Fairycakes (Greenwich House Theater)

By Harry Forbes

The unfailingly amusing Douglas Carter Beane has written and directed a promising mashup of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” and a handful of fairy tales all turned on their ear in the similar vein of  “Into the Woods”  But on this occasion, the result is an extremely thin diversion that, in greatly condensed form, might have made a nice curtain raiser for something more substantial, perhaps thematically related. 

In fact, I rather expected the second act to be a present day story mirroring the fairy tale characters we had just been watching during the fitfully amusing but not exactly riveting first act. But no, the second act picks up on the action of the first, though there is at least a different sort of twist in store midway through.

Still, on the whole, the second act plays very well and I felt the handful of folks who walked out during intermission would likely have enjoyed themselves if they had stayed.

It helps that Beane has assembled a first rate cast of farceurs including Julie Halson, Jackie Hoffman, and Ann Harada. 

The play is written mostly in verse, and there are some very clever turns of phrase, even if eventually all the rhyming couplets begin to wear.. 

The action is propelled by “Dream’s” Oberon (a dynamic Arnie Burton) and Titania (Halston) deciding to divorce because of the former’s serial philandering. But if they do, the Goddess of the Dawn (Kuhoo Verma) foretells that their daughters will all perish. These include Peaseblossom (an appealing Kristolyn Lloyd), Cobweb (Z Infante), Mustardseed (Ann Harada), and Moth (Jackie Hoffman) who bears some thematic similarities to Tinker Bell.

For her part, Titania is smitten with her handsome young Changeling (James Nanthakumar) in her charge. And before long, the now footloose Oberon encounters the frustrated Virgin Queen Elizabeth (also Halston).

Then there’s Gepetto (Mo Rocca, quite charming) constantly on the hunt for his delinquent creation Pinocchio (Sabatino Cruz). Cinderella (Verma) plays cat and mouse with her handsome Prince (witty Jason Tam who turns up as Cupid), while Sleeping Beauty (Infante) waits for love.

Peasebottom has a love/hate relationship with Puck (Chris Myers) who calls her “Fairycakes.”

And there’s Dirk Deadeye (Burton again), the name borrowed from Dick Deadeye in “H.M.S. Pinafore,” but actually one of the pirates from the “Peter Pan” story. He’s ever on the prowl for love which leads him from Moth to some surprising new territory.

Eventually, all the players are put to sleep, as in “Dream,” to fall in love with the first person they see upon waking, and with predictably unlikely results.

Except for Hoffman and Myers, everyone else gets a double role, and contrasts them skillfully. Halston, with her willowy figure and peerless delivery, is especially fine, as even at her funniest, she always taps into emotional truth.

Tiresome though the antics grow after two hours, Gregory Gale’s costumes are a continual delight, and Shoko Kambara and Adam Crinson have done a commendable job of creating a campily enchanted forest on the smallish Greenwich House Theater stage. Lewis Flinn’s attractive music is another plus.

(Greenwich House Theater, 27 Barrow Street; fairycakestheplay.com; through November 21)

Photos:

(top)

(l.-r.) Kristolyn Lloyd, Z Infante, Julie Halston, Ann Harada, Jackie Hoffman

(below)

(l.-r.) Arnie Burton, Jackie Hoffman

Caroline, Or Change (Roundabout Theatre Company)

By Harry Forbes

This is a terrific revival of the 2003 show with a powerhouse performance by Sharon D. Clarke, winner of the 2019 Olivier Award for Michael Longhurst’s production from the Chichester Festival Theatre.

The 39-year-old titular character has been a maid for 22 years, earning a mere $30 a week to support her children. She toils in the basement of the Louisiana-based Gellman family’s house with an anthropomorphized washing machine (Arica Jackson), radio (Nasia Thomas, Nya, Harper Miles), and dryer (Kevin S. McAllister) her daily companions. Motherless Noah, the eight-year-old boy of the house, idolizes Caroline who lets him light her cigarettes in a daily ritual. Noah’s ineffectual clarinet playing father Stuart (John Cariani) is distant, and his ditsy new stepmother Rose (Caissie Levy) fails to connect with him. 

When Rose instructs Caroline to keep any change she finds in Noah’s pockets to teach the boy the value of money, patronizingly telling her she can consider it part of her salary, the gesture rankles the proud Caroline who is torn between not wanting to take a child’s money and, in fact, desperately needing something extra for her own kids’ food and medical expenses. 

Meanwhile, Caroline’s daughter Emmie (Samantha Williams) disdains what she views as her mother’s lowly position. And Caroline’s friend Dotty (Tamika Lawrence) tries vainly to get through to her.

Adding to the family dynamic are Noah’s grandparents (Stuart Zagnit and Joy Hermalyn), and in the second act, Rose’s rabble-rousing father (Chip Zien) who disparages Martin Luther King’s notion of nonviolent protest, and speaks of a real revolution.

The cast is very strong throughout, not forgetting the fine work of Tonya Pinkins’ Caroline and Anika Noni Rose’s Emmie in the original New York production. Clarke is a pillar of determined resignation, the very picture of a woman whose spirit has been crushed, and who simply can’t change, thus the punning title. So convincing is her portrayal that it’s almost briefly startling to see her come out for a curtain call. On the heels of her Olivier Award across the pond, she’s sure to be a hot contender here come awards season. She’s a commanding actress and an electrifying singer.

Adam Makke was Noah at my performance (there are three alternates), and he was truly remarkable, sparring well with Clarke. Caissie Levy, in a far cry from her last Broadway appearance as Elsa in “Frozen,” was spot-on as the perennially discomfited Rose. Williams’ Emmie had plenty of fire and a show-stopping voice of her own. Veteran Chip Zien sparked the second act with his feisty portrayal.

McAllister, with his deep bass, makes a strong impression not only in Chuck Cooper’s original role of the dryer but also later, as the bus who sonorously informs Caroline and Dotty of John F. Kennedy’s death. And N’Keenge brings a lovely presence and ethereal vocalizing to the omnipresent moon.

The Jewish elements of Kushner’s script didn’t sit well for at least one audience member who during a tense scene between Noah and Caroline gratuitously yelled out “Anti-Semitic”!

The Motown and klezmer infused score by composer Jeanine Tesori with lyrics (and book) by Tony Kushner is filled with good things, including some ravishingly beautiful concerted numbers. 

Fly Davis’ two-level, turntable set provided a deftly workable playing area, and the split down the middle visually underscored the gulf between certain characters like Rose and Noah. Davis’ costumes captured the 1963 time frame and, in the case of the appliances, were quite witty (e.g. soap bubbles on the Washing Machine’s dress, antennae on the three Motown-inspired radio gals, a red loop around the dryer’s neck, etc.).

Technical credits were all top of the line, but Paul Arditti’s sound design was, like so many shows these days, pitched way too loud, rendering some of Kushner’s important lyrics unintelligible. Caroline’s big eleven o’clock number with its repeated refrain of “slam goes the iron” was mush, no fault of Clarke’s.

Director Michael Longhurst’s superb direction bears favorable comparison with George C. Wolfe’s memorable original production. 

(Studio 54, 254 West 54th Street; roundabouttheatre.org or 212-719-1300;  through January 9)

Photos by Joan Marcus:

(top)Company of Roundabout Theatre Company's CAROLINE, OR CHANGE, 2021. 

(below)Adam Makké, Sharon D Clarke in Roundabout Theatre Company's CAROLINE, OR CHANGE, 2021.

Lackawanna Blues (Manhattan Theatre Club)

 

By Harry Forbes

I had not previously seen Ruben Santiago-Hudson’s autobiographical one-man valentine to the extraordinary woman who raised him in the 1950s after he was abandoned by his mother. It debuted at the Public Theater in 2001, and became an all-star HBO film in 2005 garnering many awards. So I was very happy to experience the show -- and Santiago-Hudson’s virtuosic performance -- at last in its Broadway debut.

First and foremost, he offers a wonderfully sympathetic and lovable portrait of Rachel Crosby, the indomitable woman known as Nanny or Mother to the scores of people she helped in her Lackawanna, New York, boarding house and elsewhere around town. He also plays his wide-eyed innocent younger self, and all the colorful characters who populated his young world. There are several like Numb Finger Pete, Mr. Lucious, and Lemuel Taylor who are missing body parts (fingers, an arm, a leg), but nearly all are financially or emotionally handicapped. All are portrayed with great compassion and empathy. Occasionally he breaks character to give us uninflected narration.

There’s no shortage of humor -- one malaprop-inclined character refers amusingly  to “The Statue of Delivery” and a diagnosis of “the roaches of the liver” -- but the overall tone is movingly poignant, and never more so than when young Ruben comes to the realization that Nanny will one day die, or when that eventual inevitability comes to pass.

Effortlessly crossing age and gender lines, he’s as staggeringly chameleon in his many guises as the three multi-faceted stars I recently praised so effusively in “The Lehman Trilogy.” And the material is obviously deeply ingrained, much like Chazz Palminteri’s childhood memory play, “A Bronx Tale,” which, like “Lackawanna Blues,” went from solo show to successful multi-character film. Perhaps, like “A Bronx Tale,” Santiago-Hudson’s play may one day return as a musical.

In the meantime, there’s plenty of music here, as he moves with a dancer’s grace changing his body language as much as his vocal cadence and timbre. Casually outfitted by Karen Perry, he offers a dazzling tour de force, and plays a mean harmonica too. Joining him onstage is guitarist Junior Mack playing the evocative underscoring of Santiago-Hudson’s late longtime collaborator Bill Sims, Jr. 

Michael Carnahan’s simple brick wall set design, Jen Schriever’s mood-shifting lighting and Darron L West’s well-balanced sound contribute to Santiago-Hudson’s mesmerizing achievement.

There are a remarkable number of characters to keep track of (at least 24 as cited in the program), but each is conveyed with remarkable clarity, though I will confess to being a little muddled a handful of times.

How astonished and touched the feisty, self-effacing Rachel Crosby would be to know that her life has been so movingly immortalized!

(Manhattan Theatre Club at The Samuel J. Friedman Theatre, 261 West 47th Street; manhattantheatreclub.com, 212-239-6200; through November 12)

Photo by Marc J. Franklin: Ruben Santiago-Hudson

The Lehman Trilogy (Nederlander Theatre)

By Harry Forbes

To cut to the chase, this thrillingly theatrical production of Stefano Massini’s international hit, skillfully adapted by Ben Power, and magnificently directed by Sam Mendes, should not be missed. Starting life in its English version at Britain’s National Theatre, the epic play transferred to the West End, had a limited run at the Park Avenue Armory in 2019, and was all set to open on Broadway with its original cast members Simon Russell Beale, Adam Godley and Ben Miles before the pandemic hit. 

But here it is, back at last, now with the superb Adrian Lester taking Ben Miles’ role of Emmanuel Lehman, flanking Beale’s Henry Lehman and Godley’s Mayer Lehman. (An NT Live streaming from the West End preserves the original cast.) The multi-generational drama traces the arrival of the three Jewish brothers from Bavaria in the mid-19th century starting up their fabric and later cotton enterprise (first fabrics, then raw cotton) in pre-Civil War Montgomery, Alabama through establishing a foothold in New York at 119 Liberty Street, in coffee, railways, and banking, through the Great Depression, and finally the 21st century demise of the major investment firm when they filed for bankruptcy in 2008.

Over the course of nearly three and a half hours, the bravura actors not only provide narration in the third person, but play all the roles. These include the children and grandchildren of the brothers, starting with Emmanuel’s fast-talking but sharp as a tack son Philip (Beale) who values “strategy” above all virtues (as we observe when, as a young man, he boldly clinches a railway deal), and Philips’s horserace-and-art collecting-loving son, the increasingly ruthless Bobbie (Godley), as well as all the other non-family characters they encounter, and the trading division people who succeeded them. They seamlessly morph from one to the other, young and old, male and female, using a variety of voices, but always outfitted in Katrina Lindsay’s period black frock coats from the opening scenes. The performances are simply sensational. This is one of those theatrical feats that make you wonder how they can do it night after night, and twice on Saturdays! It’s easy to forget you’re watching only three actors. (The original European productions had 13.)

These are three of the greatest English actors, and “The Lehman Trilogy” might just be the pinnacle of their already distinguished careers.

The first of three acts focuses on eldest brother Henry’s arrival in 1844, followed shortly after by middle brother Emmanuel and then youngest Mayer, who originally served as an arbitrator between Henry who considered himself the “head,” and Emmanuel who was seen as the “arm.”

The action plays out on Es Devlin’s spectacular revolving cube set, glassed in on three sides and allowing beautifully fluid changes of scene and period, and even allowing some writing on the walls. The iconic packing boxes familiar from news footage of Lehman’s dissolution become props throughout the performance. Jon Clark’s masterful lighting, and Luke Halls’ dazzling background cyclorama video design, and Nick Powell’s crystalline sound and musical underscoring (played live) contribute mightily to the compelling story. Emmanuel’s recurring nightmare of impending doom becomes a visually dazzling coup de theatre with all the theatrical stops being pulled. So, too, the 1929 stock market crash is another visual triumph. 

Massini/Powers’ narrative rivets from start to finish -- it’s fair to say than, in spite of the play’s length, there’s not a dull moment, with plenty of humor amid all the business wheeling and dealing as in the scenes where Emmanual and Mayer, and later Philip, woo their wives-to-be. And there are countless moments that are pure poetry.

As the family’s narrative unfolds, we get a sharp overview of the unraveling of the American dream, and the gradual degradation of capitalism. The strict Shiva observance, which we observe after a character’s death early in the play, morphs pointedly into shorter and shorter periods of mourning as the years go by, and business interests trump hallowed tradition.

Powers has done a masterful job of condensing the original five hour Italian version into its present length. The third act, jam-packed with incident as it is, does feel a bit rushed and diffuse, but that’s a minor carp in an overall magnificent achievement.

This is theatrical storytelling at its most sublime.

(Nederlander Theatre, 208 West 41 Street; Ticketmaster.com; through January 2)

Photo by Julieta Cervantes: (l.-r.) Adam Godley, Simon Russell Beale, Adrian Lester

Chicken & Biscuits (Circle in the Square Theatre)

By Harry Forbes

A fractured family gathers for the funeral of their patriarch, and comic mayhem ensues in playwright Douglas Lyons’ very funny and genuinely touching  “Chicken & Biscuits,” which premiered at the Queens Theatre in 2020 just before the pandemic. The title, if you were wondering, refers to the deceased’s favorite dish. 

When the play begins, elder daughter Baneatta (Cleo King), a self-righteous church lady, is nervously pacing the stage as she frets about the imminent service for her father, who had been the church pastor, a role now taken by her husband Reginald (Norm Lewis). Baneatta’s estranged younger sister Beverly (Ebony Marshall-Oliver) meanwhile prepares for the service decked out in  a flashy and overly revealing outfit, while her gawky almost-16-year-old daughter La’Trice (Aigner Mizzelle) stresses about not wanting to see her grandfather laid in the ground, and once at the church, constantly complains about being hungry. Beanetta’s gay actor son Kenny (Devere Rogers) inisists that his Jewish boyfriend Logan (Michael Urie) come to the service for moral support, though the nervous Logan fears the barely concealed disdain of Beanetta, an attitude shared by Kenny’s sister Simone (Alana Raquel Bowers) who arrives with her own emotional baggage, the man in her life having just left her. 

The stage is set for fireworks, and those underlying tensions are pushed to the breaking point with the arrival of a mysterious stranger (Natasha Yvette Williams).

The setup is formulaic to be sure, and some of the scenes seem repetitive and protracted, but Lyons’ writing and the production as a whole are so sharp and the overall tone so warm-hearted that the audience happily goes along for the ride, responding on cue like a sitcom audience. There are audible “Aws” for the tender and sentimental moments, applause for some of the snappy putdowns and other crowd pleasing moments, and congregation-like responses to the pastor’s fervent eulogizing. 

The cast is a delight across the board. Lewis is solid in a rare onstage non-singing role, making a dynamic preacher and a loving if exasperated husband. King’s Beanetta is a model of stiff-backed rectitude. Marshall-Oliver and Mizzelle make a hilarious mother and daughter combo. Marshall-Oliver’s antics at her father’s coffin are a rib-tickling show in themselves, but she simultaneously conveys a caring persona. Urie is a laugh riot as usual, milking every bit of Logan’s discomfort. 

Lawrence E. Moten III’s settings make good use of the elongated Circle in the Square stage, the interior and exterior of the church, and the characters’ homes. During the church scenes, illuminated stained glass windows appear on the theater’s back walls. Dede Ayite’s costumes are pitch perfect. 

Zhailon Levingston, who has the distinction of being the youngest black director on Broadway, brings out all the humor of Lyons’ script and elicits perfectly judged performances from all concerned. 

The audience at my performance had a rollicking good time, and I suspect you will, too. Sitcom-like or not, there’s substance here and, in fact, it’s not so different in tone from the works of Neil Simon and Alan Ayckbourn. The play’s family dynamics ring true, with the emotions and themes of family strife and ultimate forgiveness are widely relatable.

(Circle in the Square Theatre, 235 West 50 Street; ChickenAndBiscuitsBway.com; though January 2, 2022)

Photos by Emilio  Madrid:

(Top) (l.-r.) Ebony Marshall-Oliver, Michael Urie, Devere Rogers, Cleo King

(Below) (l.r.) Norm Lewis, Cleo King

Six: The Musical (Brooks Atkinson Theatre)

 

By Harry Forbes

 The West End hit which puts the six wives of Henry VIII center stage in the context of a Spice Girls-like concert started previews just before the pandemic shut down Broadway. Now it has opened to generally glowing reviews and a vociferous fan base of teenage girls who, masks or not, scream their heads off throughout the 85 minute show.

Fashioned like a rock event more than a traditional Broadway musical, the diverse and talented American cast, eschewing English accents, wins the audience over from the get-go, as they emulate the moves of the pop icon inspiration for each character: Catherine of Aragon (Beyoncé and Shakira); Anne Boleyn (Lily Allen and Avril Lavigne); Jane Seymour (Adele and Sia); Anna of Cleves (Nicki Minaj and Rihanna); Catherine Howard (Ariana Grande and Britney Spears); and Catherine Parr (Alicia Keys and Emeli Sandé).

Even if you’re not fully conversant with today’s pop divas to appreciate the show on that particular level, Toby Marlow and Lucy Moss’s songs are undeniably catchy, the lyrics not without wit, and with just enough historical ballast to support the unusual concept. Paul Gatehouse’s sound design is understandably pitched at rock concert decibels, which I found more than a bit uncomfortable. I would have liked to hear more of the lyrics. “I guess he just really liked my head,” declares Anne (an amusing Andrea Macasaet) cheekily at one point. A post-show listening to the score on Spotify with its ideal sonic balance affirmed the score’s quality, making me wish it had come across with the same clarity in the theater.

After the opening number, “Ex-Wives,” which has something of the vibe of “He Had It Coming” from “Chicago,” each queen presents her big number in the style of the inspiration listed above, with only a soupcon of period “Greensleeves” in the underscoring. And it was a welcome relief after the non-stop music when Jane Seymour (a touching Mallory Maedke) prefaced her powerful number “Heart of Stone” with a spoken introduction. So, too, there’s further spoken dialogue from Anna of Cleves (a sassy, strutting Brittney Mack) soon after.

The conceit of the show has the wives competing against each other as to who got the worst hand from the marital monarch. An amusingly petulant Anne thinks it must be she as she lost her head (though she faces competition from Katherine Howard (Courtney Mack) who would later meet the same fate). Jane, said to be the “only one he truly loved,” would die in childbirth. The marriages to longest wife Catherine of Aragon (Adrianna Hicks who kick starts the show in commanding fashion) (24 years), and Anna (whose portrait by Holbein first sparked Henry’s fancy until he met her in person and he lost interest) ended in divorce. And lastly, there’s Catherine Parr (a touching Anna Uzele) who, as she repeatedly affirms, survived.

“Six the Musical” is, as you might have gathered, a far cry from the classic BBC/PBS series “The Six Wives of Henry VIII,” and the script puts the wives in a defiantly contemporary feminist perspective positioning the show as a rousing affirmation of girl power.

The script seems ready made to travel with some pandering location place holders. “How you doing tonight, New York (or presumably any other city where the show eventually happens to tour)!”

Moss and Jamie Armitage direct with considerable flair and propulsive energy. And Emma Bailey’s rock concert set, framed by Tim Deiling’s imaginative and colorful lighting, dazzles.

Courtney Mack’s “All You Wanna Do” is one of several earworms. And Uzele’s Catherine wraps up the wives’ recitations with a strong “I Don’t Need Your Love.” The string of solo turns is broken by a concerted disco number “Haus of Holbein” -- neat choreography by Carrie-Anne Ingrouille -- just before Anna’s solo.

The all female “Ladies in Waiting” band, led by Julia Schade, supplies roof-raising support.

(Brooks Atkinson Theatre, 256 West 47th Street; 877-250-2929 or Ticketmaster.com)

Photo by Joan Marcus – Anna Uzele (Catherine Parr, center) with (l-r) Adrianna Hicks (Catherine of Aragon), Andrea Macasaet (Anne Boleyn), Abby Mueller (Jane Seymour), Brittney Mack (Anna of Cleves) & Samantha Pauly (Katherine Howard)

Pass Over (August Wilson Theatre)

By Harry Forbes

Antoinette Chinonye Nwandu’s alternately poignant and mordantly funny take on systemic racism draws its unlikely inspiration from a sort of mashup of  “Waiting for Godot” and the Exodus story. The play illuminates the emotional angst fueling the Black Lives Matter movement as well as anything I’ve een. 

“Pass Over” had its premiere by Chicago’s Steppenwolf Theatre Company in 2017, and was filmed by Spike Lee. (It can currently be viewed on Amazon Prime Video). It was mounted with one of the original cast members at Lincoln Center Theater in 2018.  

I didn’t catch the Lincoln Center version but I can attest that the production as it currently stands inaugurates the reopening of Broadway in a classy and compelling fashion. 

 

Nwandu has provided a radically revised ending (which, based on comparison with the Spike Lee film, I’d say is far superior and satisfying). If there were any concerns about this three-hander filling a Broadway stage, they prove groundless as the piece works beautifully in the larger venue. The wonderfully creative Danya Taymor who’s been attached to the project from the start, directs the brilliant Lincoln Center cast through a virtuoso kaleidoscope of shifting moods and tone.

Moses (original Steppenwolf star Jon Michael Hill) and Kitsch (Namir Smallwood) are trapped by their own fears on a desolate street afraid to venture to the “promised land” and face myriad racist-fueled dangers. Even on in their present location, they live in perpetual fear of the police (the “po-pols”). The recent death of a friend of theirs at the hands of the law reinforces their justifiable inertia. So they are trapped in a kind of limbo longing for the world outside, scrounging for food, fantasizing about the top ten things they’d like to do when they get out, and role playing confrontations with the police.

Into this insular world suddenly comes a lost white man identified as Mister (Gabriel Ebert) carrying a food basket, rather like Little Red Riding Hood -- en route to his mother’s house. He offers to share his bounty with them. He’s full of “gosh, oh golly” disingenuousness, and thoughtlessly patronizing at every turn. The  lengthy and funny scene epitomizes the racial divide.

Ebert is a hoot in this role, though the versatile actor returns shortly thereafter in a far more sinister part.

The interplay between Hill and Smallwood throughout is extraordinary. Though Nwandu’s dialogue is a stream of street language -- with liberal use of the “n” word -- the men give each exchange infinite shadings. In fact, these are two of the most vocally and physically virtuosic performances you’re liking to see this season. 

The occasion marks the Broadway debuts of both Nwandu and Taymor whose razor sharp direction is enhanced by some wonderful choreographed movement (Bill Irwin was a consultant).

There’s real poetry in Nwandu’s smart and observant dialogue which, as per the play’s title, has its share of Biblical allusions. 

Wilson Chin’s simple but evocative set (a looming streetlamp and a large garbage can), atmospherically lighted by Marcus Doshi), captures the desolate mood, and stands in striking contrast to the more lush setting of the play’s final minutes. 

Far from the static mood you might expect from a play about characters paralyzed into inaction, the gripping “Pass Over” offers suspense, drama, comedy, an occasional song, and three not-to-be-missed performances. 

(August Wilson Theatre, 245 W. 52 Street.; passoverbroadway.com)

Photo: Joan Marcus