Linda

B-

A third play by award-winning British playwright Penelope Skinner (The Village Bike, The Ruins of Civilization) has reached New York in a Manhattan Theatre Club production helmed by MTC artistic director Lynne Meadow. Linda Wilde (Olivier winner Janie Dee), a 50-something executive at a cosmetic company, seems to have it all — a great job, a loyal husband, two daughters, a lovely home. (We are told that her elder daughter Alice (Jennifer Ikeda, recently seen at MTC in “Vietgone”) has a different father and that Linda had to raise her alone, but we don’t learn the circumstances.) Linda won an important advertising prize 10 years before with a campaign emphasizing women’s inner beauty. When she proposes targeting the company’s new anti-aging cream to women over 50, her boss Dave (John C. Vennema) vetoes the idea. He thinks it’s better to trade on the insecurities of younger women and market to them and has brought in Amy (Molly Griggs), a 25-year old hotshot, to head the campaign. Linda learns that her husband Neil (Donald Sage Mackay) is canoodling with Stevie (Meghann Fahy), the attractive young singer in his band. Daughter Alice is a mess; she has been vegetating at home and won’t take off her skunk costume onesie. Apparently, she was permanently traumatized by a shaming incident at school 10 years ago. Younger daughter Bridget (Molly Janson) is about to audition for a drama academy, but wants to do a man’s speech since she thinks there are few good speeches for women. Luke (Maurice Jones) is a flirty temp at Linda’s office who is leaving soon for Bali. It turns out that Amy was in school with Alice and was complicit in her shaming. In another unlikely twist, mother imitates daughter with similarly disastrous consequences. Even the elements conspire; we get a Lear-worthy storm, for no discernible reason. The underlying problem of being an aging woman in contemporary society gets lost in the melodrama. On the plus side, we get a strong performance from Janie Dee and a sleek revolving set by Walt Spangler that is even color-coordinated with Jennifer von Mayrhauser’s attractive costumes. Too bad that the work came across, to me at least, as a heavy-handed polemic that did not do justice to its topic. Running time: 2 hours 20 minutes including intermission.

Evening at the Talk House

D+

It sounded so promising: a New York premiere of a work by the provocative and often amusing Wallace Shawn with a cast that includes Matthew Broderick, Jill Eikenberry and Michael Tucker (remember them in L.A. Law?), John Epperson (Lypsinka), Larry Pine, Claudia Shear (Dirty Blonde) and Shawn himself. The cast also includes a fine young actress previously unknown to me, Annapurna Sriram. Upon entering the Romulus Linney Theater at Signature Center, the audience sees a cozy area that looks like the living room of a private club, filled with overstuffed chairs and ottomans, a leather sofa, a large coffee table and an upright piano. It took me a split second to realize that the attractive woman offering a tray of marshmallows, gummy bears and colored sparkling water was Eikenberry, looking barely a day older than she did on L.A. Law. For several minutes (too long in my opinion) the actors mix with the audience before the play. Most of those gathered at the theatrical club were associated with a play that opened ten years before  — Robert, the playwright (Broderick); Tom, the star (Pine); Bill,  the producer (Tucker); Ted, composer of the incidental music (Epperson); Annette, the wardrobe mistress (Shear); Nellie, the struggling club’s proprietor (Eikenberry) and Jane, her assistant (Sriram). An unexpected guest is Dick, an old actor (Shawn) who had been turned down for a part in the production ten years ago. Robert opens the play with a very long (at least 10-minute) monologue, during which we learn that much has changed in the past 10 years. Theater has practically disappeared. The country has become vaguely dystopian with quarterly predictable elections and frequent blackouts. Robert and Tom have abandoned serious theater for the lucrative world of television comedy. Bill has become a successful agent. Ted, Annette and Jane have had to scramble to make ends meet, filling in by participating in a government program to target people “who mean to do us harm.” Dick is staying at the club temporarily after a beating from his “friends.” Despite the underlying menace, the guests prattle on about tv shows and other gossip. One topic is the mysterious recent poisoning of at least two actors. The lights go out, but the talk continues. The play grinds to a halt with an ending that seems almost arbitrary. Somewhere lurking inside this disjointed mess lies an interesting play. I wish Shawn had waited until it emerged. Derek McLane did the wonderful set and Jeff Mahshie, the fine costumes. New Group artistic director Scott Elliott directed. Running time: one hour 40 minutes; no intermission.

Sunset Boulevard

B

To say that this revival of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s 1993 musical, now in a limited run at the Palace Theatre, was greeted with wild enthusiasm would be a gross understatement. From the moment that Glenn Close first appeared, it was clear that the evening would be a love fest between her and her fans. Not that she doesn’t deserve the acclaim. Although her voice sounded a bit pinched at times, her Norma Desmond is one for the ages. She is joined by a fine supporting cast — Michael Xavier as Joe Gillis, Fred Johanson as Max von Mayerling and Siobhan Dillon as Betty Schaeffer. The production, an import from the English National Opera, makes an interesting trade-off: instead of lavish sets, we get a 40-piece orchestra onstage. Unfortunately, the larger orchestra does not improve the quality of the music. The reduced emphasis on set design somehow makes the story stand out more. The production is more than semi-staged, but the bare-bones set by James Noone is only one step above a typical Encores production. The book by Don Black and Christopher Hampton is respectful to the screenplay of the Billy Wilder film and includes some of its best lines. Tracy Christensen’s evocative costumes are a major asset. Lonny Price directs with a sure hand. If you love the film and are a fan of Glenn Close, you will have a good time. If you do not appreciate Andrew Lloyd Webber’s music, you might not. Running time: 2 1/2 hours, including intermission.

The Mother of Invention

D

Since I enjoyed James Lecesne's last play, The Absolute Brightness of Leonard Pelkey, I was glad to see that Abingdon Theatre Company was presenting the world premiere of his latest work. Alas, the new play is not ready for prime time. It’s a grab bag of assorted plot lines: Alzheimer’s, sibling rivalry, paranoia over terrorism, filial obligations, New Age mysticism, sexy Latino as con man, gay fear of intimacy, surprising revelations in a diary, infidelity, euthanasia, gun violence and gratuitous nudity. Apparently the playwright thought that if he threw enough darts at the board, some of them would stick. Through most of the play, the mother Dottie (Concetta Tomei) addresses the other characters, although she is not actually with them. Her two unlikable children, Leanne and David, played by Angela Reed and James Davis, are packing up Dottie’s possessions in preparation to sell her house. Dale Soules (Shows for Days) breathes some life into the play in two roles — the paranoid neighbor and a homeless woman. Dan Domingues plays Frankie Rey, the sexy South American who is either a con man or a mystic or possibly both. Isabella Russo plays Ryder, Leanne’s precocious daughter. The walls of Jo Winiarski’s set are made of packing cartons, which the characters gradually remove as the play moves along, a process that was not fast enough for me. Tony Speciale (Unnatural Acts) directed. Running time: 1 hour 20 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.

Jitney

A

Although written first, Jitney is the last of the ten plays in August Wilson’s American Century Cycle to reach Broadway. This superb production at Manhattan Theatre Club was worth the wait. The focus of the play is the office of a gypsy cab service in a primarily black Pittsburgh neighborhood. We meet the owner Becker (the indispensable John Douglas Thompson), a man widely respected by the community; four of his drivers — Fielding , an alcoholic with a surprising past (longtime Wilson veteran Anthony Chisholm); Youngblood (Andre Holland from the film Moonlight), the Vietnam vet trying to make a better life for his girlfriend Rena (Carra Patterson) and their young son; the soft-spoken, aloof Doub (Keith Randolph Smith), emotionally crippled by what he saw in the Korean War; and gossipy troublemaker Turnbo (the pitch-perfect Michael Potts) — and a couple of regular visitors — Shealy (Harvy Blanks), a flamboyant numbers bookie, and Philmore (Ray Anthony Thomas), a frequent customer. Finally, there is Booster (Brandon J. Dirden), Becker’s son, just released from prison after 20 years. The reunion scene between father and son that ends the first act is both riveting and lacerating. The conversations and conflicts among the other characters often pack a punch while often simultaneously delivering a chuckle. Ensemble acting doesn’t get much better than this. The richly detailed set by David Gallo incorporates glimpses of the neighborhood. Toni-Leslie James’s costumes are perfection. The bluesy music by Bill Sims Jr. enhances the action. Director Ruben Santiago-Hudson (The Piano Lesson) once again demonstrates his aptitude for Wilson’s work. The play is weakened a bit by its pat ending, but not enough to erase its many strengths. My one quibble is that I thought that Dirden (The Piano Lesson), although a fine actor, was miscast; he bears no physical resemblance to Thomspon and looks too sleek and confident for a man just out of prison. Nevertheless, this is a powerful revival of a play well worth seeing. Running time: 2 hours 25 minutes including intermission.

Seating advice: Since the floor of the stage has been raised at least a foot, i do not recommend seats in the first few rows.

The Liar

A-

One of the most enjoyable plays I saw in 2011 was The School for Lies, David Ives’s delightful riff on Moliere’s The Misanthrope, at Classic Stage Company. The cleverness of Ives’s rhymed couplets, full of anachronisms and contemporary references, more than compensated for the silliness of the plot. Three years later, Ives was back at CSC with his “translaptation” (his word) of “The Heir Apparent,” a comedy by lesser known French playwright Regnard. While enjoyable, it did not reach the hilarious peaks of the earlier piece. Now CSC is presenting Ives’s latest adaptation of a classic French comedy, Corneillie’s The Liar (Le Menteur). The good news is that Ives is in top form and the production is another triumph of style over substance. The slight plot, a trifle based on mistaken identities, is performed with conviction by an excellent cast led by Christian Conn in the title role of Dorante and the ever-enjoyable Carson Elrod (“All in the Timing,” “The Heir Apparent,” “The Explorers Club’) as his manservant Cliton, who cannot tell a lie. Ismenia Mendes and Amelia Pedlow are charming as Clarice and Lucrece. Tony Roach is fun as Alcippe, Clarice’s secret fiance. Aubrey Deeker is fine in the less showy role of Philiste. Adam LeFevre brings warmth to the role of Dorante’s father Geronte, Kelly Hutchinson is a delight its the twin maids Isabelle and Sabine. The elegantly simple set by Alexander Dodge and the attractive costumes by Murell Horton enhance the production. Michael Kahn directs with a light touch. My only reservation is that it is almost too much of a good thing. The slenderness of the plot barely supports the play’s length, despite all its cleverness. Running time: 2 hours 10 minutes including intermission.

Comfort alert: The seats in Row A do not have arms.