‘Cause That’s How Young I Feel

Angela Lansbury, an icon of film, television and especially theatre, is celebrating her 84th birthday today. The actress is in the middle of a second coming on Broadway. After a 25 year absence, she returned to NY and live theatre with three shows opening in as many years, winning a record-tying fifth Tony Award for her crowdpleasing performance in last season’s Blithe Spirit.

Starting this winter she will be seen as the droll, disapproving Madame Armfeldt in the first Broadway revival of Stephen Sondheim’s A Little Night Music with Catherine Zeta-Jones. This will mark Angela’s first appearance in a Broadway musical since the 1983 revival of Mame, and her fourteenth Broadway credit.

We are so very lucky to have this international treasure still creating magnificent work, with no signs of stopping or slowing down. In honor of her birthday, I think it’s appropriate that we should take a look at Angela, in the ’83 Mame, stopping the show with “That’s How Young I Feel.” Enjoy:

Quote of the Day: "Bye Bye Birdie" Edition

I don’t know what it is about a bomb that really brings out the creativity in journalists and critics. While there are a plethora of gems that I could cite from the universal evisceration received by Roundabout’s dead-on-arrival revival of Bye Bye Birdie, I’ll let you enjoy finding those on your own. But reading Harry Haun’s account of the opening night festivities on Playbill.com, I encountered this insightful passage with director-choreographer Robert Longbottom. Here the auteur-in-training talks about some of the touches that make this revival unique:

‘Longbottom has made quite a few alterations in the original text. “The first act wasn’t touched, not a word of it,” he quickly pointed out. “The second act—I wasn’t crazy about the way one thing flowed to the next. Nor were Charles and Lee, so we all put our heads together and looked for ways to make it a little more cinematic. “We found a better place to put ‘Kids,’ and I got rid of the Shriner’s Ballet, which I had no interest in doing. It was [the original director] Gower Champion’s number. It had nothing to do with the plot. It forwarded the plot nowhere. I didn’t really want my leading lady on her knees underneath a table, actually. Which is exactly what that was. I didn’t quite get that. I’m sure it was fabulous, but it wasn’t for me.”‘

Just sayin’…

"Noisy…Crazy…Sloppy…Lazy…"

I’ve long anticipated a Broadway revival of Bye Bye Birdie. The 1960 show, which took on the national frenzy over Elvis Presley’s drafting, was a sleeper hit and won the Tony Award for Best Musical. Its success made Broadway stalwarts of director-choreographer Gower Champion, composer Charles Strouse, lyricist Lee Adams and librettist Michael Stewart. The show brought Dick Van Dyke to the attention of Hollywood and made a bona fide Broadway star out of Chita Rivera. The musical has its share of detractors and granted it’s a well-worn property, but I’ve always found it pleasant. The score is quite memorable, in its mix of character songs and rock and roll parodies. The book has a great deal of charm and warmth, and in spite of some creaking it can still work. It’s never failed to entertain me. That is until now.

Bye Bye Birdie has been brought back to Broadway by way of the Roundabout Theatre Company in what is one of the most charmless, miscast and misdirected revivals of a musical I have ever seen. There was considerable hype surrounding this revival as it’s the first time the show has been on Broadway since the original closed in 1961. It is also the inaugural production of the new Henry Miller’s Theatre on 43rd Street. One can only hope that the theatre’s next tenant isn’t as colossal a disappointment.

There was excitement as the house lights went down and the orchestra struck up that familiar overture. That was short-lived. After a clever tableau establishing the MacAfee family behind a scrim came an unnecessary montage of video projections showing screaming fans and the revival’s Birdie, Nolan Gerard Funk, gyrating in period costume. For some reason, my heart started to sink. The broad, cartoonish nature of this prologue hinted that the powers that be didn’t trust the material. It turned out to be much worse.

TV star John Stamos is headlining as Albert Peterson, the nerdy mama’s boy composer and would-be English teacher. Stamos has tackled the Broadway musical in the revivals of How to Succeed, Cabaret and Nine, and his singing is somewhat pleasant, but too inconsistent. His acting consists of two-dimensional facial expressions and constant mugging. The show’s breakout hit song, “Put on a Happy Face” showcases Mr. Stamos in what looks to be an homage to Dick Van Dyke – if Dick Van Dyke suffered from St. Vitus’ Dance. The rest of the show he spends meandering around the stage pouting. Perhaps twenty years ago he might have made an appropriate Conrad, but he completely misses the mark as Albert.

Gina Gershon, who also showed up in Cabaret and scored good notices for her work in the very funny Boeing Boeing last season, is entirely out of her element. She cannot sing. She cannot dance. And she is entirely lost at sea performing musical comedy material. Instead of hitting the notes, she scoops, spins and rattles around the music with an unpleasant vibrato. On the rare occasions she’s actually on pitch, it’s still nothing to cheer about. She recently told reporters that the “Shriner’s Ballet” was cut because it was too “gang-rapey.” After several tepid high kicks and awkward spins, it became quite obvious that she just couldn’t have handled it. She also somehow manages to make Rose, for whom the audience should cheer, unnecessarily cold and unlikable. To her credit, Gershon was the hardest working of the leads, clearly trying to make sense of her character but ultimately falling remarkably short.

The role of Rose Alvarez was originally written to be Polish for Carol Haney. After Haney got sick, they signed Chita Rivera and made necessary rewrites. Rose is a Puerto-Rican American (by way of Allentown, PA) who is written without a single cultural stereotype, and in fact spoofs them in “Spanish Rose” late in the second act. Of all the talented actresses in New York City, there wasn’t one musical theatre actress of Hispanic descent that could have played the part? It would have been an ideal vehicle for Andrea Burns or Karen Olivo, et al.

Jayne Houdyshell, who gave one of the best performances I’ve ever seen in Well, is merely adequate as Albert’s overbearing, racist mother Mae. She scores a few laughs but seeming somewhat uncomfortable in the part. The immensely talented Dee Hoty is entirely wasted in the non-role of Mrs. MacAfee. While always a welcome presence, Ms. Hoty deserves a better part in another musical. Allie Trimm, of last season’s 13, plays the ingenue Kim MacAfee. She gets off to a winning start in “How Lovely to be a Woman,” but is the victim of the monotony going on around her. Matt Doyle mostly blends into the scenery as Hugo while Nolan Gerard Funk plays Conrad Birdie like Ricky Nelson on a bad day.

The most egregious casting is Bill Irwin as Harry MacAfee. The role was originated by Paul Lynde, who put a definitive stamp on the part of Kim’s irascible, put-upon father. Irwin hasn’t a clue what he’s supposed to be doing with the character or with musical comedy, and compensates with bizarre, unintelligible line readings. (Not to mention the gothic horror that is his singing voice). The only way I can think to describe his performance is as an unsettling hybrid of William Shatner on crystal meth and Michael Douglas in Falling Down. Mr Irwin was nothing short of brilliant with his Tony-winning triumph in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and fascinating in last season’s overrated Waiting for Godot. But his performance here is an epic fail for an otherwise stellar presence in New York theatre. The audience seemed to eat up his shameless, inappropriate shtick, but it also seemed that they were laughing at the show, not with it.

If there is anyone to blame for this mess, it is director-choreographer Robert Longbottom. For two and a half hours he has actors onstage singing and dancing without giving them any reason to do so. There is such incongruity and incompatibility that the principals seem more suited for a road company of Lifeboat. There is no chemistry between anyone and ultimately no reason the audience should care. The show is a heartfelt, gentle send up of late 50s culture and calls for someone like Gower Champion to guide it with a light touch and a stroke of genius. Longbottom’s presentation of period satire is akin to a child hammering a rectangular block into a circular hole. The show should be effervescent and fun. Instead it feels forced, contrived and joyless.

The dancing is bland and unoriginal, and some of the production numbers are distractingly unpolished. In the middle of the second act, “A Lot of Livin’ to Do” comes out of nowhere and goes back there almost instantly. This particular number goes on far too long and lands with a dull thud, which applies to practically everything in this maelstrom. The powers that be pointlessly switched “Kids” and its reprise. “Spanish Rose” comes off as spiteful afterthought. By this point, no one cares. And just when you thought it was safe to leave the theatre, the show curtain flies up for a tacked-on rendition of the film’s insanely catchy title song leading into the curtain call.

The costumes by Gregg Barnes hammer home when the show is set, but instead of designing for character he has designed for cleverness. Nowhere is this more evident than in the migraine-inducing sea of color-coordinated pastels worn by the ensemble, who look like rejects from a flimsy Universal-International feature. Not helping matters at all is the hideous set by Andrew Jackness, which is made up of unsightly sliding panels and traveling set pieces. The iconic “Telephone Hour” is ruined by cluttered, busy phone booths that overwhelm the teenagers. Whether or not it was their intention, their work outwardly mocks the show and the period in which it’s set. While we’re talking design, the unflattering fright wig Ms. Gershon wears at the top of the show gives her an uncanny resemblance to Amy Winehouse.

Not everything was a total loss. It was nice to see teenagers playing teenagers and they sure give it their best. The ensemble boasts some folks I’ve enjoyed in other shows: namely Jim Walton (virtually unrecognizable as the bartender), John Treacy Egan and the always delicious Patty Goble. And then there was the precocious Jake Evan Schwencke as Randolph MacAfee, who was the only one with lines who seemed to have a grasp on what he was supposed to be doing.

In a big surprise, the orchestra sounds extraordinary with new charts by Jonathan Tunick that emulate Robert Ginzler’s originals. (Tunick was a protege of Ginzler, and the so-called “Ginzler flutes” in “Put on a Happy Face” are homaged in Tunick’s orchestration of “Waiting for the Girls Upstairs” from Follies). There are a whopping sixteen musicians listed in the Playbill. An orchestra this large is an unusual change of pace for Roundabout, who are notorious for skimping on the music.

Don’t be fooled by the cutesy advertising – the show is a bomb from the world go. If you’re looking to revisit this classic musical, you’d be better off waiting for your local high school or community production. Or if you need a quick fix, I suggest getting your hands on the superlative original cast album and having a listen at home. It’s worlds better than wasting your time and hard-earned money on the egg being laid by this Birdie at the Henry Miller.

"Cry For Us All"


All throughout the year, Bruce Kimmel at Kritzerland records has been releasing cast albums on CD for the first time. He got the ball rolling with Anya, and has continued with Illya Darling, Show Girl and the 1968 off-Broadway revival of House of Flowers. Now he is releasing the 1970 flop Cry for Us All, which when you consider the show’s troubled tryout and fast failure, sounds more like a plea from the cast than the show’s title.

The musical is based on the hit 1965 off-Broadway play Hogan’s Goat, written by William Alfred. The original play is a tragic melodrama written in blank verse about a young, ambitious Irish immigrant who wants to run against the corrupt incumbent Brooklyn mayor. (The play and musical are set in 1890, before Brooklyn was incorporated into New York City). The hero’s secrets and demons come back to haunt him, destroying his life and his marriage. His dying mistress, and his civil marriage are cause for political scandal, ultimately culminating in his wife dying after he pushes her down a massive staircase. A real crowd-pleaser.

Mitch Leigh decided that the property should be a musical. Leigh, who had a successful career in advertising, was most famous for the music to Man of La Mancha and the popular jingle “Nobody Doesn’t Like Sara Lee.” All of his other theatrical ventures were failures (and all lacked a good lyricist). La Mancha director Albert Marre was brought in on the project and he co-wrote the libretto with Alfred (who was also co-lyricist with Phyllis Robinson). However, along with Marre came Mrs. Marre, stage diva Joan Diener.

Joan Diener is a musical theatre eccentricity. Trained in opera, she found her greatest successes – and failures – in the American musical theatre. Working exclusively with Marre, she only had two hit shows, Kismet (for which she won a Theatre World Award) and Man of La Mancha, in a role she latched onto as if she were the Pope. As Lalume in Kismet, the voluptuous Diener was scantily clad as an exotic temptress who tore the roof off the theatre with “Not Since Nineveh,” where she first made an impression with her unusual voice which combined a mezzo-belt and operatic soprano, which she navigated seamlessly if recklessly.

She recreated Kismet in London and in later revivals. As Aldonza, she performed in the original Broadway cast, the original London cast, the original Paris cast (in French, translated by and starring Jacques Brel), the national tour, the 1972 Broadway revival and a replacement in the 1992 flop revival when the score proved to be too much for Sheena Easton. Diener is at her best on the original cast album, where she sings with great flair and energy. Starting in London (if not before), she started slowing down the tempos for all her numbers, turning them all into dramatic soprano arias. Her “It’s All the Same” in the ’72 Vivian Beaumont revival was especially lugubrious. I can’t help but wonder if this was in a bid for more stage time.

She also starred in the out of town failure At the Grand which thirty years later showed up on Broadway (and wholly revised) as Grand Hotel. Cry for Us All was meant to capitalize on the La Mancha success and lasted a week. Her final original musical role was as Penelope opposite Yul Brynner’s Odysseus in the one performance wonder Home Sweet Homer, which was based on and toured for a year under the title Odyssey. If Diener had a large voice, her acting style was even larger. Her character choices were broad and often bombastic, and entirely wrong for the character she was playing here. In talking about Cry for Us All in his book One More Kiss, Ethan Mordden says Diener “played the lead role as An Evening with Joan Diener.“

It is Diener’s miscasting in the role of the delicate Irish wife, Kathleen, that is seen as the show’s first step on the rode to failure. Robert Weede, the virile baritone of The Most Happy Fella and Milk and Honey was brought in to play the Mayor. John Reardon was hired to play the hero, but quit during early rehearsals when Steve Arlen took over. Rounding out the leads in what were supposed to be comic relief roles were Tommy Rall and Helen Gallagher.

Out of town is where the trouble really started. Audiences in New Haven found the leading couple rather unsympathetic and drastic measures were taken to make them more likable. What that meant was that material was taken away from Rall, Gallagher and Dolores Wilson and given to Diener, whose part was starting to become much larger than it needed to be dramatically. A crucial role from the play was written out entirely and things got out of control. Other cast member’s were not thrilled with what was perceived to be Diener’s hijacking of the show, and resented losing their material to her.

In Boston they retitled the show Who to Love before reverting back to the original. Audiences there seemed to like the show, with some numbers even stopping the show. However, problems with illness, on set accidents and problems with the set were abundant. The set consisted of a three story house on a turntable which moved around to transport the action. The motor caused the set to constantly hum, and at one performance an 1800 pound tree fell into the wings (surprisingly no one was hurt). The show came into New York in April 1970, as a two hour, one-act lumbering bore.

The source material was so intensely melodramatic that it most likely should have been an opera instead of a Broadway musical. The score was the best thing going for the show. The stilted lyrics range from mediocre to appallingly bad, but the music was often quite extraordinary. The title song is somber but stirring, “This Cornucopian Land” is a fascinating eleven o’clock number, and ironically enough Diener lands the best number of the entire score in “The Verandah Waltz.” The three street urchins who function as a Greek chorus have several interesting items. Plus, it’s got a spectacular overture.

However, there are the duds. Rall sings a variation of the ribald “Leg of the Duck” song (with lyrics such as “I gave it to Amy, she said it’s too gamey”) and Gallagher sings that perennial favorite “Swing Your Bag” (according to Mordden, Diener jumped in on the last three notes culminating in a D above C – something not present on the album). However, there are too many numbers that are reminiscent of or that retread Man of La Mancha: “The End of My Race,” the overly dramatic “Who to Love If Not a Stranger?” and “That Slavery is Love” for Diener. There is also the finale where a priest sings the “De profundis” in Latin as Diener emotes a death scene.

The musical opened at the Broadhurst Theatre and was eviscerated by critics, closing one week later after 9 performances. The cast album, a favorite of collectors, has long languished on LP, but thanks to Mr. Kimmel it’s been released in a limited release of 1,000 copies. So for the curious, you’d better get your copy while you can.

Looking Back on "Bye Bye Birdie"

When the Roundabout revival of Bye Bye Birdie opens this Thursday, it will mark the first time the show has been seen on Broadway since the original production closed in 1961. That first production starred Chita Rivera and Dick Van Dyke, with Paul Lynde, Kay Medford, Dick Gautier and Susan Watson filling out the rest of the principal roles. For director-choreographer Gower Champion, it was the beginning of his second career as a Broadway auteur. Charles Strouse and Lee Adams wrote the score, an engaging mix of character numbers and gauche parodies of period rock and roll music.

I first saw the musical when I was in elementary school and a family friend was playing Rosie in her high school production. Only a few weeks later I found the original cast album in the store, on audio cassette no less. It marked my first purchase of an Original Broadway Cast Recording. Well, I began to listen to it ad nauseam. From its jubilant overture to affectionate finale I have always been endeared by its charm and effervescence.

Dick Van Dyke’s triumph brought him the Tony and the attention of Hollywood. After playing the role in New York for a year, he went to Hollywood to start work on The Dick Van Dyke Show. Champion won for his direction and choreography and the show itself won Best Musical, besting Do Re Mi and Irma La Douce (there was some scandal that Lerner and Loewe’s Camelot wasn’t even placed in nomination).

Tangent: That year Richard Burton in Camelot and Elisabeth Seal in Irma La Douce won as leading actors (she over Julie Andrews, Carol Channing and Nancy Walker, no less!) Van Dyke and Tammy Grimes in The Unsinkable Molly Brown (besting Chita) won for Best Featured Actor and Actress in a Musical. All four roles are considered leads in their respective shows and in the case of Grimes, it’s a star vehicle. But back then the rules were very rigid: above the title you were a lead and below the title you were featured or supporting. It’s not very fair for those who are genuinely offering a memorable supporting or featured turn to compete with their leads. Interestingly enough, Tammy Grimes’ name was moved above the title after winning the award.

Van Dyke was already in California when the awards were handed out. Back then there was no major telecast, only a small dinner ceremony in NY. Unceremoniously, Van Dyke was the only one home when he found a telegram under his doormat congratulating him on his win.

But I digress. The show was a decent hit in NY, running for 607 performances. The original London engagement with Rivera and Peter Marshall played for 268 performances. Then of course, there’s the film. Yes, it’s got Dick Van Dyke and Paul Lynde recreating their roles. Ann-Margret played the innocent Kim as a knowing vamp, with a memorable delivery of the title song over the opening credits (which was written specifically for the movie). Janet Leigh and Maureen Stapleton were on board as well. However, it just doesn’t work. Too much of the original story was altered, and as a whole it’s lacking. There was an early 90s national tour starring Tommy Tune and Ann Reinking; a 1995 made for TV movie starring Jason Alexander and Vanessa Williams tried but failed to capture to the spirit of the original. The title even found itself as part of the City Center Encores! lineup in 2004.

Now, coming full circle, it will open at the refurbished Henry Miller’s Theatre this week. But before it does, I offer this glimpse back to the original cast performing selections on Ed Sullivan in November, 1960…

Dick Van Dyke tries to cheer up some of Conrad Birdie’s fans in a train station with “Put on a Happy Face”:

Paul Lynde performs the scene leading up to and including “Hymn To Ed Sullivan,” in which his character vents the frustrations at being inconvenienced by Conrad Birdie (an appropriately crass Dick Gautier):

Rosie, who’s waited eight years for Albert to give up the music industry to get married, vents her frustrations toward Albert’s mother, who is constantly berating Rose for her Spanish heritage. Fed up, she offers “Spanish Rose”:

Anecdote of the Day

‘The most hilarious Julie Andrews story was recounted by both Chris [Durang] and Michael [Rupert]. She has a house in Switzerland and that’s where the creative team of Putting It Together went to talk to her about being a part of the show. She agreed to do it and the next morning took one of her exercise walks around the mountains that bordered her house. Julie hadn’t been on a New York stage in 35 years and she thought that she’d better start getting her voice in shape. She was vocalizing and singing different songs from her past and decided to test her soprano by singing something from The Sound of Music. She began the song while nearing the peak of a mountain and right when she got to “The Hills are alive…with the sound of music” she was coming down the other side of the mountain. Well, that moment coincided with an entirely filled tour bus coming down the road! Julie was horrified that a bunch of tourists saw her literally coming over the Swiss Alps while singing, “The hills are alive with the sound of music.” Julie said their faces had the subtext of “How sad. She still thinks she’s still in The Sound of Music. Poor Julie Andrews.”‘

– Seth Rudetsky, recalling his recent interview with Michael Rupert & Christopher Durang in this week’s Onstage & Backstage column

Grey Area

During my senior year of college, one of my English professors was arrested and charged with the sexual abuse and assault of one his students (who for the record, was a woman in her early 40s). We were all shocked by the allegations, considering the professor was 81 years old at the time, had been partially paralyzed by a stroke and was a well-respected member of our university’s faculty. The professor in question was permanently banned from entering the school campus and denied his retirement benefits. He maintained his innocence, contending that their sexual encounter was entirely consensual and that she was one who instigated their physical relationship. Brought to court, the case was ultimately declared a mistrial based on inconsistent grand jury testimony by the alleged victim, her history of previous sexual accusations which were proven false, and an audiotape made after the arrest in which she admits the relationship was consensual.

I couldn’t help but think about that case while reading about Oleanna in the days leading up to seeing it. It got me thinking about sexual harassment and, to a greater extent sexual abuse and rape charges. Especially when these incidents occur within a stratified environment, such as a university or workplace, where power becomes a factor. Should my professor have embarked on a sexual relationship with one of his students? No. At least, in my opinion – I see it as an abuse of that power. But as is often the case with two sides of the same story, the truth usually lies somewhere in that murky grey area called the middle.

There’s not much to like about either character in David Mamet’s volatile two-hander. John is a pretentious middle-aged professor too preoccupied with his pending tenure approval to focus on his students. Carol is a hypersensitive feminist who comes in search of his help, but ends up leading both down a path from which there is no return. However, likability isn’t in question here, nor is it relevant.

The play itself is slight, clocking in at around 75 minutes. But, oh does it get intense. It was actually my very first experience seeing a David Mamet play. I don’t know how I’ve missed any of his stage or film work, but there you have it. It took me about the first ten minutes to identify and understand the rhythm that is essential to his rapid-fire dialogue. As soon as I got used to it, I was riveted. And then enraged. (Possible spoilers ahead – you’ve been warned).

Oleanna originally premiered in 1992, only a year after the Clarence Thomas-Anita Hill controversy and it was an incendiary piece of theatre that got people talking and taking sides. Mamet was tackling hot-bed issues such as sexual harassment and political correctness at point blank. Well, the conversation is still happening as evidenced the other evening when I saw the play’s first-ever Broadway production. Director Doug Hughes originally staged this production in Los Angeles with Bill Pullman and Julia Stiles to stellar reviews, and it has now transferred to Broadway’s Golden Theatre with its cast intact.

The first scene shows the two characters in his office (which seemed more like a dean’s office than anything I’ve ever seen for a tenuring professor). She is worried about failing his course and is seeking additional help. He’s too preoccupied with the preparations for the new house he and his family are about to move into. One, of course, befitting his new tenure track and accompanying pay raise. Exasperated and desperate, she’s constantly interrupted by the phone calls he receives. He’s not giving her his full attention, which comes across as insensitive and down-right rude. In fact, in her most vulnerable moment, he snubs her for that ever-ringing cell phone and then surprise party in his honor that he’s late for. However, his actions toward her in the scene don’t prepare the audience for the second half, where she becomes the dominant force in their student-teacher relationship, complete with allegations of sexual harassment.

Pullman acquits himself well as the stammering professor whose seemingly innocuous, if insensitive, actions turn out to provoke Carol into action. While some of his earlier lines were inaudible, he gets into a groove with the dialogue and character. Pullman successfully shows his unraveling as the world around him steadily spirals out of control, as Carol’s actions push him to his limits. Stiles, who naturally exudes intelligence and strength (as evidenced in much of her film work), seemed a bit out of place in the first half, but becomes more believable as the play progresses. I hope Stiles, who carries herself well onstage, makes this the first of many appearances on Broadway.

When the lights came up at the end of the play, I felt contempt for Carol. I wondered why she would ruin this man’s career and life by misconstruing their encounters. At most, I felt perhaps he was too open about his family life, but didn’t see physical or verbal evidence to support her allegations. Why did she take the words he said and distort them to use against him? What was her underlying motivation? Was it just a misunderstanding blown out of proportion? His initial actions in the first scene, to me anyway, seemed rather casual. Perhaps he was a bit too forward in disclosing his personal life, but I didn’t see anything that really overstepped the boundary of teacher and student in terms of physical and emotional intent.

Now, Mamet has also stacked the play against Carol, making it more difficult to sympathize with her side of the story, as well as believe her interpretation of the facts. Plus, there’s an incongruity in how she claims ignorance at his phrasing and sentence structure , yet has the ability to construct rather complex, academic statements on her own. Another head-scratcher was Carol’s decision to revisit John’s office after filing her rape charge. It’s goes against what law enforcement officials and legal counsel would advise, plus it’s highly unlikely that anyone would do such a thing without a third party present.

I turned to Sarah to discuss all of these thoughts and ideas and immediately learned her perspective and perception was the exact opposite of mine, but was also completely valid. We saw the same performance, but a different play. And in this case, that’s a good thing.

Even more spirited was the post-show talk back. Every preview has featured special guests from various backgrounds – the night we saw it there were two sexual harassment arbitrators. With the help of a moderator, they offer their perspective, but more importantly the audience has the chance to get voice their opinions. The reactions cover the broadest spectrum imaginable. People were anxious and eager to talk about what they had seen with ideas popping up left and right. Theories abounded that Carol was calculated and manipulative, or that she has borderline personality disorder, or that she was a used by her unseen (presumably) feminist group, to enact a curricular rebellion. When the question was posed as to whether Carol represented modern feminism, there were more than a few woman who jumped out of their seats vociferously answering “No!”

It reminded me of the atmosphere that permeated the Walter Kerr Theatre four years ago after I saw John Patrick Shanley’s Doubt (also directed by Hughes) where people were talking about the truth of the situation – who was right, who was wrong. In both plays, you have two lead characters completely at odds with each other over their perception of events. Both plays got audiences talking as the houselights came up, with people taking sides and hashing it out with one another. In Doubt, Shanley offers a level playing field for both Sister Aloysius and Father Flynn. His ultimate goal is to put us in that grey area. However, Mamet is being more provocative, daring us to take a side.

At one point in the play, John talks about how we see the world through our own screens. We interpret everything through our own critical lens, which is colored by our life experiences and personal histories. Mamet takes the issues at hand, creates tense situations and uses the ideas to create the onstage dialogue in what is ultimately (if you’ll forgive me for being momentarily Mametian) a dramaturgical mind fuck. There are no right answers. There are no wrong answers. In fact, there is no simple answer for any of the questions raised by the play, just a continuing dialogue of ideas and perspectives.

Oleanna will make you uncomfortable. It should also make you tense, nervous and very likely really angry. It is for these reasons, though, that it should be seen. Be sure to stick around for the talk back; no doubt it will just as interesting (if not more) than the play.

"Am I Center…?"

By the time the curtain came down on the Manhattan Theatre Club revival of The Royal Family, I just wanted to be member of the Cavendish family, or to work for them (this is one of those plays where the staff is an extension of the nuclear). No matter how egocentric or childish these actors behave, there is never a shortness of heart. Even the most exasperating family member is accepted and embraced as part of this circle that is based in love, family and of course, the traditions of the theatre.

This is most evident toward the end of the play, when the entire family is gathered around looking at plans for a brand new play. There is excitement about the idea of putting on a new show, what it will look like, what it could be. It’s an excitement so rich you understand how this family functions. However, while they are busy bonding over their art, two suitors are shown as clear outsiders who stand around aimlessly and stand out like sore thumbs. They don’t understand the marriage between actor and craft, and they never will. The play simultaneously lampoons and celebrates what makes theatre the unique world it is.

I was incredibly optimistic about The Royal Family, a comedy-drama about a celebrated acting family written by George S. Kaufman and Edna Ferber. Now, I had never read nor seen the play before. All I knew was its history. It premiered on Broadway in 1927, where it was a big success with audiences who would readily make the satiric connections with the Barrymore family. The Barrymores themselves had varying reactions. John went backstage to congratulate Fredric March on his performance in a Los Angeles production. Lionel declined to comment, while Ethel unsuccessfully sued. That didn’t quell the popularity of the show. It premiered in London as Theatre Royal, so as not to draw parallels with the British royalty, with Laurence Olivier. It was made into the film The Royal Family of Broadway in 1930, with March recreating his stage triumph as Tony Cavendish (based on John) to the tune of an Oscar nomination. It’s probably best known to today’s audiences by its exceptionally well-received 1975 Broadway revival. Ellis Rabb won a Tony for his direction (and quickly assumed the role of Tony) and it starred Rosemary Harris and Eva Le Gallienne as daughter and matriarch of the eccentric stage dynasty.

Reflecting one of the play’s themes, the torch has passed. Harris is again starring on Broadway in The Royal Family, except this time she is stepping into the role of Fanny Cavendish, the matriarch. Jan Maxwell, one of Broadway’s greatest treasures is playing her daughter Julie. They are joined by Tony Roberts, Reg Rogers, Larry Pine, John Glover, Ana Gasteyer, Kelli Barrett in one of the loveliest revivals you’re likely to see this year.

The MTC has spared no expense in making this revival a feast for the eyes and ears. When the curtain rose on John Lee Beatty’s lavish unit set, a two-tier upscale Manhattan living room ripe with ornate period decor, the audience first gasped, then broke into enthusiastic applause. Complementing the scenery are the sumptuous costumes designed by multiple Tony-winner Catherine Zuber. The incidental music was supplied by Maury Yeston.

The show isn’t just a display of visual wonderment. Director Doug Hughes has done incredibly well by the script, finding a way to stage an 82 year old play without making it feel dated. The play does run three acts, and gets bogged down in the first act with exposition. However, don’t let that deter you – the second and third acts contain the best and most impressionable moments of the evening and are dominated by Ms. Harris and Ms. Maxwell.

I first saw Maxwell in the woefully short-lived Coram Boy (which I saw twice) and have been an ardent fan ever since. She doesn’t fail here, scoring magnificently as the middle-aged stage star of the family, upon whom much of the familial responsibility rests. She has a second shot at love with a man that got away many years ago because of the emphasis on her career, and seriously considers giving it all up for him. But a star through and through, Julie knows how to make an entrance and at one point while being melodramatic interrupts herself to ask “Am I center…?” before carrying on.

A highlight of the theatre season is watching Julie become unhinged late in the second act. It is here that Maxwell delivers the most brilliantly executed comic monologue I have ever seen in my life. It’s impossible for anyone to successfully describe it in print, but you will never forget the image of Maxwell face-planted against the lip of the Friedman stage. I’ve never seen a comic moment genuinely stop a show like it does here. All I know is that I was still awestruck when the lights came up at second intermission several minutes later.

The other indelible moment belongs to Harris, who is the matriarch who has been kept from performing due to illness. Throughout the play she patiently observes the family around her, accepts their idiosyncrasies as normal, and gets to deliver some choice Kaufman zingers. But Fanny is the heart of the play. It is her apartment in which everyone gathers and where the dramas and comedies of this family are acted out for one another. Fanny herself is something of a calming, elegant contrast to the insanity around her. Aching for the unlikely chance to return to the stage, Harris dominates the third act with an eleven o’clock moment that will haunt and move you from here to eternity. The final tableau is a most striking and affecting stage visual that will stay with you long after you’ve left the theatre.

While there are many other 82 year old plays that we are likely to never see again, this one works and holds up rather well, dated references considered. Most of that is due to its delicious depiction of actors and the playwrights’ sly satiric portrait of how they live. The play may never again get the laughs it got in 1927 when audiences was more readily aware of the Barrymores and their status within the New York theatre community. But it comes back to Hughes who imbues the entire production with class and elegance in its staging and characterization. However, underneath the slick superficial surface of show-biz is a loving family that is drawn together by its unique association with acting. As Gwen weighs giving up acting for marriage and family, Fanny drolly proclaims, “Marriage isn’t a career, it’s an incident.” Fanny and Julie then speak so eloquently of the privilege to do what they do that you begin to question your own career choice.

There has been a lot of press about Tony Roberts falling ill onstage during last Sunday’s matinee, but he was back onstage in time for Thursday night’s opening. He provides a voice of reason for the entire family as their long time manager. Reg Rogers is a favorite as the outrageous Tony, always on the run for drinking too much and womanizing. His eccentricity and larger than life personality are complemented by quieter moments where he’s with his mother and you get a glimpse at the loving child underneath all the trappings. The entire ensemble works very well with one another. Gasteyer, if a bit monotone, is perfectly gauche as Kitty. Glover’s character is trying to hang onto the last shreds of his dignity, while descending the show business ladder. Even the household staff have fully formed, interesting characters in spite of their brief stage time.

The production at the Friedman is such a tremendous hit that it’s already extended its limited engagement, but the revival is closing on November 29. You can bet that I will be going back again.

Finian’s back on Broadway

Last night, I decided to take in the first preview to cheer on the incandescent Kate Baldwin as she becomes Broadway’s newest leading lady. I won’t go into specific detail, since it was only the first performance and it’s still a work in progress, but anyone who saw Finian’s Rainbow at the Encores! should consider checking out the Broadway production at the St James Theatre. The orchestra has been moved into the pit, plus there is new scenery, costumes and lighting. The powers that be have restored a smidgen of the book and Christopher Fitzgerald and David Schramm (Roy from Wings!) have joined the company. They’ve had the time to go through tightening and fixing what couldn’t be done over the week allotted for rehearsal at the City Center.

Before the house lights went down for the overture, Warren Carlyle, the director and choreographer welcomed the audience and told us that we would be seeing an understudy that evening and asked us to cheer her on. Alina Faye, the actress who normally dances the role of Susan the Silent, was out with pneumonia. Stepping into her shoes was Leslie Donna Flesner, who was appearing on Broadway for the first time and only learned the part the day before. The role of Susan requires her to dance the entire show (including her dialogue) and culminates in the haunting second act “Dance of the Crock” where she dances to the accompaniment of a sole harmonica. Carlyle begged us to lend her our love and support. Flesner, with very little time to prepare, danced exquisitely. I’m sure if attention wasn’t called to the fact, there would have been folks in the audience who wouldn’t have realized she was the understudy – she was that extraordinary in an unexpectedly auspicious debut.

How nice to see a vintage musical of the Golden Age sparing no expense in utilizing the original orchestrations and dance arrangements (in this case, Robert Russell Bennett, Don Walker and the unsung heroine of all the popular favorites of the 40s and 50s, Trude Rittman). As I mentioned, the orchestra is in the pit, the first time I have seen that with an Encores production – with 26 players including the harp and two French horns! It’s also a joy to see Tony winner Jim Norton having the time of his life on stage in a musical, and to welcome the unceasingly divine Terri White back to Broadway after a twenty year absence. When Ms. White tears into “Necessity,” her rich contralto resonates like a shock wave, electrifying the audience and once again proving why she is and always has been an audience favorite. If Encores! should ever decide to revive Hallelujah, Baby! they must cast White in the Lillian Hayman role so she can bring down the City Center with “I Don’t Know Where She Got It.”

Post-show, SarahB and I stopped by for an aperitif or two at our beloved Angus. In fact, Angus himself seated us and we settled in for a pleasant evening as the casts of Finian’s and Superior Donuts hung out, and we joined the latter (!) in a chorus of “Edelweiss.” Plus, various literary figures and a certain star of Glee stopped by with his significant other. It was irrepressible night as “who’s who” of the New York scene seemed to be out and about, proving why it’s the place to be. I was the Max Detweiler to Sarah’s Baroness Schraeder.

Meanwhile, Finian’s Rainbow is back in its first Broadway revival since a week long run at the 46th Street (now Richard Rodgers) Theatre in 1960 (where the original production played). Interesting to note, all three Broadway revivals of the show have originated from the City Center. The show is now in previews, with an opening night set for October 29.