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December 25, 2021
December 18, 2021
You might have thought that I’d given up on theatergoing if you’ve been checking in here to see what I had to say about this comeback season’s new shows only to discover that I’d written about just three of the productions that have opened over the past four months. It’s not that I haven’t been going.
Despite my trepidations about the coronavirus and its variants, I got my booster shot, double-masked myself, hung a mini air-purifier around my neck (the latter probably doesn’t offer much protection but it’s been a nice emotional palliative) and ventured out to a theater about twice a week. The problem is that, with a couple of exceptions, I haven’t really enjoyed most of what I’ve seen and who wants to naysay theater at a time like this when it’s scrambling to stay on its feet.
I don’t know if my lack of enthusiasm reflects my uneasiness about sitting in a closed space with a bunch of strangers, even if they do have to show proof of having been vaccinated and are required to remain masked throughout the performance. Or if it’s because producers have been saving the really good stuff for the spring season when, they assumed, the virus would be controlled and we’d all be back to normal.
Either way, the most recent shows I’ve seen— Morning Sun, Kimberly Akimbo and Company—have offered a mixed bag of experiences. Here are some brief thoughts about each of them:
MORNING SUN: From the first moment I even heard about Manhattan Theatre Club’s production of British playwright Simon Stephens’ latest work I knew I wanted to see it because its cast consisted of the powerhouse actresses Edie Falco, Marin Ireland and Blair Brown. And I wasn’t disappointed. All three, under the sensitive direction of Lila Neugebauer, give moving performances in this portrait of a working-class woman who in the final moments of her life looks back at the good and bad choices she made.
Until recently the lives of women were mainly celebrated when they were royal, rich or the sexual objects of men's desire and some critics—mostly male ones—dismissed this everywoman story as not worthy of being dramatized. But Stephens’ determination to show that even the most mundane lives matter spoke to me. I wish I had seen this one earlier so that I could have urged you to see it. Instead, its run ends tomorrow.
KIMBERLY AKIMBO. David Lindsay-Abaire’s dark comedy debuted back in 2003 but now he’s teamed up with composer Jeanine Tesori to create a musical version of it. The title character in both incarnations is a girl with a genetic condition that causes her to physically age at a rapid rate so that by the time she’s in her teens, she resembles a woman way past menopause and is facing the prospect of a premature death. The people in her life include her alcoholic father, narcissistic mother and a nerdy boy at school who becomes her lifeline.
I have to admit that I found myself wishing I’d seen the original because the show doesn’t really seem to need music. Luckily, Victoria Clark is on hand to lend her gorgeous voice to Kimberly’s songs and an unsentimental poignancy to her story. A fresh-faced newcomer named Justin Cooley also brings a sweet charm to her boy friend. So in the end, I had a good time and I suspect you might too. The run has already been extended to Jan. 15 and there’s talk of a move to Broadway.
COMPANY: One of the most high-profile productions of the season even before Stephen Sondheim’s death last month, this revival of his genre-redefining show that established the concept musical turned out to be the biggest disappointment for me. Perhaps that’s because I originally had such high hopes for it.
Unlike so many revivals that are done simply because a big name wants a crack at a classic part or producers feel they can cash in on a title already familiar to ticket buyers, this one had a mission: director Marianne Elliott wanted to upend Sondheim and book writer George Furth’s exploration of the romantic life of an unmarried guy turning 35 by recasting that role as a woman.
That, of course, meant other changes too. Some work (the couple getting married in the show-stopping number “Getting Married Today” are now both men) but some really don’t (the older woman friend who propositioned the male Bobby in the original, now tries to pimp her husband out to the female Bobbie).
But the biggest glitch is the revival’s star Katrina Lenk, who was wonderful in Indecent and won a Tony for playing the world-weary tavern owner in The Band’s Visit. Here, perhaps to fit in with Elliott’s concept of Bobbie as a kind of Alice in Nightmare Wonderland, she plays Bobbie as a wide-eyed naïf, which seems wrong for the role. Also neither her vocal chops nor vocal interpretation are up to the demands of such bittersweetly nuanced songs as “Marry Me a Little” and “Being Alive.”
The audience the night my theatergoing buddy Bill and I saw the show didn’t care about any of that. People cheered as soon as the lights went down and they went crazy when Patti LuPone, stepping into the role of the older woman friend made famous by Elaine Stritch, sang “The Ladies Who Lunch.”
I also appreciated the way LuPone made the song her own and a few of the other performances too (talking about you Claybourne Elder as one of Bobbie’s meathead beaus and you Matt Doyle as the reluctant bridegroom).
But my favorite part of the evening was the usher who quietly patrolled the aisles throughout the performance, reminding mask scofflaws to pull their masks up over their noses, more important than ever when covid outbreaks in their casts or crews are forcing more and more shows to cancel performances. At least nine, including the Radio City Music Hall Christmas Spectacular, have had to go dark for part or all of this pre-Christmas weekend. These are indeed uneasy times for us all...
November 26, 2021
Lots of words are going to be written over the next few days by people who knew him, people who admired him and people who have a better way with words than I do. So although the pleasure his work has given me over the years compels me to mark the passing of this irreplaceable theatrical giant, I'll just say, Thank you.
November 20, 2021
Everyone involved with The Public Theater’s new musical The Visitor seems to be walking on eggshells. And who can blame them?
The week before previews were scheduled to begin, the production shut down for a few days and brought in diversity consultants to help the cast and creative team work through their feelings about the show's story of the relationship between a white college professor and two undocumented immigrants (click here to read about that).
Two weeks later, one of the show's stars Ari’el Stachel, a Tony winner for The Band’s Visit, left the production, reportedly because he objected to speaking with an accent and to other ways in which his Syrian-born-but-American-raised character was being represented (click here to read more about that).
And, of course, this was all happening against the backdrop of the theater community’s new struggle to tell stories in a way that is more equitable and inclusive than has been done in the past. The solution to all those problems requires a tricky combination of nuance and boldness that, alas, this show lacks.
It didn’t start out that way. Tom Kitt and Brian Yorkey, the team behind the Pulitzer Prize-winning musical Next to Normal, based The Visitor on the 2007 film of the same name that offered a then-fresh look at the lives of two immigrants: Tarek, a musician brought to this country when he was a child; and Zainab, a jewelry designer from Senegal.
As such stories have traditionally tended to do, the film centered its tale around the developing social consciousness of a white character. In this case that’s a grieving widower named Walter. The immigrant couple and Walter meet cute when he turns up at the Manhattan apartment he rarely uses to find that a swindler has rented it to them.
After some confusion, Walter invites them to stay and even begins taking drumming lessons from Tarek until the musician is arrested for a misdemeanor he didn’t commit and threatened with being deported. Walter tries to help his new friend and begins to fall for Tarek’s mother Mouna when she shows up to look for her son.
The musical, whose book is now credited to Yorkey and the black British theatermaker Kwame Kwei-Armah, follows the film almost beat-for-beat but its dialog strains to be politically correct. It’s low on humor too, as though the writers were afraid they might get their knuckles rapped for making fun of the wrong thing.
That puts a lot of pressure on the score to save this show but it can’t carry the weight either. Its two dozen songs offer a mix of pop tunes, power ballads and some Middle Eastern-inflected melodies but none are memorable, and some are less than that. You can too often guess the coming rhyme as soon as you hear the final word of a couplet's first line.
And there’s an almost embarrassing earnestness about some of the other lyrics, especially Walter’s final solo, which is supposed to be a rousing anthem about American values but only made me feel badly for poor David Hyde Pierce as he tried to put it over.
Pierce, always endearing, and the rest of the cast (which includes Jacqueline Antaramian as Mouna, Alysha Deslorieux as Zainab and Ahmad Maksoud, the understudy who stepped in when Stachel left as Tarek) all work hard—and well. As does the show’s appropriately multicultural ensemble.
But they’re all let down by the somewhat flaccid direction of Daniel Sullivan, who hasn’t staged many musicals before, and by Lorin Latarro’s choreography, which tries to compensate with lots of busy Steven Hoggett-style movements but without any distinctive flair.
Six years ago, a chatty woman sitting next to me at another Public production struck up a conversation before our performance started. She told me she was working on a terrific new show that I had to see. It was, of course, The Visitor. And the show might have worked better if it had been produced back then instead of seeming outdated as it does now in this post-George Floyd era.
Some people will still respond to the still-urgent plight of immigrants in this country that the musical wants to tell. But others of us will wish it had found a different way to tell it.
October 23, 2021
Eight plays written by black playwrights are scheduled to open on Broadway this fall. That’s twice the number of all the shows by black playwrights that opened on the too-aptly named Great White Way in the five seasons before the pandemic shutdown. So this is a good development, particularly because we’re talking about straight plays and not musicals where black creators have traditionally been given a little more leeway (although only four of them opened during that five-season period).
However to my surprise, my response has been somewhat mixed. Of course I’m happy for the playwrights, be they newcomers like Keenan Scott II, the author of the poetry-driven Thoughts of a Colored Man, and Douglas Lyon, who created the family comedy Chicken & Biscuits, or seasoned vets like Ruben Santiago-Hudson, whose wistful memory play Lackawanna Blues I saw this week, and Lynn Nottage, the only female playwright to have won two Pulitzers, who is gearing up three shows for this season (the Michael Jackson musical MJ, an opera version of her 2003 play Intimate Apparel and a brand new work Clyde’s).
But I also feel uncomfortable that these shows are getting their shot at a time when many people are still skittish about the idea of sitting among strangers in an enclosed theater. Producers aren’t releasing grosses this fall but word-of-mouth suggests that the shows aren’t selling out. I worry that this will be misused as evidence that black shows can’t do well on Broadway.
And to be honest, I’m also uncomfortable about sharing some of these stories with people who aren’t black. I haven’t yet seen Thoughts of a Colored Man but I can’t help noticing that while many white critics are praising its insights into black manhood, some black critics have pointed out that its portrayal of black men doesn’t fit at all with their lived experience. “All the talk just adds up to a collection of tropes,” wrote the New Yorker’s critic Vinson Cunningham. “This ‘colored man’ kept thinking, Speak for yourself.”
I didn’t have any trouble identifying with Santiago-Hudson’s tribute to his beloved foster mother and the metaphorical village of people who helped her raise him and who are all commemorated in Lackawanna Blues, a show Santiago-Hudson first performed at the Public Theater in 2001.
Called Nanny by most everyone in the eponymous factory town in upstate New York where she lived, Santiago-Hudson’s foster mother ran a boarding house that catered to and cared for the physically and emotionally crippled, the kind of people who today end up in homeless shelters or on street corners. As Santiago-Hudson tells it, “Nanny was like the government if it really worked.”
A Tony-winner for best featured actor in August Wilson’s Seven Guitars and a Tony-nominated director for the 2017 revival of Wilson’s Jitney (click here to read more about him) Santiago-Hudson has directed himself here and plays all the roles, assisted only by guitarist Junior Mack who provides the blues underscoring.
The result is a virtuosic performance, with Santiago-Hudson switching effortlessly from one of some 20 characters to another. It's a feat that's all the more impressive because Santiago-Hudson has been plagued by a back injury that caused him to miss some performances early in the run, although there was no trace of that as he nimbly scampered around the stage at my matinee.
But I particularly appreciated the memories he shared. Like Santiago-Hudson, I grew up in a tight-knit black community in the 1950s and ‘60s, when the unemployment rate hovered around 4% and black men, even those without much education, could find good-paying jobs. Families who had moved north for that work still hung onto the folkways of their southern or Caribbean roots.
I knew men who, like the characters in the play, went by colorful nicknames like Suitcase, Shoebrush and Little Bill. My mother hosted off-the-books card games and sold fried chicken dinners and fish sandwiches to make a few extra dollars just like Nanny does in the show. And I often watched neighbors calm violent outbursts by men who had been damaged in war or maltreated in prison or otherwise battered by racism without calling in the police.
So Lackawanna Blues left me feeling nostalgic but also protective of its characters, be they the malaprop-spewing old guy who complains of “roaches of the liver” or the hot-tempered boxer who knocks out the teeth of his wife. These are people who can so easily be reduced to stereotypes and I winced a little as the white audience members seated around me laughed at the words of the old guy and shook their heads at the behavior of the boxer.
This creates a dilemma for me. I want to urge everyone to see the show, which has just been extended through Nov. 12, because it’s a good one. And I also want to encourage them to enjoy it because it’s an entertaining show.
But if you do go, I hope you will take a few minutes to think about the real people who inspired its stories because they weren’t jokes or morality tales or one-dimensional stereotypes but flesh-and-blood people who despite the odds against them came together, supported one another and helped produce the likes of Ruben Santiago-Hudson and me.
October 9, 2021
I went to see a show this week. There was a time when that wouldn’t have been a remarkable statement. I routinely saw 150 shows a year and shared my thoughts about many of them here. But, of course, that was in the before time: before the global Covid pandemic struck, before it killed some 700,000 people in this country and a total of 4.5 million around the world, before the threat of even more infections, hospitalizations and deaths shut down theaters everywhere.
My husband K and I have social distanced aggressively during the past 19 months, venturing out only for occasional grocery trips and for two memorial services, neither of the deaths caused by the virus. We stayed cautious even last spring when we got vaccinated and at the beginning of this past summer when it looked as though the worst might be behind us and some live performances began popping up. My theatergoing buddy Bill and I even tried one of those outdoor productions. But then, the more insidious delta variant arrived and I scurried back into hibernation, where I tried to scratch my theater itch with productions streamed online.
But over the past month, a dozen shows have opened in Broadway theaters, including such warhorses as Wicked and The Lion King and newbies like Six, which had been scheduled to open March 12, 2020, the night the pandemic forced the lights to go out on Broadway. There have been openings at smaller theaters around the city too. And more are scheduled for the rest of the year.
There have been some setbacks. Aladdin had to close down for 10 days after the virus insinuated its way through that company. But rigorous testing of cast and crew members, along with additional safety protocols have kept other shows going (click here to read about some of those measures).
Meanwhile producers and theater owners have tried to woo theatergoers back with such anti-virus protections as limiting entry only to those who show proof of vaccination or negative results from recent testing, insisting on the wearing of masks throughout performances and, in some cases, installing high-powered air purification systems.
Many of my friends jumped at the chance to return. They reported back about tearing up as they walked back into theaters for the first time, cheering the pre-show announcements and joining extended standing ovations. Finally, nervously, I’ve joined them.
I went to see Pass Over, before its short seven-week run at the August Wilson Theatre closes this weekend. It's one of the many works by black playwrights scheduled for this fall season, an acknowledgment of the racial reckoning in the theater community and elsewhere in the aftermath of the murder of George Floyd.
Antoinette Chinonye Nwandu’s response to the massacre of black men by white law enforcement officials across the country is also an audacious riff on Waiting for Godot. She sets her play on an urban street corner, populated by a single street lamp and two young black men named Kitch and Moses who, like Vladimir and Estragon in Samuel Beckett’s original, dream of getting off the block but are unable to figure out how to do it.
Two white characters show up. One is a seeming do-gooder, dressed in a white suit and eager to share his lunch with Kitch and Moses. The other is a cop, wearing reflector sunglasses and carrying a billy club, who’s determined to humiliate them. The fact that the white men are played by the same actor underscores Nwandu’s message of white duplicity.
At moments during the play, Moses and Kitch are literally paralyzed with fear of what the cops, or po-pos as they call them, can do to black men like them. And yet, like Godot, Pass Over manages to balance both humor and despair.
I’d seen the show when it played at LCT3 in 2018 and I was knocked out by it. The excellent cast here remains the same as then with John Michael Hill as Moses, Namir Smallwood as Kitch (although understudy Julian Robertson performed at my matinee) and Gabriel Ebert as the white characters.
But Nwandu, explaining that she no longer wanted to dwell on black pain, has since crafted a different ending for the Broadway production (click here to read more about that). I sympathize with her desire to sidestep that brand of tragedy porn but I found the new ending to be awkward, pedantic and overly long.
I missed the powerful ending that dared the audience, particularly the white audience, to confront how deeply systemic racism is ingrained in this country. But an earlier Chicago production with that devastating conclusion was preserved on film by Spike Lee and you can find it on Amazon Prime (click here to watch it).
I know from recent experience, that streaming isn’t the best way to watch theater but like many theater lovers I remain wary of being in crowded indoor spaces (click here for some other views of that.) So I haven’t yet decided if I’m really ready to give up online viewing and return to live theater full-time. As they say on TV, stay tuned.
September 4, 2021
What a difference a year makes.
During the spring and summer evenings of 2020 we New Yorkers stood at our windows or out on the sidewalks to applaud, bang on pots and make whatever other noise we could to cheer the essential workers who were caring for the sick, delivering food and otherwise keeping the city going through those early scariest days of the ongoing pandemic. And I devoted my annual Labor Day salute last year to all the performers who appeared in the online concerts, Zoom productions, panel discussions and podcasts that kept us theater lovers going through those days when theaters everywhere were shut down.
This summer some live performances, particularly those outdoors, came back and nearly all the productions and theaters that were closed have set reopening dates. Hadestown and Waitress returned to their stages just last night and a new play Pass Over kicked off the new season last month.
But I fear the cheering for all that may be premature. The delta variant of the virus has been pushing infection numbers up again, creating new uncertainties and anxieties. So I’ve decided that my Labor Day tribute this year should celebrate some other essential—and usually unsung—workers of the theater community: ushers.
It was the illness of a Broadway usher that first brought the virus home to the New York theater community and helped prompt the total shutdown on March 12, 2020 (click here to read about that). And as all of us—casts, crews and audiences—return to the theater, it may be the ushers who will be most at risk again.
For starters, they’ll have to interact with people coming to see the shows who, even though they now will have to prove they’ve been vaccinated or recently tested (click here to read the guidelines) they may still be carriers of what is turning out to be an insistent and highly infective form of the virus, increasing the chances that the ushers may contract it or unknowingly pass it on to others.
Moreover on top of directing people to their seats, answering their questions and reminding them to turn off their cell phones, the ushers now will have the added responsibility of checking vaccination credentials and making sure that audience members are keeping their masks on. That won’t be easy work.
British theaters, where masks are optional, have found—no surprise—that most people prefer watching a show without their masks. They’ve also found that mask-adamant theatergoers don’t want to sit next to laissez faire mask wearers. And as New York magazine theater critic Helen Shaw pointed out in a tweet last month, a coughing fit by one audience member can paralyze those around him or her with fear. Resolving those issues can transform ushers into referees and wardens.
On top of all that, there have been lots of stories about how badly people have treated waiters once restaurants and bars reopened (click here to read about that). The more expensive the place, the worse the behavior in many cases because those customers seem to feel that shoveling out all those dollars entitles them to a certain kind of service and they’ve somehow forgotten that the people providing it are laboring under restrictions imposed by a pandemic.
Theater tickets cost a lot of money too so similar boorishness could pop up in our venues too. And there are lots of potential triggers. It may take longer to get into the theater or to be seated as ushers check credentials. Intermissions may be cut and bars closed so that people can’t mill around as much. Some seatmates may not be as rigorous about their masks as others.
Without ushers—the unionized ones on Broadway (click here to listen to a 2016 story about them) and the volunteer ones at off-Broadway venues like Playwrights Horizons and the Irish Rep—the whole experience could disintegrate into chaos.
To be honest, I’m really nervous about the prospect of sitting in a theater alongside a lot of strangers whose health habits and history I don’t know. But once I do get there, I’m going to try very hard to remember to thank the ushers for the essential work they’re doing and I hope you will too. In the meantime, Happy Labor Day.
July 3, 2021
After 16 long and scary months, the coronavirus seems to be in retreat. Over half of the country has now gotten at least one vaccination shot. And here in New York City, 60% of all adults are fully vaccinated. So Covid safety restrictions are being eased, a growing number of shows are announcing dates when they’ll open in the fall or earlier and a return to a semblance of normalcy almost seems within reach. Heck, I even went out last week to see my first show since March 2020.
But mainly I’ve been kicking back on my terrace as I usually do each summer, with a cocktail in one hand (I’m going old-school with Cosmos this year) and something good to read in the other—or sometimes a pair of buds in my ear to listen to an audiobook. And, as usual, I’ve put together a list of suggestions for those of you also looking for something theater-related to read over the coming (hopefully) more relaxed weeks of summer.
And this year, I've got something a little extra for you too: my friend James Marino who heads up BroadwayRadio invited me to record a special episode of “Today on Broadway” to talk about some of the choices I included this year. We also interviewed one of the authors on the list, Eddie Shapiro, to discuss "A Wonderful Guy," his terrific collection of conversations with some of Broadway’s best leading men. You can listen to all of it by clicking here.
But right now here, in alphabetical order, is this year’s eclectic list of books (half of them novels) that I think will keep just about any theater lover good company through Labor Day.
A is for Audra: Broadway’s Leading Ladies from A to Z by John Robert Allman: This delightful picture book profiles some of Broadway’s top leading ladies with rhymes and colorful drawings. It’s aimed at young kids but it’s also a treat for us grown-up theater lovers too.
A Bright Ray of Darkness by Ethan Hawke: The undeniable parallels between both the author’s tabloid divorce from his movie-star wife Uma Thurman and his portrayal of Hotspur in Lincoln Center’s starry 2003 production of Henry IV may be what draw readers to this novel but the real delights are the dynamic prose and obvious passion for the craft of acting that Hawke packs into this winner. He also obviously had fun narrating the audiobook version of this roman à clef and listening to him read it puts the cherry on top of a very yummy sundae.
Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo: Drawn from Evaristo’s experience as the co-founder of Britain’s Theatre of Black Women in the 1980s, these interlocking stories center around 12 characters, many of them actors, directors and playwrights, as they grapple with such societal issues as racism and patriarchy and such intimate ones as friendship and gender identity. Although it won the prestigious Booker Prize for Fiction in 2019, some critics have complained about Evaristo’s unconventional punctuation but once again I listened to the audio version and I was inspired by these stories of women determined to succeed on their own terms.
Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell: Only the bare facts are known about William Shakespeare’s personal life but this lush, literary novel imagines the love story between him and his wife Anne Hathaway (called Agnes here, as the author says Hathaway’s father called her in his will). At the tale's center is the grief the couple shared over the loss of their only son and the subsequent creation of one of the Bard’s greatest works. Also included is a bravura set-piece tracing the journey of the bubonic plague from an Egyptian port city to the village of Stratford-upon-Avon that eerily echoes our own recent pandemic experience.
Lilyville: Mother, Daughter and Other Roles I’ve Played by Tovah Feldshuh: Readers looking for backstage gossip about the many theatrical productions, movies and television shows that this four time Tony-nominated actress has done in her five-decade career may be disappointed to find that this memoir is more focused on the relationship that she had with her mother. But as fans who have attended her concerts will attest, Feldshuh is a great raconteur and listeners to the audiobook version will get the extra bonus of hearing her occasionally break out into song.
Mike Nichols: A Life by Mark Harris: I’m friendly with Harris and so I was predisposed to touting his book but now having read it, I can say that it stands on its own merit. It’s an impressive warts-and-all survey of the life of the remarkable performer and director who was famous for more than six decades and literally (and I mean that in the literal sense) knew everyone who was anyone in show business (and elsewhere). And this bio, based on over 200 interviews with Nichols’ closest friends (from Elaine May and Gloria Steinem to Lorne Michaels and Stephen Sondheim) will make you feel as though you know him too.
Musical Misfires: Three Decades of Broadway Musical Heartbreak by Mark A. Robinson and Thomas S. Hischak: Just about every one of the over 100 shows featured in this survey of musicals that opened between 1989 and 2019 will have its champions (I’m here for you Passion) but none of them caught on with the wider public. As the authors note these shows opened in the era when the old guard who made musicals were passing away and the cost of mounting a show on Broadway was rising into eight figures making the odds of success higher than they had ever been. There are explanations about what went wrong for each of the shows but instead of being depressing, their struggles are evidence of the continuing determination to tell stories with music. The book is currently only available as a Kindle download but it's good enough to justify downloading that app on your smartphone.
Rhapsody by Mitchell James Kaplan: If romance novels are your thing, this one which centers around Kay Swift, the great love of George Gershwin’s life, may be for you. It serves up a fictional account of the couple’s 12-year relationship during which Gershwin and his lyricist brother Ira wrote their biggest Broadway hits and their masterpiece Porgy and Bess. Meanwhile Swift, also an accomplished musician, composed four Broadway shows including Fine and Dandy which produced “Can’t We Be Friends,” the breakout song she wrote with her husband the financier James Warburg. The novel also details how Swift eventually divorced Warburg but—80-year spoiler alert—failed to marry Gershwin before his premature death in 1937 at the age of just 38.
Sweet Sorrow by David Nicholls: An amateur production of Romeo and Juliet provides the background for this bittersweet novel that flashes back to the love story between two teens who are trying to figure out who they are and then returns to the present to look at who they’ve become. Along the way it makes small detours into the lives of their troubled parents as well as those of the eccentrics and misfits who make up the theater company putting on their show. They’re all good company and give good testament to the power of art.
The Understudy by Ellen Tovatt Leary: A former actress who spent most of her career in the 1970s as an understudy, Leary conveniently sets her story in a world before cellphones so that just the right kinds of misunderstanding can happen. With one how-did-this-get-into-the-story exception, this is an amiable fantasy version of what every young actress hopes her life will be and it goes down as easy as a gin and tonic on a hot summer’s day.
We Play Ourselves by Jen Silverman: Part of this gentle satire about the agonies and ecstasies of being an artist take place in Los Angeles but the best parts are set in the New York theater world that Silverman, the author of such provocative plays as The Moors and Collective Rage: A Play In 5 Betties, knows well. And it’s great fun trying to figure out the real-life counterparts to her colorful cast of characters.
A Wonderful Guy: Conversations with the Great Men of Musical Theater by Eddie Shapiro: A companion to Shapiro’s previous book "Nothing Like A Dame," this one focuses on 19 of Broadway’s leading musical male stars ranging from Joel Grey to Jonathan Groff. The men are funny, insightful and sometimes even painfully honest about their profession and their love of it.
Finally, as always, if you’re looking for even more to read, here are the links to my now over 150 suggestions from previous years:
June 12, 2021
The Pulitzer Prize for Drama: News About This Year's Winner—And About My New Podcast on Winners of Yesteryear
April 23, 2021
People are getting vaccinated, some at a new site right in the middle of New York City's Theater District (click here to read more about that). Meanwhile, theaters are taking steps to reopen with distantly spaced performances, outdoor productions and even more robust plans for the fall. It’s still too soon to declare an end to this dreadful pandemic but I’m already looking forward to the creative work that it will inspire, the changes in what stories will be told, how they'll be told and the people who will get to tell them. As most theater lovers know, Shakespeare, whose 457th birthday we celebrate today, wrote King Lear, Macbeth and Antony and Cleopatra when the plague forced London theaters to close in 1606 (click here for more on that). So who knows what imaginative gifts await us? In the meantime, Happy Birthday to the Bard, and do keep wearing your masks.
April 17, 2021
As some of you know, I’m a contributor to BroadwayRadio and over the past few years, I’ve hosted “Stagecraft,” a show that talks to playwrights and musical book writers about their recent shows (click here to check out some of those episodes). I’ve also occasionally participated in “This Week on Broadway,” the network’s flagship Sunday show that, in normal times, reviews new productions and in recent times, has talked with all kinds of theater folks about the projects they’ve been developing while the theaters have been closed. But now I’ve got something else to share.
I’m starting a brand new podcast called “All the Drama” that will go in-depth on all the shows that have won the Pulitzer Prize over the last 100+ years. Each episode will explore one of those plays or musicals (10 of the latter have won the prize). I’ll tell you a little about the show and the person (or persons) who created it and I’ll talk to people who have insights into why that show is so special and how it fits into the theatrical canon.
The first episode on a comedy called Why Marry?, which was the very first show to win a Pulitzer back in 1918, is being released today to our Patreon subscribers (so please consider signing up for that at patreon.com/broadwayradio). A second on the 2004 winner I Am My Own Wife, including a conversation with its playwright Doug Wright, will be available for the Patreon folks next month. We’ll release both of those to the general public and begin our regular schedule when the Pulitzers are announced in June.
I’m really excited about this so I hope you’ll join me on this new journey through the very best American shows ever produced.
March 27, 2021
March 11, 2021
A year ago today, I was gearing up for the intense out-every-night theatergoing of awards season and, as I told my friend David Gordon who has been publishing a chronicle of this past pandemic year on the Theatermania site (click here to read some of it), I had already scheduled tickets for more than two dozen plays over the coming five weeks and was busy setting up others. Yet, I was also a bit nervous about this strange new virus that seemed to be spreading rapidly. And I wasn’t the only anxious one. Everywhere I went, the scent of Purell hung heavy in the air and friends made uneasy jokes about how often we all were washing our hands.
Still my theatergoing buddy Bill and I met up at the Greenwich House Theater in the Village to see a preview of the Ars Nova production of the now-ironically named Oratorio for Living Things. We showgoers were forced to wait in the lobby until right before curtain time and were then ushered into a small space that had been outfitted with temporary risers. I remember watching the 94-year-old critic William Wolf and his wife Lillian clamber up to their seats as I thought about what intrepid theater lovers they were. But my nervousness intensified when the show began because the performers meandered through the audience as they sang and I couldn’t help wondering if that were safe for any of us.
That was the last time I was in a theater. Bill and I were supposed to go to Playwrights Horizons to see Unknown Soldier, the late Michael Friedman’s final work, the next night, March 12, but I called and told him I had become too uneasy to sit in a theater. Later that day, Broadway shut down, supposedly only for a month. Smaller theaters around the city quickly did the same. Two weeks later, Bill Wolf died from complications brought on by the virus. Over the past 12 months, the virus has killed more than half a million other Americans, nearly one out of ten of them New Yorkers.
So the theaters have remained closed and the pandemic has devastated New York’s theater community. The playwright Terrence McNally died from the virus. The actors Mark Blum and Nick Cordero died. Danny Burstein almost died and then lost his wife Rebecca Luker. And thousands of people were put out of work—not only actors, musicians and designers but those that work in the shops that make costumes and props and in the restaurants and bars that theatergoers frequented after seeing shows. By some estimates, 50,000 theater-related jobs were lost.
But theater folks like Rosie O’Donnell and Seth Rudetsky rallied to the call, organizing online fundraisers for groups like The Actors Fund, which has distributed more than $20 million to some 15,000 people this past year. Others celebrated Stephen Sondheim’s 90th birthday with a star-studded concert that uplifted more than just that master of the musical. And still others wrote and recorded monologues and mini-plays chronicling the toll of the epidemic or exploring the racial fissures in the country revealed by last summer’s brutal suffocation of George Floyd by a white cop whose murder trial began this week.
As the weeks went by, the productions got more and more sophisticated. Some companies like the Mint Theater raided their archives and streamed previously recorded productions for free. Others like New York’s Irish Repertory Theatre, Chicago’s Steppenwolf and London’s Old Vic created entire digital seasons. There’s been a revival of audioplays. And the platform TikTok has even got into the act with a few group-created musicals. Some of it has been so-so; some of it has been great. My blogger pal Jonathan Mandell has assembled a list of some of the very best, which you can find my clicking here.
It’s still too soon to know when we’ll all be able to return in person to the theater again but the possibility seems closer. People, including Sondheim, are getting vaccinated. Joe Biden’s economic recovery package has passed, providing money for individuals and venues to keep going until everyone is back on their feet.
And this week has brought the announcement that a few Broadway theaters will open in April for performances as part of the city’s NY PopsUp program, which is designed to bring live entertainment back to the city. Venues with flexible spaces that can accommodate distanced seating are scheduling productions for this spring. Commercial producers are predicting that Broadway may open its doors in the fall and tickets for touring shows have begun to go on sale. Meanwhile Tony voting is underway.
I haven’t written much here over the past year but I have tried to keep up with events in a special magazine, Theater in the Season of the Coronavirus, that I set up on the Flipboard site and I hope you will check it out, which you can do by clicking here. I hope, too, that by this time next year, we’ll all be back in our seats in our favorite theaters and perhaps, if the theater gods smile on us, we can even do it without needing to wear masks.
February 15, 2021
We’re in the middle of African American History Month, a commemoration made all the more urgent by the events of last summer that were prompted by the police murders of George Floyd and Brianna Taylor, which prompted a growing recognition not only that Black Lives Matter but that such concerns must translate into restorative action if this country is ever to live up to its ideals.
All the Way by Robert Schenkkan
Blues for Mister Charlie by James Baldwin
Loosely based on the murder of Emmett Till and the acquittal of the white racists who killed him, this drama focuses on the reactions of both the white and Black resident in a small southern town in which a white man has twice killed black men.
A working class father’s struggle to balance the needs of his family and his desire to join the Civil Rights Movement is at the heart of this chamber musical about two generations of a southern family.
The lives of a southern Jewish family, their Black maid and her teenage daughter who is drawn to the activism of the Movement rub against one another in this ambitious musical.
The hot summers of racial unrest in northern cities provide the backdrop for Morriseau’s drama about the owners of an underground nightclub who are brought into the struggles when a white woman seeks refuge in their place from angry demonstrators.
Fireflies by Donja R. Love
Set in the immediate aftermath of the bombing of the church in Birmingham that killed four young girls, this two-hander charts the personal toll that the struggle for equality takes on the lives of a charismatic young civil rights leader and his wife.
Based on Holland’s memoir of the same name, this play tells the story of a young woman who by the age of 16 is a former inmate and an unwed mother but finds salvation through SNCC, or the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee which recruited young people for civil rights campaigns.
Three civil rights leaders battle local segregationists, the FBI and their own personal demons as they offer competing strategies for how to protest the case of a young mother arrested for taking her 4-year-old into a whites-only bathroom when the “colored” bathroom was out of order.
In this adaptation of the John Waters cult film, a chubby white teen finds love and purpose when she gains a spot on a popular TV show after a Black classmate teachers her how to dance and she then leads a campaign to integrate the show.
Hallelujah, Baby! with a book by Arthur Laurents, music by Jule Styne and lyrics by Adolph Green and Betty Comden
A talented and ambitious singer is torn between two men: a white guy who can open doors for her and a Black civil rights worker who challenges her priorities.
The travails of the nine Black students who integrated the previously all-white Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas are recounted in this docudrama that also mixes in the music that helped to hearten those courageous young pioneers, who, as the play reminds us, were just kids.
Set on the eve of Martin Luther King’s death, this one-man show attempts to reveal the man behind the icon as King meditates on his life from his relationship with his father to his troubles with the FBI and muses about other roads he might have taken.
This two-hander imagines a meeting between Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X shortly before Malcolm’s real-life assassination in which the two leaders debate the best way to advance the rights of Black people.
Here MLK engages in a conversation with a mysterious woman he finds in his Memphis motel room. He thinks their back-and-forth may result in a romantic interlude but she turns out to be the angel of death with whom he must confront his legacy.
The Nacirema Society Requests the Honor of Your Presence at a Celebration of Their First One Hundred Years by Pearl Cleage
On the surface a romantic comedy centered around a cotillion for wealthy Black families, Cleage’s play takes a serious look at the class divisions within the Black community at the time of the Civil Rights Movement.
Party People by UNIVERSES
The Black Power movement takes centerstage as this docudrama chronicles the rise and fall of the Black Panther Party in the ‘60s.
Too Heavy for Your Pocket by Jireh Brion Holder
A poor country boy who has dreamed of a better life is faced with the choice of how best to achieve it: accepting a full scholarship to Fisk University or becoming a Freedom Rider.
Four middle-aged female factory workers try to work up the courage to test their newly acquired right to eat at a previously "whites only" restaurant inside an Atlanta department store.
February 13, 2021
This is a bittersweet anniversary for me: I published the first Broadway & Me post 14 years ago on Valentine’s Day but it’s now been nearly a year since I’ve seen a show in person. And of course that’s not the worst part of the pandemic that has shut down theaters, putting out of work thousands of people who make their living in the theater and killing scores of others, from the theater icon Terrence McNally to my friend Patti Bosworth, a writer, one-time actress and lifelong theater fan.
Like I suspect many of you, I’ve grieved all those losses and tried to find some solace in the varied productions that have sprung up on Zoom, YouTube, Audible and other digital platforms. Just this past week, I was knocked out by Playing Burton, a solo audio play in which Matthew Rhys brilliantly portrays Richard Burton (you can listen to it by clicking here); and All the Devils Are Here, Patrick Page’s magnificent deconstruction of some of Shakespeare’s most infamous villains (you can see it by clicking here).
They’ve scratched the itch familiar to all of us theater junkies and given some theater folks a way to make a few bucks to tide them over. But, of course, they’re no substitute for being in a theater, breathing, without fear, the same air as the performers and creating together that uniquely symbiotic experience that is live theater.
It’s still too soon to tell when “normalcy” will return and we can all gather together again safely but I feel blessed that my husband K and I have so far remained healthy (my theatergoing buddy Bill too) and grateful to those of you who continue to check in here. I'm also mindful that theater returned stronger than ever after the plague emptied stages during Shakespeare’s time. I’m hopeful that it will be the same for ours. In the meantime, stay safe and stay healthy.
January 29, 2021
January 2, 2021
I had planned to write a review of Ratatouille: the Tik Tok Musical, the delicious online presentation that began as a 15-second video created by a fan of the Disney animated film about a rat who dreams of becoming a French chef and grew into a 60-minute show performed by a cast of Broadway regulars led by Titus Burgess and Andrew Barth Feldman that will be available online through the end of this holiday weekend. But then I read my blogger pal Jonathan Mandell's review of the show and it said literally everything I intended to say so instead of trying to find new ways to express that, I'm going to (1) urge you to read Jonathan's review, which you can do by clicking here and (2) to see the show, which is also serving as a fundraiser for The Actors Fund, which you can do by clicking here. Both are great ways to start off what we're all hoping will be a happy new year.