Martinez, Rebecca (Theater Director)

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    Public Theater Takes Shakespeare in the Park Out on the Town

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    The Delacorte Theater is being renovated, so a musical version of “The Comedy of Errors” is touring some of the city’s outdoor spaces.On a small stage, three actors practiced a sword fight — slowly, then faster. Behind them board operators ran a sound check and a wardrobe assistant shook out costumes.“This is the part of theater you never get to see,” Rebecca Martínez said.Martínez was speaking on Saturday in the southeast corner of Bryant Park. Behind her, the cast and crew of the Public Theater’s bilingual musical version of “The Comedy of Errors,” performed in Spanish and English, accomplished their preshow rituals. Martínez, who adapted the production with Julián Mesri, is also the show’s director and choreographer. Typically, routines like these are performed backstage, out of sight. But at Bryant Park, amid the birders, the tourists and the library patrons, a backstage was not available.With the Delacorte Theater closed for renovations, the Public is taking its summer production of “The Comedy of Errors” to parks and other outdoor sites in the city.Dolly Faibyshev for The New York TimesFor over 60 years, the Public Theater has offered summer Shakespeare in one place: Central Park’s Delacorte Theater. This year, the Delacorte is closed for renovations (it plans to reopen next summer, with “Twelfth Night”), so the Public has taken this free show to the streets, parks and plazas of the city’s five boroughs.This “Comedy of Errors” was seen last year, as a production of the Public’s Mobile Unit, which brings high-energy, low-tech versions of Shakespeare to venues like libraries, correctional facilities and community centers. The Unit travels light, with a rug in place of a set, which allows a simple set up and strike.“Like, boom! Rug! Let’s go!” Martínez said.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

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      Review: In ‘Bite Me,’ Taking Aim at Familiar Teenage Tropes

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      Eliana Pipes’s new play is too pat to convincingly explore the societal imbalances resulting from race, class and gender.Good girls falling for bad boys is a cornerstone of high school dramas. Usually the story goes something like this: She sticks to the rules while he breaks them, and their meeting inspires a mutual coming-of-age.In “Bite Me,” by the playwright Eliana Pipes, the reasons a studious girl can’t afford to slip up while her crush has the privilege to slack off hum beneath their budding friendship like the drone of a fluorescent blub.The pair share custody of a neglected supply closet (the set is by Chika Shimizu), where Melody retreats to hide her tears from the queen bees and Nathan stores the petty contraband he swipes for fun, not because he needs money. As Nathan (David Garelik) makes clear, he has plenty of cash to pay for the homework he buys from Melody (Malika Samuel), a top student and an obvious outsider, who rides the bus for an hour each way to their suburban school from an unnamed city.This 90-minute two-person play, a co-production with Colt Coeur that recently opened at the WP Theater, is set in 2004 (as illustrated by Sarita Fellows’s fresh-from-the-mall costumes and Tosin Olufolabi’s alt-pop playlist). The fact that Melody is Black and Nathan is white does not immediately seem to influence their interactions as obviously as the conventional gender roles that have long governed the social and sexual politics of American teenagers: that every girl ought to be pretty and sweet, and guys should act tough and nonplused.Melody and Nathan each appear intent on conforming to such expectations, and, under the direction of Rebecca Martínez, the actors play convincing iterations of recognizable types (the minority overachiever primed to act out; the self-destructive slacker with a heart). But Pipes is also interested in how race, class and gender can play a role in determining who needs to hustle for the opportunities that others freely squander. (This is a theme in her work: Her play “Dream Hou$e,” produced by multiple regional theaters last year, is a surreal critique of gentrification.)The full extent of Melody’s isolation doesn’t become clear until their 10-year reunion, more than three-quarters through the play, when the revelation lends electricity only in retrospect to what otherwise seems, as the title “Bite Me” might suggest, like a trope-heavy, ill-fated infatuation.The fantasy of returning to the scene of one’s adolescent torment as a hot and successful adult is well-trodden, and Pipes’s use of it here is a bit too pat. Still, sometimes ridding closets of their ghosts is the only way to move forward.Bite MeThrough Oct. 22 at WP Theater, Manhattan; wptheater.org. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. More

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      Review: In ‘Sancocho,’ a Family Crisis Is Cooking

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      Attention to culinary detail is the best part of this heavily seasoned family drama by Christin Eve Cato at the WP Theater.“Sancocho,” a new play by Christin Eve Cato, begins long before the lights come up. As ticket holders file into the WP Theater, a large pot simmers on the stove (the hyperrealistic kitchen set is by Raul Abrego), releasing the savory scents of the stew of the title. A little later, when one of the play’s sisters describes her mother’s cooking — sofrito made from scratch, pastelillos, arroz con gandules, tender pernil, “the way she made oxtail slide off the bone” — I heard a woman in the audience audibly moan.This attention to culinary detail — the smells, the sights, the hand towels with a weave you can practically feel — is the best, most succulent part of this heavily seasoned domestic drama, produced by the Latinx Playwrights Circle, WP Theater and the Sol Project. Though it occupies a single set, a roomy kitchen somewhere in East Harlem, and introduces just two characters, sisters born to Puerto Rican parents a generation apart, the play stirs together two lifetimes of trauma and catastrophe into only 90 minutes. “Sancocho,” with the stew as its central metaphor, is a meditation on inheritance and family, how its members might eat and celebrate together, but suffer apart.Renata (Shirley Rumierk), a successful lawyer, heavily pregnant, has stopped by the apartment of her older sister, Caridad (Zuleyma Guevara), a cleaner. This is a brief visit, Renata insists: she has to leave for New Jersey before the traffic kicks off. But it is also a fraught one. Their father is dying. Renata needs Caridad to review his will. Caridad has a few items for Renata to review as well.A lesser playwright might have emphasized what separates the sisters. There are obvious differences between these women — in age; class; education; and as Caridad, who inherited their father’s complexion, points out, even skin color. But there are just as many similarities. Prickly and volatile, both are quick to take offense and just as quick to offer absolution. Caridad is clearly more at home in the kitchen. It is her kitchen, after all. And Renata doesn’t know how to peel a plantain. Yet this is a dish they cook together.The specificity of this cooking — as when Caridad shows Renata how to score the plantain’s skin and strip the peel away — gives the show its particular flavor. But the heated discussion the sisters have over and around the ingredients strains the play’s naturalism, as does the more presentational performances that the director, Rebecca Martínez, encourages. Would all of these revelations really emerge in this same moment? Why have they never had any of these conversations before? And crucially, will the stew have time to cook before the other guests arrive?In the program, Cato includes a sancocho recipe borrowed from her grandmother. Carnivorous members of the audience can make it at home. But even the vegetarians might try out a few of the play’s other recipes: for forgiveness, for love.SancochoThrough April 9 at WP Theater, Manhattan; wptheater.org. Running time: 1 hour 35 minutes. More