme close ups of every frame. With its cast of 22 on a huge CBS studio set, most of the characters are undefined or unidentified. At times it is difficult to know who is talking or where their voices are coming from on the multileveled setting. [more]
Eric Bogosian’s "Humpty Dumpty" was first written 25 years ago and premiered at the McCarter Theatre Center, Princeton, in 2002. At that time the idea of quarantining due to a local or national disaster seemed a fantasy. However, since then, we have all lived through the Covid Pandemic and what was inconceivable became our daily existence. Not only does Bogosian’s play seem tame now, it also seems predictable and dated. Director Ella Jane New does not help the script much by allowing the vapid characters to all seem one dimensional. Possibly with a satiric approach or powerhouse performances, the play might have something new to say to us as its entitled people show their true colors. [more]
Jack Serio directs a strong cast of seasoned actors whose personal chemistry gives the ensemble a solidly believable portrayal of their characters. Juan Castano is Edwin, a mid-30s man married to Christian, a man ten years older, believably played by Ryan Spahn. The two men are struggling with issues in their marriage when Margaret enters the picture. Julia Chan is Christian's "girlfriend" from high school. They have not communicated with each other in 20 years. [more]
The results of this updating are bold, and Andrews’ intellectual ambition is undeniable. At times, his revisions might seem questionable but when the production clicks, it strikes with a thrilling originality. The production pulses with an urgency often missing from more traditional revivals of "The Cherry Orchard," a play about people running out of time. The central conflict remains: Liubov, the bankrupt widow haunted by the ghosts of her past, returns to her family estate for the inevitable sale of the land that defines her family’s history. Practical solutions are needed, but neither she nor her hapless relatives can take decisive action. [more]
While most of the audience will probably not have graduated in the last ten years (though you never know), the play speaks to all of us about the closeness and personal relationships of our college years. Playwright Natalie Margolin knows how to create tension from hints casually dropped and director Jaki Bradley has created a cohesive cast who could have been together the last four years. "All Nighter" is one of the few plays set at a college that seems to come from the author’s own firsthand experiences. [more]
"Remembrance" by Patricia GoodSon is a story about her journey, for more than a decade, in dealing with her mother's Alzheimer's disease. As directed by Joan Kane, it is told from the perspective of a woman working with a therapist to unravel the emotional impact of those years of caregiving. It is not about the impact of the disease on the person with it but on the effect on the caregiver. [more]
In "Amm(i)gone," Mansoor masterfully delves into the delicate nuances of cultural and personal differences, exploring the connections that bind us even in our diversity. Co-directed with Lyam B. Gabel, this meta-theatrical production—spanning a compact yet potent 80 minutes—recounts the journey of Mansoor and his mother as they embark on the project of translating "Antigone" into Urdu. Surrounded by designer Xotchil Musser’s evocative set of wooden cutouts and intricate mosaics, and serene candles for effect, Mansoor guides the audience through their creative process, blending dialogue, video and audio recordings, and projected imagery to weave a story that is both intimate and expansive. The production’s clever use of multimedia enhances the emotional weight of their shared task, inviting the audience to reflect on the complexities of language, family, and legacy. [more]
In fact, the play Harmon has written is mainly about the conflict between the grandmother and the mother. While we are never really certain why Ellen and Susan refuse to be in the same room, we come to know all the details of the relationship between Renée and Ellen from three sides. The most entertaining parts of this long one-act delineate the relationship between Joshua and his Auntie Mame-like grandmother who did not believe in age-appropriate events: taking him at age seven to see "Dances With Wolves," attending a Mapplethorpe exhibit (which he did not understand) at age nine, seeing Diana Rigg in "Medea" when he was ten, and a three-movie marathon during a snow day off from school: "Secrets and Lies," "Sling Blade" and "The English Patient." Joshua credits his grandmother with changing his life making him want to be a playwright after seeing "Medea." [more]
"Maybe Tomorrow," written by Max Mondi and directed by Chad Austin, is a play about such a place and the person who created it. Inspired by a true story, Austin directs a cast of two in an exploration of a person lost in the present and locked within a mental space defined by the four walls of a bathroom, a person mediating the outside world through a computer and contact with one human caregiver but unable to move from a world they have defined as "safe" into the unknown world beyond the walls of a room. [more]
The new version by Irish playwright Mark O’Rowe uses contemporary and spare language but has made several events more literal as if not trusting modern audiences. The director has made the same mistake starting the play as a rehearsal in which we see the opening scene three times ranging from devoid of emotion to accomplished, which is both ineffective and pointless as it does not help us into the world of the play. The thrust stage by set designer John Lee Beatty (a room in unpainted wood, a single dining room table and mismatched chairs and a wall of French doors into a conservatory) is as stripped down and as spare as the language, a fitting place for a drama of tragic proportions, but does not offset the one- dimensional acting. The bland costumes mainly in black or white by Jess Goldstein straddle both the 19th and 21st centuries, seeming to want to have it both ways, but suggesting neither. [more]
The scene with Adam and Eve establishes the structure for the show, with each of the ensuing vignettes being conducted in a call-and-response format. The second explores a list of rules established during the Victorian Era. In this set, the aerial performers represent a young girl just coming of age and two older, more established women. The aerial characters make the call with the response coming from different members of the Grounded Women, each expanding on the list of comments being made by the aerialists. The set ends with the Contemporary Woman bringing together some of the ideas presented in the call and response, presenting the state of a woman's status in society as the result of the list of rules. [more]
Peter Danish’s "Last Call" is a 90-minute confection of speculative daydreaming, inspired by a brief meeting between two of the most legendary conductors of the last century, Herbert von Karajan and Leonard Bernstein. Set in Vienna in 1988, in the sumptuous Blaue Bar of the Hotel Sacher, just before both men passed away, the play imagines a moment when the two giants of classical music, though not close friends, exchanged words. [more]
Kayla Eisenberg’s ("Delta Dawn," "Yiddish Club") script has a flawless grasp of rhythm – the play will rapidly speed up or slow down suddenly yet always feels completely natural. Characters consistently interrupt and speak over each other, then pause for a moment before resuming the frenetic pace. Characters are alone on stage rarely, but just frequently enough to provide necessary moments of calm. It’s a credit to her skill as a writer that 90 minutes of tension-building never feels overwrought. The script is effectively one long, deeply compelling conversation. Throughout it all, Lilith (in the form of a print of 19th-century symbolist Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s famous oil painting Lady Lilith) watches over them. Lilith, the first wife of Adam (before Eve) who defied both him and God only to become a demon, is given great thematic resonance. Eisenberg’s script explores regret, resolve, and defiance through this interesting prism. [more]
