Theater

Subterms

    More stories

    • 125 Shares99 Views

      in Music

      Review: Dancing With Dictators in David Byrne’s ‘Here Lies Love’

      by

      A new Broadway musical tells the disturbing story of Imelda Marcos by putting her, and the audience, in a disco.It’s the applause — including my own — I find troubling.Not that there isn’t plenty to praise in “Here Lies Love,” the immersive disco-bio-musical about Imelda Marcos that opened on Thursday at the Broadway Theater. The infernally catchy songs by David Byrne and Fatboy Slim, performed by a tireless and inspired all-Filipino cast, will have you clapping whether you want to or not. Their chunky beats, abetted by insistent dance motivators, may even prompt you to bop at your seat — if you have one.Because the real star of this show is the astonishing architectural transformation of the theater itself, by the set designer David Korins. Opened in 1924 as a movie palace, more lately the home of “King Kong” and “West Side Story,” the Broadway has now been substantially gutted, its nearly 1,800 seats reduced to about 800, with standing room for another 300 in the former orchestra section and a 42-inch disco ball dead center.The folks upstairs, if not the mostly younger standees below, will surely recognize the visual reference to Studio 54, the celebrity nightclub where Marcos, the first lady of the Philippines from 1965 to 1986, danced away the last decade of her reign while impoverishing her people. That she would probably adore the over-emphatic atmosphere of “Here Lies Love” — with its lurid lighting by Justin Townsend, skittering projections by Peter Nigrini and earsplitting sound by M.L. Dogg and Cody Spencer — is, however, equivocal praise.For here we are, at the place where irony and meta-messaging form a theatrical-historical knot that can’t be picked apart. Which is why, as you clap, you should probably wonder what for.Is it for Imelda (Arielle Jacobs), the beauty queen who rose from “hand-me-downs and scraps” to become the fashion-plate wife of the Philippine president Ferdinand Marcos? Is it for the ruthless Ferdinand himself (Jose Llana)? (His landslide election in 1965 elicited some Pavlovian cheers the night I saw the show.) Or is it for Ninoy Aquino (Conrad Ricamora), the opposition leader who was Imelda’s former beau? (Having spurned her in their youth, he was later assassinated by forces thought to be close to Ferdinand’s regime.) All get equivalent star treatment here.Seating at the Broadway Theater was reduced from 1,800 to about 800, with standing room for another 300, to create a Studio 54-like atmosphere, complete with a 42-inch disco ball in the center of the house.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesThe confusion of sympathies is just where Byrne and the director Alex Timbers want us. Avoiding the near-hagiography of “Evita” and yet unwilling to bank a commercial production on a totally hateful character, they aim for a middle ground that doesn’t exist, yet mostly hit it anyway. Their Imelda is a victim of poverty and mistreatment, dim despite her cunning and innocent by reason of inanity. When Filipinos fully turn against her during the People Power revolution of 1986, she is more mystified than crushed. “Why don’t you love me?” she sings.We know the answer: The string of her outrages, even apart from her husband’s, seems literally endless. She did not retire from public office until 2019, and her son, Bongbong, is now president.But “Here Lies Love” — the title taken from an epitaph she proposed for herself — tempers the atrocities with the pleasure of its songs. Jacobs, a Broadway Jasmine in “Aladdin,” gets the catchiest ones, and delivers them well, if without the emotional nuance Ruthie Ann Miles brought to the role a decade earlier when the show had a developmental run at the Public Theater.To be fair, the material steers as far from emotion as possible, no matter how many times the word “love” is used. Byrne’s characteristic idiom — which feeds disco, folk and pop through an art rock filter — is too cool for that, and his lyrics, perhaps because they are based on public utterances of the real-life figures, reject psychology almost entirely. They are often thus too banal to serve the usual purpose of songs in musicals; instead of developing character internally they suggest it externally with a torrent of catchphrases. “It takes a woman to do a man’s job,” Imelda sings blankly upon assuming power from the sickly Ferdinand.Without a vivid inner life to inflect such clichés, it’s hard to wring anything from them except a cringe. The beamish Ricamora and the scowling Llana, returning from the earlier production, get around the problem with their charisma, and Lea Salonga, in the cameo role of Aquino’s mother, turns “Just Ask the Flowers,” sung at Ninoy’s funeral, into a powerful if perplexing anthem through sheer vocal bravura.Conrad Ricamora, center, as Ninoy Aquino, performing on an array of moving platforms that transport the action to various parts of the theater while sweeping the audience into new configurations.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesStill, a musical not centered on feelings is a strange thing. Where another show might attempt to squeeze the relationship between Imelda and Ninoy for drama, it is merely a lump of undigested fact here. And Imelda’s infamous collection of state-financed shoes goes unmentioned, which is like mounting “Evita” without the Dior dress.To compensate, or double down, Timbers emphasizes pure pageantry in his staging. The actors often perform on an array of moving platforms that transport the action to various parts of the theater while incidentally sweeping the standees into new configurations. (Guides in pink jumpsuits with airport-style light wands keep them from getting mowed down.) You are left to draw your own conclusions about how crowds, whether in Manila or Manhattan, respond to being pushed around for too long and for apparently arbitrary reasons. There’s a reason affiliations and uprisings are often called movements.No surprise then that the most expressive element in “Here Lies Love” (along with Clint Ramos’s costumes, which also move beautifully) is the choreography by Annie-B Parson. Based on small hand gestures and large traffic patterns, it suggests a fuller spectrum of human engagement than the otherwise narrowly focused and sometimes mechanical production achieves.Is it wrong to seek that engagement more fully? (Or as Imelda sings: “Is it a sin to love too much?”) For most of its 90 intermission-less minutes, “Here Lies Love” finesses the question, preferring to be treated as anything — an art object, a dance party — besides what it is. In that way, it recalls Byrne’s Broadway concert “American Utopia,” on which Timbers and Parson also collaborated. But that show, which had no story, needed only to be sleek and enjoyable to score its points.“Here Lies Love” bets that glamour can make up for narrative — or, rather, that in a show about the dangers of political demagogy, glamour itself is the narrative. It’s a case of form follows function into the fire. We are drawn to cultural and political excitement in much the same, often dangerous way.Perhaps the irony of making a musical about that is more viscerally appreciable down on the dance floor. It was for me at the Public, where almost everyone had to stand and be part of the story, not observers of it. (There were only 42 seats.) And perhaps, 10 years later, with our own politics looking a lot more like the Marcoses’, no one can afford to keep a distance.In any case, on Broadway, it’s not until the gorgeous last song, “God Draws Straight,” that the material matches the movement in a way that reaches the balcony. Led by Moses Villarama, and based on comments by eyewitnesses to the peaceful 1986 revolution, it acknowledges the moral superiority of its real heroes — the Philippine people — in the only way a musical can: by giving it beautiful voice. Finally, it’s OK to applaud.Here Lies LoveAt the Broadway Theater, Manhattan; herelieslovebroadway.com. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. More

    • 150 Shares119 Views

      in Theater

      Carlin Glynn, Actress Whose Comeback Brought Her a Tony, Dies at 83

      by

      After putting her career on hold to raise children, she won the part of the madam in “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas” — and then a statuette hailing her performance.Carlin Glynn, a stage actress who, after a long hiatus spent raising a family, stepped back into the footlights, sang onstage for the first time and walked away with a Tony Award for her performance as the madam in the 1978 hit “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas,” died on July 13 at her home in upstate New York, in the Hudson Valley. She was 83.Her daughter Mary Stuart Masterson, the actress, said the cause was lung cancer.Ms. Glynn’s breakout performance, at 38, came about almost by accident. Her husband, the actor and director Peter Masterson, had read a 1974 article in Playboy by Larry L. King about the closing of a Texas bordello and saw the ingredients for a musical. He and Mr. King began working on a script and brought in Carol Hall to create the music.For the early readings, Ms. Glynn, though she had been largely out of the acting business for at least a dozen years, covered the role of Mona Stangley, the strong-minded but sensitive madam at the center of the story. She was still holding down the role in a workshop production mounted by Mr. Masterson and his collaborators at the Actors Studio in 1977. And when the musical opened Off Broadway in April 1978. And when it moved to Broadway that June.“I initially worked on the play only to help out,” Ms. Glynn told The New York Times in July 1978. “Peter was hesitant to force his wife on his collaborators. Finally, all four of the organizations who wanted to take the show to Broadway wanted me to stay in the part. So then I stopped worrying about nepotism.”It was her Broadway debut, and she won the Tony for best featured actress in a musical. She played the role for almost two years on Broadway and for another six months in a production in London. Michael Billington of The Guardian, reviewing her there, wrote, “Carlin Glynn endows the madam with the refined good breeding and slight romantic forlornness of the head of a very classy, fee-paying American girls’ school.”Although “Best Little Whorehouse” was Ms. Glynn’s only Broadway appearance, her acting career continued for decades. She appeared in productions by Second Stage and Signature Theater Company in Manhattan, Hartford Stage in Connecticut, the Alley Theater in Houston, the Goodman Theater in Chicago and more. She also landed roles in more than 20 television series and films, including “Continental Divide” (1981), “Sixteen Candles” (1984), “The Trip to Bountiful” (1985, directed by Mr. Masterson) and “Judy Berlin” (1999).The Tony Award, she told The Times in 1979, was a game changer for her.“It means I’ve been invited to hundreds of places by people who offer to send their cars to pick me up,” she said. “It also means I’m not just the girl who does the Texas madam in a musical; I’m someone who’s considered an actress.”Ms. Glynn with Henderson Forsythe holding their Tony Awards after she won as best featured actress in a musical and he as best featured actor in a musical, both for “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.” Bettmann, via Getty ImagesCarlin Elizabeth Glynn was born on Feb. 19, 1940, in Cleveland to Guilford and Lois Wilkes Glynn. Her father worked at Union Carbide but, when Carlin was 9, moved the family to Texas, where he had bought a gas station in Centerville, north of Houston. Later the family moved to Houston, where, at Lamar High School, Ms. Glynn first met Tommy Tune, who years later would choreograph “Best Little Whorehouse” as well as direct it with Mr. Masterson.Ms. Glynn and Mr. Masterson met when both were apprenticing at the Alley Theater. They married in 1960 and settled in New York. Both became members of the Actors Studio, but Ms. Glynn spent much of her time taking care of their three children while Mr. Masterson built his career. She acted in the occasional television commercial, was co-host of a syndicated television program called “Today’s Health” in the mid-1970s and had a small role in the 1975 film “Three Days of the Condor.”A film version of “Best Little Whorehouse” was being planned when, in the 1978 Times interview, Ms. Glynn said she would love to play Mona onscreen, though she acknowledged, “I probably won’t be asked.” She was right; a bigger marquee name, Dolly Parton, got the part. The movie came out in 1982.Ms. Glynn, left, with Marsha Mason in 1998 in an Off Broadway production of “Amazing Grace,” a play by Michael Cristofer. Ms. Glynn continued to act for decades after her Broadway debut in “Best Little Whorehouse.” Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesMr. Masterson died in 2018. In addition to her daughter Mary Stuart, who starred in such films as “Some Kind of Wonderful” (1987) and “Fried Green Tomatoes” (1991), Ms. Glynn is survived by another daughter, Carlin Alexandra Masterson; a son, Peter Masterson; a brother, Philip Glynn; and six grandchildren.Mary Stuart Masterson recalled spending weekends backstage at “Best Little Whorehouse” watching her mother from the wings. One night Ms. Glynn started a song an octave too high but smoothly acknowledged the mistake mid-song, not only slipping in the impromptu lyric “I think I’m off key,” but also doing so in a spot where it rhymed.“The audience was in the palm of her hand after that,” Ms. Masterson said by email. “Well, they already were. She had a kind of authority onstage that you can’t learn. She always made everyone feel they were in good hands.” More

    • 125 Shares169 Views

      in Theater

      Union for Broadway Crew Members Reaches Tentative Deal, Averting Strike

      by

      The agreement would cover a subset of workers, including about 1,500 stagehands, hairdressers and other crew members on Broadway and in touring productions.The union representing a segment of Broadway crew members reached a tentative agreement for a new contract with theater owners just as its members were voting on whether to authorize a potential strike, the organizations announced Thursday.The deal involved a subset of Broadway workers who are covered by what is known as the “pink contract,” including roughly 1,500 stagehands, wardrobe personnel, makeup artists and hairdressers. A strike of those workers — who are involved in 45 theatrical shows, including touring productions, and 28 shows on Broadway — would have had the potential to shut down much of the industry, especially if other unionized theater workers joined in solidarity.The tentative agreement was announced in a joint statement between the union, the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees, and the Broadway League, a trade association representing theater owners and producers. Disney Theatrical, which is behind shows such as “Aladdin” and “The Lion King,” is also part of the deal. It covers crew members who carry a pink traveling card that shows that they’re able to do union work in different jurisdictions.“The strike has been averted,” Jonas Loeb, a union spokesman, said in a statement, “though the contract must be approved by the membership.”Loeb said that the union has been negotiating about two months, including a marathon 19-hour session this week, and that one of the major sticking points was minimum payment rates for Broadway crew members.A walkout by theater workers would have added to the labor unrest roiling the American entertainment industry, as Hollywood writers and actors continue their strikes. More

    • 150 Shares199 Views

      in Movies

      ‘How to Dance in Ohio,’ a Musical, Plans a Fall Broadway Opening

      by

      A teenage ritual takes on deeper significance as a setting where autistic young people can blossom — and exercise their social skills along the way.“How to Dance in Ohio,” a poignant new musical about a group of young autistic adults gearing up for a spring dance, will open on Broadway late this year, with a cast of seven autistic performers playing the central roles.The musical is based on a 2015 documentary from the filmmaker Alexandra Shiva that followed participants in a social skills therapy program for people on the autism spectrum; the musical is also set at a therapy program, and it tells the story of young adults preparing for a dance that they hope could help them confront some of the challenges they face in navigating social interactions.The musical had a previous run last year at Syracuse Stage in central New York; the production schedule was cut short when Covid cases arose among the cast and crew. The review of the show in The Post-Standard, a Syracuse newspaper, was headlined “The musical you’ll talk about for the rest of your life” and called it “exhilarating, groundbreaking, celebratory.”Casting is not yet complete, but will include several actors making their Broadway debuts: Desmond Edwards, Amelia Fei, Madison Kopec, Liam Pearce, Imani Russell, Conor Tague and Ashley Wool. Among the others on the bill so far are Haven Burton and Darlesia Cearcy.“How to Dance in Ohio” features a book and lyrics by Rebekah Greer Melocik and music by Jacob Yandura; it is directed by Sammi Cannold and choreographed by Mayte Natalio. The famed director and producer Hal Prince was initially attached to the project; he died in 2019.The musical is being produced by a company called P3 Productions, which is led by Ben Holtzman, Sammy Lopez and Fiona Howe Rudin, along with Level Forward, the production company co-founded by Abigail Disney. It is being capitalized for up to $15.5 million, according to a filing with the Securities and Exchange Commission.The show is to begin previews Nov. 15 and to open Dec. 10 at the Belasco Theater. More

    • 88 Shares139 Views

      in Theater

      BroadwayCon Panelists Tackle Diversity and Representation Onstage

      by

      The eighth annual fan event will host a variety of discussions about how to diversify stages, songs and scripts. Here are six to look out for.It’s the most musical time of the year, the weekend when thousands of fans from around the world descend on Midtown Manhattan for costume contests, Playbill swaps and theater idol meet-and-greets.This year’s BroadwayCon, which takes place July 21-23 at the Marriott Marquis hotel, gives fans the chance to preview new Broadway shows like the “Back to the Future” musical and the “Jaws” comedy “The Shark Is Broken,” catch up with original cast members from the not-exactly-family-friendly puppet musical “Avenue Q” and the storied rock opera “The Who’s Tommy.”The schedule also features thoughtful panels, many focused on issues of representation on Broadway, such as a planned discussion on roles for disabled actors, featuring the “Cost of Living” Tony Award nominee Katy Sullivan.Here are six you won’t want to miss.Celebrating Female and Nonbinary VoicesA group of female and nonbinary songwriters, among them Kristen Anderson-Lopez, the Oscar, Grammy and Emmy Award-winning co-writer of Disney’s “Frozen” (both the film and Broadway musical) and “Remember Me” from Pixar’s “Coco,” will spotlight recent achievements by female, nonbinary and gender-expansive composers and lyricists and discuss how the industry might open more doors to them.“Spotlight on Women and Nonbinary Musical Theater Writers,” Friday, 10 a.m.Diversifying StagesA panel of playwrights, composers and actors of color will discuss how to bring more work to Broadway that represents perspectives from beyond white American culture. Among them will be Jordan E. Cooper, who was recently nominated for two Tonys for writing and starring in the biting race comedy “Ain’t No Mo’” on Broadway; Helen Park, the first Asian female composer on Broadway, who earned a Tony nomination for “KPOP”; and Kristoffer Diaz, whose new musical, “Hell’s Kitchen,” written with the singer Alicia Keys, is slated to open at the Public Theater in November.“What Is the Future of Broadway? A Dream Session with Global Majority Playwrights and Musical Theater Writers,” Friday, 11:15 a.m.Restaging Problematic ClassicsA panel of directors, writers and producers will discuss how to revive musicals like “Miss Saigon,” “South Pacific” and “The King and I” with troublesome structural or political elements (or both). Participants will include Lear deBessonet, the artistic director of Encores!, a longstanding, popular New York City Center series that stages short-run productions of decades-old musicals, and Schele Williams, who is directing the upcoming Broadway revival of “The Wiz.” “That Wouldn’t Fly Today: The Art of Revising Revivals,” Friday, 3:45 p.m.Discussing Disability on BroadwayPerformers with disabilities have become a more common sight on Broadway stages lately, appearing in productions including “Cost of Living,” “A Doll’s House” and “Grey House.” For Katy Sullivan, who was recently nominated for a Tony for her performance in “Cost of Living” as the feisty wheelchair user Ani, it’s not just the presence of disabled actors in recent productions that is encouraging — it’s the types of roles they’re being cast in.“I would love to see a world where even more performers with disabilities are utilized within characters who aren’t necessarily written as disabled,” Sullivan said. The panel also includes Gregg Mozgala, her “Cost of Living” co-star; Madison Ferris, who became the first wheelchair user to play a lead role on Broadway when she starred in a 2017 revival of “The Glass Menagerie” opposite Sally Field; and David Connolly, who became the first amputee to perform on Broadway in a 1989 revival of the Civil War musical “Shenandoah.”“Ready, Willing and Very Abled,” Saturday, 3:45 p.m.Zachary Noah Piser was the first Asian American actor to play the lead role in “Dear Evan Hansen” on Broadway. He will speak on a panel about Asian American representation in theater.Jeenah Moon for The New York TimesApplauding Asian American StoriesThe New York theater landscape has changed radically since Ali Ewoldt made her Broadway debut as Cosette in a revival of “Les Misérables” in 2006.“We for a long time had a very homogeneous way of telling stories,” said Ewoldt, who in 2016 became the first Asian American actress to play Christine in “The Phantom of the Opera” on Broadway. “So it’s exciting to me when Broadway and theater and TV reflect the world we live in, in all its complexity and diversity.”She and five actors of Asian American and Pacific Islander descent — among them Zachary Noah Piser, who in 2019 became the first Asian American actor to play Evan Hansen on Broadway — will celebrate recent representation in shows like “Here Lies Love,” “Camelot” and “Life of Pi” and discuss how to see even more of their communities’ stories portrayed onstage.“Telling Our Stories — Breaking the A.A.P.I. Box on Broadway,” Sunday, 11:15 a.m.Building a Latino FutureSix songwriters, playwrights, directors and actors, including Luis Salgado from “In the Heights” and the playwright Christin Eve Cato, will discuss the importance of creating, sharing and producing Latino-written works of musical theater, as well as the challenges they faced on their journeys to Broadway and the strategies that helped them break through.“El Futuro es Latiné: Dreaming of A More Diverse Theater Industry,” Sunday, 11:15 a.m. More

    • 138 Shares169 Views

      in Theater

      Review: A Lack of Passion Keeps Tennessee Williams’s ‘Orpheus Descending’ Earthbound

      by

      Erica Schmidt’s revival of this Tennessee Williams play for Theater for a New Audience downplays the melodrama.Clad in a snazzy snakeskin jacket and carrying a guitar, Val Xavier steps into a small town’s mercantile like a handsome troubadour dropping by to serenade the locals. But he is a stranger whose car has broken down, and in the South of the 1950s, the local women are going to talk and the local men might just stalk.And then there is Lady Torrance, who runs that dry-goods store and whose interest is piqued by the new arrival.A few minutes into Tennessee Williams’s “Orpheus Descending,” we know that emotions will run operatically high. Or at least they do on paper, because Erica Schmidt’s revival for Theater for a New Audience, which opened Tuesday at the Polonsky Shakespeare Center in Brooklyn and stars Maggie Siff as Lady Torrance, is maddeningly earthbound. The word “melodramatic” is usually deployed in a pejorative way to suggest an affected, exaggerated fervor designed to draw attention, or to describe something that defies conventional rules of propriety. But it is that heightened exaltation that makes Williams’s work glorious, and it is woefully missing in this cautious, bloodless production.“Orpheus Descending,” which had a short Broadway run in 1957, is not among Williams’s most famous pieces; critics tend to place it on the B list. The play, a reworking of “Battle of Angels,” from 1940, is a bit of a rambling mess, but it is also passionate and fascinatingly peculiar — the plot is loosely inspired by the story of Orpheus, after all.That mythical figure is Val (Pico Alexander), and it’s easy to see why he fascinates Lady (Siff). She is dressed in black when we first see her, but she is not, technically speaking, a widow: Her older, tyrannical husband, Jabe (Michael Cullen), has cancer and is hanging on by a thread spun of bile and loathing. For most of the play, Jabe is heard rather than seen, making his presence felt by imperiously knocking on the floor of the couple’s quarters, which are above the store.Like Val, Lady is different, which also puts her at odds in the community. She is Italian, for starters — though Siff’s bizarre accent is Sicilian by way of Eastern Europe — and she is also burdened by a tragic past: Her father was killed in a fire set by the Ku Klux Klan for selling alcohol to Black people.Williams writes that Lady “verges on hysteria under a strain,” but Siff (best known for the Showtime series “Billions”) evokes neither. Siff’s ability to project composure and intelligence was central to her terrific performances in two previous Theater for a New Audience productions, “The Taming of the Shrew” (2012) and “Much Ado About Nothing” (2013). Here it is a hindrance, as she can’t quite give in to the forces pressing down on Lady. Siff imbues the character with a convincing inner strength — the life force is evident — but less clear is the fact that Lady is stuck in a hell that is within and around her.It might have helped if Siff had a sturdier partner, but Alexander’s wan emo sensibility lacks the haunted charisma of a sexy drifter attempting to move on from his past. When Val tells Lady, “I lived in corruption but I’m not corrupted,” Alexander is much better at suggesting the second part of that sentence than the first. But the role needs both. (The 1960 film adaptation, “The Fugitive Kind,” starred Marlon Brando and Anna Magnani, which gives an idea of the intensity the play should aim for.)Tonally the production is similarly unmoored. The play alludes to fantastical elements, as with Val’s entrance, which looks as if he had been manifested out of thin air by Uncle Pleasant, a character who is also referred to as “conjure man” (Dathan B. Williams), or when Jabe’s baleful pounding sounds like the emanation of an enraged poltergeist. But Schmidt (“Mac Beth,” the musical “Cyrano” starring Peter Dinklage) does not exploit those opportunities. Also failing to make an impact is the outsize, fascinating character of Carol Cutrere (Julia McDermott), a lost soul who staggers in and out of the play in runny eyeliner, and is a key third outcast in the story.Amy Rubin’s atmosphere-free set does not help: If the store is meant to be a representation of hell on Earth, its blond wood, neat interior and tidy lines make it feel more like a furniture shop in a hip Hudson Valley town.Occasionally, Lady and Val wander to liminal spaces off to the side of Torrance Mercantile but still within view of the audience. There is a beguiling mystery to those brief scenes, allusions to life and love outside the bounds of the infernal prison. Oh, what could have been.Orpheus DescendingThrough Aug. 6 at Polonsky Shakespeare Center, Brooklyn; tfana.org. Running time: 2 hours 40 minutes. More

    • 138 Shares199 Views

      in Theater

      In Richard Hollman’s Play, the Back and Forth of a Friendship

      by

      Richard Hollman’s tender, site-specific play explores the awkward resumption of a Covid-interrupted friendship over a deceptively innocent game of catch.Catch is one of the few basic children’s games that can extend into every phase of life. Taking turns tossing and catching the ball furnishes the game with built-in respites, which give the participants a chance to reflect on past choices and prepare for future ones.Richard Hollman stretches that metaphor into “Back and Forth” — a modest play about two friends reuniting after a year and a half of Covid-induced isolation. Their routine game of catch morphs into a catch-up about their time apart. The resulting production — playing out in Central Park’s East Meadow, rimmed by rock outcrops — blossoms into a congenial meditation on the thieving nature of time and the various chapters of adulthood, and yet it’s missing the one thing every game of toss requires: gravity.Hollman also stars as Marty, newly single in his late 30s with a penchant for reliving his glory days, while Chris Roberti plays Drew, a young father of a similar age who’s trapped in an apartment so cluttered that maneuvering around barefoot feels “like walking on an everything bagel.” Marty’s eager for the reunion but Drew remains guarded, clutching a secret as tightly as his mitt. The director, Katie Young, lets the initial monotony of their languid throws settle into a steady rhythm, making the disjointedness of their conversation all the more obvious.Hollman’s script sketches out standard shifts in domestic life for Marty and Drew, as they deal with aging bodies, babies and breakups. And though Drew’s shiftiness hints at something more insidious, the play opts for the simplest of the infinite horrors a quarantine play could choose. Simple but still true: Even the smallest secret, when held by a dear friend, can feel like virulent betrayal.Running only 45 minutes, “Back and Forth” has little time to offer profundity beyond this. The show’s real intrigue lies in its unique staging. The audience sits several yards away, witnessing the action while tuning in to the men’s dialogue on radios the production provides. Both performers humorously improv with the passing joggers, children and dogs that unknowingly insert themselves into the action, and are able to reorient each other back to the script with ease.There is also the amiability of Young’s straightforward direction. The cadence of Marty and Drew pitching and catching mirrors the surges in their emotions. And there are entire stretches with no speech, with the sound of the ball thudding into a mitt like the dull tick of an aging clock.“Back and Forth” initially premiered in fall 2021 — a season when variants of the virus threatened to isolate New Yorkers once again — so much of the play’s affection still rests on its timing. While the two years since then may seem microscopic in the grander scheme of things, they contain an eternity of major events. And though the play raises evergreen themes, “Back and Forth” feels not just set in 2021, but stuck in it.Back and ForthThrough July 23 at Central Park East Meadow, Manhattan; backandforthplay.com. Running time: 45 minutes.This review is supported by Critical Minded, an initiative to invest in the work of cultural critics from historically underrepresented backgrounds. More

    • 113 Shares99 Views

      in Theater

      Can ‘Miss Saigon’ Be Saved? Two British Shows Disagree.

      by

      A revival reimagines the polarizing musical for the 21st century while a new show offers a bawdy riposte.“Miss Saigon” is back and so, inevitably, is the surrounding discourse.Claude-Michel Schönberg’s musical melodrama about an ill-fated romance between a Vietnamese sex worker and an American G.I. during the Vietnam War has polarized opinion ever since it was first staged in 1989. In that original West End run, Jonathan Pryce donned yellowface to play a mixed-race pimp, and the show’s critics have continued to raise concerns about its portrayal of East Asian people, particularly its tawdry sexualization of Vietnamese women.So not everyone was pleased when the Crucible Theater in Sheffield, England, announced it would stage a new production of “Miss Saigon” this summer. A British East and Southeast Asian theater troupe pulled their own show from the playhouse in protest, saying the musical peddled “damaging tropes, misogyny and racism.”The boycott may have been unwarranted, however, as this new production — directed by Robert Hastie and Anthony Lau under the auspices of the acclaimed producer Cameron Mackintosh, and running through Aug. 19 — sets out to address those longstanding criticisms, reimagining the musical in line with 21st-century liberal sensibilities.The outline of the story, heavily inspired by Puccini’s 1904 opera “Madama Butterfly,” is largely unchanged. Chris (a compellingly lugubrious Christian Maynard) meets Kim (Jessica Lee) in a brothel and they fall in love, but their affair ends abruptly when the Americans withdraw from Saigon. Three years later, Chris, now married to an American woman, learns that he has a young son by Kim. Kim tragically takes her own life in order to ensure her child will be raised by his father in the United States, and thus have a better life than she can provide for him.But the play’s look and feel have changed. For starters, there’s the casting: The hitherto male role of the Engineer, the scheming pimp whose machinations provide much of the story’s motive force, is here played with a suitably brash, pantomimic vitality by Joanna Ampil, who played Kim in two 1990s runs at London’s Theater Royal Drury Lane; Chris and his wife, Ellen (Shanay Holmes), are played by Black, rather than white, actors. While this neatly sidesteps some of the baggage associated with Chris being a “white savior,” it does feel a little gimmicky, since what really matters to the plot is his American passport.Shanay Holmes and Christian Maynard in “Miss Saigon.”Johan PerssonMore significantly, Ben Stones’s splendid set design eschews the hackneyed visual imagery associated with this show. The action plays out around an imposing industrial staircase set against a large, dark gray metal screen cut with a geometric pattern, a forbidding backdrop evoking a decidedly unsentimental urban landscape, which is a far cry from the idyllic visions of rural bamboo huts often seen in “Miss Saigon” productions.Lee excels as Kim, rendering her with a dignified stoicism that imbues her sorrowful ballads with pathos — despite the music being objectively corny. Neither she nor her supporting ensemble in the brothel are overtly sexualized: they are just people, doing what they must to survive.The directors Hastie and Lau have argued the case for “reshaping and transforming” problematic narratives rather than doing away with them entirely, and with some tweaks to the script, made with Schönberg’s blessing, they have succeeded in creating a relatively tasteful and humane version of this perennially contentious musical.Yet it’s hard to shake the suspicion that Orientalist kitsch was integral to the shows’s commercial appeal. Remove the defamiliarizing frisson of the exotic and you have, essentially, a love triangle with an immigration paperwork angle. It’s still a heart-rending tale, but is it as much of a spectacle?Forty miles down the road, audiences in Manchester have been enjoying “Untitled F*ck M*ss S**gon Play,” which runs at the the Royal Exchange Theater through July 22 as part of the Manchester International Festival before transferring to London’s Young Vic in September, and is every bit as irreverent as its title suggests.Written by the New York-based dramatist Kimber Lee and directed by Roy Alexander Weise, it features a succession of mordant sendups of the “Madama Butterfly” and “Miss Saigon” narrative arc, in which several iterations of the Kim character (Mei Mac) repeatedly endure the same ill-treatment at the hands of a would-be white savior (Tom Weston-Jones) while a narrator (Rochelle Rose) provides knowingly wry commentary.The series of sketches begin in 1906 (the year “Madama Butterfly” premiered in New York) and ends in mid-’70s Vietnam (the setting for “Miss Saigon”), with pop-cultural touchstones along the way including the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical “South Pacific” and the TV series “M*A*S*H.”It’s a bawdy and playful pastiche, with the Orientalist elements hammed up for comic effect, in Kim’s ludicrously doll-like passivity and the generic “hut-like dwelling” in which the romance unfolds: “The whole place looks like Pier 1 and Cost Plus had a three-way with Ikea and this hut is their bastard mixed-race child,” the narrator quips.Kim’s American lover speaks to her in a nonsensical language made up of assorted Asian words — bulgogi, sashimi, onigiri — which the narrator translates into English, a pointed callback to the use of gobbledygook in lieu of Vietnamese in productions of “Miss Saigon” from the 1990s.Things take an autofictional turn when the setting shifts to a dinner party in present-day New York. Kim is now a struggling playwright burdened by a sense of responsibility to push back against decades of racially offensive caricatures on stage and screen. At this point the fun fizzles out somewhat, giving way to essayistic soul-searching.Kim’s mother, Rosie (Lourdes Faberes), delivers an impassioned monologue on behalf of first-generation immigrants, explaining that insensitive representations were something they had to take in their stride. She would like her daughter to be less zealous, and just live her life. A friend implores Kim to make peace with the past, reminding her that American society has come a long way: “We could stop here. We could stay here. It’s not so bad, is it?”It’s a vibrant, funny and intelligent show, but that loss of momentum in the latter stages exposes the limitations of activist theater in which the primary creative impulse is corrective: Once you’ve made your point, there is nowhere left to go.In this regard, “Untitled F*ck M*ss S**gon Play” shares similarities with the new “Miss Saigon,” a show whose moral and aesthetic merit derives primarily from what it omits — the offensive caricature, the crass fetishism — rather than what it contains.These productions function as valuable cultural palate cleansers. But the drive to sanitize problematic content is, ultimately, a matter of commercial self-preservation: Juggernaut brands like “Miss Saigon” are too lucrative to be allowed to die.Having outlived its relevance, the musical is doomed to an afterlife of well-meaning but slightly anodyne remakes as it slowly, inexorably fades into oblivion. More