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      in Music

      Review: ‘The Whitney Album’ Looks to Theater to Remake a Painful Past

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      Eschewing a conventional narrative, Jillian Walker’s soulful show seeks to heal deep wounds through ritual and celebratory singalongs.In “The Whitney Album,” a heady and ritualistic new show that recently opened at Soho Rep, the playwright and actor Jillian Walker uses Whitney Houston as an object lesson: The pressures heaped on gifted and famous Black women, Walker suggests, are stifling, destructive and rooted in colonial subjugation.Unlike the pop-diva-inspired musicals proliferating uptown, “The Whitney Album” eschews a hit catalog for a soundtrack that’s sui generis, with percussive body movements, a cappella solos and, eventually, a group singalong. The director Jenny Koons’s production unfolds — on a mostly white stage (designed by Peiyi Wong), with a brass singing bowl gleaming down center — as a kind of happening, unconcerned with conventional narrative. The show assumes the style of what Walker might call “a vibe.”After offering a warm welcome, the playwright delivers a lecture about the power of theater to remake history (“the archive is the unsung silence,” she says). Dense with academic syntax and punctuated by elemental rites (like the pouring of water or sand from one vessel to another), “The Whitney Album” blends intellectual theory and ceremony to the point of abstraction. (Walker studied to become an Afro-Indigenous priest, she says, after being passed over for a prestigious full-time professorship.)The actor Stephanie Weeks joins Walker onstage, and the two trade off playing Houston and the women she was closest to — her mother and a longtime confidante — in scenes fraught with the stress of celebrity. (The sound designer Ben Jalosa Williams, who operates an onstage board, briefly plays the role of an impatient white interviewer.) Walker likens Houston’s prodigious perspiration to the sweat, tears and saltwater graves of the trans-Atlantic slave trade, tracing the consumption and disposal of Black women over three centuries. It’s a powerful argument, at once persuasive and oversimplified. (“The Whitney Album” does not extend to consider today’s Black female pop stars, like Beyoncé, for example, who maintain a high degree of control over their labor and publicity.)The show’s shuffle of forms — including direct address, re-enactment, live and recorded vocals — can feel like an especially soulful, high-concept record that’s more evocative than linear. But its piled-up ideas, many of them couched in esoteric language that’s not easy to parse in a 90-minute performance, ultimately don’t cohere into a moving or insightful whole.Walker’s passion and intellect seem to place her along the continuum of artists and scholars she calls out by first name — like Saidiya, Lauryn and bell, among others. But how can Walker avoid participating in the cycle of consumption she aims to critique? It’s a question that she proves has no easy answers.The Whitney AlbumThrough July 2 at Soho Rep, Manhattan; sohorep.org. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. More

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      in Movies

      Glenda Jackson, an Unnervingly Energizing Presence at Every Age

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      “I had been prepared to be awed, intimidated, even terrified,” Ben Brantley writes of meeting the actress in person five years ago.She didn’t so much enter the restaurant as erupt into it, a fast-burning blaze of psychic exasperation that seemed to set the silverware rattling. Glenda Jackson was five minutes late for our meeting, and she looked ferociously disgusted with herself, with the universe, with the “bloody” London transit system and, most likely, with the prospect of having to talk about herself.Such was my first in-the-flesh encounter with Jackson, who died Thursday at the age of 87 and who had seared herself into my teenage consciousness decades earlier as an uncompromisingly modern, sui generis movie star. Waiting for her five years ago in the restaurant of the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square, I had been prepared to be awed, intimidated, even terrified. What I hadn’t anticipated was how unnervingly energizing the presence of this 81-year-old woman would be.I probably shouldn’t have been surprised by the kinetic force of Jackson, who was about to return to Broadway for the first time in three decades in a revival of Edward Albee’s “Three Tall Women.” She had, after all, made her international name in the 1960s and early ’70s — in films like Ken Russell’s “Women in Love” and John Schlesinger’s “Sunday Bloody Sunday” — as the combustible embodiment of a very contemporary dissatisfaction with the world as she found it.Jackson and Oliver Reed in the film adaptation of the D.H. Lawrence novel “Women in Love,” for which she won a best-actress Oscar. A Park Circus/MGM StudiosHer most obvious antecedents were probably the nervy, forever restless Bette Davis and her Gallic descendant, Jeanne Moreau. But among her British peers, Jackson was the first to emerge as the female equivalent of a discomfiting archetype that had been haunting her country’s imagination since the 1950s, the Angry Young Man.Angular of form and feature, with a voice so sharp you half-expected it to draw blood, Jackson arrived into reluctant celebrity full-blown as the new Angry Young Woman, disgustedly making her way through the debris of a decaying establishment. She was the latter-day answer to Ibsen’s majestically discontented, hyperintelligent Hedda Gabler, a part she played both onstage and onscreen.That solar persona shone equally bright in period pieces (like the bohemian Gudrun in “Women in Love” and an extremely commanding Queen Elizabeth I in “Elizabeth R,” on television) and in 20th-century rom-coms (as the witheringly witty divorcée in “A Touch of Class,” her second Oscar-winning performance; “Women in Love” was her first).The same enlivening rage would be evident when she took on what she probably regarded as her greatest role, a Labour Party member of the British Parliament, where she served for 23 years. (In 2013 she delivered, in wonderfully high dudgeon, an anti-elegy for the newly deceased former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher.)She was also a mythic creature of the stage, honing her scalpel-like style in the early 1960s in Peter Brook’s experimental company. It was for Brook that she portrayed, in London and on Broadway, the asylum inmate who becomes the murderous Charlotte Corday in Peter Weiss’s truly shocking “Marat/Sade.” It was one of those rare, raw performances whose impact was such in theater circles that even people who couldn’t possibly have seen it swear that they did.After a three-decade absence, Jackson returned to Broadway in 2018 in a revival of Edward Albee’s “Three Tall Women,” which also starred Laurie Metcalf, left, and Alison Pill, center.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesWhen she returned to the theater at 80, years after retiring from Parliament, it was — but of course — in the most titanically angry role in the classic canon: King Lear, at London’s Old Vic. The dazzled reviews, along with a slew of awards, testified that age had not mellowed or muted her. When she came back to Broadway, two years later, she gave an eye-scalding fireworks display as the splenetic, dying mother in “Three Tall Women,” for which she won a Tony.In 2019, she did do Lear on Broadway, in a reconceived production tricked out with an abundance of postmodern conceits that might have smothered a less assertive star. Jackson cut through the surrounding flash like a buzz saw, throwing herself against the wall of old age and mortality until it seemed to crumble into unanswerable darkness.Jackson was not given to self-analysis, or at least not in any way that she was willing to share with the world. Nor was she fond of discussing the details of her craft. And her life outside her work, she said, was simple — that of a grandmother who did her own shopping and cleaning in a basement apartment. She eschewed the trappings of 21st-century technology (no cellphone) and of celebrity, the fact of which seemed only to embarrass her.And while she mostly avoided anything like personal confessions, she did make one admission that startled me. When I asked if it felt different performing for a live audience again, she said it felt exactly the same, meaning that this most fearless of dramatic actresses was profoundly scared. “You can go onto that stage every night,” she said, “and it’s always the equivalent of going onto the topmost diving board, and you don’t know if there’s any water in the pool.“Every time I say, ‘Yes, I’ll do it,’ I think, ‘My God, I don’t know how to do it. I can’t do it.’ We are sadomasochists as well as being brave, actors, and we torment ourselves.” More

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      in Theater

      Branden Jacobs-Jenkins and Paula Vogel Are Broadway Bound

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      Second Stage, a nonprofit with a focus on living American dramatists, said it will present works by the playwrights on Broadway this season.Second Stage, a nonprofit theater that focuses on work by living American writers, said it will present a well-known piece by Branden Jacobs-Jenkins and a new work by Paula Vogel on Broadway this season.This fall, the company plans to stage “Appropriate,” Jacobs-Jenkins’s play about a family gathering in Arkansas disrupted by the discovery of a photo album filled with disturbing images.The play was staged in 2014 at the Signature Theater Company, an Off Broadway nonprofit. Ben Brantley, then The Times’s chief theater critic, praised it as “remarkable and devious.”The new production, which is to begin performances in November and open in December at the Helen Hayes Theater, is to be directed by Lila Neugebauer (“The Waverly Gallery”). Jacobs-Jenkins, a 2016 recipient of the so-called “genius grant” from the MacArthur Foundation, is a two-time Pulitzer finalist, for “Gloria” and “Everybody,” and is also the author of “The Comeuppance,” now running at the Signature Theater in Manhattan. “Appropriate” will be the first play he has written to be staged on Broadway, although he contributed material to a recent Broadway revival of Thornton Wilder’s “The Skin of Our Teeth.”Next spring, Second Stage plans to present a new play, not yet titled, by Vogel, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of “How I Learned to Drive.” That play, to begin performances in March and open in April at the Hayes, is to be directed by Tina Landau, and is a family drama set in suburban Washington in 1962. Vogel is also the author of “Indecent,” which was produced on Broadway in 2017.Second Stage said that this fall it would also present an Off Broadway production of Jen Silverman’s new play, “Spain,” which is set in 1936, and concerns two filmmakers making a K.G.B.-backed movie about the Spanish Civil War. The production is to be directed by Tyne Rafaeli and to run at the Tony Kiser Theater beginning in November. More

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      in Theater

      Glenda Jackson, Oscar-Winning Actress Turned Politician, Dies at 87

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      Ms. Jackson was a two-time Oscar winner who walked away from a successful acting career to become a member of the British Parliament, before then returning to the stage.Glenda Jackson, the two-time Oscar winner who renounced a successful film and stage career in her 50s to become a member of the British Parliament, then returned to the stage at 80 as the title character in “King Lear,” died on Thursday at her home in Blackheath, London. She was 87.Her death was confirmed by Lionel Larner, her longtime agent, who said that she died after a brief illness.On both stage and screen, Ms. Jackson demonstrated that passion, pain, humor, anger, affection and much else were within her range. “I like to take risks,” she told The New York Times in 1971, “and I want those risks to be larger than the confines of a structure that’s simply meant to entertain.”By then she had won both acclaim and notoriety for performances in which she had bared herself physically and emotionally, notably as a ferocious Charlotte Corday in Peter Brook’s production of Peter Weiss’s “Marat/Sade,” and as Tchaikovsky’s tormented wife in Ken Russell’s film “The Music Lovers.”And she had won her first best actress Oscar, for playing the wayward Gudrun Brangwen in Ken Russell’s “Women in Love” (1969); her second was for her portrayal of the cool divorcée Vickie Allessio in “A Touch of Class” (1973).Ms. Jackson pivoted to politics in 1992, and was elected as the member of Parliament representing the London constituency of Hampstead and Highgate for the Labour Party. After the party took control of government in 1997, she became a junior minister of transport, only to resign the post two years later before a failed attempt to become mayor of London.She did not run for re-election in 2015, declaring herself too old, and soon returned to acting.Throughout her career, Ms. Jackson displayed an emotional power that sometimes became terrifying, and a voice that could rise from a purr to a rasp of fury or contempt, although her slight physique suggested both an inner and outer vulnerability.Her notable roles on the big screen included her depiction of the troubled poet Stevie Smith in Hugh Whitemore’s “Stevie” (1978) and as the needy divorcée Alex Greville in “Sunday Bloody Sunday” (1971). On Broadway, she won praise as the neurotic Nina Leeds in O’Neill’s “Strange Interlude” in 1985 and a best actress Tony for her role as A, a woman over 90 facing mortality, in Edward Albee’s “Three Tall Women” in 2018.Glenda Jackson as King Lear in the play “King Lear” at the Cort Theater in 2019.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesSara Krulwich/The New York TimesMany of Ms. Jackson’s performances provoked shock and awe with their boldness, none more so than her “Lear” in 2016. Though she had a reputation as a dauntingly confident actress, she admitted to having attacks of agonizing nerves before going onstage, and at London’s Old Vic, these were particularly acute.“I couldn’t make up my mind whether it was arrogance or just insanity,” she recalled of preparing for the most demanding of male roles in what she called “the greatest play ever written.” Her performance after 23 years away from the theater drew wide acclaim.“You’re barely aware of her being a woman playing a man,” Christopher Hart wrote in The Sunday Times of London. “It simply isn’t an issue.”Glenda May Jackson was born on May 9, 1936, in Birkenhead, near Liverpool in northwest England, the eldest of four daughters of Harry, a bricklayer, and Joan, a house cleaner and barmaid.Soon after her birth her parents moved to the nearby town of Hoylake, where home was a tiny workman’s house with an outdoor toilet, a cold water tap and a tin tub for a bath. The war increased the family’s privations. “We used to eat candle wax as an alternative to chewing gum,” she remembered. “The big treat was a pennyworth of peanut butter.”With her father called into the Navy, Glenda became increasingly crucial to an all-female household, something that explained, she said, both her defiant feminism and her “bossy streak.” She also proved bright and diligent, winning a scholarship to West Kirby County Grammar School for Girls. But she did not flourish there and left at 16. She was, she recalled, undisciplined and unhappy, “the archetypal fat and spotty teenager.”She was working at a pharmacy store and performing onstage as a member of a local theater group when, in 1954, she won a scholarship to the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London, which had begun to encourage the enrollment of working-class students, including Albert Finney and Peter O’Toole. (Ms. Jackson remained convinced that she was plain, even ugly — a belief later reinforced by the academy’s principal, who told her that she could become only a character actress and “shouldn’t expect to work much before you’re 40.”)The schooling prepared her for what became six years in provincial repertory.In 1958 she married Roy Hodges, a fellow actor. Regional stage work meant periods of unemployment, odd jobs and poverty for the couple, and Ms. Jackson later admitted that she had shoplifted food and other essentials that she could conceal under her coat.Her big break came in 1964, when the director Mr. Brook brought her into an experimental group he was assembling for the recently formed Royal Shakespeare Company. He later recalled her as “a very curious figure — a hidden, shy and yet aggressive, badly dressed girl who seemed resentful of everything.” But in an audition, she had left him mesmerized by “the sudden plunges she took and by her intensity.”Mr. Brook cast her in “Marat/Sade,” which transferred to Broadway in 1967, leading to a Tony nomination for Ms. Jackson’s Charlotte Corday.But she disliked the experience, which, she said, left the company “in hysterics — people twitching, slobber running down their chins, screaming from nerves and exhaustion.” Nor did she enjoy the three years she spent with the R.S.C., though her roles included a sharp, shrewd Ophelia in Peter Hall’s revival of “Hamlet” and several characters in Mr. Brook’s anti-Vietnam War show, “US.” She was not, she decided, a company woman.Such did her reputation as a “difficult” actress begin. She was regarded as aloof and egoistic, and could be contemptuous of actors she found lacking in commitment, bellicose in rehearsal rooms and unafraid of challenging eminent directors. Gary Oldman, who starred with her in Robert David MacDonald’s play “Summit Conference” in 1982, called her “a nightmare.”Yet Trevor Nunn, who wrangled with her in rehearsals, later called her “direct, uncomplicated, honest, very alive.”“Of all the actors I’ve worked with, she has a capacity for work that’s phenomenal,” Mr. Nunn said. “There’s an immense power of concentration, a great deal of attack, thrust, determination.”Motivated in part by her dislike of Hollywood glitz, Ms. Jackson did not attend either of the Academy Award ceremonies for which she was honored as best actress.What mattered more, she said, was “the blood, sweat and tears” of creating a role. For her Emmy-winning performance in the television serial “Elizabeth R” (1971), she learned to ride sidesaddle and to play the virginals, and mastered archery and calligraphy. She also shaved her head — all to add authenticity as her queen evolved from youth to crabbed old age.Subsequent stage roles included Cleopatra in Mr. Brook’s revival of “Antony and Cleopatra” for the R.S.C. in 1978, Racine’s Phèdre at the Old Vic in 1984, Lady Macbeth in a disappointing “Macbeth” on Broadway in 1988, and the title character in Brecht’s “Mother Courage” in 1990.Though she won awards for “Stevie,” including one for best actress from the New York Film Critics Circle, and received good reviews for her work in the television movie “The Patricia Neal Story” (1981) and Robert Altman’s “Beyond Therapy” (1987), her later screen work was generally less successful.With characteristic candor she was often withering about her own efforts, calling her performances in the film version of Terence Rattigan’s play “Bequest to the Nation” (released as “The Nelson Affair” in 1973) and as Bernhardt in the movie “The Incredible Sarah” (1976) “ghastly” and “lousy,” respectively.She brought that candor to Parliament in 1992, when she declared, “Why should I stay in the theater to play the Nurse in ‘Romeo and Juliet’?”Most scripts she had been sent were poor, she said, and contemporary dramatists were not writing good roles for women. Moreover, she said, she had a hatred of a Conservative government which, inspired by “that dreadful woman Margaret Thatcher,” seemed to be dismembering the welfare state the Labour Party had created after the war.In Parliament, Ms. Jackson took an interest in homelessness, housing, women’s rights, disability issues and, especially, transportation. After resigning from her transport post, she was a Labour backbencher, joining those who opposed Britain’s part in the Iraq war in 2003, declaring herself “deeply, deeply ashamed” of her government and calling for Prime Minister Tony Blair’s resignation.Ms. Jackson and Mr. Hodges divorced in 1976. In later years she shared a London house with her only child, the political journalist Dan Hodges, and his wife and children. She preferred, she said, to remain unmarried, explaining that “men are awfully hard work for very little reward.”Ms. Jackson also shunned the trappings of celebrity, dressing inexpensively, using public transportation and relegating her Oscars to the attic. She was, she admitted, a solitary person with not many friends.But she did perhaps fulfill her own ambition: “If I have my health and strength, I’m going to be the most appalling old lady,” she said. “I’m going to boss everyone about, make people stand up for me when I come into a room, and generally capitalize on all the hypocrisy that society shows towards the old.”Emma Bubola More

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      in Theater

      ‘A Simulacrum’ Review: A Magic Show in the Making, and Unmaking

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      The magician Steve Cuiffo and the playwright Lucas Hnath try to find the reality beneath the illusions in this Atlantic Theater Company production.Magicians often get a bad rap. After all, it’s a profession necessarily defined by deception.But what are some of these untruths in magic, and what are they meant to obscure? That’s what the playwright Lucas Hnath and the magician Steve Cuiffo explore in “A Simulacrum,” a kind of deconstructed magic show that attempts to find the reality beneath the illusions.At the start of “A Simulacrum,” directed by Hnath and produced by Atlantic Theater Company, Cuiffo strolls onstage to one of two large folding tables that are positioned perpendicular to each other. He puts down his drink and pops a tape into a cassette recorder.It’s Tuesday, Aug. 10, 2021, at an East Village rehearsal studio, where Hnath and Cuiffo are workshopping a possible show. Rather, this production is a re-creation of that Aug. 10 workshop. (An author’s note in the script calls it a “stage documentary.”) Hnath is the unseen interviewer; his parts, questioning Cuiffo’s methods and history with magic, are culled from over 50 hours of workshops and interviews between them, and played aloud — presumably via the recorder. Cuiffo performs his tricks in person and acts out his side of the conversation, which has been taken verbatim from these workshops.The second act of the show, which was commissioned by the Center Theater Group in Los Angeles, replicates a workshop Hnath and Cuiffo had three months after the first, during which Hnath challenges Cuiffo to devise new tricks with a set of criteria that negate or undercut the illusion, polish and showmanship that typically define magic shows. The third act, based on another workshop a year later, reveals Cuiffo’s creations.Cuiffo makes it clear that this show presents “presentational magic,” not “personal magic” — that is, the staging is more one-sided, absent the transactional element that comes with audience participation. It’s just an aside, but it epitomizes how the show moves, from a more traditional magic show format, with disappearing coins and autonomous cards that jump and flip on and around his person, to something more intimate.Hnath’s blunt interrogations (“Where is Steve in this?”) and matter-of-fact reactions (“That’s it?” he asks after Cuiffo performs a card trick that took him 14 years to master), though sometimes difficult to hear with the tape’s poor sound quality, reveal an incisive thinker. That should be no surprise to those familiar with his work, like “The Thin Place,” a kind of ghost story, and “Dana H.,” another simulacrum involving a real, harrowing story about Hnath’s mother that is lip-synced to a recording of her recounting the experience. (It remains one of the most unforgettable experiences I’ve had in a theater.) And yet, at times this production too explicitly spells out his conceit, as when Hnath questions how much of Cuiffo’s magic is mimicry, each trick being a variation of a theme — yes, a simulacrum.Ultimately this is a show with an intentionally self-defeating concept: One that breaks down the artifice of an art form by employing another art form that uses a similar kind of artifice to reveal some aspect of humanity. But there’s an occasional tediousness to this behind-the-scenes, making-of endeavor, and a few moments of built-in dissatisfaction, as when Cuiffo has to perform tricks that he knows won’t work.An engaging performer, Cuiffo subverts the splashy style that many professional magicians are known for; he’s low-key, grounded in both his gestures and his manner of speech. And the difficulty of what he’s doing shouldn’t be understated: He’s not just repeating his part of the dialogue but replicating his pauses, cadence, emphases naturally and in sync with Hnath’s audio.As carefully considered as this production is, with Louisa Thompson’s modest scenic design (two tables, an office-window backdrop) and Hnath’s cerebral direction, ultimately there is still the sense that something is missing: a deeper interrogation of Cuiffo and Hnath himself, something even more personal. We never get the full reveal.What magic and theater have in common is the wonder, the spectacle that ironically sends you back to your reality with a new outlook. But maintaining the magic while showing your hand? That’s the trick this show hasn’t quite yet mastered.A SimulacrumThrough July 2 at Atlantic Stage 2, Manhattan; atlantictheater.org. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. More

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      in Theater

      ‘Come for Me’ Review: Catherine Cohen’s T.M.I. Comedy Set

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      In her autobiographical new show with songs, Catherine Cohen delivers a heightened version of millennial oversharing and confidence run amok.Attending Catherine Cohen’s new show “Come for Me” is like being swept up by a tornado, or maybe watching “Fast & Furious: The Vaudeville Years.” The pace of her new comedy show is so unrelenting that by the time you catch your breath after a joke, three more have zipped by. Filming sex with her boyfriend? Listening to true-crime podcasts? Freezing her eggs? Entire acts have been built on less. But in “Come for Me,” the follow-up to last year’s “The Twist…? She’s Gorgeous,” Cohen spends just a few minutes on each, if that, and moves on.As for the musical numbers — for she is that modern rarity, a singing comedian — they pack more delicious hooks than most pop albums do.It’s a great tease: Cohen suggests that she has enough material to go on for days, but chooses to give us only an hour’s worth.Even Cohen’s trademark meta annotations, like announcing “bridge!” in the middle of a number, are delivered breathlessly. She holds dramatic poses — leaning seductively against a wall, for example — but only briefly. In the middle of songs at last Friday’s show at Joe’s Pub, she commanded members of the crowd to “uncross your arms!” but did not pause for a reaction, smoothly segueing from singing to demanding and back to singing. (In contrast, the loopy absurdism of Ikechukwu Ufomadu’s 30-minute opening set benefited from his slow, deliberate formality.)This is par for the course for Cohen, who taunts us only as a way to spice up her real subject: herself, or rather the act of revealing herself. She mocks the postures of our confessional era while reveling in them.The Catherine Cohen we meet onstage is a fabulous, relentlessly bouncy narcissist for whom too much information is never enough. The set includes gleeful accounts of her sex life with her boyfriend (and the people they have been inviting to partake) in which self-deprecation and gloating fuse into a heightened version — or is it? — of millennial oversharing and confidence run amok. “Dating me,” she crows, “is what critics and fans alike have described as an immersive experience.”“Come for Me” is simultaneously more graphic and sweeter than her previous show, but it also gives off floral notes of doubt and vulnerability. The first song, “The Void,” suggests, without being remotely maudlin, a fumbling need to fill an emptiness, while the closing number, “Good Not Bad,” playfully subverts its cheery melody. Happily, this slight expansion of Cohen’s emotional palette — echoed by her musical one, since she’s now backed by a three-piece band rather than just a pianist — has not hindered her sunny, gonzo vitality. More, here, is more.Come for MeThrough June 30 at Joe’s Pub, Manhattan; publictheater.org. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. More

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      in Theater

      William Jackson Harper Needed to Do ‘Primary Trust’

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      The longtime New York actor explains why his character in Eboni Booth’s play about a lonely bookstore worker is closer to him than any other he’s taken on.When Eboni Booth’s “Primary Trust” begins, William Jackson Harper stands alone onstage. His weight shifts from foot to foot; his fingers knead the air. He is smiling, but that smile looks as though it comes from a place of pain.Harper (“The Good Place,” “Love Life”) plays Kenneth, a 38-year-old bookstore employee unmoored when the store closes. A play about loss, loneliness and the hope of connection, “Primary Trust,” which runs through July 2 at the Roundabout’s Laura Pels Theater, is also a shrewd and gentle vehicle for Harper’s particular gifts — vulnerability, thoughtfulness, emotional lability. There are few actors who can better convey the awkwardness, the messiness and the unanticipated joy of being alive.On a recent Monday morning, at a colorful cafe near his home in Brooklyn, Harper, 43, provided an offstage illustration. His matcha had slopped onto one of his tan suede loafers. “I’ve ruined these shoes,” he said as he studied the green stain. And then, after a pause, “Or maybe I’ll just look like a painter.”Harper and April Matthis in the play “Primary Trust” at the Laura Pels Theater.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesHarper, who spent a dozen years Off and Off Off Broadway before making the move to television, tends to get nervous in interviews. And he was nervous here, too — the veins in his forehead were pulsing. But he persevered. He is an artist who wears his heart on his sleeve. And under it, too: On his left arm was a tattoo of the cottonwood tree that stood in his grandmother’s yard. (“It reminds me of a time when everybody was alive,” he said.) Over tea he discussed the appeal of returning to theater and the lessons that the play can offer. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.When did you know that you wanted to be an actor?My mom made me take these theater classes in middle school. Because I was pretty shy. My mom was like, “We’ve got to work on that.” So I started taking these theater classes. Acting was the only thing that I was actually pretty good at.Did it make you less shy?Maybe it made me better at pretending. And I felt there was finally some place to put my feelings. I didn’t really have an outlet. Being loud and being onstage expelled some of the stuff that was bugging me.You spent a decade working in New York theater. But I understand that before you booked “The Good Place,” you almost quit acting?I was doing OK. I had some really good roles in some really good projects. Stuff that I was proud of. Like getting to do “All the Way” on Broadway. Doing “Placebo” at Playwrights Horizons, the “Total Bent” at the Public. But God forbid my mom gets sick. God forbid I get really sick. Just the uncertainty of the day-to-day, month-to-month, paycheck to paycheck nature of it was a little too much. Like, I’m in my mid 30s. I’d like to be just a little more stable. So I was like, I don’t think I want to do this anymore.Harper and Kristen Bell in NBC’s “The Good Place.”Colleen Hayes/NBCHow did TV feel different?There’s no rehearsal, which is wild, you just memorize your lines and then you go. And it’s a hell of a lot harder to keep your concentration because people are in the room with you — people looking at the monitors five feet away. You can’t suspend your disbelief at all. And since there is no audience reaction, you’re just like, Am I doing OK? But they pay you way better. They also feed you, which is amazing. And the fact that you get to do stuff over and over and over again is kind of nice. Because eventually through that repetition, something unlocks.Why do you keep coming back to theater?I just love it. I also feel like it expands my tool kit when it comes to just being an actor, because when you want something to change and you want something to go differently, it means that you have to shift your thinking and open yourself up. And I like being in charge of the whole ride. Once I’m doing a run of a play and just getting to stay in it, rather than only doing a minute at a time and then resetting, it’s easier to feel like I’m fully inhabiting a character. Because there’s no start and stop, you just go.How did “Primary Trust” come to you?Eboni and I had done some shows together, hung out socially. She was doing a workshop at the Roundabout and was like, “Hey, would you want to do this?” She sent me the script, and I had an emotional reaction to it immediately. The character of Kenneth is closer to me as a person than anyone I’ve played. And there’s things that character says that I’ve said in my life. That’s never happened to me before. I needed to do this play. I just needed to, I was going to be upset if I didn’t. Because I really felt like I just understood this character really, really deeply.“The character of Kenneth is closer to me as a person than anyone I’ve played,” Harper said. “There’s things that character says that I’ve said in my life.”Olivia Galli for The New York TimesWho is Kenneth?Kenneth is a 38-year-old who’s led a very small, isolated life out of self-preservation. He loses his job and has to be open to people in a way that he isn’t ready for. It’s all brand-new to him. This is a guy who found a way to make things work and to not get hurt. Now he has to risk really getting hurt and really making a mess.How did you find your way into Kenneth?Him being a foster child feels like a significant piece of things. I didn’t want to go asking people, Hey, do you know anyone who was raised in foster care? That would have felt really terrible and callous. But I watched a lot of documentaries about people that had been in the foster system. Then there’s a big traumatic loss early on in his life that shapes how he moves through the world. I lost my dad when I was really young. And there’s a thing Kenneth says about this one babysitter who tries to tell him that everything is going to be OK. He hates that. And I hate it, too. I’m like, “No! You don’t know that, the worst can happen.” Leaning into those feelings that I’ve had for a long time, that helped. Then there is the discomfort that I have just moving through the world, just going ahead and letting it be out there.Well, I’m skeptical of artists who are comfortable.I was just thinking about that on my run: People who feel certain and comfortable all the time, I’m like, Oh, man, what knowledge are you unencumbered by? Like, wow, it must be so nice to just not know and not care.Is there a lesson in this play?One is that you don’t know what people are carrying around. So be nice, be kind. And it shows that even if everything’s not OK, it might be OK. I know that sounds goofy. But as much as there’s a chance that things could all go to [expletive], there’s just as much of a chance it could work out. More

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      Five Places to Visit in Oahu, Hawaii, With Singer Jack Johnson

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      Born and raised in Oahu’s North Shore, the singer-songwriter Jack Johnson can still remember a time when going surfing in Waikiki on the other side of the island was a bit of a trip. “When I was a kid back in the ’70s, that drive seemed extra long. It was mostly dirt roads to get there,” Mr. Johnson said during a video chat from his farm on the island.He also remembers hearing about a local chef, Ed Kinney, who supported and promoted local agriculture. “In Hawaii we have a problem where 90 percent of our food is shipped in. Ed was one of the first chefs, 20 years ago, who was really talking about how important it was to buy local ingredients. Not only for the local economy but also just so that when people are eating out, they’re tasting food that was grown in Hawaii.”The musician Jack Johnson at Kokua Learning Farm, part of a foundation he started with his wife, Kim. Michelle Mishina Kunz for The New York TimesA pro surfer before becoming a platinum-selling musical artist, Mr. Johnson is, with his wife Kim, an active environmentalist. In 2003 they founded Kokua Hawaii Foundation, which supports environmental education in Hawaii’s schools and communities. Over the years they have helped establish school gardens, launched recycling drive programs and encouraged the elimination of single-use plastics, and most recently, acquired a farm where school children visit for hands-on learning about the environment.A garden bed of mint, and nasturtium and cassava plants grow at Kokua Learning Farm, which is part of the foundation started by Mr. Johnson and his wife, Kim.Michelle Mishina Kunz for The New York TimesThe partially restored wetlands at Kokua Learning Farm, which uses sustainable agricultural practices.Michelle Mishina Kunz for The New York TimesMr. Johnson’s latest album, “In Between Dub,” released this month, is a collection of some of the musician’s favorite songs from his 20-year career, reimagined as dub remixes by some of reggae’s biggest names.Here are five of his favorite places to visit in Oahu.1. Waikiki BeachA surfer at Waikiki Beach, which Mr. Johnson says is “about the best place in the world to learn how to surf.” Gabriella Angotti-Jones for The New York Times“It can be pretty crowded, so it might seem like a funny place to recommend somebody to go, but it’s about the best place in the world to learn how to surf. Everybody at every level can get in the water and have fun at Waikiki,” said Mr. Johnson. “There are these beach boys who rent surfboards all along the beach. A lot of them grew up in the water and they’re the most competent people to teach you how to surf,” he added. Even if learning to hang ten is not part of the plan, Waikiki is a great place to watch the sun set while skilled surfers do their thing.2. Hungry Ear RecordsAn employee sorts records at Hungry Ear, one of Hawaii’s oldest record stores. Mr. Johnson says he often shops for albums when he’s on tour, in part because they are easy to carry home. Michelle Mishina Kunz for The New York Times“It’s been around and moved locations over the years since I was a kid, but it’s where I bought my very first CDs,” Mr. Johnson said. “It’s kind of curated in the sense that the people who are working there are music fans, and when you come in and ask questions, they’re really friendly and show you around.” The store has what Mr. Johnson calls “an amazing collection” of vintage Hawaiian music on vinyl, making it “probably the best place in the world” for anybody curious about Hawaiian music, traditional or contemporary. “ I have a big record collection thanks to Hungry Ear,” said Mr. Johnson, who also likes to shop for records when he’s on tour. “I find that records are a good thing to buy when you’re traveling because they’re flat, so you can put them between your clothes and they don’t add too much space.Mr. Johnson especially likes Hungry Ear for its extensive collection of vintage Hawaiian music.Michelle Mishina Kunz for The New York TimesForty-fives get their own storage space at the shop.Michelle Mishina Kunz for The New York Times3. Mud Hen WaterMud Hen Water, run by the chef Ed Kenney, sources its ingredients from local farmers and fishermen. Michelle Mishina Kunz for The New York Times“Mud Hen Water is my favorite restaurant in Hawaii. Ed Kenney is the chef and he’s amazing. He’s the host on a PBS show called “Family Ingredients,” and it’s made here in Hawaii. The food is great and it’s done by somebody who was born and raised in Hawaii, who has a real grasp of Hawaiian traditions.” A favorite dish to try? “I would say anything on the menu with kalo, which is taro root and one of the most traditional staples in Hawaii cuisine.”The menu at Mud Hen Water takes its inspiration from traditional Hawaiian cooking.Michelle Mishina Kunz for The New York TimesInside Mud Hen Water, the restaurant manager Valentina Williams greets some regular customers.Michelle Mishina Kunz for The New York Times4. Honolulu Theater for YouthA production of “Peter Pop Pan” at the Honolulu Theater for Youth, which Mr. Johnson says is “very Hawaii-centric” in its storytelling. Michelle Mishina Kunz for The New York Times“Somebody got us some tickets as a gift when our kids were probably around five years old. And we’ve taken our kids to pretty much every production they’ve ever put on because it’s just amazing,” said Mr. Johnson, who called the theater’s storytelling “very Hawaii-centric.”“It’s a lot of traditional myths and stories about people like Eddie Aikau or Duke Kahanamoku,” Mr. Johnson said, referring to two legendary Hawaiian surfers. “They tell stories that you would only be able to hear or see if you’re here. I would highly recommend going if you’re traveling with kids.”5. Waimea ValleyA bridge over a stream at the Waimea Valley botanical garden, which Mr. Johnson likes for its deep roots in Hawaiian history and traditions.Michelle Mishina Kunz for The New York TimesNeglected for decades, Waimea Valley is now a nonprofit botanical garden and preservation area that offers workshops on Hawaiian history and culture, as well as performances and educational demonstrations. “It’s a beautiful valley and, I would say, a very sacred place,” Mr. Johnson said, referring to Waimea’s deep roots in Hawaiian history and traditions, including the remains of sacred sites, houses and shrines — some believed to have been constructed around 1470 A.D. “There’s a nice waterfall at the back of the valley and there’s a long trail that’s accessible for everyone,” he said, referring to the nearly mile-long paved path that winds across the valley to Wailele Falls. Along the trail, are magnificent examples of “native plants and tropical plants from around the world,” as well as interpretive signs that provide insight into the flora, fauna and history of the valley.Visitors take a selfie in front of Wailele Falls, which can be reached by a mile-long path.Michelle Mishina Kunz for The New York TimesThe botanical garden at Waimea Valley, where visitors can learn about the islands’ native plants.Michelle Mishina Kunz for The New York TimesFollow New York Times Travel on Instagram and sign up for our weekly Travel Dispatch newsletter to get expert tips on traveling smarter and inspiration for your next vacation. Dreaming up a future getaway or just armchair traveling? Check out our 52 Places to Go in 2023. More