250-Word Reviews

Opinions, mostly about theater, in 250 words or less.

[reviews250]

The Harvest

(Off-Broadway at LCT3)

Review by Justin J. Sacramone

@justinsacramone

Looking directly into the eyes of the distraught is often difficult, but turning away is just as challenging when those eyes belong to characters painted with careful artistry by playwright Samuel D. Hunter. The action of Hunter’s new play, The Harvest, is set in the basement of a Mormon church in southeastern Idaho. Four newly minted evangelists are wrapping up religious recruitment training and are three days away from traveling overseas to the Middle East to begin their mission work.

The circumstances that lead these people to a church basement shrieking in tongues and convulsing their bodies through prayer are tragic. Hunter carefully illustrates each character by providing just enough information to leave us guessing the path he’s taking in the narrative until the final, shocking, blackout. Davis McCallum, a frequent collaborator of Hunter, directs the claustrophobic piece and its outstanding cast of 7 with poise. Dane Laffrey’s set and Leah Gelpe’s subtle, yet effective sound design compliments the somber realism of the play nicely.

Hunter’s play is not an argument on the pros and cons of Evangelism. The Harvest is centered around people unknowingly lost fighting for salvation and is a devastating experience that sneaks up and chokes as liberal audiences fight to separate their image of a happy ending from how it would look for people on the inside.

The Harvest runs at Lincoln Center’s Claire Tow Theater until November 20, 2016. Production photo: Peter Mark Kendall and Leah Karpel. Credit Julieta Cervantes

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The Sound of Music (National Tour at the Aronoff Center, Cincinnati, OH) Review by James Allen

The Mother Abbess struggles with the words as she sings that song from her childhood; the children are visibly concentrating when they famously learn solfege; and Kerstin Anderson plays Maria with a heightened innocence, giving the impression, at least in Act I, that she doesn’t quite grasp the gravity of the situation.

These directorial choices are all suggested by the text of The Sound of Music, but are often downplayed or ignored in common practice. Director Jack O’Brien has approached this tour with a fresh outlook, exploring the text with the care and thought that it deserves. It’s not quite a reinvention, but—judging by the audience I observed—even those familiar with the musical will find themselves gasping at familiar moments and laughing at familiar jokes.

And the entire cast is up to the challenge. Kerstin Anderson’s Maria is a fast-thinking, fast-talking free spirit. I fell in love with her from the beginning. The show-stealer, however, was Melody Betts, who lent the Mother Abbess a warmth and sense of humor contrary to the traditional “stately guardian” approach. And her voice is a force of nature.

The scenic design by Douglas W. Schmidt is gorgeous and fluid, and the costumes by Jane Greenwood strike the perfect balance between organic and ornate. But it is O’Brien’s approach that distinguishes this production. Even the choices that didn’t quite work (for example, Something Good felt awkwardly shoehorned) were admirable for their novelty. This is a rare and imaginative production of a timeless musical.

Production photo by Matthew Murphy. Pictured (l-r): Anika Lore Hatch, Ashley Brooke, Kyla Carter, Kerstin Anderson, Paige Sylvester, Iris Davies, Roy Gantz, and Austin Levine.

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Anastasia (Hartford Stage, CT)

Hartford Stage closed-out its 2015/2016 season with the world premier new musical, Anastasia. Anastasia features a book by Terrence McNally, music by Stephen Flaherty, lyrics by Lynn Ahrens and direction by Darko Tresnjak. The new musical has already announced a New York City commercial transfer, but serious retooling is needed if Tresnjak and team wants the same level of success obtained by A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder.

Anastasia’s identity crisis is stuck volleying between a Bolshevik Revolution history lesson and a knee-tapping family musical. McNally’s dense book (Team History) and Tresnjak’s cheeky direction (Team Family) are telling different stories. The final product showcases a divided creative team making for a laborious theatre-going experience.

Alexander Dodge’s turntable set grew tiring to watch revolve during every scene transition. Donald Holder’s lighting was curiously bright throughout the entire performance. (I discerned no difference between winter in communist Russia and springtime in Paris.) Linda Cho’s costumes, particularly the ones worn by the Romanovs, were stunning. Aaron Rhyne’s literal depictions of location through projections were obtrusive and left nothing to the imagination.

Christy Altomare as Anya had fresh enthusiasm. Derek Klena as Dimitri was too rigid and over articulated with his hands. The reliable Manoel Felciano couldn’t salvage the poorly developed new character, Gleb. Both Mary Beth Peil (Dowager Empress) and Caroline O’Connor (Lily) were underused. Ahrens and Flaherty’s best songs remain from the 1997 animated movie.

Anastasia concluded its Hartford run on June 19th. 

Production photo by Joan Marcus. Pictured: Christy Altomare

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WAR (Off-Broadway at LCT3) Review by David Levy

So much of Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’s latest is summed up in its name, War. The title simultaneously refers to a family at odds with each other, the aftereffects of a grandfather’s WWII military service, and a look at how what was (“war” in German) affects what is. The family in question is anchored by Charlayne Woodard as Roberta, a mother felled by stroke, who speaks to the audience from within the cage of her mind as she tries to piece together who might need her to return to the world of the living. Who needs each other in a family is the bigger question of the play, as siblings (Chris Myers and Rachel Nicks) disagree about their mother’s treatment – and each others’ life choices. Michele Shay and Austin Durant’s appearance as strangers claiming to be hitherto-unheard-of family members in need should complicate the ethical discussion, but the play seems to take clear sides, going so far as to end with a long speech from the elder stranger (Shay) that shows everyone the errors of their ways and knits them into a happy family unit. The play suggests that “need” was never the right frame for asking these questions at all, and beyond need might lay a more potent framework for family.

Strong performances (particularly from Woodard) and a touch of heightened theatricality help War rise above the average American family drama. Director Lileana Blain-Cruz beautifully balances the play’s realism and metatheatrics, drawing the audience into the play both literally and figuratively.

Production photo by Erin Baiano. Pictured (l-r): Charlayne Woodard, Reggie Gowland, Rachel Nicks, Michele Shay, and Chris Myers.

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RED SPEEDO (Off-Broadway at New York Theatre Workshop) review by David Levy

The intersection of fame and family – and the tremendous pressure that each can produce – animates Lucas Hnath’s Red Speedo. This ethical dissection centers around Ray (Alex Breaux), a swimmer from a poor family on the verge of achieving Michael Phelps-level stardom pending his performance in his Olympic-qualifying race. A doping scandal finds him torn between his brother/manager Peter (Lucas Caleb Rooney), coach (Peter Jay Fernandez) and disgraced ex-girlfriend/ex-physical therapist, Lydia (Zoë Winters).

As each in Ray’s orbit calculates how far they will go to take advantage of the opportunities Ray’s nascent celebrity affords them, the play teeters dangerously on the line of abstracting its characters into symbols. Hnath’s Mamet-like Wall Of Dialogue script, particularly in the play’s early scenes, doesn’t help as people make long-winded declarations at each other in exchanges that only vaguely resemble the act of conversation. When director Lileana Blain-Cruz allows the characters room to breathe (and even occasionally pause), their humanity peeks through and the play becomes more than a philosophical debate, aided by strong performances all around.

Riccardo Hernandez’s set, which includes an onstage pool, is both iconic and functional, but it’s the architecture of Alex Breaux’s superhumanly muscular body that really steals the show, occasionally to the detriment of the dialogue. Combined with Thomas Schall’s blatantly artificial fight choreography, one wonders if Blain-Cruz was aiming for Brecthian Verfremdungseffekt. If so, she falls a bit short, and we’re left puzzling over these half-characters as much as, if not more than, the ideas they suggest.

Production photo by Joan Marcus. Pictured (l-r): Zoë Winters as Lydia and Alex Breaux as Ray.

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DOT

(Off-Broadway at the Vineyard Theatre)

review by Ben Ferber

Colman Domingo's Dot centers on West Philadelphia siblings dealing with their mother's escalating dementia at Christmastime. Shelly (Sharon Washington) spends by far the most time with her mother Dottie (Marjorie Johnson). We learn Shelly has been tricking Dottie into sleeping most of the day so she can do errands and recolor her hair. Donnie (Stephen Conrad Moore) returns home with his overbearing partner, Adam (Colin Hanlon), who is trying to make the food-obsessed Donnie lose weight (inexplicably, as Moore is very fit). Their sister Avery (Libya V. Pugh) is a stereotypical vapid YouTube star, which makes little sense as she is in her mid-forties. Around the siblings' arrivals we see Dottie's condition worsening. She occasionally becomes violently upset, accusing her children, with varying accuracy, of hiding things from her. The question of how to continue caring for Dottie hangs in the air, as they examine whether it is their cultural responsibility as a black family to care for their mother themselves.

Perhaps more meaning could have been wrung from Domingo's writing, but Susan Stroman's oddly-paced direction sucks all joy out of it. The actors do their best to give texture to flat caricatures. Uncomfortably, the play features a great deal of seemingly homophobic humor (odd, as Domingo himself is gay) and overtly transphobic comments without contextualization. Every mention of phones and modern technology turns into a mean, technophobic joke. Overall Dot feels out-of-touch, and its well-worn subject matter is too scantly examined to feel worth a play.

Production photograph by Carol Rosegg. Pictured (l-r): Marjorie Johnson as Dottie, Colin Hanlon as Adam, Libya V. Pugh as Avery, Sharon Washington as Shelly.

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SKELETON CREW (Off-Broadway at Atlantic Stage II) review by Ben Ferber

It’s 2008: The end is in sight for the American auto industry, as mechanization and outsourcing lead to infighting and layoffs. Dominique Morisseau’s characters work in a tiny plant, gazing helplessly at the approaching iceberg of the recession, rearranging deck chairs. Skeleton Crew's plant is in shambles. Foreman Reggie’s (Wendell B. Franklin) passive-aggressive notes shift from funny annoyances to omens. Faye (Lynda Gravatt), the union rep, secretly allies with Reggie, delaying action and endangering younger employees like very-pregnant Shanita (Nikiya Mathis), whose incredible talent matters naught in a dying profession. Another, Dez (Jason Dirden), already has his foot out the door, gathering supplies to start a garage—the same kind of supplies that someone's been stealing from the plant. Faye and Reggie stay late and come early. It’s increasingly clear that someone is going to take the money and run—but who?

The “whodunit” dramatic tension keeps the play exciting—Morisseau keeps giving us reasons to love the people we most suspect. Even a moral standoff over Dez bringing his gun to work makes us root for him more. Gravatt gives the play a powerful center as Faye, a character with everything to lose if the plant closes early, who fights for more than just herself.

Although we first see these characters as snapshots, they grow into complex people we deeply invest in, and concordantly Morisseau invests us in the plight of the American autoworker. The intimate physical production includes slick projections, driving music, and a cool-but-awkwardly-incorporated dancer (Adesola Osakalumi).

Production photograph by Ahron R. Foster. Pictured (l-r): Wendell B. Franklin as Reggie, Lynda Gravatt as Faye, Jason Dirden as Dez, Nikita Mathis as Shanita.

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Today, @reviews250 welcomes @benferber to our pages with his review of Skeleton Crew, which opens tonight at the Atlantic Theater Company. Watch this space!

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PUFFS, OR: SEVEN INCREASINGLY EVENTFUL YEARS AT A CERTAIN SCHOOL OF MAGIC & MAGIC (Off-off-Broadway: The Peoples Improv Theater) review by David Levy

Churchill said, “History is written by the victors,” but how often do we hear about life during great events for the rest of us? Playwright Matt Cox provides this lens on the Second Wizarding War, through the eyes of one Wayne Hopkins (Zac Moon). Wayne dreams of being the hero of his story, but that position has already been filled be a certain Mister Potter. Neither brave nor smart nor anguine, he is sorted into the house for everyone else, Hufflepuff, and makes two best friends: Oliver, a math whiz (Langston Belton) and Megan (Julie Ann Earls), a wannabe villain. Mentored by Cedric Diggory (Evan Maltby), the Puffs’ rallying cry represents their dreams of someday not coming in last: “Third or nothing!” Do they have a chance at making a difference in a world dominated by legendary heroes and villains?

Like Kapow-i GoGo (from the same team) before it, Puffs transcends parody and fan service to create a three-dimensional world populated by believable characters whose tragedies resonate as strongly as their triumphs. There’s a lot of story to get through in 80ish minutes, but director Kristin McCarthy Parker’s sure hand keeps the story clear even as the pace gets frenetic. Moon’s performance, more Hamlet than ham, provides a strong center around which wackier characters orbit. The whole cast excels, but special kudos to Andy Miller for the best “rally the troops” moment this side of Henry V. Knowledge of the Potter canon is helpful but not necessary to love Puffs.

Production photograph by Colin Waitt: Zac Moon (l) as Wayne with (l-r) Nick Carillo, Andy Miller, Eleanor Philips, Jessica Cannizzaro, Madeleine Bundy, and Stephen Stout.

In the interest of full disclosure, I’d like to note that I contributed $10 to this production’s Kickstarter campaign.

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THE PAVILION (Off-off-Broadway: The Producer’s Club) review by David Levy

You know the story: middle-aged white guy has a mid-life crisis, so attends high school reunion to attempt to rekindle things with his high school sweetheart. In Craig Wright’s The Pavilion, the white guy in question is Peter (Jeffrey Delano Davis), returning to Pine City, MN from his life in the Twin Cities to make amends for impregnating then abandoning Kari (Ayesha Adamo). Their encounter is placed into cosmic context by a professorial narrator (Jon Adam Ross), who alternates between spouting philosophy about the nature of time and giving voice to all the other (unseen) reunion guests.

Michael Kostroff’s direction is strongest in the scenes between the two former-lovers, which find Davis exposing raw vulnerability only to be met by Adamo’s measured resistance. Ross is less successful overcoming his obstacles, often lecturing from a podium far off to the side of the stage or adopting ridiculous character voices while facing the opposite direction of his scene partners. The play’s reliance on a projection design (by Javier Molina) that feels straight out of Myst is unnecessary at best and often distracting. Zoey Russo’s simple but effective sets would have more than sufficed on their own.

The play itself isn’t nearly as profound as its philosophizing monologues indicate it wants to be, but it does feature a nice moment of meta-theatrics in the second act that offered one of the few surprises in the writing.

Production photograph by Melissa X. Golebiowski: Jeffrey Delano Davis as Peter and Ayesha Adamo as Kari.

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DADA WOOF PAPA HOT (Off-Broadway: Lincoln Center Theater at the Mitzi E. Newhouse) review by David Levy

Most gay men of a certain age never envisioned a world in which they could get married and have children. At its surface, Dada Woof Papa Hot examines how two couples-with-toddlers adapt to this reality. But at its heart, Peter Parnell’s play considers whether relationships can survive when partners have radically different ideas of what their partnership should look like. Alan (John Benjamin Hickey) came of age in the pre-AIDS-crisis days of gay sexual liberation but was never much interested in partaking. By 2015, he’s married to Rob (Patrick Breen), who dotes on their daughter and relishes fatherhood – another activity in which Alan has only mild interest. They seek out friendship with younger dads Scott (Stephen Plunkett) and Jason (Alex Hurt), which goes well until Jason and Alan have a tête-à-tête, permitted in the Jason’s relationship but a clear violation on Alan’s part. Alan never wanted kids, Jason never wanted monogamy, and their partners who convinced them into their current arrangements feel betrayed.

As directed by Scott Ellis, the play feels more like a math problem than a drama, with a dose of armchair psychology sprinkled in for flavor. John Lee Beatty’s elaborately modular set is the most interesting thing on stage. Despite strong performances, particularly by Hickey and Plunkett, one gets the sense that neither the characters (beyond Jason) nor the playwright seriously considered that gay people might create and fit into relationships that don’t simply mimic heteronormativity, so the play becomes a straw man argument hardly worth engaging.

Production photo by Joan Marcus. Pictured (l-r): Alex Hurt, John Benjamin Hickey, Stephen Plunkett, and Patrick Breen.

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ON YOUR FEET:THE STORY OF EMILIO & GLORIA ESTEFAN (Broadway: Marquis Theatre) review by David Levy

One gets the feeling about halfway through the first act of On Your Feet that were you to quiz the cast where the song they were performing takes place, most of them would fail. The cynic in me says it doesn’t matter: the Latin rhythms (provided by a band that includes six members of the actual Miami Sound Machine), spiffy pastel costumes (by ESosa), and energetic dancing (courtesy of Sergio Trujillo) are entertaining enough that we can set dramaturgical demands aside and enjoy the concert. But while Alexander Dinelaris’s book aspires to be more than a greatest hits revue, it’s only intermittently successful. Jerry Mitchell’s nebulous direction does it no favors, and the show trips over itself to fit in most of Estefan’s hits while charting the rise of her career against the destabilization of her family. The latter gets shortest shrift, despite Eliseo Roman, Andréa Burns, and Alma Cuervo all making the most of two-dimensional characters. Genny Lis Padilla, as sister Rebecca, doesn’t even get that much, existing somewhere between prop and backup singer.

Regardless, the show lives and dies on the strength of Ana Villafañe and Josh Segarra as Gloria and Emilio. Villafañe perfectly embodies the Estefan we remember from the 80s: beautiful, strong, and with a voice that never falters. Segarra cuts a striking figure, but his breathy singing never quite makes it past the lip of the stage. Regardless, the show should please Gen X’ers who longed for a Jersey Boys of their own.

Production photo by Matthew Murphy: Ana Villafañe as Gloria Estefan with ensemble.

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SYLVIA (Broadway: Cort Theatre) review by David Levy

If there’s one reason to see Sylvia, A. R. Gurney’s 1995 canine comedy making its Broadway debut, it’s Annaleigh Ashford. As the titular tail-wagger, she delights with comic delivery worthy of Lucille Ball and canine physicality that even Lassie would admire. (Credit to “Physicality Consultant” Nathan Peck.)

Unfortunately, there’s no second reason. Under Daniel Sullivan’s direction, the show plays like burlesque for gentiles, more over-extended sketch than play. Greg (Matthew Broderick) and Kate (Julie White) are recent empty-nesters relocated to the Upper East Side. He is unhappily an investment banker, she a do-gooder educator determined to bring Shakespeare to the city’s underprivileged junior high schools. When Greg brings home a stray dog he befriended in the park, he sees companionship and new vitality; Kate only sees disruption of their newly organized life.

While Ashford brilliantly milks everything from chasing cats to being in heat for laughs, Broderick is saddled with the uncomfortable task of making rape jokes about animals mating while not appearing to be a beastialist himself. Robert Sella, juggling a trio of supporting roles, dispenses with all dignity playing two drag parts that might have been amusing to Republicans in the 90s but were exceptionally distasteful to this liberal today. While Broderick manages to deliver one of his better performances in recent memory despite sub-par material, White disappears beneath her underwritten part of nagging-but-well-meaning wife.

While one might imagine this was a charming amusement off-Broadway twenty years ago, today it is largely a bloated embarrassment.

Production photo by Joan Marcus: Matthew Broderick as Greg and Annaleigh Ashford as Sylvia.

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DAMES AT SEA (Broadway: The Helen Hayes Theatre) review by David Levy

Dames at Sea first delighted audiences in 1966 with its low-budget, can-do spunk. A gentle spoof of 1930s movie musicals, the show prefigured the nostalgia crazy of the 1970s and introduced the world to Bernadette Peters as the ingénue-who-becomes-a-star, Ruby. Now making its Broadway debut, the show’s been gussied up with fancier sets (by Anna Louizos) and costumes (by David C. Woolard) and a major infusion of tap dancing by director/choreographer Randy Skinner, the contemporary master of the form. Can this extra dose of razzmatazz make up for the lost intimacy and proximity to its antecedent? Only intermittently. Eloise Kropp, this production’s Ruby, is a fine singer and dancer, but she lacks “it.” Thankfully, Lesli Margherita as overbearing diva Mona is full of “it,” and she walks away with every scene she’s in. The rest of the tiny cast get the job done, but the show is so light and frothy it leaves little lasting impression. The book and lyrics by George Haimsohn and Robin Miller are heavy on references that will be lost on contemporary audiences and surprisingly light on jokes. Jim Wise’s melodies do the heavy lifting; audiences are sure to hum the tunes for weeks. Some of the show’s old-fashioned features, like the song “Singapore Sue” (despite its uncredited new lyrics) and the decision to cast only white people, might have better been left in the past. Ultimately: a fun but inconsequential diversion of just about two hours, but who wants to pay $155 for that?

Production photograph by Jeremy Daniel. Pictured (l-r): Danny Gardner, Mara Davi, John Bolton, Eloise Kropp, Cary Tedder, and Lesli Margherita.