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    in Theater

    With ‘Letters From Max’ Onstage, Sarah Ruhl Again Mourns a Poet’s Death

    Through dialogue, poetry and ritual, the playwright revisits her correspondence with her former student, who died at the age of 25.About 10 minutes into “Letters From Max, a Ritual,” Sarah Ruhl’s new play about her epistolary friendship with the poet Max Ritvo, something akin to a sacred rite takes place: The lights dim, a spotlight illuminates center stage, and the actor portraying Ritvo walks toward a winged tattoo artist. For a few moments, they circle each other. Then the tattoo artist-angel removes the hospital gown that the poet is wearing and lifts him with grace. With a miming gesture, he offers a compact mirror to Ritvo so he might examine the birds newly adorning his back.“It’s dope,” Ritvo says of the tattoo, looking over his shoulder. “I really love it in this light.”But that quiet exchange was not dreamed up by Ruhl. It is actually a scene from a play that Ritvo wrote for Ruhl when he was a student at Yale in 2012, four years before he died of cancer at the age of 25. (After each surgery, he would acquire a new tattoo of a bird.) Before handing in the project, he told Ruhl, “I am adamant that something extravagant and silent happen.”With the Signature Theater production of “Letters From Max,” his desire for the work is now being realized in a way he might not have imagined.Ruhl’s play, adapted from a book she compiled of their correspondence during Ritvo’s chemotherapy, boils down to a single, yearslong conversation about poetry, love, mortality, the afterlife and soup. But this is not a traditional play. Poems and live music are interspersed between the dialogue, which comes from the letters, texts and voice mail messages they exchanged.Edelman, right, as a tattoo artist-angel, helping Pais remove his hospital gown in the play. The two actors alternate in the role of Max.Ye Fan for The New York Times“I don’t think of this play as ‘show business,’” Ruhl said in an interview, “but instead an encounter for the audience.” She hopes viewers will “bring their own grief or their own need for communal sadness,” she said, adding that the theater has been a place for catharsis dating back to the Greeks. “We’ve all been through so much in the last two years.”Though Ruhl feels her own grief in this production, which opens on Feb. 27, she has also found joy in sharing Ritvo’s work, and in seeing it move people the same way he did. “He was such a present, joyful person who made everyone around him laugh,” she said. There are other small tributes to Ritvo, too: A song he composed recurs throughout, and the titles of his poems are projected in his handwriting above the stage.There were no plans to adapt “Letters From Max” upon the book’s 2018 publication. But as Ruhl read sections at events — often with an actor reading Ritvo’s words — people asked, “Is this going to be a play?”Before distilling the 309-page book into a two-hour stage production, Ruhl consulted Ritvo’s literary executor, the poet Elizabeth Metzger.“She asked me long ago, ‘Do you think Max would want this?’” Metzger recalled, adding that she was “very, very certain that Max would.” For Ruhl, finding “the bones” within hundreds of pages of correspondence became a process of trial and error.She realized the first act is “about a teacher and a student getting to know each other and forming a friendship,” she said, “that would then reverse the teacher-student relationship” in the second act, which opens with a dialectic on the afterlife. “I was trying to offer Max a comforting view of the afterlife when he was afraid of death,” Ruhl said. “And he ultimately said, ‘Thank you. But no.’”Kate Whoriskey, who directed the New York production of Ruhl’s previous epistolary play, “Dear Elizabeth,” also about two poets exchanging letters, signed on to direct, and the actress Jessica Hecht was game to portray Ruhl, her longtime friend and collaborator. But casting Ritvo introduced a unique challenge. “I’m definitely sensitive to the fact that he had a huge reach and people are still in mourning,” Ruhl said.She said she was moved during auditions. “It was actually beautiful to see Max’s language inside a young person’s body again,” Ruhl said. Ruhl and Whoriskey liked the idea of a third body onstage — similar to the Stage Manager in Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town” — who might “care-take the space” by delivering soup and poems to Ruhl and Ritvo. When the actors Ben Edelman and Zane Pais read for the role of Ritvo, Ruhl said, the team believed they “could do beautifully in both roles” by alternating nights. It turned out that Edelman plays the piano and Pais plays the guitar, so each composed music to perform while the other recites Ritvo’s poetry.“There’s some mystery, and it’s beyond words,” Ruhl said of the duality. “But it’s something about the spirit and the body, and the observer and the observed.” Not to mention, as Ruhl writes in the program note, the actors’ interchangeability demonstrates that Ritvo’s spirit and legacy is “bigger than any one actor.”“Max was many himself,” Metzger said. “Every time he read a poem, he read it differently, because he allowed the moment of the poem and the moment he was reading to merge.”When rehearsals began, Metzger texted Ruhl some guidance for the actors: “Reading the letters, the character is coming to face death,” she wrote, but “reading the poems, the character is not dying but being born, coming to life!” Metzger hoped the actors might “capture the shock of Max’s performance style, even the strange wild aliveness of the poems on the page.”Ritvo’s mother, Riva Ariella Ritvo, has been “an incredibly staunch supporter,” Edelman said, calling a video meeting she had with the cast members “one of the most intense experiences of my life.”He and Pais didn’t study Ritvo’s mannerisms. Instead, they aimed to embody his work. “Neither of us are trying to do an impersonation of Max at all,” Pais said.Hecht and Pais onstage during rehearsals at the Pershing Square Signature Center. Marsha Ginsberg’s spare set includes a white zoetrope that rotates to reveal scenes inside Max Ritvo’s childhood home, hospital rooms and a theater.Ye Fan for The New York TimesTo foreground the writing, the scenic designer Marsha Ginsberg kept the stage spare. The sole set piece is a white zoetrope that rotates to reveal scenes inside Ritvo’s childhood home, hospital rooms and the 13th Street Repertory Theater, where he accepted the 2014 Chapbook Fellowship from the Poetry Society of America while wearing a pink kimono. At one point, during a silent sequence, the outside of the zoetrope becomes the window of an Amtrak quiet car. “We were trying to create a world where imaginative scapes could happen,” Whoriskey said. “So that a poem happens, and then suddenly, you’re seeing skeletons across a bridge, or a poem happens, and you’re seeing the shimmering of water.”Hecht didn’t work through the emotional arc of Ruhl’s character until the week before previews began. Though it’s easy to cry on command, she said, “I felt embarrassed to do that before we lived through the play for a while, and I really felt the weight of that story and that person coming into our lives.”For the past 30 years, Ruhl said, she has carried on an “intense” dialogue on life and art with Paula Vogel, her former professor. “When I met Max, it felt like he was one of those people that I would have that kind of dialogue with, had he lived that long,” she said. “It’s a comet-like thing. You might only meet those people once every … how often do comets circle?” Perhaps Ritvo made such an impact because he valued relationships. “He’s not a poet who just went inward and was exploring his own self and soul. It was always about talking to another person in a room,” Metzger said. “It was happening all the time, these little births and deaths of just being with a person in a room. I think that’s why he had so much intimacy with so many people. I’ve never met someone with as capacious of a soul.”When Ruhl attended the first preview performance of “Letters From Max, a Ritual” earlier this month, she could finally observe “how the humor landed,” how the emotional beats played out, and how Ritvo’s poetry “theatrically holds an audience.”But it wasn’t until intermission that the project came full circle. As part of the play’s “ritual,” she said, audience members sat at tables in the lobby to write letters to loved ones. A young woman approached Ruhl with an envelope addressed to her. The playwright opened it and drew out a note reading: “I have incurable brain cancer. And this production gave me hope.” More

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    in Television

    Marc Maron, Roseanne Barr and Nathan Macintosh Have New Specials

    In the mix this month are hour sets from a maturing Marc Maron, a very funny Nathan Macintosh and a pandering Roseanne Barr.Marc Maron, ‘From Bleak to Dark’HBO MaxIn his new hour, Marc Maron says he refuses to outgrow blaming his parents for his problems. “They did it,” he grumbles, concisely. His graying hair bouncing off a dark leather jacket, Maron, 59, has remained a vital comic voice by staying in touch with his inner brooding teen. And yet, don’t be fooled: Maron is maturing. His comedy has become more intricate, varied in timing and tone, and politically astute. After decades of leaning over stools, his years of touring theaters — and perhaps film work — have turned him into more of a showman, with a repertoire of small scenes, satires (his spoof of the TED Talk is pitch perfect) and act-outs.The emotional centerpiece of his new special is the 2020 death of his partner, the director Lynn Shelton. Here is where he really shows his evolution, because he handles this passage with a light touch, humbly and without the melodramatic negativity of his title. What stands out is his lack of philosophizing or waxing poetic. There’s a lot of art, including comedy, that exploits the gravity of death. And why not? Our greatest play, “Hamlet,” is about a neurotic, grief-struck young man who can’t stop obsessing over the death of a loved one. But Maron brings an older man’s perspective. He tells us he’s not the victim. Shelton is. He calls his loss ordinary, common. Can art help? People send him “The Year of Magical Thinking,” and it does nothing for him except make him compare himself unfavorably to Joan Didion.What does help, he says, is “the Jewish thing.” Maron has long been fascinated by religion and spirituality, but this hour is his most Jewish by far, featuring the most jokes on the religion, including punch lines about the Holocaust and antisemitism. He says he finds solace in the Jewish epithet “May her memory be a blessing.” This phrase, dating at least to the Talmud, contrasts with the Jewish stereotypes of neurosis and kvetching. Maron pokes fun at the idea of him doing an emotional Jewish one-man show about the death of his girlfriend, but in a way, he has done it — or at least, his version. Looking to the wisdom of religion is perhaps the most hack move possible, but one of the things you learn as you get older is that clichés exist for a reason.Nathan Macintosh, ‘Money Never Wakes’YouTubeWhen it comes to stand-up specials, it’s a “best of times, worst of times” situation. There have never been more being made, released and available to a global audience than right now. According to Sean McCarthy’s newsletter Piffany, there have already been 55 released this year — more than one a day. While most hours are terrible, rote or entirely mediocre, there are gems that would have remained entirely obscure in previous eras.Take Nathan Macintosh, an inauspicious-looking blond guy dressed in khaki pants, a white T-shirt and a button down. His new hour did not get picked up by any major platform, but you can watch it free on YouTube and, if you’re like me, convulse with laughter. His jokes won’t translate well to the page because his delivery is so eccentrically goofy while still managing a momentum that keeps building and building. His main mode is end-of-your-rope exasperation, with eyes popping, voice squeaking and a jittery physicality. He can be funny on mute.The panic in his voice is a perfect match for his preoccupation: The confusing way money works and the infuriating inequities of class. That makes him sound didactic, but his jokes stay close to the ground and unexpected, sympathizing with much-mocked figures like landlords or subway drivers. There’s a novelistic detail in his description of his own apartment, with rats scurrying above the ceiling. (“Have you ever heard rats above you having a better life?”) His self-loathing bit on losing money on crypto is a wonderful time capsule of our moment.But his funniest jokes are about the pampered rich, whom he portrays as aliens speaking to one another and oblivious of everyone else. In dark comic set pieces, they are forced into contact with ordinary people, who must treat them with extreme deference. He acts out one scene in which a rich person complains about his chicken being cold at a fancy restaurant. The manager says with practiced professionalism, “Look, we’ll have the waiter murdered in front of his family.”Roseanne Barr, ‘Cancel This!’Fox NationIn the oral history “We Killed: The Rise of Women in Comedy,” Roseanne Barr explained how she adjusted her stand-up act in the 1980s to fit in with comedy clubs. “I had to make it less political and more mainstream,” she said. This clearly worked. Barr became one of the most successful comics in history, turning her fed-up housewife persona into one of the best sitcoms of the era. But now, several years after an offensive tweet led to her being fired from a reboot of that show, Barr has adjusted again by becoming more political, aggressively courting right-wing audiences as a conspiracy-minded victim of cancel culture.Her new special, which arrives on the Fox Nation streaming service, feels like a mix of rally and fan convention, with some stand-up sprinkled on top. Barr, who alternates between long pauses and flashes of anger, gets an applause break from saying “Baby blood drinking Democrat community” and a big laugh from “I don’t want to talk to no Hillary donors.” It’s a balky production, with abrupt edits and occasional tangents that belong more to the green room than the stage, like an extended gripe about doing promos for her sitcom.It’s the culture war material, though, that gets her crowd fired up. She berates #MeToo victims, suggests that taking the vaccine will prevent you from getting pregnant, and in bemoaning the decline of men, orders the ones in her audience to tell their wives and girlfriends to sit down, shut up and make them a sandwich. Barr says she plans to offend, but this has become another pander, since obviously her crowd loves the grievances, the resentments. She even clarifies that she likes doing promos for Fox.Watch Barr’s early sets and you will find not only a quick comic mind, but also tightly written jokes. Neither appear here. Of course, it’s not just Barr who has changed. Comedy has, too. The scene is more political, polarized, desperate for outrage. Jim Jeffries prefaces the trans jokes in his new Netflix special by saying he’s doing them because he wants the press that Dave Chappelle and Ricky Gervais received. I’m sure he’d say it’s a joke, but I believe it. When Barr trots out a stale gag about gender, riffing on the question “What is a woman?” she gets a predictable roar. It’s a reminder that Barr once ran for president, and how much comedy and politics have blurred. Cheap nostalgia can be powerful in both arenas. At one point, Barr jokes, “The world has changed a lot since I was alive.” More

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    in Television

    Milo Ventimiglia on the ‘Honest Deception’ of ‘The Company You Keep’

    In his first regular TV role since the hit series “This is Us,” the actor plays a character who is himself a kind of actor: a charming con man.Milo Ventimiglia reached television stardom during the age of cable and streaming dominance. But his signature shows, including “Heroes,” “Gilmore Girls” and “This Is Us,” have all aired free of charge on network TV.And that’s just the way he likes it.“I’m a product of broadcast television,” Ventimiglia said in a recent video call. “I like the idea that anyone can turn their TV on and watch the show.”“People want to give exclusivity,” he added. “I prefer inclusivity.”Ventimiglia’s newest venture, “The Company You Keep,” based on the Korean series “My Fellow Citizens!,” follows suit, but with a twist on his usual handsome charmer persona. Premiering Sunday on ABC, the series tells the story of Charlie Nicoletti, the main talent in a family of Baltimore con artists that also includes his sister, Birdie (Sarah Wayne Callies); his dad, Leo (William Fichtner); and his mom, Fran (Polly Draper). It’s Ventimiglia’s first starring vehicle since the hugely popular “This is Us” ended its six-year run last year. (He is also an executive producer.)A smooth operator and skilled thief, Charlie finds himself facing changes bad and good as the series opens. The family, which owns a neighborhood bar as a front for their capers, has just been burned on a job, owing mostly to Charlie’s carelessness. The consequences are dire. Reeling from his mistake, Charlie falls into the arms and bed of Emma (Catherine Haena Kim). They’re a very secretive couple, especially with each other. She is a C.I.A. agent. He’s a con man.Unbeknown to them, their jobs are about to converge. It’s love, and lust, at first sight. Trust, however, is another matter.“It’s a different kind of communication when you are playing two people that are fundamentally in love, but there are a lot of obstacles to their being together,” he said. “I think it mostly comes down to communicating vulnerability.”Reeling from a mistake, Ventimiglia’s character, Charlie, falls into the arms and bed of Emma (Catherine Haena Kim), a C.I.A. agent.Eric McCandless/ABCVentimiglia, 45, was drawn to Charlie’s duality. “As a barkeep, he’s unremarkable, a simple neighborhood guy,” he said. “But as a con artist, he has to adapt and change shape and become somebody else believably, as a real human being, not a caricature.”Ventimiglia discussed the art of the con, moving on from “This Is Us” and why he looks to help military veterans however he can. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.What was the transition from “This Is Us” like?I brought over about 90 percent of the “This Is Us” crew. For me, it was always them that made the show. It wasn’t just the subject matter. It wasn’t just those beautiful Dan Fogelman scripts that he and the writers crafted. It was the different departments, everything from camera to grips, electric, art departments, transportation, craft services, the folks that were feeding us. There was a lot of magic in that show, and I loved bringing that team over. I miss Fogelman, and I miss aspects of production. But because of the crew, there was no real loss.That was such a beloved show. Why do you think it struck a nerve in so many viewers?I think it had a commonality. Viewers were able to see themselves inside of a lot of the characters. It wasn’t built for one lane. It didn’t fall under any particular genre. It was just a show about everyone.The original title was “36,” which was the birthday that Jack and the three kids were celebrating. But Dan Fogelman kept toying with this idea: This is us and us and us. And it just makes sense. That’s what the show was about. It was about all of us, every single one of us. That always felt like the appeal: Everybody could relate to the life that was lived in those characters.I Imagine people often identify you with Jack.I remember once I was getting off a plane and a guy stopped me and said, “Hey, you’re that guy from that show.” I said: “Yes, sir, I am. Nice to meet you.” And he goes, “Man, you’re my Tuesday night.” I thought, wow. Every Tuesday, this guy sits down and he hangs out with me and my co-stars on the show. There’s something really rewarding about that when you know an audience member is giving you time.How do you approach playing a con man? It’s interesting that the word “con” comes from “confidence,” which Charlie definitely has.To be an actor, you’ve got to be confident in what you do, but you can’t cross that line and be cocky because you get knocked right down. And you’ve got to be confident as a con man to get people to do what you want need.With the cons that we’ve been setting up, and the characters that Charlie plays within those cons, it’s exciting and it’s fun. It’s given me an opportunity to stretch, not just playing one part, but playing several parts through a season.“At 45 years old, I feel like I’m just getting started,” Ventimiglia said. “That’s a good feeling.”Carlos Jaramillo for The New York TimesCharlie is kind of an actor in that sense.Totally. Either that or I’m realizing that acting is absolutely a con. When I was a little younger, I used to joke and say, “I lie for a living.” Then it turned into, “I wear makeup and read lines for a living.” Now, in a way, I’m back to what feels like an honest deception.How do you think the secrecy of the characters translates to the performances?It’s funny, in real life, romantic partners tend to under-talk things until they realize they need therapy. On set, we’re over-talking things for absolute transparency and communication to find the best possible solution that works for [Kim’s] character, my character, and then ultimately the show.You have worked with and supported several veterans organizations, including the U.S.O., Team Rubicon and America’s Gold Star Families. What is the source of that passion?My dad was a Vietnam War veteran, so I think I always had this understanding of the community from that point of view, and from studying the war. But having never served in uniform, I asked myself how I could serve the community. The work is never done. But I think it’s a community to which we owe a lot of gratitude. I nearly went into the Navy when I was 18. I had this grand idea that I was going to be flying jets because I grew up on “Top Gun.” But then I took a different path.When did you know that you wanted to be an actor?I’d always put on plays and stuff when I was a little kid. And I remember when award shows still felt glamorous, and I would hear Whoopi Goldberg talk to the camera at the end of the Oscars, when she was hosting, saying, “Maybe one day you’ll be on this stage.” That inspired me. I’d see an actor putting on a character, and then I’d see him putting on a different character. You’d see Michael Keaton as Mr. Mom. Then you’d see Michael Keaton as Batman. You’re like, Oh, it’s Batman. But no, it’s Mr. Mom.It was all an understanding that these people are playing different roles, and that is the profession of acting. How do you do that? How do you make those roles so convincing that you get to do the next one? It’s weird. At 45 years old, I feel like I’m just getting started. That’s a good feeling. More

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    Late Night Weighs in on President Biden’s Annual Physical

    Jimmy Fallon joked that Vice President Kamala Harris “seemed a little too eager to hear the results.”Welcome to Best of Late Night, a rundown of the previous night’s highlights that lets you sleep — and lets us get paid to watch comedy. Here are the 50 best movies on Netflix right now.So Far, So GoodPresident Joe Biden received a clean bill of health after his annual physical at Walter Reed on Thursday.Late night hosts used the opportunity to poke fun at Biden’s age. Jimmy Fallon joked that Vice President Kamala Harris “seemed a little too eager to hear the results.”“Yeah, it’s never good when the doctor examining you is like, ‘I don’t know if they even make these parts anymore.’” — JIMMY FALLON“Yep, the exam was going great until Biden confused the eye chart for a teleprompter.” — JIMMY FALLON“The White House said Biden’s exam took three hours. It’s never good when your physical has an intermission, you know what I’m saying? Nothing says ‘peak physical condition’ like a doctor’s visit with the same running time as ‘Avatar 2.’” — JIMMY FALLONThe Punchiest Punchlines (Fit as a Fiddle Edition)“So today, Joe Biden had his annual physical. It was a clean bill of health, although his X-ray did reveal several classified documents. Gotta look everywhere.” — STEPHEN COLBERT“The presidential physical is pretty thorough. They do a colonoscopy, blood tests, and, as part of the dental exam, Biden pulls Air Force One with his teeth.” — STEPHEN COLBERT“The physician reported that the president remains healthy and vigorous. That’s right, you tuned in to this show to be entertained, and you are hearing about an 80-year-old man’s doctor visit.” — JAMES CORDEN“Between the F.B.I. search and undergoing a physical, this is a huge week for Biden getting probed.” — JAMES CORDEN“This seems like one of the worst parts of being the president of the United States, just having the entire country know your height, weight and that you’ve got some kind of weird rash.” — JAMES CORDENThe Bits Worth WatchingThe “Daily Show” correspondent Jordan Klepper found out where Republican voters stood on Donald Trump at a recent rally for Nikki Haley, Trump’s first declared rival for the presidential nomination.Also, Check This OutIn the revival, all of the original main characters (except for Casey, played by Lizzy Caplan, not pictured) are either pulled back into cater waiting or never stopped.StarzThe all-star sleeper hit comedy series “Party Down” returns for a new season 14 years after the comedy first premiered on Starz. More

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    in Theater

    Review: In ‘The Wanderers,’ Two Marriages and a Movie Star

    Anna Ziegler’s play about an Orthodox couple in the 1970s and an unorthodox one in the 2010s explores the limits of longing.There’s no shortage of stories that explore the merits and pitfalls of arranged marriages. In the Jewish subcategory alone, we have “Shtisel,” “Unorthodox” and the perennial “Fiddler on the Roof.” But Anna Ziegler’s awkwardly hitched play “The Wanderers,” which opened Thursday at the Laura Pels Theater, may be the first to consider the problem of forced matches while also exemplifying it.A shotgun seems to have been involved in forcing its two incompatible tales under one roof. The first begins in 1973 with the wedding of Esther and Schmuli, members of the Satmar Hasidic community who barely know each other. Even if Schmuli (Dave Klasko) is a bit meek, and Esther (Lucy Freyer) alarmingly headstrong, they seem at first like a traditional Orthodox couple, looking forward to making a family.Nevertheless, within five years, their marriage is in ruins. Schmuli has spirited away their daughters; Esther has fled Brooklyn with their infant son, Abraham.That’s not a spoiler but the foundation for the second story, which takes place decades later and proceeds in alternating “chapters” with the first. Abe (Eddie Kaye Thomas) is now an acclaimed 40-something novelist, having won, we are told, “a Pulitzer and two National Book Awards before turning 30.” The purple samples of his work provided suggest that the prizes were massively misjudged.Somewhat too conveniently for himself and the play, Abe is married to the daughter of another Satmar refugee. His mother and hers, best friends since childhood, raised Abe and Sophie (Sarah Cooper) to be each other’s “bashert”: their fate, their soul mates.Eddie Kaye Thomas and Sarah Cooper, on the table, portray a married couple with connections to an Orthodox couple played by Lucy Freyer, far left, and Dave Klasko, sitting at the two ends of the table.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesWhether they also chose that fate is an open question; for all their similarities, there are also crucial differences. For one thing, Sophie, who is biracial, grew up with a father — a Black professor of environmental science — but Abe rarely saw his after the separation. Precious about his loss, yet glib about other people’s, he has the charismatic narcissist’s ability to finagle subservience.That’s already a lot of plot for a 105-minute play, even before the lopsided interaction between the two stories, and the potential to explore generational harm through them, is overshadowed by an out-of-the-blue development. At a reading in a Brooklyn bookstore, Abe spots in the front row a well-known actress, a longtime crush who is apparently on his freebie list. Immediately afterward he receives an email that leads to a correspondence featuring thousands of others, many flirtatious to the point of virtual adultery.Unaccountably, the actress is given the name Julia Cheever, a herring so far past red it’s bleeding. As played by Katie Holmes, with whom the character shares certain biographical features, Julia is glamorous and wry but strangely underpowered. That’s in part a lack of stage authority; in this Off Broadway Roundabout Theater Company production, Holmes, though she appeared in the 2008 Broadway revival of “All My Sons” and in Theresa Rebeck’s “Dead Accounts” in 2012, is still feeling her way around a world that lacks a camera.But her indistinctness is also the result of the problem of representing virtual communication onstage. Sometimes the director Barry Edelstein has Julia sit face-to-face with Abe, or even touching, as if in the same room. Other times, she wanders about Marion Williams’s set, which consists almost entirely of books, while reciting her emails as if they were soliloquies.At least hers are down-to-earth. Abe’s are high-flown, pretentious — which is but one way this plot thread recalls the infamous electronic flirtation between the novelist Jonathan Safran Foer and the actress Natalie Portman. Ziegler has said she found that correspondence, part of which was published in The New York Times, “pretty juicy,” but in repurposing it for the play, she seems to have spilled the juice everywhere. As written, and in Thomas’s crafty performance, Abe bears enough of a resemblance to Foer (who also has a mother named Esther) to make you wonder what the point is.In any case, the real governing spirit here isn’t Foer but the frequently name-dropped Philip Roth; Abe seems to aspire not just to his stature but also to his characters’ unapologetic selfishness. That Sophie tolerates this while also taking nearly sole responsibility for their two children, who could not possibly be as whiny as her husband, is something of a mystery, at least for a half-hour. But pretty soon, and with growing irritation thereafter, the explanatory twist becomes obvious, leaving the big revelation at the end of the play a letdown.Is it too much of a hint to mention that catfish is not kosher?Helpfully, Cooper, known for her comic lip-syncing of Donald Trump, has a fresh and natural energy onstage. Even so, the plot mechanics ensure that Sophie isn’t given enough playable material to make us want to stay in her story. And Abe, who thinks he is deep, is unbearable.The social strictures facing Freyer’s Esther and Klasko’s Schmuli seem impossible to alter and are thus political, our critic writes.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesIf only by contrast, Schmuli and Esther are more engaging. The forces aligned against their happiness are not merely theoretical as with Abe and Sophie; they emerge from social strictures that seem impossible to alter and are thus political. This gives the emotions of their scenes more complexity, and though Freyer can’t do much else with her troubled character, Klasko is at times heartbreaking in his portrait of conflicted and hopelessly unenlightened love.The comparison between the two marriages, each undone by the search for something outside the characters’ ken, nevertheless feels specious. The dialogue in both sections, sprinkled like parsley with pidgin Yiddish and Hebrew prayer, has a secondhand aura that is also unconvincing. More authentic are the wigs by Tommy Kurzman and costumes by David Israel Reynoso; you certainly never question which world you’re in as the fur hats and wigs — the shtreimels and sheitels — give way to sweatpants.Still, “The Wanderers” feels, like its vague title, unmoored. That has not been a problem with Ziegler’s previous plays, which include “Photograph 51” (about the molecular biologist Rosalind Franklin) and “Actually” (about a campus sexual assault trial). Both feature stories in which a strong argument is developed single-mindedly through specific conflicts that point toward a crisis.It’s an irony that in trying to weld two such stories together, “The Wanderers” doesn’t enhance those elements but compromises them. Arranged or chosen, not all marriages are bashert.The WanderersThrough April 2 at Laura Pels Theater, Manhattan; roundabouttheater.org. Running time: 1 hour 45 minutes. More

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    in Television

    Ryan Seacrest Is Leaving ‘Live with Kelly and Ryan’

    The Hollywood multitasker provided a steady hand at a somewhat tumultuous time for the talk show. He will be replaced by Mark Consuelos, the husband of “Live” co-host Kelly Ripa.Ryan Seacrest announced on Thursday that he was leaving “Live With Kelly and Ryan,” the syndicated morning talk show mainstay that he has hosted with Kelly Ripa since 2017.Ms. Ripa said Thursday on the show that a familiar face, and frequent guest host — her husband, Mark Consuelos — would assume co-hosting duties. The show will now be known as “Live With Kelly and Mark.”“I’m so grateful to have spent the last six years beside my dear friend of too many decades to count and will miss starting my days with Ryan,” Ms. Ripa said in a statement. “Ryan’s energy, passion and love for entertainment is one of a kind.”Mr. Seacrest, a Hollywood multitasker, arrived at “Live” after a one-year search, and provided a steady hand at a somewhat tumultuous time for the show. In 2016, when Mr. Seacrest’s predecessor, Michael Strahan, announced that he was leaving the show for “Good Morning America,” Ms. Ripa felt blindsided and that the Walt Disney Company — which syndicates the show — was favoring its morning show franchise over her longtime talk show, which she has co-hosted since 2001. She walked off the show, setting off a tabloid feeding frenzy.Mr. Seacrest’s arrival nearly coincided with what seemed at the time to be a formidable rival: NBC was giving Megyn Kelly a 9 a.m. talk show, and investing tens of millions of dollars in it.Although Ms. Kelly’s morning show could veer dark — “Megyn Kelly Today” often ran segments on topics like revenge porn and sexual harassment — Ms. Ripa and Mr. Seacrest kept it light, providing a soothing antidote to the divisive Trump years. Ms. Kelly’s show was trounced by “Live” in the ratings and was canceled roughly a year after it started.“Live,” which started in the 1980s as a New York talk show co-hosted by Regis Philbin and Kathie Lee Gifford, has long centered on a simple concept: two hosts chatting about their lives, and bringing in celebrities for breezy interviews.“The hosts have changed, but the overall concept continues on: two people, a man and a woman, and enjoying the chemistry between them,” said Michael Gelman, the longtime executive producer, in a 2017 interview.“Live” has been the top-rated daytime talk show among women ages 25 to 54, a demographic important to advertisers, for more than a year.Mr. Seacrest will continue hosting the show until the spring, and will also continue hosting “American Idol,” ABC said. He said in a statement that working with Ms. Ripa for the last six years had been a “dream job.”“It’s been a memorable ride, and now I’m excited to pass the baton to Kelly’s ‘real’ husband, Mark,” he said. More

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    in Television

    ‘Hello Tomorrow!’ Review: It’s Only a Paper Moon

    This comedy about hustlers selling lunar condos launches with visual pizazz. The emotions take longer to land.“The moon belongs to everyone,” declared “The Best Things in Life Are Free.” This was an easy enough sentiment to sing in 1927, before anybody planted a flag up there.In “Hello Tomorrow!,” a 10-episode comedy starting Friday on Apple TV+, Jack Billings (Billy Crudup), a traveling real-estate salesman, would like to offer you different terms. The moon, or at least a piece of it, can be yours for zero down and $150 a month, courtesy of Brightside Lunar Residences. Just don’t look too closely at the fine print.Is he selling a chance at a better life, or just a load of green cheese? What’s striking is not only how well Jack, with his spit-shined zeal, sells his earthbound customers on his blue-sky pitch; it’s how deeply he believes himself. “Hello Tomorrow!” spins out a galaxy of deceptions both personal and professional, devised by Jack and those around him, to show how the most powerful and important lies are the ones you tell yourself.The first thing that catches your eye about “Hello Tomorrow!” is, well, everything. While its conflicts are familiar — too much so, at times — it is visually unlike anything you’ve seen on TV outside “The Jetsons.” The creators, Amit Bhalla and Lucas Jansen, have conceived an alternative, future-past Earth that looks like an illustrator was hired to design a space-themed malt-shop menu in 1955 and got hopped up on bennies.Tin-can robots in avocado green and goldenrod yellow float about serving drinks and spraying shrubbery. Deliveries arrive to ticky-tacky suburban houses in a hover-van “driven” by a cartoon-video bird. A paperboy pulls a wagon that shoots today’s news out of pneumatic cannons.Some things haven’t changed, however: Money is still green and foldable and the source of heartache. The rich still get richer, and now they also have the moon as a luxury playground. To everyone else it’s a taunt, one more shiny thing that someone else gets to touch.The opening scene plays like a Buck Rogers burlesque of the “Mad Men” pilot. Jack sidles up to a miserable barfly (Michael Harney) and fires up his pitch, producing a rock from his pocket that he says came all the way from the lunar Sea of Serenity. “Wow,” his mark says. “That,” answers Jack, “is the one word none of us can live without.”From left, Dewshane Williams, Nicholas Podany and Hank Azaria play Jack’s sales team.Apple TV+Jack himself leads a distinctly wow-less life, as do his sales associates. Eddie (Hank Azaria) is an unlucky gambler who believes that “desperation is a salesman’s greatest asset.” Herb (Dewshane Williams) is an anxious expectant father of twins. Shirley (Haneefah Wood), Jack’s right-hand woman, sees through his upbeat blarney but is herself cheating on her husband with Eddie.Jack’s own personal secret is Don Draper-sized: He abandoned his wife and baby years ago. When a tragedy brings Jack to his old hometown, he longs to reconnect with his now-grown son, Joey (Nicholas Podany), the only way he knows how: deceitfully, by offering Joey a sales job without identifying himself as Joey’s father. That lie, and the questionable machinations of the moon-condo business, are the twin nuclear reactors that power the first season.“Hello Tomorrow!” is a hell of a looker. Its midcentury-modern version of steampunk — chromepunk? — is packed with analog-tech wonders like self-popping popcorn buckets at a ballgame. But the early episodes left me wondering if there was anything behind its polished facade.“Pleasantville”-style spoofs of 1950s suburbia have been done to death. The society of “Hello Tomorrow!” is not exactly Eisenhower-era America; on the one hand, it’s casually racially integrated, but on the other, women still hold pre-Betty Friedan housewife roles. There are vague references to a past “war” and hints that automation has cost some people their jobs and purpose, but no explanation of how technology has made the world so small while leaving America so homogeneous.In general, “Hello Tomorrow!” breezes past the world-building, hoping, not unlike Jack, that you’ll get too caught up in the pretty pictures to worry about the details. And damned if it doesn’t work, some of the time.Crudup is marvelously cast, letting Jack’s inner aches occasionally slip past his practiced smile. (Among a slew of quirky supporting performances, Susan Heyward is an absolute pip as Herb’s shrewd wife, Betty.) The season builds screwball momentum as Jack and company try to outrun the consequences of their choices.But the series is so stylized, not just in the design but also in the performances and the “Guys and Dolls” dialogue, that the characters often feel cartoony and unconvincing. Alison Pill, as a customer determined to expose Jack as a fraud, is like a black-and-white floor-wax commercial come to life. The sales staff’s various personal conflicts are weightless and one-note.Alison Pill stars as a customer convinced that Jack is a fraud.Apple TV+What is thoroughly, achingly real is the pervasive theme of lies and why people tell them. Falsehoods are an effective plot engine, of course, but here they are also about character; they’re the sad, sleazy cousins of wishes.The deeper you get into Jack’s business and personal deceptions, the more you realize that every character here — even the most upright — is lying to someone, or to themselves, in the sad belief that voicing the lie can somehow make it true. Underneath the show’s sleek shine is a story of beat-up dreamers trying to convince themselves that, with one lucky break, they might lasso the moon.You could ask whether they might be better off being honest with themselves, just as you could ask whether Jack couldn’t make a simpler living by selling some nice encyclopedias. But “Hello Tomorrow!” suggests that deceptions, self- and otherwise, are the rocket fuel that keeps us moving through an otherwise indifferent universe. “What’s life without a dream to make it go down easy?” Jack asks. It’s the oldest story under the sun. More

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    in Theater

    ‘Standing at the Sky’s Edge’ and ‘Sylvia’ Energize British Musicals

    The art form needs to make room for lesser-known names, to refresh and enlarge the talent pool, our critic writes.Where are the new British musicals? The question bears asking as Britain’s defining musical theater composer, Andrew Lloyd Webber, starts previews on Broadway of his latest show, “Bad Cinderella.” In April, Lloyd Webber’s “The Phantom of the Opera” will close on Broadway after a record-‌breaking 35-year run in a city where he has often seemed to be the only English practitioner of musicals around.Who else might carry forward an art form in which Lloyd Webber, 75 next month, surely can’t be expected to go it alone? There have, of course, been the occasional offerings from George Stiles and Anthony Drewe (“Betty Blue Eyes,” “Honk”), or from Elton John, whose “Billy Elliot” ran for years on both sides of the Atlantic. John’s recent “Tammy Faye” premiered Off West End last year at the buzzy Almeida Theater‌, and has life in it still.But musicals need to make room for lesser-known names as well, to refresh and enlarge the talent pool. How gratifying, then, to encounter two recent London openings from comparative newcomers, both in large playhouses, both enthusiastically received. And each show knows how to energize an audience — no small achievement in itself.That’s not to say that either “Standing at the Sky’s Edge,” at the National Theater, through March 25‌, or “Sylvia,” at the Old Vic, through April 8‌‌, is ready for the Broadway spotlight‌, ‌if that is even ‌their goal: Both are determinedly British in their subject matter, and “Sylvia,” in particular, has further work to do.It was nonetheless cheering to note the visceral response of playgoers swept up in the sheer passion of stories vigorously told; on this evidence, there seems to be an appetite for shows that expand the scope of what an English musical can be.‌“Standing at the Sky’s Edge” arrives in London after two‌ runs in Sheffield, the northern English city where it is set, and where both its composer-lyricist, Richard Hawley, and book writer, Chris Bush, are from.Cast members of “Standing at the Sky’s Edge,” which is set in the Park Hill housing complex, a Brutalist architectural landmark in Sheffield, England.Johan PerssonAnd yet you don’t need to be familiar with the city’s Park Hill housing complex, a Brutalist architectural landmark, to be drawn into the musical’s skillful weave of three story lines set in the same apartment there. Ben Stones’s imposing concrete set includes the signature graffito, “I love you, will u marry me,” that was painted on a concrete bridge of the housing project in 2001 and became an unlikely Sheffield icon.Love in its various forms turns out to be the topic connecting the show’s three plot strands, each set in different eras. We see Rose (Rachael Wooding) and Harry (Robert Lonsdale) starting a family in the early 1960s: Harry, a steelworker, takes pride in being the youngest foreman in his company’s history, but slides into depression as the once-mighty steel industry in the region goes into decline.That same flat some 30 years later becomes home to a teenager fleeing war-torn Liberia. Played by a radiant Faith Omole, that character, Joy, isn’t sure whether Park Hill, her supposed place of refuge, is a castle or a prison. And when she embarks on a mixed-race relationship with a sweet local boy, Jimmy (Samuel Jordan, in a knockout performance), Joy confronts the realities of racism head on: You wince when someone asks her family if they know how to use a refrigerator.Bringing the story line forward to 2016 is the transplanted Londoner Poppy (a clarion-voiced Alex Young), whose anxious parents need reassurance that their daughter has moved to “South Yorkshire, not Siberia.” Attempting a fresh start in a property that has been newly refurbished and a neighborhood that has gentrified since Joy’s time there, Poppy can’t escape her former lover, Nikki (Maimuna Memon), who shows up hoping to rekindle their romance.A roving narrator (Bobbie Little) appears now and then to connect the thematic dots. Home, she tells us, may “simply be a series of boxes that stops the rain,” but, in the director Robert Hastie’s production, there is also a profound sense of connection to the city. (Hastie runs the Crucible, the Sheffield theater where the show began.)Hawley’s full-bodied score, meanwhile, folds this singer-songwriter’s back catalog together with new songs, yearning and hopeful, that catch at the heart. The title song, taken from a 2012 album, is a rousing company number that gets the second act off to a propulsive start, and whose elation is characteristic of the show as a whole.The cast of “Sylvia,” which tells the story of the English suffragist Sylvia Pankhurst, at the Old Vic.Manuel Harlan“Sylvia” also looks toward England’s past, this time to tell the real-life story of the celebrated suffragist Sylvia Pankhurst, an activist who fought over many years to secure the right of British women to vote. She is at the impassioned center of this well-meaning, if dramatically sketchy, musical from the director-choreographer Kate Prince. The impressive designer here, as with the Sheffield-set musical, is Ben Stones.An earlier version of the show had a brief run at the Old Vic in 2018 as a dance-led work-in-progress. It has since been reworked as a largely sung-through musical that casts a strong glance ‌toward‌‌ “Hamilton.” Like Lin-Manuel Miranda’s trailblazer, “Sylvia” refracts history through an ethnically and musically diverse lens: The music by Josh Cohen and D.J. Walde draws from funk, soul, R&B and hip-hop. Sharon Rose, in the title role, recently appeared as Eliza in “Hamilton” in London.But “Sylvia” has a superficial feel that “Hamilton” never had: It makes caricatures of the historical figures it presents, including Winston Churchill, and skimps on the family drama at its fractured heart, though the soul singer Beverley Knight is in tremendous voice as Sylvia’s mother, Emmeline.It’s left to the giddy, near-perpetual motion of the staging to carry us through, even when the writing doesn’t. And Prince, a notable figure on the British dance scene, is canny enough to know how to end proceedings on a high. The show ends with a pair of anthems, “Stand Up” and “Rise Up,” celebrating women’s progress and exhorting the audience to get to their feet. And, swept along, they do. More