That's the play I saw tonight Off-Broadway in New York by Neil LaBute, which is winding up a limited run--the small house (Lucille Lortel, formerly the Theatre de Lys on Christopher St.) was packed. Good reviews must have brought audiences in because the play was not advertised nor even in the Times directory of shows.
It's a sequel to his "reasons to be pretty" which was on Broadway four years ago and nominated for the Best Play Tony. Both plays are taut--LaBute writes the best, snappiest, down-and-dirty dialogue since the great David Mamet plays like Glengarry Glen Ross.
His four characters are defiantly provincial to the core--working in small plants in nondescript suburbs at deadend jobs. Each is a type but are still very believable. Steph has a vicious temper; Greg is a wishy-washy, would-be intellectual; Kent is proud to be a dumb jock but gets lots of good trenchant lines; and Carly is too genuinely nice to be a security guard.
There are lots of back-and-forth relationships breaking and regrouping: one couple broke up, the other divorced, now the divorced woman is dating the man whose four-year live-in relationship broke up. But the woman are still close friends, and the men are as tight as LaBute ever allows men to show warm instincts, which is rarely.
One character is looking beyond the diminished horizon of the break room in the plant to become an English teacher; the others mostly scorn his growing interest in books rather than gossip, malls, and high school football. But Greg--for he is the would-be litterateur, strings each of the women along and impels them to commit major sacrifices in their pursuit of him, while trying to remain out of reach yet asking them to sympathize with his inability to commit.
By the end, he looms as more despicable in his avoidance than even Steph with her repeated explosive temper. Moreover, Kent, whose character shows LaBute pressing hardest on almost a satire of a homophobic primitive, grows more sympathetic in his loneliness and ignorance than Greg in his refusal to be pinned down and be straight with either of the women.
All in all, it's a fast-paced two hours and a bit more. I, for one, hope LaBute produces--he directed this production, too--yet another installment in his saga of stimulating common people, these characters you might be standing next to in the super market or the mall on any given day. They may not be likeable at any part or all of the time but their personas ring true and, as others have noted, show LaBute, for him at least, with a warmer view of the human condition than his earlier misanthropic work disclosed.
Friday, June 28, 2013
Sunday, June 23, 2013
Philly and Florence
If an opera--or a play or movie, for that matter--is good enough, it can likely be transported to a different time and place and still shine. This became clear to me yesterday at a performance of Puccini's one-act comedy, Gianni Schicchi, by the IN Series at the Gala Hispanic theater on the "new" 14th Street in DC.
It's a delightful comic opera--Puccini's only one--about a greedy family hoping to re-write the will by which their despised rich uncle-cousin disinherited them. And it even has one of the composer's finest arias--O mio babbino caro--made famous when sung as background by Kiri TeKanawa to the main titles of the film, A Room With a View. When performed as the third in Il Trittico, Puccini's three one-acters, it lifts the spirit after the preceding two tragedies. It's the kind of comic relief Chaucer understood was needed when he followed the dour Monk's Tale of seemingless endless tragedies with the Nun's Priest's Tale almost as rollicking (if not as X-rated) as the renowned Miller's.
The setting was moved from somewhat timeless Florence to equally undated (and just as Italian) South Philadelphia. Instead of his lumber business, the old miser Buoso, now Bruno, owns a chain of cheesesteak joints. So yes, everything worked, the comedy survived translation into English, the two singers with real arias showed themselves equal to their roles, and maestro Frank Conlin at the piano (a wonderful man and superb musician who used to be the accompanist for Vanessa's violin-class recitals) made Puccini's late-period score come to life. This is a Puccini who by 1918 had moved beyond the wonderful yet classically sentimental Boheme and Butterfly musically.
It's a delightful comic opera--Puccini's only one--about a greedy family hoping to re-write the will by which their despised rich uncle-cousin disinherited them. And it even has one of the composer's finest arias--O mio babbino caro--made famous when sung as background by Kiri TeKanawa to the main titles of the film, A Room With a View. When performed as the third in Il Trittico, Puccini's three one-acters, it lifts the spirit after the preceding two tragedies. It's the kind of comic relief Chaucer understood was needed when he followed the dour Monk's Tale of seemingless endless tragedies with the Nun's Priest's Tale almost as rollicking (if not as X-rated) as the renowned Miller's.
The setting was moved from somewhat timeless Florence to equally undated (and just as Italian) South Philadelphia. Instead of his lumber business, the old miser Buoso, now Bruno, owns a chain of cheesesteak joints. So yes, everything worked, the comedy survived translation into English, the two singers with real arias showed themselves equal to their roles, and maestro Frank Conlin at the piano (a wonderful man and superb musician who used to be the accompanist for Vanessa's violin-class recitals) made Puccini's late-period score come to life. This is a Puccini who by 1918 had moved beyond the wonderful yet classically sentimental Boheme and Butterfly musically.
Friday, June 21, 2013
Broadway Smash
There's still nothing like seeing a hit show on Broadway. Academically-oriented critics complain that there's been no"serious theater" there for ages, and except for revivals, that's pretty much true. I just got a flyer for a production this coming fall of Tennessee Williams's The Glass Menagerie, with Cherry Jones, probably the leading American stage actress today, playing the lead role that the legendary Laurette Taylor created way back in 1945. This, by the way, will be its sixth revival on Broadway.
But Broadway can still come up with musicals--sure, you may not leave the theater humming as I did after seeing Anything Goes in St. Louis two weeks ago, a production that is now landing at the Kennedy Center here in D.C. for a few weeks' run--but all the same, I just saw a good new one. It opened in April and walked off with a mess of Tony awards earlier in June. It's Kinky Boots, music and lyrics by Cyndi Lauper, who burst upon the music scene some years ago with "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" and book by Harvey Fierstein, with a passel of shows to his credit.
The show moves, keeps your attention, has a nice straight-forward story line, and boasts a standout singing and dancing star, Billy Porter by name, who works mostly in drag. He's absolute dynamite. The musical follows the tradition that dates back to Oklahoma in 1944 of using song and dance to advance the story; Anything Goes, which hails to 1934, preceded that momentous turning point and is a pastiche of comedy scenes, big production numbers, and minimal plot stitched together masterfully by theatrical wizards Cole Porter, the composer, and the tandem of Guy Bolton and P.G. Wodehouse on the book and lyrics. And how can you go wrong with a score that includes (I know, not at of the Porter songs were in this particular show, but now they are): It's Delightful, It's De-Lovely, It's Delicious; You're the Top; I Get a Kick Out of You; and best of all, in my humble view, Blow, Gabriel, Blow.
I find that the lack of tunes that stick with you has been a drawback to most musicals I've seen debut in recent years but Kinky Boots has so much going for it in the excellent staging, marvelous dance and song routines, and Porter's overall stage presence that it pulls it off and aside from the standing ovation, you leave the Al Hirschfeld Theater (ne Martin Beck) on West 45th past Eighth feeling like you've spent your time and money well.
I've since learned that the plot is based on a real story from Northampton, England, and was in fact the basis for a movie in 2005. It's an exhilarating experience--yes, I know that audiences get up on their feet these days for lots of shows that wouldn't have pulled them up previously but I still felt this was the real thing.
But Broadway can still come up with musicals--sure, you may not leave the theater humming as I did after seeing Anything Goes in St. Louis two weeks ago, a production that is now landing at the Kennedy Center here in D.C. for a few weeks' run--but all the same, I just saw a good new one. It opened in April and walked off with a mess of Tony awards earlier in June. It's Kinky Boots, music and lyrics by Cyndi Lauper, who burst upon the music scene some years ago with "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" and book by Harvey Fierstein, with a passel of shows to his credit.
The show moves, keeps your attention, has a nice straight-forward story line, and boasts a standout singing and dancing star, Billy Porter by name, who works mostly in drag. He's absolute dynamite. The musical follows the tradition that dates back to Oklahoma in 1944 of using song and dance to advance the story; Anything Goes, which hails to 1934, preceded that momentous turning point and is a pastiche of comedy scenes, big production numbers, and minimal plot stitched together masterfully by theatrical wizards Cole Porter, the composer, and the tandem of Guy Bolton and P.G. Wodehouse on the book and lyrics. And how can you go wrong with a score that includes (I know, not at of the Porter songs were in this particular show, but now they are): It's Delightful, It's De-Lovely, It's Delicious; You're the Top; I Get a Kick Out of You; and best of all, in my humble view, Blow, Gabriel, Blow.
I find that the lack of tunes that stick with you has been a drawback to most musicals I've seen debut in recent years but Kinky Boots has so much going for it in the excellent staging, marvelous dance and song routines, and Porter's overall stage presence that it pulls it off and aside from the standing ovation, you leave the Al Hirschfeld Theater (ne Martin Beck) on West 45th past Eighth feeling like you've spent your time and money well.
I've since learned that the plot is based on a real story from Northampton, England, and was in fact the basis for a movie in 2005. It's an exhilarating experience--yes, I know that audiences get up on their feet these days for lots of shows that wouldn't have pulled them up previously but I still felt this was the real thing.
Monday, June 10, 2013
Ruining Baseball
Yes, I've become a cranky codger, I suppose, because I refuse to concede that baseball can be played properly in the rain. This revelation came to me as I sat with Eileen and a friend of ours at a game in one of baseball's most traditional settings, Busch Stadium in St. Louis. I know--it's not the old Busch Stadium, nee Sportman's Park, but aside from the fans remaining fervent and most wearing Cardinal jerseys or shorts or something red, this remains a great baseball town.
It used to be known as the southern-most outpost in baseball, too, which came to the fore in the famous incident where Enos (Country) Slaughter tried to eliminate Jackie Robinson from the sport physically, most recently recaptured in the wonderful movie, 42. But though the city of St. Louis has changed a lot -- like Washington, D.C., it was segregated back then -- and is even restoring some of its almost-totally wrecked downtown area, the baseball mania that has been accentuated by the Cards' 11 Series wins--second only to the Yankees--continues.
Nevertheless, this repository of baseball tradition in a sport that still pretends to revere tradition--a reality that ended for good in 1957 when the Giants and Dodgers caught the last flight to the coast but began to end in 1953 when the Braves abandoned Boston--was the right place to see yet another change for the worse. They started the game while it was still drizzling. There had been a rain delay and the tarp was finally rolled up while the drops still fell. I was surprised but even more surprised when they just started playing under the rainfall.
I'm willing to concede that too much wasn't affected--there were no obviously messed-up outfield plays but there may have been some hits that wouldn't have been hits without the wet grass slowing the fielders. The Cards did have the basepaths swept after every two innings but I still couldn't get away from thinking that this isn't how the game is supposed to be played. I am ignoring our own use of umbrellas to protect both heads and clothing from the continuing precip; if I needed a good reason to pass on having a beer--guess which brand they sell even if A-B no longer owns the club?--it was the chill accompanying continued drizzle.
One reason for playing--and this was Major League Baseball, not the Cards or the umps, making the call--is that visiting teams outside the division only visit once and the last game with the Diamondbacks was the next day, so that would've meant a double-header with rain checks on getaway day. If it rained again, the game likely would only be replayed if it turned out to be crucial at season's end. So the game went on and there were wonderful histrionics--Arizona's star first baseman Paul Goldschmidt popped a grand slam--and this was definitely one time I was rooting for the visiting team, the Cards being my example of the "other team" I could never support.
It used to be known as the southern-most outpost in baseball, too, which came to the fore in the famous incident where Enos (Country) Slaughter tried to eliminate Jackie Robinson from the sport physically, most recently recaptured in the wonderful movie, 42. But though the city of St. Louis has changed a lot -- like Washington, D.C., it was segregated back then -- and is even restoring some of its almost-totally wrecked downtown area, the baseball mania that has been accentuated by the Cards' 11 Series wins--second only to the Yankees--continues.
Nevertheless, this repository of baseball tradition in a sport that still pretends to revere tradition--a reality that ended for good in 1957 when the Giants and Dodgers caught the last flight to the coast but began to end in 1953 when the Braves abandoned Boston--was the right place to see yet another change for the worse. They started the game while it was still drizzling. There had been a rain delay and the tarp was finally rolled up while the drops still fell. I was surprised but even more surprised when they just started playing under the rainfall.
I'm willing to concede that too much wasn't affected--there were no obviously messed-up outfield plays but there may have been some hits that wouldn't have been hits without the wet grass slowing the fielders. The Cards did have the basepaths swept after every two innings but I still couldn't get away from thinking that this isn't how the game is supposed to be played. I am ignoring our own use of umbrellas to protect both heads and clothing from the continuing precip; if I needed a good reason to pass on having a beer--guess which brand they sell even if A-B no longer owns the club?--it was the chill accompanying continued drizzle.
One reason for playing--and this was Major League Baseball, not the Cards or the umps, making the call--is that visiting teams outside the division only visit once and the last game with the Diamondbacks was the next day, so that would've meant a double-header with rain checks on getaway day. If it rained again, the game likely would only be replayed if it turned out to be crucial at season's end. So the game went on and there were wonderful histrionics--Arizona's star first baseman Paul Goldschmidt popped a grand slam--and this was definitely one time I was rooting for the visiting team, the Cards being my example of the "other team" I could never support.
Saturday, June 8, 2013
Opera in St.Louis
No one will ever convince me that Puccini's Il Tabarro is any kind of great opera and no matter how many times I see and hear Leoncavallo's I Pagliacci, I will still enjoy it as much or more than any other opera. Nevertheless, the production of these two one-act operas we were lucky enough to witness tonight was as good an evening of opera--both in production and singing--as I've ever been privileged to attend.
The Opera Theatre of Saint Louis performs on the outlying campus of Webster University, which is a short drive from downtown St. Louis but is almost inaccessible save by car. That, of course, does not affect what I conclude is its deserved status as one of the three leading summer opera companies of the U.S., with Glimmerglass near Cooperstown and Santa Fe. The latter is now the sole remaining one of the three I've not yet attended.
Kelly Kaduce was highly touted in local reviews for her performance as Nedda in Pagliacci and she lived up to all the advance ballyhoo. It stands to reason that she is a company favorite because not only has she a fine soprano but she is one of the best singing actresses I've ever observed. She threw herself into the part which doesn't always stand out amid the more famous arias given the lead tenor and baritone: after all, Canio has the famed "vesti la giubba" a.k.a. "ridi, pagliaccio", as well as two other major singing pieces and Tonio has the almost-as-famous "prologuo", but Nedda's Bird Song was magnificent, along with her acting in the love duet with Silvio and the final play-within-the-play as Columbina.
Tim Mix used his powerful baritone in the leading role in Tabarro but stood out in Pagliacci from the moment in the overture when he steps onto the stage to sing the Prologue. Yet another fillip in that opera was returning to Tonio the classic last line of the opera, "la commedia e finita" which Leoncavallo had intended for the baritone because he is the prologue but which line was wrested from him by none other than Caruso, whose favorite part was Canio--he sang it 70 times at the Met.
The most outstanding part of the whole evening was the superb staging and design of the production. The imaginative sets and staging made both of these chestnuts come to life. I'm convinced based on these two operas that Opera Theatre of Saint Louis deserves its excellent notices. And the success came in the case of Tabarro, with an opera that unlike the third of the three one-acters Puccini joined to form Il Trittico, Gianni Schicchi, has no great arias. Good music, yes; memorable passages, none. Yet the productions made the occasion: this included having about a dozen players dressed in clown costumes to provide more depth to the Pagliacci cast--they made you realize how clowns can be at the same time funny, sad, and scary. Moreover, this company performs in English and that plus the excellent surtitles also improved the productions immeasurably.
Thus, even though I would recommend that any opera company considering this issue stick with Cavalleria Rusticana as the traditional one-act companion (and opener) for I Pagliacci, this presentation of Il Tabarro was as good a one as I ever expect to experience. And finally, the lead tenor in both operas was indisposed so the cover was a tenor from, of all places, Washington, D.C., named Michael Hayes, whom I'd not heard before--I'd not heard any of the casts before--and he, too, was strong and convincing.
The Opera Theatre of Saint Louis performs on the outlying campus of Webster University, which is a short drive from downtown St. Louis but is almost inaccessible save by car. That, of course, does not affect what I conclude is its deserved status as one of the three leading summer opera companies of the U.S., with Glimmerglass near Cooperstown and Santa Fe. The latter is now the sole remaining one of the three I've not yet attended.
Kelly Kaduce was highly touted in local reviews for her performance as Nedda in Pagliacci and she lived up to all the advance ballyhoo. It stands to reason that she is a company favorite because not only has she a fine soprano but she is one of the best singing actresses I've ever observed. She threw herself into the part which doesn't always stand out amid the more famous arias given the lead tenor and baritone: after all, Canio has the famed "vesti la giubba" a.k.a. "ridi, pagliaccio", as well as two other major singing pieces and Tonio has the almost-as-famous "prologuo", but Nedda's Bird Song was magnificent, along with her acting in the love duet with Silvio and the final play-within-the-play as Columbina.
Tim Mix used his powerful baritone in the leading role in Tabarro but stood out in Pagliacci from the moment in the overture when he steps onto the stage to sing the Prologue. Yet another fillip in that opera was returning to Tonio the classic last line of the opera, "la commedia e finita" which Leoncavallo had intended for the baritone because he is the prologue but which line was wrested from him by none other than Caruso, whose favorite part was Canio--he sang it 70 times at the Met.
The most outstanding part of the whole evening was the superb staging and design of the production. The imaginative sets and staging made both of these chestnuts come to life. I'm convinced based on these two operas that Opera Theatre of Saint Louis deserves its excellent notices. And the success came in the case of Tabarro, with an opera that unlike the third of the three one-acters Puccini joined to form Il Trittico, Gianni Schicchi, has no great arias. Good music, yes; memorable passages, none. Yet the productions made the occasion: this included having about a dozen players dressed in clown costumes to provide more depth to the Pagliacci cast--they made you realize how clowns can be at the same time funny, sad, and scary. Moreover, this company performs in English and that plus the excellent surtitles also improved the productions immeasurably.
Thus, even though I would recommend that any opera company considering this issue stick with Cavalleria Rusticana as the traditional one-act companion (and opener) for I Pagliacci, this presentation of Il Tabarro was as good a one as I ever expect to experience. And finally, the lead tenor in both operas was indisposed so the cover was a tenor from, of all places, Washington, D.C., named Michael Hayes, whom I'd not heard before--I'd not heard any of the casts before--and he, too, was strong and convincing.
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