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At first, it seemed unthinkable that the spring musical would happen. But school leaders quickly decided that it should go on.“We all believe that the arts are crucial to life, but especially to processing anything so traumatic,” said Jackie Gonzalez-Durruthy, who works with Arts Bridging the Gap, a nonprofit that helps run the school’s theater program. More
Betsy Wolfe shines as the inventor of the Miracle Mop in a largely dull Off Broadway show.A cynic could question the very existence of a musical about the inventor of the Miracle Mop. But consider that there have been movies about Beanie Babies (“The Beanie Bubble”), Flamin’ Hot Cheetos (“Flamin’ Hot”) and Pop-Tarts (“Unfrosted”), and “Joy: A New True Musical” does not seem so random anymore. And unlike Cheetos, the self-wringing mop at least made women’s lives a little bit easier — for it is they who still handle most of the housecleaning.The title inventor and entrepreneur is Joy Mangano, who had already inspired the 2015 film “Joy,” in which she was portrayed by Jennifer Lawrence. In Ken Davenport and AnnMarie Milazzo’s show, it’s the Tony Award nominee Betsy Wolfe’s turn to don the title character’s sensible slacks. Wolfe (“& Juliet”), a dead ringer for Mangano, has a down-to-earth warmth and precise comic timing, and she is a confident singer. She is the main reason to catch the wholesome, low-boil production now running at the Laura Pels Theater.The word “miracle” comes up so often in the show — starting with the mop’s name and ending with the grand finale, “Go Make a Miracle” — one might assume the action is set in Lourdes instead of on Long Island. Joy’s rags-to-QVC-riches story did not hinge on divine providence, but on very human ingenuity, guts and persistence.We first meet our heroine in the early 1990s, and her life is a mess: She’s has split from her ne’er-do-well husband, Tony (Brandon Espinoza); just lost her job with an airline; and is stuck between her separated parents, the philandering Rudy (Adam Grupper) and the agoraphobic Toots (Jill Abramovitz).Fortunately her imagination can’t be tamped down, and Joy — always bursting with gadget ideas — comes up with a design for a more efficient mop. After failing to find distribution, she finally gets a break when QVC lets her peddle her ware on TV.Davenport’s book takes a few liberties with Mangano’s journey, but they don’t impact the big picture — or appear to trouble Mangano, who’s plugging the show on her website. The stage Joy has only one child, Christie (Honor Blue Savage), instead of the real-life three; Ronni (Gabriela Carrillo) has morphed from Mangano’s longtime friend to a supportive QVC employee.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More
Parton’s life and career have always been rooted in Tennessee. For her fans, it was only fitting to see the debut of her biographical musical here, too.They came from across the country and drove in from the rest of Tennessee on Friday, braving the steamy heat of Nashville after a summer storm in sparkling boots, sequined jackets and butterfly accessories. There was even a blonde wig or two, piled high.It was fitting for the first public performance of the musical biography of the woman Tennessee proudly claims as one of its own: Dolly Parton.“She wanted her people to see it,” said Kim Mynatt, 61, of Murfreesboro, Tenn., the first in line with her husband at least two hours before the curtain rose at the Fisher Center for the Performing Arts on Friday. “That’s one of the things I love about her.”Nashville, of course, has its own Broadway: the downtown strip of honky-tonks and performance venues that has cultivated generations of musical talent. Yet it is an unusual place for a theater production, already aiming for a 2026 opening on Broadway in New York, to hold its world premiere.Unless, of course, that show is the story of Dolly Parton.Mallory Peterson, 7, center, of Erwin, Tenn., going through the Dolly Parton makeup with her mother, Jasmine Peterson, right, 28, and aunt, Caelyn Maden, 16.William DeShazer for The New York TimesKim Mynatt of Murfreesboro wears Dolly Parton shirts and jewelry.William DeShazer for The New York Times“Dolly’s what got me here,” said Mynatt, who wore a 1989 Dollywood seasonal shirt — one of at least 30 Parton-themed shirts she owns — and one of Parton’s official pink butterfly statement necklaces. “The woman has never disappointed.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More
His work was seen in “Angels in America” and Victoria’s Secret runway shows. He also made outlandish ensembles for Heidi Klum and Marc Jacobs.Martin Izquierdo, a theatrical costume designer whose career took off after he designed the feathery wings that gave phantasmic flight to the spiritual messenger in “Angels in America,” Tony Kushner’s Pulitzer Prize-winning 1991 play, both onstage and in the 2003 HBO version directed by Mike Nichols, died on June 25 at his home in Manhattan. He was 83.The cause was cardiovascular disease, his partner, the costume designer John Glaser, said.At the conclusion of “Angels in America: Millennium Approaches,” the first part of the two-part play, the angel of the title makes an impressive entrance, crashing through the ceiling of an AIDS-stricken gay man’s New York apartment and proclaiming, “The great work begins.”Ellen McLaughlin and Stephen Spinella in a scene from “Perestroika” (1993), the second part of Tony Kushner’s two-part play “Angels in America.” Mr. Izquierdo designed the wings.Joan MarcusIt was Mr. Izquierdo’s ingenuity, and his flamboyant imagination — assisted by a certain amount of technical wizardry — that allowed Ellen McLaughlin, who played the angel on Broadway, and Emma Thompson, the angel in the HBO version, to hover convincingly some 30 feet overhead, framed by prodigious wings that were illuminated from behind. Those wings became a symbol of the production itself, an indelible part of its “astonishing theatrical landscape,” as Frank Rich of The New York Times described the show in a 1993 review.Their creator arrived in the United States in the 1940s, a young undocumented immigrant from Mexico who had been recruited to do agricultural work in California.Mr. Izquierdo (pronounced IZZ-key-AIR-doe), who never became a citizen, eventually gravitated to a career as an artist, painting scenery for the theater before becoming a costume designer. In 1978, he left California for New York, where he opened his own studio and spent nearly four decades making costumes and props for film, theater, and the music and fashion industries.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More
Conor McPherson’s eerie 1997 drama, set in a rural Ireland of near-empty pubs and howling winds, returns to Irish Rep in top form.There’s hardly a better escape from the city’s heat right now than the Irish Repertory Theater’s excellent staging of “The Weir,” its fourth since 2013. The company’s intimate Chelsea space is blissfully air-conditioned, and Conor McPherson’s eerie 1997 drama, set in a rural Ireland of near-empty pubs and howling winds, is appropriately chilly.The production’s entire creative team, along with some of the cast, are return players, but there’s not a whiff of trotting out the same old. Instead, they render the play’s talkative yarns as heartily as a few rounds with old friends. That sense of familiarity (and the awareness that they are such close-knit revivers) even helps the play, which is essentially a hangout piece with a hazy supernatural charge.Its tight 90 minutes track an evening at a pub owned by the 30-something Brendan (Johnny Hopkins), and frequented by the older Jack (Dan Butler) and Jim (John Keating). How regular are their visits? Jack’s first move onstage, one he often repeats, is to breeze behind the bar to pour himself a pint.Unlike his also-unmarried patrons, and as played by Hopkins with homey charm, Brendan seems content with his mundane lot but is not yet resigned to it. There’s a kinship, then, with the recently arrived Valerie (Sarah Street), who’s being shown around town by Finbar (Sean Gormley), an older gent with a self-conscious Ian Fleming style.The men’s hospitality, as they fill Valerie in on the area’s lore, gradually turns into a series of ghost tales. Through offhand conversational cues (“What was the story with…?” or “Where was that?”), McPherson is skilled at making reminiscences’ jump into communal folklore feel both inevitable and necessary.It’s typical campfire fodder — frightened widows and apparitions — and each story can be waved away, chalked up to nerves or having had one too many. But neither McPherson, nor the director Ciarán O’Reilly, leans on obvious spooks, though the production’s lighting (by Michael Gottlieb) and sound design (by Drew Levy) supply the requisite dimming lights and stormy hums.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More
Fifty years ago, when director-choreographer giants still walked the earth, two of the biggest — Bob Fosse and Michael Bennett — created highly influential shows that have attained legendary status and lasted: “Chicago” and “A Chorus Line.”These were musicals with dancing at the center. The showbiz-cynical attitude of “Chicago,” a tale of 1920s murderers who go into vaudeville, was inseparable from its choreographic style. “A Chorus Line” was about Broadway dancers, built from their real-life stories and framed as an audition.To celebrate the golden anniversaries of these shows, The New York Times invited Robyn Hurder, who has performed in productions of both over the past two decades (and recently received a Tony nomination for her performance in “Smash”), to demonstrate and discuss what makes the choreography so special. To coach her, direct-lineage experts were on hand.Robyn Hurder performs part of “One,” a signature song of “A Chorus Line.”For “A Chorus Line,” Hurder could turn to Baayork Lee, an original cast member who has been staging and directing the show ever since. (She’s directing an anniversary benefit performance on July 27.) For “Chicago,” Verdon Fosse Legacy — an organization dedicated to preserving and reconstructing the choreography of Fosse and his chief collaborator, Gwen Verdon — sent Dana Moore, who worked with Fosse in his 1978 “Dancin’” and his 1986 revival of “Sweet Charity.” She also danced in the 1996 “Chicago” revival and in revivals of “A Chorus Line,” too.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More
Just two musicals open on Broadway during the summer of 1975. “Chicago,” in June, is received warily, like a stranger at the door. It’s “a very sleek show,” writes Walter Kerr in The New York Times. “It just seems to be the wrong one.” But “A Chorus Line,” in July, elicits unthrottled raves. “The conservative word” for it, writes Kerr’s colleague Clive Barnes, “might be tremendous, or perhaps terrific.”Yet the musicals have more in common than their initial reception reveals. Both shows are about performers: “Chicago” featuring 1920s vaudevillians with a sideline in murder; “A Chorus Line,” contemporary Broadway dancers. Both are masterminded by director-choreographers of acknowledged (and self-acknowledged) brilliance: “Chicago” by Bob Fosse; “A Chorus Line” by Michael Bennett. Both are seen, regardless of reviews, as exemplars of style-meets-content storytelling in a period of confusing change in musical theater. And both shows remain touchstones today, albeit of very different things.Donna McKechnie (center, in red) and the cast of the original Broadway production of “A Chorus Line.”Indeed, their differences now seem more salient than their similarities, and fate has been funny with their reputations. For 50 years, “A Chorus Line” and “Chicago” have tussled for primacy like Jacob and Esau, at least in the eyes and ears of Broadway fans. Which show is “the wrong one” now?To answer that, you might look uncharitably at their faults. “A Chorus Line” is shaggy and gooped up with psychobabble. “Chicago” is mechanical, a big hammer pounding one nail. But both are so well crafted for performance that those faults fade in any good production. For me, having seen each many times, the highlights are more telling.Jerry Orbach and the cast of the 1977-78 national tour of “Chicago.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More
Realizing a childhood dream, he created scenery that was highly conceptual yet playful for the Glimmerglass Festival, New York City Opera and other companies.John Conklin, a celebrated designer of scenery for opera and theater, who tapped a boundless knowledge of music and art history, as well as an instinct for disruption, to create memorable sets for New York City Opera, the Metropolitan Opera, the San Francisco Opera and, most notably, the Glimmerglass Festival in upstate New York, died on June 24 in Cooperstown, N.Y. He was 88.His death was confirmed in a statement by Glimmerglass, the nonprofit summer opera company in Cooperstown.Mr. Conklin was the scenic designer for all four shows of this year’s summer season at the Glimmerglass Festival, including “Tosca,” above.Kayleen Bertrand/the Glimmerglass FestivalMr. Conklin designed the scenery — and, in some cases, the costumes — for more than 40 Glimmerglass productions, starting in 1991. He remained active with the company even after his retirement in 2008, and he served as the scenic designer for all four shows of this summer’s season: “Tosca,” “Sunday in the Park With George,” “The House on Mango Street” and “The Rake’s Progress.”Mr. Conklin also designed the 2025 Glimmerglass production of “Sunday in the Park With George.”Brent DeLanoy/the Glimmerglass FestivalThe term “prodigy” rarely applies to set designers, but Mr. Conklin’s instincts were on full display in his youth. Growing up in Hartford, Conn., he attended symphonies and operas with his family, and by 10, he was building his own models, based on photographs he found perusing the magazine Opera News.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More
The steam train departed the station with a gentle chug, belching clouds of steam that streamed past the carriage windows. Gathering speed, the locomotive transported its passengers through a damp green valley, past gray stone buildings, rain-dripping oak trees, banks of ferns and hillsides dotted with sheep.For many visitors to the Keighley and Worth Valley heritage railway, the picturesque five-mile route through northern England from the town Keighley to Oxenhope village is the main attraction. But for the passengers on Tuesday, it was just the beginning.A theater adaptation of Edith Nesbit’s classic children’s book, “The Railway Children,” awaited them when they stepped down from the train in Oxenhope. To take their seats, passengers headed into a large engine room shed next to the platform, where they sat on either side of a railway track. The scenes played out on a movable set that shunted up and down the tracks. And at certain key moments in the play, a second real steam train rolled in as part of the action.It was a fitting setting for a play set entirely around a small village station in the steam age. “The Railway Children” follows three children — Bobbie, Peter and Phyllis — who must leave their comfortable London home for a simple cottage in the countryside after their father is imprisoned on suspicion of being spy. The children are cheerfully resilient in the face of sudden poverty and are soon welcomed into the rural community.The audience for “The Railway Children” boards a steam train in Keighley, a town in northern England.Ellie Smith for The New York TimesKeighley is a stop on a railway line that opened in 1867 and closed in 1962. Locals and locomotive enthusiasts later revived the route as a heritage line.Ellie Smith for The New York TimesWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More
