Six Degrees of Separation

B-

It isn’t often these days that you see a straight play with 18 actors on Broadway, so I salute the producers for bringing us this expensive revival. John Guare’s popular 1990 send-up of limousine liberals is based on a true story about a young man (the excellent Corey Hawkins) who passes himself off as Paul Poitier, son of actor Sidney, to worm his way into the homes of several wealthy East Side couples who should know better.The story is told by one such couple, art dealer Flan Kittredge (a surprisingly underwhelming John Benjamin Hickey) and his wife Ouisa (Allison Janney, competent but no match for my memories of Stockard Channing),. “Paul” is well dressed, charming and articulate, knows details about their children at Harvard, and  dangles the promise of casting them in the film Cats that his father is coming to New York to direct. They let him stay overnight. When Ouisa goes to wake him the next morning, he is in bed with a hustler (James Cusati-Moyer). During the long scene in which his hosts chase him around the apartment, the naked hustler has ample time to demonstrate that he has all the requisites for a successful career. Later the Kittredges learn that their friends Kitty (Lisa Emery) and Larkin (Michael Countryman) had their own encounter with “Paul” the previous night. We eventually meet their horrid children (Colby Minifie, Keenan Jolliff and Ned Riseley) who are portrayed as cartoon characters. Chris Perfetti fares better as Trent, the young man who has inadvertently set the events in motion. My biggest complaint about the play is the episode in which “Paul” cons two young would-be actors from Utah (Peter Mark Kendall and Sarah Mezzanotte) with tragic results. It is an abrupt shift from the satire of the rest of the play. I found director Trip Cullman’s approach to the play generally too broad. Mark Wendland’s set is very red and very tall. Clint Ramos’s costumes are fine. The play aspires to deeper meanings that it never reaches. Running time: one hour 40 minutes, no intermission.

Yen

C

Anna Jordan’s prize-winning drama about three members of a British underclass family and their neighbor is having its New York premiere in an MCC production at the Lucille Lortel Theatre. Hench and Bobbie are teenage half-brothers who are living alone and unsupervised in their alcoholic diabetic mother Maggie’s flat after she moves out to live with her current boyfriend. Hench (Lucas Hedges of “Manchester by the Sea” in an impressive stage debut) is a sullen, emotionally constricted 16-year-old who has nightmares and wets the bed. Bobbie (the impressive Justice Smith) is a hyperactive potty-mouthed 14-year-old (in London the character was only 13) who has unspecified special needs. The boys spend their time playing violent video games and watching porn. Their unseen dog Taliban, so named because he is vicious and brown, is confined to their spare room because he bit someone the last time they let him out. The brothers spot Maggie (Ari Graynor, who looks too pretty and kempt) passed out on the street and bring her in to sober her up. Later the boys are visited by Jennifer (Stefania LaVie Owen), a sweet-dispositioned 16-year-old neighbor, recently arrived from Wales, who is concerned about Taliban’s possible mistreatment. She becomes friendly with the brothers, particularly Hench, who also is stirred by feelings for her. It all turns out very badly. The production is ill-served by an intermission that disrupts the play’s flow. Somehow the play gained 20 minutes since London, where it was performed without a break. The thick working-class British accents and, to a lesser extent, the Welsh accent are challenging. The plot has a few contrivances that make no sense. The brothers have to share one shirt, because they left their laundry with their grandmother the day before she disappeared with her immigrant boyfriend. Was one of them running around shirtless that day? There is too little context for the characters. We never learn what demons bedevil Hench or, for that matter, why he is called Hench. Trip Cullman (Punk Rock) commits one of the cardinal (at least in my book) sins of directing: shining bright lights in the audience’s eyes. The set by Mark Wendland is efficient but uninspired. The costumes by Pamela Young are apt. When it was all over, I had to ask myself what was the play’s point. Is it just a slice of life about the British lower classes? A screed about the evils of porn and video games? A cautionary tale about bad parenting? Judge for yourself if you are so inclined. Running time: 2 hours 10 minutes including intermission.

SIgnificant Other ***

After the success of his play “Bad Jews," Joshua Harmon is back at Roundabout’s Laura Pels Theatre with a new comedy-drama about Jordan Berman (Gideon Glick, in a breakout performance), a depressive 29-year-old gay New Yorker, and his three gal pals — Kiki (the hilarious Sas Goldberg), Vanessa (Carra Patterson) and Laura (the wonderful Lindsay Mendez). The play might have been called “Three Weddings and a Meltdown.” As his three friends find husbands and have less time for him, Jordan feels the deepening pain of not having his own significant other and the growing fear that he never will. John Behlmann and Luke Smith play the three husbands as well as three men that Jordan fails to connect with. Finally, there is the superb Barbara Barrie as Jordan’s grandmother, who has outlived her friends and whose mind may be slipping. I found the play irritating and moving in almost equal measure — irritating in that it too often goes for the easy laugh and moving in its wrenching portrayal of loneliness. I thought that at times the playwright was trying too hard to entertain, but the audience, at least 30 years younger than the usual subscription profile, seemed to be loving it, greeting every line, funny or not, with nervous laughter. It’s one of the rare plays where the second act is better than the first, with two stunning monologues for Jordan. The high quality of the acting elevated the material. Mark Wendland’s set impressed me as unnecessarily complicated and not very attractive. Kaye Voyce’s costumes were excellent. Trip Cullman’s direction was a bit overheated for my taste. Running time: 2 hours 10 minutes, including intermission.

Heisenberg **

When I reviewed Bluebird at the Atlantic Theater in 2011, I said: “Don't be brokenhearted if you weren't able to get tickets to see Simon Russell Beale in Simon Stephens' 1998 play, now in a sold-out run at Atlantic Stage 2.” I could say the same about his new play at Manhattan Theatre Club. Unless you are a die-hard Mary-Louise Parker fan, you won’t be missing much if you didn’t score tickets to this one. After seeing three of his plays (Harper Regan, Bluebird and Punk Rock) and his adaptation of the book The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, I have concluded that Stephens shows much more talent as an adaptor than as a playwright. In this two-hander, Parker once again plays the quirky, troubled soul that she was born to play — over and over and over. She is joined by the impressive Denis Arndt, an actor with a long list of regional credits, but who is new to me. Parker plays Georgie Burns, a 40-ish American expat in London, who, as the play begins, has just impulsively kissed Alex Priest (Arndt), a 75-year-old butcher sitting on a bench in a train station. The motor-mouthed Georgie then practically drowns Alex in a sea of words. A week later she shows up at his shop unexpectedly. The nature of her interest in this older man is a mystery. We eventually learn the reason or, at least, the purported one. With Georgie there’s always uncertainty, because she is prone to expressing two diametrically opposed views simultaneously. (Perhaps that’s where the title comes from.) We follow their interactions over the next six weeks. I will say no more about the slender plot. It’s a tour de force for the actors, particularly Parker, but it didn’t otherwise hold much interest for me. City Center’s Studio at Stage II has been reconfigured with the audience on both sides of the elongated stage. Except for two tables and two chairs, the set by Mark Wendland is bare. The costumes by Michael Krass do not call attention to themselves. Mark Brokaw’s direction is uncluttered. Running time: 85 minutes, no intermission.

I'm Gonna Pray for You So Hard **

The best I can say for Halley Feiffer’s overwrought drama at Atlantic Stage 2 is that it offers a chance for Reed Birney to once again demonstrate that he is one of New York’s finest actors. As David, an embittered alcoholic playwright, he spends the first hour venting spleen against everyone involved in New York theater. His audience is his daughter Ella (Betty Gilpin), an aspiring actress waiting for the reviews of her performance as Masha in “The Seagull.” During the long first scene, Gilpin is called upon mainly to shriek, screech, scream, squeal and shout, to the point that I thought her character was developmentally challenged. David’s casual cruelty to Ella escalates as the evening progresses, fueled by wine, weed and coke, and finally reaches a breaking point. In the second scene, five years later, we learn that Ella has truly become her father’s daughter. Birney’s performance in this scene is absolutely riveting and Gilpin finally gets a chance to do more than make appreciative noises. Mark Wendland’s version of the kitchen of an Upper West Side apartment is appropriately claustrophobic. Jessica Pabst’s costumes are fine, especially her blood-red dress for Ella in the second scene. Trip Cullman directed. Although I really disliked the material, I was happy for the opportunity to see Birney in action. Running time: 90 minutes, no intermission.

A Month in the Country **

Turgenev’s theater masterpiece has a peculiar history. Written in 1850, a good 50 years before the Chekhov plays it prefigures, it was not produced until 1872 and did not receive proper recognition until the Moscow Art Theatre took it up, at Chekhov’s urging, during the early 1900’s.   It never achieved the popularity of the plays it inspired. Here in New York, Roundabout presented it three times — in 1976, 1979 and, on Broadway, in 1995 in a production directed by Scott Ellis. I saw the 1995 production, which starred Helen Mirren in her Broadway debut. (She almost made me forget that she was a 50-year-old playing a 29-year-old.) Despite the star-studded cast, which also included F. Murray Abraham, Ron Rifkin and Alessandro Nivola, Times critic Vincent Canby panned the production. I recall my reaction as being less negative, although I was disappointed that it didn’t make me re-experience the pleasure I had reading the play. Now CSC has revived the play in a brisk production starring two current television stars, Taylor Schilling of “Orange Is the New Black” and Peter Dinklage of “Game of Thrones,” and a former one, Anthony Edwards of “ER.” The results are wildly uneven. While Schilling looks perfect for the alluring but chilly Natalya, her interpretation does not dig very deep. Dinklage, on the other hand, makes Rakitin a touching figure. Edwards is properly obtuse as Natalya’s husband Arkady. (Turgenev specifies his age as 36, only 7 years his wife’s senior, but, once again, he has been cast as much older.) Megan West, who plays the murdered girl on “How To Get Away with Murder,” struck me as too perky and childlike in the early scenes, but got better as the play progressed. For me, the weakest link was Mike Faist as Belyaev, the young tutor whose presence destabilizes the household; he lacks the looks and charm to make his attractiveness plausible. The ever watchable Elizabeth Franz makes the most of the role of Arkady’s mother. Thomas Jay Ryan, as the cynical Dr. Shpigelsky, almost steals the show; his proposal to Lizaveta (Annabelle Sciorra) was, at least for me, the play’s highlight. Director Erica Schmidt rushes the play along to its detriment. I was appalled at the interjected scene of Natalya and Belyaev ripping each other’s clothes off, because there is absolutely no basis for it in the text. Tom Broecker’s costumes are fine, but Mark Wendland’s set is strange. A low wall, similar to a courtroom barrier, surrounds the stage. The back wall is a birch forest, which has to be the most cliched shorthand for a Russian setting ever. An oppressive large box overhangs the entire stage, semitransparent in front, which fulfills no function that I could think of unless it is supposed to suggest how confined their world is. The program lists the son as Koyla, instead of Kolya — twice. To his discredit, the Times critic repeated the error. I suppose it’s better to have a flawed production of an important play than none, but it’s a close call. Running time: 2 hours, 10 minutes including intermission.

If/Then **

Unless you’re a really dedicated Idina Menzel fan, you can take a pass on this high-concept musical by Tom Kitt and Brian Yorkey. Menzel plays Elizabeth, a recently divorced almost-40 city planner returning to NYC after 12 years in Phoenix. She seems more interested in dwelling on past choices than in moving ahead with her life. A seemingly trivial decision about which friend to hang out with after an encounter in Madison Square Park leads her down two different paths, one as Beth, more interested in her career than her personal life and the other as Liz, who values love above career. Following her down these two different roads sounds more interesting than it turns out to be. Neither story is particularly compelling and the alternation between them is both confusing and unproductive. The people who surround Liz/Beth are right out of the cliche book — Lucas (Anthony Rapp), a mostly gay housing activist, Kate (LaChanze), a sassy black kindergarten teacher, Josh (James Snyder), a noble doctor just returned from military service; Anne (Jenn Colella) and David (Jason Tam), two cardboard characters to provide romantic interest for Kate and Lucas, and Beth’s boss and mentor Stephen (Jerry Dixon). Mark Wendland has designed an attractive, flexible set complete with turntable and huge overhead mirror. Kenneth Posner’s lighting design features a glowing backdrop of changing colors, some of them quite bilious. Emily Rebholz’s costumes do not distract. Michael Greif keeps things both stories moving with only occasional confusing moments. And then there’s the music, none of which I could hum if my life depended on it, and the lyrics, which rarely rise above the humdrum. Since I am old-fashioned enough to think that the music is the main point of a musical, I find the show wanting at its core. Menzel is a commanding performer, but she can’t elevate mediocre material. Running time: 2 hours 45 minutes, including intermission.

Nobody Loves You **

(Please click on the title to see the complete review.)
As I have found much to admire in Itamar Moses's past work (Bach at Leipzig, The Four of Us, Completeness), I was looking forward to the current show now in previews at Second Stage. This musical send-up of the "reality" television show for which the play is named has a book by Moses, music by Gaby Alter and lyrics by both. The production is blessed with a talented, energetic cast that is impossible not to like. Unfortunately, the performances are better than the material. The satire is bland and the music is instantly forgettable. The book has occasional flashes of wit, but they are too few. Heath Calvert is marvelous as the reality show's vapid MC. Leslie Kritzer and Rory O'Malley are triple threats with three distinctive roles each. O'Malley is especially hilarious as a flamboyantly gay fan, a Lothario and a nerd. Bryan Fenkart and Aleque Reid are respectable as the lead couple. Roe Hartrampf, Autumn Hurlbert and Lauren Molina all shine as the other contestants. I only wish that they had more to work with. Mark Wendland's set is simple but effective. Jessica Pabst's costumes are terrific. Michelle Tattenbaum's direction keeps things moving briskly. Running time: 95 minutes, no intermission.

Murder Ballad **

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This through-sung rock opera by Julia Jordan and Juliana Nash, which received positive reviews at Manhattan Theater Club Stage II last year, has reopened at the Union Square Theater, which has been reconfigured for the occasion. Traditional seats in a U surround a central area set up as a bar, complete with pool table and cabaret seating for those who want to be in on the action. The four characters are lovely Sara (Cassie Levy), who, after a tempestuous affair with hot bartender Tom (Will Swenson), settles for marriage to Michael (John Ellison Conlee), an older, less photogenic professor of poetry. (Too bad the professor wasn't available to assist with the lame lyrics.) When Sara gets the seven year itch and resumes her affair with Tom, there's trouble, as sexy narrator (Rebecca Naomi Jones) tells us. I wish I could join the chorus of praise for the show, but it did not engage me at any level. The tabloid-worthy tale, the deafening music, the pointless running to and fro and standing on chairs were turnoffs for me. I did not particularly care who would be murdered or who did it. The performances are energetic and the voices are fine when they can be heard over the musicians. The large set, designed by Mark Wendland, diffuses the action too much. Jessica Pabst's costumes are apt. Ben Stanton's garish lighting in neon colors is bilious. Trip Cullman's direction seems to be based on the idea that if you keep the actors running around enough, no one will notice the thinness of the material. I might have liked it better had I not seen the other far better environmental pop opera ("Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812") first, but I doubt it. Fairness compels me to state that most of the audience seemed to be enjoying it. Running time:  80 minutes without intermission.

The Great God Pan ***

(Please click on the title to see the complete review.)
Amy Herzog's new play now in previews at Playwrights Horizons is never less than interesting, but does not provide the same level of satisfaction her previous play, 4000 Miles, did, at least not for me. If I had to state the theme, I would say it is the vicissitude of childhood memories, e.g. what is remembered, what is buried, what is simply forgotten, what is perceived as memory but was acquired from others, how memories of the same event differ. The high cost of being emotionally withholding is another issue. The seven vivid characters Herzog has created are superbly portrayed by a uniformly strong cast. Jamie (Jeremy Strong) is a 32-year-old freelance writer who struggles to piece together a living. Paige (Sarah Goldberg), his girlfriend of 6 years, is a former dancer whose career was ended abruptly by an injury, and is now studying to be a nutritional counselor. At the very moment when their relationship is in a severe crisis, Jamie is upset by a visit from Frank (Keith Nobbs), a former playmate whom he hasn't seen in 25 years, who has filed charges against his father for abusing him as a child. Frank's suggestion that Jamie might also have been a victim upsets Jamie's equilibrium. His conversations with his parents Cathy (Becky Ann Baker) and Doug (Peter Friedman) are far from comforting. His visit to his now senile former babysitter Polly (Joyce van Patten) does not provide answers. The remaining character, Joelle (Erin Wilhelmi), is a bulimic patient of Paige's. I suppose Paige's relationship with Joelle is intended to mirror her relationship with Jamie, but I did not feel their two scenes together were an integral part of the play. A final scene between Frank and Jamie ends the play on an ambiguous note. Carolyn Cantor's direction is assured. Mark Wendland's set of a forest glade with panels that pop out to form benches and tables is lovely, but distracting. Kaye Voyce's costumes serve the characters well. Running time: 90 minutes without intermission.

Question: Are there any American playwrights left out there who can write a two-act play?