Animal

C-

Rejoice, Rebecca Hall fans. That marvelous mistress of misery is back in town. You can really see her up close at Atlantic Theater’s Stage 2 which has been reconfigured to divide the audience in two on facing sides. In this psychological drama with a dash of feminism by British playwright Claire Lizzimore, she plays Rachel, a young married woman who is suffering from deep depression. Her long-suffering husband Tom (played by Morgan Spector, her real-life husband who met her during the run of Machinal) can’t seem to help her. Her therapist Stephen (a droll Greg Keller; Belleville) apparently can’t either. We also see Rachel mistreating an old woman (Kristin Griffith); being kissed by Dan (David Pegram, War Horse), a shirtless stud who may or may not have broken into her house; and conversing with a mysterious little girl (Fina Strazza). After 85 minutes of exhausting, escalating emotions, the play is suddenly wrapped up and tied in a bow by an unexpected and unsatisfying explanation. I felt manipulated. Rachel Hauck’s set is minimalist to the point of near invisibility.. Sarah J. Holden’s costumes are congruent with the characters. Gaye Taylor Upchurch’s direction had a few things that annoyed me, e.g. having Rachel and Tom occasionally speak to each other through microphones from opposite sides of the stage. If you are an avid Rebecca Hall fan as am I, you will be rewarded. (Many will find the sight of David Pegram's torso rewarding too.) If Hall is not your cup of tea, skip it. Running time: 90 minutes, no intermission.

NOTE: If you have mobility issues, check with the theater before attending. The elevator has been broken for several days. There is alternative access via a freight elevator, but it involves a long detour through the bowels of the Google Building and one long flight of stairs. 

Incognito ***

Nick Payne’s intriguing play at Manhattan Theatre Club is cerebral both figuratively and literally: it’s brainy and it’s about the brain. Just as quantum physics played an important role in “Constellations,” his last play at MTC, neuroscience is at the center of this one. In an author’s note, Payne says that the play is loosely based on real events and cites ten sources that inspired him. The three main narratives are about Thomas Harvey, the pathologist who took Einstein’s brain and wasted the rest of his career trying to find something special about it; Henry Maison, a young man who, after experimental surgery for epilepsy, was unable to form new memories for the rest of his long life; and Martha Murphy, a fictional middle-aged neuropsychologist with a dim view of human autonomy, trying to reboot her life after a divorce. There are also several subsidiary stories woven into the narrative. The gimmick is that all 20 roles are played by four actors — Geneva Carr, Charlie Cox, Heather Lind and Morgan Spector —who transition between characters with lightning speed. Text on the rear wall identifies the play’s three sections — Encoding, Storing and Retrieving. This segmentation seemed arbitrary and the moment of stylized movement and gestures that introduced each one was an unnecessary distraction. As in any pastiche, some stories are better than others. I wished that some had been prolonged and others had been attenuated or even eliminated. I found Martha’s story not very compelling, but was extremely moved by Henry’s tale. The actors are wonderful, particularly Carr and Cox. Scott Pask’s strikingly simple set consists of a large circular platform with four chairs backed by a semicircular wall, all in charcoal, with a ring of lights above the wall. Catherine Zuber’s costumes are all in various shades of gray. Director Doug Hughes skillfully juggles the many strands so that the audience can usually find its bearings without undue difficulty. I admired Payne’s ambition and intelligence even when an occasional scene misfired. Running time: 90 minutes; no intermission.

Machinal****

My theatergoing year got off to a very promising start with Roundabout Theatre's dazzling revival of Sophie Treadwell's expressionistic 1928 play. Helen (Rebecca Hall), a woman in her 20s who lives with and supports her unloving widowed mother (Suzanne Bertish), suffers from what used to be called neurasthenia, a kind of mental exhaustion brought on by the stresses of the impersonal, mechanistic, modern urban world. The stylized opening scene, set in the office where Helen works as a stenographer, brilliantly captures the relentless monotony and banality of the workplace. After Helen's older self-absorbed boss (Michael Cumpsty) takes a shine to her, she reluctantly marries him even though she cringes at his touch. When she visits a speakeasy with a friend, she meets a sexy young man (Morgan Spector) and begins an affair. Her powerful attraction to her lover makes her loveless marriage seem ever more intolerable. Complications ensue. Supporting the four excellent leads, 14 actors deftly handle multiple roles. A great deal of the success of the play is owed to its outstanding production design -- Es Devlin's set of beige geometrically etched panels mounted on a large turntable seems to bring us to a new location each time it revolves. It functions almost like one of the characters. When the set turns between scenes, we get fleeting vignettes choreographed by Sam Pinkleton which Jane Cox has dramatically lit by moving horizontal bands of light. The excellent sound design by Matt Tierney underscores the emotions onstage. Michael Krass has costumed the supporting cast in appropriately bleak monochromes. Director Lyndsey Turner has skillfully blended all these elements with brilliant results. Bravo to Roundabout for bringing us this rare treat. Running time: 95 minutes, no intermission.

Harvey **

(To see the complete review, please click on the title.)
I should have learned by now that I rarely respond well to theatrical whimsy. Only my curiosity to see Jim Parsons onstage in a leading role led me to buy a ticket for the Roundabout Theatre's revival of Mary Chase's 1944 comedy. Parsons acquits himself well enough as Elwood P. Dowd, but the role isn't much of a stretch from Dr. Sheldon Cooper, his TV persona. The play itself may be of sociological interest as a relic of a more innocent age, but it is about as frothy as stale beer. Most of the writing is leaden and obvious. For a few moments late in the first act, it rises to the level of farce, but it fails to offer much in the way of humor, charm or wisdom. (It is simply inconceivable that it won the Pulitzer over "The Glass Menagerie' in 1944. I can only assume that it offered a welcome respite from the anxiety of wartime.) To make matters worse, some of the casting is unfortunate. Jessica Hecht, whom I usually admire, is terribly miscast as Veta. I don't know whether anyone could humanize the stereotypical role of her daughter Myrtle Mae, but Tracie Chimo is not the one. Charles Kimbrough and Larry Bryggman, two old pros, are convincing in their roles; Morgan Spector and Rich Sommer are adequate in theirs. Carol Kane is fine in her usual role of a a ditz. David Rockwell's evocative set of the library a fusty mansion neatly splits in thirds and rotates to become the reception room of Chumley's Rest. Jane Greenwood's costumes vividly recreate the look of the '40s. Scott Ellis's direction lacks effervescence. Running time: 2 hours, 15 minutes including intermission.

Russian Transport **

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An immigrant family struggling to achieve the good life in Brooklyn is thrown into turmoil by the arrival of a relative from the old country.  No, I'm not talking about "A View from the Bridge." In this New Group production,  the family are Russian Jews living in Sheepshead Bay and the arriving relative is the wife's younger brother Boris (Morgan Spector.) Misha, the hen-pecked husband (Daniel Oreskes), runs a struggling car service. When she is not bullying her family, domineering wife Diana (Janeane Garofolo) works in a store. Son Alex (Raviv Ullman), still in high school, drives for his father, works in a mobile phone store, and deals a few drugs on the side. He is unrelentingly nasty to his younger sister Mira (Sarah Steele), who dreams of attending a summer program in Florence and must be the first 14-year-old girl in history uninterested in getting her first bra or wearing makeup. Even before Boris arrived, I was not looking forward to spending 2 1/2 hours with these unpleasant people. Diana's brother Boris is a sinisterly seductive sociopath who immediately sets out to corrupt Alex and Mira. He enlists Alex as an initially unwitting driver to transport newly-arrived Russian girls to mysterious locations. He turns on the charm with Mira and shows her his gun. (No, Freudians, an actual gun.) The family members have at each other for 2 1/2 hours, as various secrets are revealed. Playwright Erika Sheffer is not adept at telling a story clearly. At intermission, people around me were arguing about what exactly happened in the final scene of Act One. There is another scene near the end of the play that takes place so quickly and in such darkness that it wasn't clear what actually transpired. Director Scott Elliott shares some of the blame here. The actors are excellent with the exception of Garofolo, who struggles a bit with the Russian accent. Spector is an absolutely chilling Boris. Steele and Ullman are both fine, but I thought that she looked older than her brother, not three years younger. Oreskes deftly avoids stereotype. The two-level set by Derek McLane captures Diana's concept of good taste. I am surprised by the mostly positive reviews the play received. The audience was far less enthusiastic.