More stories

  • in

    Review: In ‘Between Riverside and Crazy,’ Real Estate Gets Real

    Stephen Adly Guirgis’s 2014 play finally comes to Broadway, its hilarious, loving and unvarnished vision of the universal human hustle intact.A retired, recently widowed New York City police officer sits in a wheelchair at his kitchen table with a woman from São Paulo he variously calls Church Lady, Miss Brazil and a purveyor of “jungle boogie.” She has come to offer him communion, but exactly what kind isn’t clear. Their bristling, flirtatious, shape-shifting argument, which touches on cookies, devils, freedom and faith, would be enough to make this among the great scenes in recent American drama, equal parts comedy, philosophy and cat-and-mouse game.Then it goes further. Way further.And that’s barely midway through “Between Riverside and Crazy,” the astonishing Stephen Adly Guirgis play that opened on Monday in a Second Stage production at the Helen Hayes Theater. First seen Off Broadway in 2014 and in 2015 — after which it won the Pulitzer Prize for drama — it is only now receiving its Broadway debut, tied up in a big foul-mouthed holiday bow by the director Austin Pendleton.As there wasn’t much to improve, what you see is mostly the same, with Stephen McKinley Henderson (as Walter, the police officer) and Liza Colón-Zayas (as the Church Lady) brilliantly re-creating their roles, along with most of the rest of the original cast. (The one newcomer is Common, playing Junior, Walter’s son.) The expressive revolving set, so crucial to a tale about who gets to live where, still reveals what the real estate ads don’t: the mess down the hallway, the joists beneath the floor, the bricks behind the plaster.The script, too, is mostly unaltered, except for the addition of a comment firmly rooting the story in 2014. It focuses on crusty Walter, who in the wake of his wife’s death has allowed himself and their rent-controlled Riverside Drive apartment to deteriorate. Junior now runs a fencing operation from his bedroom, which he shares with Lulu (Rosal Colón), a girlfriend supposedly studying accountancy but who seems more likely to be a prostitute. Oswaldo (Victor Almanzar), a recovering addict but not for long, likewise lives on Walter’s largess. A dog of uncertain provenance uses the living room as a toilet.Each of them, probably even the dog, has a rich back story and a richer, crosscutting problem; Guirgis is masterly at getting a boil going without seeming to work too hard at it. But the central crisis is Walter’s. Having been shot by a fellow policeman eight years earlier, in what he says was a racially motivated crime — Walter is Black and the shooter was white — he has always refused to sign the nondisclosure agreement that was among the city’s requirements for a payout.“An honorable man doesn’t just settle a lawsuit ‘no fault’ and lend his silence to hypocrisy and racism and the grievous violation of all our civil rights,” he tells Junior, who is less than impressed with the virtuous display.“Well, that’s a nice story,” he answers.When Walter’s former patrol partner and her fiancé bring news that the city is offering a new deal, that story finally turns. Over a home-cooked dinner of “shrimps and veal,” the partner, Audrey O’Connor (Elizabeth Canavan), urges Walter to accept the deal so he can secure his shaky hold on the apartment, which even at $1,500 a month — a tenth of its market rent — is a stretch on his pension. But she has other motives, too. The fiancé, Lieutenant Dave Caro (Michael Rispoli), is a slick operator hoping to enhance his department prospects by settling the case without a public-relations nightmare.Are Audrey and Dave right, despite their mixed motivations, to push Walter toward resolution? In any case, Walter insists on a deal of his own, the terms of which will make you gasp and then make you think.That all of this is the same as in 2014 doesn’t mean the play hasn’t changed. Great works always revise themselves, as time finds endless new lenses to put in front of them. The past eight years have underlined in “Riverside” the story of white police officers shooting Black men — even fellow officers — and blaming the victims, as Walter is blamed, for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Those crimes, and their concomitant defenses, retint the story with outrage.Walt Spangler’s revolving set, the backdrop to a tale about who gets to live where, reveals the cracks in the plaster and the joists beneath the floor that real estate ads leave out.Sara KrulwichBut the play puts a natural brake on such interpretations, because Guirgis, entering any complicated debate, can’t help himself from complicating it further. Walter’s story, like everyone else’s, is open to question. Is he out for justice or just revenge? And against whom? The wheelchair, we quickly learn, isn’t his.Complications like that are unpleasant for absolutists; Guirgis’s needling of victimhood may please as few people on the left as his needling of Rudolph Giuliani may rile those on the right. Along with anyone who can’t tolerate profanity, which is basically the play’s linguistic glue, they will have a hard time warming to a playwright who isn’t interested in telling us what’s right. He only wants to show us what’s real.Everyone should see it anyway, to experience the pleasure of a great cast making a shrimps-and-veal meal of the incredibly rich material, even as it flips between comedy and tragedy on its way to the truth in between. Actually, that meal may even be too rich at points; the final scene can’t quite digest all that came before, and there are brief moments throughout when the actors’ love for the material itself begins to show through the facade of character, like those bricks behind the plaster.For the most part, though, Pendleton’s production is amazingly confident, featuring not just Walt Spangler’s set, but also top-notch lighting by Keith Parham, sound and music by Ryan Rumery and, especially, costumes by Alexis Forte, which tell their own story on top of Guirgis’s. And when the scene changes are as expressive as the actors’ attention to every nuance of each other’s actions, staging becomes a kind of emotional choreography: thrilling, precise, impossible to pin down.That’s Guirgis’s sweet spot. In plays like “Halfway Bitches Go Straight to Heaven,” “Our Lady of 121st Street,” “Jesus Hopped the ‘A’ Train” and “The Last Days of Judas Iscariot” — all premiered or revived in New York in the past five years — he consistently writes about characters for whom the world as it is, or at least as it seems, offers no reliable templates for creating a credible self. A nice girl can be a prostitute. An addict can be loving. A hero can cry wolf. A fraud can make a miracle.That’s scary and yet also liberating. As the Church Lady repeatedly tells Walter, “Always we are free.” At any moment we can choose to be something better, or worse, than we are — or, in Guirgis World, most likely both.Between Riverside and CrazyThrough Feb. 12 at the Helen Hayes Theater, Manhattan; 2st.com. Running time: 2 hours 20 minutes. More

  • in

    Musical Adaptation of ‘Almost Famous’ Will Close on Broadway

    The show, a passion project for Cameron Crowe, opened on Broadway in early November, but has faced soft sales in a competitive market.“Almost Famous,” a stage adaptation of the acclaimed 2000 film about a teenager who travels with a rock band while endeavoring to become a music journalist, will close on Broadway on Jan. 8 after an unsuccessfully short run.The musical, which had one of the season’s biggest budgets and best-known brands, began previews Oct. 3 and opened Nov. 3. The reviews were mostly not good; in The New York Times, the critic Jesse Green wrote that, despite the film’s charms, “the stage musical misses every opportunity to be the sharp, smart entertainment it might have been.”The show’s grosses have been so-so, and insufficient to consistently cover its running costs: during the week that ended Dec. 11, it grossed $765,060, while playing to houses that were only three-quarters full. At the time of its closing “Almost Famous,” which stars Casey Likes, Drew Gehling, Anika Larsen, Solea Pfeiffer and Chris Wood, will have had 30 preview performances and 77 regular performances.The musical is a passion project for Cameron Crowe, who won an Oscar for the film’s screenplay, which was based on his experiences as an adolescent (he also directed the film). Crowe wrote the musical’s book, while Tom Kitt composed the new music, and the two collaborated on the lyrics. The show, directed by Jeremy Herrin, also features a few pre-existing songs, the best known of which is Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer.”“Almost Famous,” produced by Lia Vollack and Michael Cassel, was capitalized for up to $18 million, according to a filing with the Securities and Exchange Commission. It has not recouped that money; the producers hope that the show will fare better beyond Broadway. (A cast album is to be released March 17, and the producers said in a statement that they anticipate “many productions in communities across the country and world, for years to come.” One probable destination: Australia, where Cassel is one of the biggest commercial producers.)Like Crowe himself, the show spent its formative period in San Diego: It had a pre-Broadway production in 2019 at the Old Globe Theater there. The Los Angeles Times declared it “an unqualified winner.” More

  • in

    New Broadway Labor Agreement Includes Pandemic-Prompted Changes

    The deal, ratified by members of Actors’ Equity, provides salary increases for performers and stage managers, and allows producers to make short-term hires.The union representing theater actors and stage managers has ratified a new contract that provides pay increases for those working on Broadway and, in a move prompted by the coronavirus pandemic, allows producers to make short-term hires to cover absent actors.Actors’ Equity Association announced Monday that its membership had voted in favor of the three-year contract, which by late 2024 would raise the minimum salary for performers working on Broadway to $2,638 per week. That reflects three years of pay increases: 5 percent this year, 4 percent next year, and 4 percent the following year.The Broadway contract, negotiated by Equity and the Broadway League, applies to commercial productions on Broadway, as well as to so-called sit-down productions, which are extended runs of commercial shows elsewhere in the country.The contract is important because Broadway is the segment of the American theater world where artists can most reliably make a living wage, and also because provisions in this contract influence others in the industry. The union will next turn its attention to negotiating contracts for touring shows and regional theaters (the regional theater contract also applies to the four New York nonprofits that operate Broadway houses).This Broadway contract, which goes into effect immediately, is the first negotiated since the outbreak of the coronavirus pandemic. As shows returned, the challenge of staying open when company members tested positive for the coronavirus called attention to the important work of understudies, swings and standbys who keep shows going when illness strikes, and also highlighted the tension between a historic show-must-go-on ethic and disease transmission.The contract is the first to provide paid sick leave for anyone working on an Equity contract; previously, those earning above a certain amount were not entitled to paid sick days. In another first, the contract caps how many roles a swing can cover in one performance.And the contract allows for the use of short-term actors, with rehearsal time, to cover performer absences. The provision was a concession by the union to the producers.The union also highlighted a few wins for its members: a limited number of very long rehearsal days, and fewer rehearsal hours post-opening.The contract includes several new provisions prompted by discussion within the industry, and the broader society, about diversity concerns. Among them: commitments to employ technicians for certain hair styles, to consider gender identity when identifying spaces for dressing rooms and bathrooms, to set up a committee to talk about onstage intimacy, and to improve casting notices for those with disabilities.Kate Shindle, the president of Actors’ Equity, said the deal was a compromise reflecting the economics of the moment. The contract was ratified by a smaller margin than some previous pacts, suggesting disagreement within the union’s membership about whether it was good enough.“The industry is not entirely back yet, and while we were looking to reinvent the whole way the theater industry operates, we’re also faced with real financial considerations,” Shindle said.She said the wage increases were significant at a time when inflation is high, as are real estate costs in New York (which, of course, is where many Broadway workers live). She also noted that many in the industry had not had work while theaters were shut down, making their current salaries more important.Charlotte St. Martin, the president of the Broadway League, said in a statement that she was pleased with the ratification of the agreement, “which we believe represents a significant step forward for our industry.”She said several provisions “were ultimately directly responsive to the push from the union for less time spent in rehearsal and more time off for actors,” and she also hailed the diversity provisions, which were, she said, “in the forefront of our priorities.”“A key component to these changes is language that will allow us to hold everyone, including actors working on our productions, to the same standards when creating a safe and inclusive working environment for all,” she said. “We were able to achieve all of these significant improvements for each side while providing a meaningful and yet responsible economic package.” More

  • in

    Getting Close to Sondheim: New Books Try to Capture His Essence

    Memoirs by his collaborators are among the works available now, and several others are on the horizon.Roughly a decade before Stephen Sondheim died in November 2021, he added a surprising new occupation to his multi-hyphenate career: autobiographer. His two memoirs-through-lyrics, “Finishing the Hat” and “Look, I Made a Hat,” offered beguiling insights into the life of a man who had long cultivated a reputation for sphinx-like reticence. The year since his death has seen bookshelves sag with an array of books offering further glimpses; D.T. Max’s “Finale: Late Conversations With Stephen Sondheim” is the most recent, with several more on the horizon. Here is a look at some of those titles.Available nowMany of the current crop of works can be classified as either “I worked with Steve” books or “I had an ongoing professional and intermittently contentious correspondence with Steve” books. (There’s also an “I was sort of married to Steve for a year” book. More on that soon.)Accounts from two of Sondheim’s longtime collaborators, the musical director Paul Gemignani and the pianist Paul Ford, were both in the works well before 2021. Gemignani had put off writing his memoirs for years, and it wasn’t until the Covid pandemic shut down live theater that he had the time to work on “Gemignani: Life and Lessons From Broadway and Beyond.” The book’s extensive quotes from Sondheim include one that Gemignani’s co-author, Margaret Hall, agreed not to use until after his death. In it, Sondheim described their decades-long working relationship: “It can’t be expressed. It’s like trying to explain why you’re in love with somebody. There’s no explanation; it just is.”His involvement with Ford’s “Lord Knows, at Least I Was There: Working With Stephen Sondheim” was less harmonious. Ford, who played piano on the original productions of four different Sondheim shows and what he described as “about 50,000 birthday celebrations,” had plugged away on his memoirs for years and gotten permission to use Sondheim’s name in the title — until Sondheim took a look at the manuscript in 2017.“An advance copy was sent to Steve in the morning,” Ford recalled, “and by the afternoon a scathing series of emails came back saying, ‘I skimmed through it, but it’s just a memoir. Take my name off this book.’ So that was it for a while.” Until this March, to be precise.Such exchanges were not unknown to Paul Salsini, who includes many of them in “Sondheim & Me: Revealing a Musical Genius,” which came out in October. As the longtime editor of the Sondheim Review magazine (for which I worked for several years), Salsini heard from Sondheim often. “He was so protective about making sure everything was accurate,” Salsini said.Remembering Stephen SondheimThe revered and influential composer-lyricist died Nov. 26, 2021. He was 91.Obituary: A titan of the American musical, Sondheim was the driving force behind some of Broadway’s most beloved shows.Final Interview: Days before he died, he sat down with The Times for his final major interview.His Legacy: As a mentor, a letter writer and an audience regular, Sondheim nurtured generations of theater makers.‘West Side Story’: Does the musical, which features some of the artist’s best-known lyrics, deserve a new hearing?‘Company’: The revival of his 1970 musical features a gender swap.A low point in the relationship came after a 1996 review in the publication of the London premiere of “Passion.” The review compared it unfavorably to the original Broadway production, and called it “just a little too blatant,” which triggered a barrage of irate responses both by telephone and through the mail.“It was a good, balanced review, and I have no idea why he was so upset,” said Salsini, who believes the written note could have opened Sondheim up for libel if it had run in the magazine, as Sondheim had intended. And then the protests stopped. “And to this day,” he said, “I don’t know why.”D.T. Max’s involvement with Sondheim was not quite as heated or as lengthy: “Finale: Late Conversations With Stephen Sondheim” is based on five interactions between 2016 and 2019. Initially the intent was to produce a profile for The New Yorker to coincide with a new musical, a pair of one-acts adapted from two Luis Buñuel films, that was left unfinished at the time of Sondheim’s death. They discussed everything from “Vertigo” to the poetry of William Carlos Williams to the Beatles. (Sondheim only liked two of those three things.)“I was not so arrogant as to think I would get to the mystery of Stephen Sondheim’s creative genius,” Max said, “but I did hope to get close to it.”A question about whether he had learned anything from Andrew Lloyd Webber fell on clearly unsympathetic ears, however, and as the new work fizzled away, so did the profile. (“Sondheim broke up with me over that question,” as Max put it, alluding to an email after that interview in which Sondheim begged off participating for the profile.) “Finale” is essentially the paper trail of this long, ultimately fruitless (or was it?) pas de deux between interviewer and interviewee.“Sondheim was a complicated guy to sit with,” said Max, who tagged along with Sondheim and Meryl Streep at a gala for one of the five interviews. “There was a sense of intimacy that wasn’t entirely real and wasn’t entirely fake.”And then there’s that trial marriage. “Shy: The Alarmingly Outspoken Memoirs of Mary Rodgers,” which the Broadway composer Rodgers (“Once Upon a Mattress”) co-wrote with the New York Times chief theater critic, Jesse Green, covers a lot of ground in a career that included far more than her interactions with Sondheim. But those interactions came to a head in 1960, when Sondheim and the recently divorced Rodgers “would get into the same bed, side by side, frozen with fear,” for roughly a year on and off. It didn’t last.Coming soonThe seemingly eternal question mark involves David Benedict’s authorized Sondheim biography, which was announced in 2014 complete with a first draft to be submitted in 2017. But while we wait for that, two new titles are (presumably) more imminent.A revival of the Stephen Sondheim-George Furth musical “Merrily We Roll Along,” currently at the New York Theater Workshop, is heading to Broadway next fall. It stars, from left: Jonathan Groff, Lindsay Mendez and Daniel Radcliffe.Sara KrulwichMarch will see the release of “Careful the Spell You Cast: How Stephen Sondheim Extended the Range of the American Musical.” In it, Ben Francis takes aim at the prevalent view of Sondheim as the eternal cynic. Instead, he suggests, Sondheim’s reminder that “dreams take time” (to quote from “Merrily We Roll Along,” a revival of which is heading to Broadway next fall) positions him as a successor to his mentor, Oscar Hammerstein II, as an unlikely romantic.And in “Sondheim: His Life, His Shows, His Legacy,” slated for release next October, Stephen M. Silverman supplements interviews with what the promotional copy describes as Sondheim’s “collaborators, mentors and fans,” along with illustrated transcripts, letters and more.On the horizonSondheim was a gifted puzzle maker and creator of cryptic scavenger hunts. (Rian Johnson, the screenwriter and director of “Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery,” has credited the 1973 mystery film “The Last of Sheila,” co-written by Sondheim, as an inspiration.) Barry Joseph decided to plumb this relatively under-discussed aspect of his life in “Matching Minds With Sondheim: The Puzzles and Games of the Master Lyricist.”“This is seeing his mind and brilliance in a whole new way,” said Joseph, who hopes to release the book in 2024. “When you’re trying to solve someone’s puzzle, you’re getting into their head.”The following year should see the publication of Dan Okrent’s own biography as part of the Yale Jewish Lives series, or what he calls “little books about big Jews.”Although Sondheim didn’t set foot in a synagogue until he was 19, Okrent said, he spent much of his career on Broadway and grew up with a father in the garment business, two industries in which Jews were strongly represented at the time. Okrent’s book will look at Sondheim and his work through this lens.“My goal is not to uncover things that people didn’t know,” he said. “It is to put what people do know into context.” More

  • in

    ‘Des Moines’ Review: Drowning in the Drink

    A new production of Denis Johnson’s final play showcases many of his signatures: deadpan absurdism, misfit characters, heavy drinking and statements on the bleak fact of human mortality.Here’s how you make a depth charger: Pour some beer into a jar or mug of your choosing until it’s about halfway full and then drop in a shot glass of whiskey. Then gird your loins, because this isn’t a drink for the delicate.And yet the odd characters in “Des Moines,” which had its New York premiere on Friday night at the Polonsky Shakespeare Center in Brooklyn, can’t even use the depth chargers (as they call the drink) that they consume as an excuse for their peculiarities. The play, written by Denis Johnson and presented by Theater for a New Audience with Evenstar Films, drops a cast of characters into the depths and doesn’t try to reel them back in. Instead, we’re often the ones lost at sea.Written before he died at 67 in 2017, “Des Moines” is Johnson’s ninth and final play. A celebrated novelist, short story writer, playwright and poet, he is best known for the novel “Tree of Smoke” and the short story collection “Jesus’ Son.”“Des Moines” showcases many of his signatures: deadpan absurdism, misfit characters, heavy drinking and drug addiction, deception, and statements on the bleak, incontestable fact of human mortality.In one scene in the play, Dan (Arliss Howard), a 60-something cabdriver in present-day Des Moines, sits at an oval table in the center of a rustic wood kitchen, where he asks his pastor Father Michael (Michael Shannon) to do him an unusual favor. “It’s an experiment,” Dan says. “I just want you to suddenly yell at me to wake up — that I’m dreaming.”Though “Des Moines” unfolds across an evening and a morning in the Iowa home of Dan and his wife, Marta (Johanna Day), it may or may not be taking place in Dan’s imagination — or in a bizarre dream shared among its characters. Before the pastor appears, Dan recounts to Marta how he picked up a heavily made-up Father Michael for a ride outside a gay club on a Friday night, and how a woman named Mrs. Drinkwater (Heather Alicia Simms) keeps visiting him at work. She is a widow whose husband recently died in a plane crash nearby.Nef and Michael Shannon in “Des Moines.”Travis Emery HackettBut Dan and Marta seem as though they’re having different conversations: He’s jumping among the encounter with Father Michael; his conversations with Mrs. Drinkwater, whose husband Dan drove to the airport the morning of the crash; and the virtues of butter over margarine. She’s waiting for the chance to tell him about a serious diagnosis she has received.Father Michael, Mrs. Drinkwater, Marta and Dan, along with the couple’s granddaughter, Jimmy (Hari Nef), a trans woman whose botched gender affirming surgery has left her using a wheelchair, all join together in seemingly endless rounds of depth chargers. This party turns from karaoke to table-banging, thrashing and sex in a kind of otherworldly bacchanal of troubled souls.The dialogue is imbued with an uncanny disconnect; the characters feel so aloof that when they speak to one another, it’s as if they’re just shooting random phrases from the separate worlds each inhabits. In the middle of a conversation about Des Moines farmland, Father Michael says to Jimmy and Mrs. Drinkwater, “Sometimes the horror of my youth is so vivid — so near, so accessible, that I feel as if I just got plucked from it one minute ago.”That’s Johnson’s phlegmatic dread, so casual yet biting. But “Des Moines” also lacks the precision of Johnson at his best; there’s a vague emptiness and mourning that underscores every bit of the play.A program note mentions that Johnson and Arin Arbus, the director of this production, met in 2015 to workshop “Des Moines.” When asked if he would clarify the “mysterious and difficult” work, Johnson refused.Arbus’s direction accommodates Johnson’s vagaries and quirks, so watching the production feels as if we’re being taken on a long, slow ride to a remote destination — only to arrive, unceremoniously, at nothingness.There’s a tediousness to the production that somewhat diminishes its charms, the main one being the talented cast. Howard’s Dan is both disgruntled and likable despite himself and his low-key racism and homophobia; he rambles on about his dreams but refuses to dig any deeper, too frightened to address the hurt that he and others around him carry.Day keeps Marta taut with an underlying sorrow and resentment that perfectly counter Dan’s uneasy evasions. As Jimmy, Nef brings more color to the character than is written; with a bit of boldness and mischief, she incites some of the night’s mania but then fades into the background. Simms’s performance is a constant surprise, full of buttoned-up restraint, and then wild desperation and touches of something like joy — or as close to that emotion as a woman thrown askew by grief can muster.Shannon is hilariously awkward as Father Michael, lumbering around the stage with a flat-footed shuffle, his shoulders rounded and his pants pulled up an inch or two too high. He plays the pastor like a naïve child stuck in a grown man’s body, equally uncertain of his place in the play’s offbeat and mundane moments.In Riccardo Hernández’s set design, the entrances and exits are what often draw the eye: Stage right, the kitchen side door leads out to a small landing and stairs that allow us to hear every entrant before we see them. At stage left, an interior hallway, we get brief peeks into the characters’ dispositions, as when Marta gently braces one hand against the wall — just the slightest hint of difficulty. And upstage, behind the kitchen, French doors open to reveal Jimmy’s space, a jamboree of multicolored Christmas lights and beaming ornaments in stark contrast to the rest of Dan and Marta’s demure home décor.At some point in the midst of the show’s madness, Mrs. Drinkwater exclaims: “Everything is so ridiculous. It’s incredible.” It’s true — everything is ridiculous, and after an hour and 40 minutes, “Des Moines,” like a night spent drinking at home, ends with a stubborn lack of resolution. What do you get after getting sloshed one evening in the company of ridiculous weirdos? An incredible, senseless hangover.Des MoinesThrough Jan. 1 at Theater for a New Audience, Brooklyn; tfana.org. Running time: 1 hour 40 minutes. More

  • in

    Quinta Brunson, Jack Harlow and More Breakout Stars of 2022

    Here are the actors, pop stars, dancers and artists who broke away from the pack this year, delighting us and making us think.For many of us, 2022 was the year we emerged more fully from our pandemic cocoons, venturing out to movie theaters, museums, concerts — exploring our entertainment with eager, if weary, hearts and eyes before returning home to our TVs. Along the way, artists and performers across the world of the arts had, for the first time in years, the chance to connect more closely and fully with audiences, and deliver big. Here are seven stars who captured our attention in this moment and gave us a fresh perspective.TelevisionQuinta BrunsonIn 2014, Quinta Brunson had a viral Instagram hit on her hands: a series of videos called “The Girl Who’s Never Been on a Nice Date.” At BuzzFeed, where she was first paid for taste-testing Doritos, she made popular comedic videos for the site and then sold the streaming series “Broke” to YouTube Red. In 2019, she starred in and wrote for the debut season of HBO’s “A Black Lady Sketch Show.”That trajectory set her up to deliver a rare feat: a warmhearted but not saccharine network sitcom with a pitch-perfect ensemble cast that has managed to delight critics and audiences — all while illuminating the problems of underfunded public schools. The mockumentary-style comedy, “Abbott Elementary,” which she created and stars in, debuted on ABC in December 2021 and was nominated for seven Emmy Awards this year, of which it won three.“I think a lot of people are enjoying having something that is light and nuanced,” Brunson, 32, told The New York Times Magazine earlier this year. “‘Abbott’ came at the right time.”MoviesStephanie HsuIn “Everything Everywhere All at Once,” Stephanie Hsu plays a despairing daughter named Joy and the chaos-inducing villain Jobu Tupaki.A24When Stephanie Hsu was a child, she told her mother that she wanted to be an actor. Her mother “pointed at a TV screen and said, ‘There’s nobody that looks like you — that seems impossible,’” Hsu, 32, told Variety this year. Turns out, her presence onscreen was both possible and unforgettable, particularly her jaw-dropping performance in this year’s “Everything Everywhere All at Once,” a mind-twisting acid trip through the multiverse (and the human condition) that was a box-office hit and had critics raving.In “Everything,” her first feature film, Hsu nailed the complex role of both a depressed, despairing daughter (opposite Michelle Yeoh as her mother) and the maniacally evil, chaos-inducing villain Jobu Tupaki.“I think it’s so rare that you get to experience the scope of range within one character in one movie,” Hsu told The Times.Next up for the actress is a role in the Disney+ action-comedy series “American Born Chinese”; in Rian Johnson’s Peacock series, “Poker Face,” alongside Natasha Lyonne; and in “The Fall Guy,” an action movie starring Ryan Gosling and Emily Blunt.Pop MusicJack HarlowThe rapper Jack Harlow, who released the album “Come Home the Kids Miss You” in May, earned three Grammy nominations in November.Eduardo Munoz/ReutersThose on TikTok probably first caught wind of the rapper Jack Harlow in 2020 with his viral track “Whats Poppin.” But it wasn’t until his verse on Lil Nas X’s “Industry Baby” last year — the song topped the Billboard Hot 100 — that his star really began its ascent.The Highlights of 2022, According to Our CriticsCard 1 of 3Salamishah Tillet. More

  • in

    Review: ‘Hoagy Carmichael’s Stardust Road’ Takes the Path Too Well-Traveled

    The York Theater Company’s production is enthusiastically performed by a cast of seven. But the nostalgic revue pushes the limits of its case for the songwriter’s music.You don’t hear much about Hoagy Carmichael these days, even if the prolific Tin Pan Alley songwriter is never too far. His 1927 song “Stardust” recently featured in “The Crown” and last year’s “Nightmare Alley” remake, and anyone who’s watched “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes” has likely been taken in by Jane Russell’s lusty delivery of “Ain’t There Anyone Here For Love?” The hitmaker himself even popped up this year in the New York Film Festival’s restoration of the 1946 film “Canyon Passage,” playing a happy-go-lucky musician — bearing little resemblance to Ian Fleming’s dashing 007, whose looks Carmichael was said to have inspired.So the York Theater Company’s production of “Hoagy Carmichael’s Stardust Road,” a nostalgic revue developed in collaboration with his son, arrives with little baggage, and lands nicely enough. Tamely directed by Susan H. Schulman, the 90-minute production presents dozens of Carmichael’s standards, enthusiastically performed by a cast of seven. But the dance numbers, carried mostly by an agile Cory Lingner, come few and far between. The show is sporadically choreographed by Michael Lichtefeld, who leaves several segments largely unadorned, pushing the limits of its agreeable case for the man’s music.There’s a loose narrative throughline, which feels sort of like watching TV Land through an agreeable NyQuil haze — not necessarily a bad thing. Max, played by Dion Simmons Grier, runs the quaint Stardust Roadhouse saloon, and the show follows him and a few patrons through the first half of the 20th century. Each of the musical’s five acts, by way of James Morgan and Vincent Gunn’s scenic design, softly nods at Old Hollywood tropes (Club Old Man Harlem, U.S.O. Canteen), swapping wooden bar stools for brassier ones without much affecting the music choices.Now, Carmichael does not seem to have purists or Twitter stans gunning for faithful recreations of his work, so with over 40 songs on the program, it’s a missed opportunity that Lawrence Yurman’s arrangements don’t take more liberties with where Carmichael’s simple tunes might go. The excellent six-person band, beautifully amplified by Julian Evans’s crisp sound design, is certainly good for it; their smooth transitions set a crucial, continuous pace without which the piece would seriously falter.The band’s smooth transitions set a crucial, continuous pace, and Jenerson’s slow numbers are standouts.Carol RoseggThe respectfulness of the orchestrations serves its slower numbers well, as in Kayla Jenerson’s gorgeous “The Nearness of You,” and the mash-up of “Skylark” and “Stardust” she later duets with Sara Esty, a standout with a persuasive knack for the time period. But the classic “Georgia On My Mind” distinguishes itself as much thanks to the touching melancholy the band provides — get ready to feel like you’re slow dancing at a blues joint throughout — as it is because it allows Grier to soar into a full-throated vocal crescendo that lends the night a needed bit of soulfulness.Only “Heart and Soul,” sung with both by Danielle Herbert, breaks completely free of convention, jauntily staged as a cabaret act, with Herbert plunking away on a comically small toy piano. Then again, the handsome Mike Schwitter is let down when made to deliver “I Get Along Without You Very Well (Except Sometimes),” a song perhaps best quietly sobbed on the shower floor, as an 11 o’clock number.The revue has been in development for at least a decade and, though it in many ways still feels like a workshop, it is not without charm, thanks to its timeless music and chipper performers. While this current staging is missing a requisite ice bucket and ashtray next to each seat, it’s a low-key, classy affair best enjoyed with a pen in hand, marking down which songs might suit your next dinner party.Hoagy Carmichael’s Stardust RoadThrough Dec. 31 at the York Theater Company, Manhattan; yorktheatre.org. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. More

  • in

    Can Daniel Kitson Redefine the Relationship Between Comic and Audience?

    The elusive stand-up seems to believe in making his listeners work. But it’s not out of contempt. Instead, he’s trying to forge an intimate human bond.STILLINGTON, England — Under a tent by a mill on an August night, the stand-up comic Daniel Kitson found the most apt rustic setting to poke fun at comics leaning on modern technology. He described performers’ postshow tweets of gratitude to ticket-buyers as another way to say: “Give me your compliments.”He groused about podcasts, singling out the worst of the genre as “great guys chatting,” shows he termed “for wankers by wankers.” Offering the opposing viewpoint, he said they are easy to listen to before rebutting himself: “Should be hard.”Daniel Kitson — whose last two decades of stand-up performances and ambitious theater works put him in contention for greatest comedian working today — believes in making the audience work. Not just because his rapid-fire monologues can be dense and elusive. Just finding him can be a challenge, since he’s not on social media and doesn’t do interviews, talk shows or podcasts. Most of all: Despite being prolific, his new work is not on any streaming service and only a few recorded shows can be bought on his site. This has made him an unknown quantity to vast swaths of comedy fans, but also a figure of some mystique inspiring committed admirers who will go to great lengths to see him. Which is how I found myself in the British countryside over the summer.His stand-up focused on the pandemic and the fear it inspired. His jokes quickly veered from aggressive to ruminative, dirty to philosophical, but he punctuated them with ideas that stuck in the brain, like the one that suggested people who add a yell to their sneeze are, on some level, “letting a little terror out.” He found the early pandemic oddly unifying: Everyone in the world was stuck at home at the same time. Kitson stopped taking trips to the United States and Edinburgh (he has die-hard followings Off Broadway and at the Fringe Festival in Scotland), but in some ways the pandemic made him a more accessible artist.I was grateful that in the most fearful moments of 2020, he started a radio show from his home that I listened to every day, providing some quiet charm to interrupt the steady bass line of sirens outside my Brooklyn window. More significantly, he taped a new show, an audio play named “Shenanigan” that he sold on his site. But, consistent with his ethos, he kept distribution small, just 2,000 copies, available only in record, CD or cassette tape formats. (None are currently for sale.)An intricate, layered narrative told with literary precision and propulsive sound effects, “Shenanigan” feels less like his stand-up or solo shows than something entirely new. Its premise, reminiscent of “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” turns the romantic comedy inside out. Darting back and forth in time to chronicle the dissolution of the relationship between a couple, Bob and Poppy, Kitson introduces each section he narrates by the number of weeks, days or hours before the breakup.This structure creates suspense but also draws attention to its own artifice, as does the science-fiction conceit at its center: A dystopian company called A Better Beginning erases memories of couples’ first meetings and implants a more romantic version. It was founded by a heartbroken man who believes art has ruined relationships by setting up unrealistic expectations for love.Kitson periodically interrupts the narrative to give us scenes of him making the show, a spoof of himself as pretentious and obsessive but also a running commentary on the themes he’s exploring, especially in conversations with a female friend. She wants to know if the show is really about his own aversion to long-term relationships. Kitson balks, not just offering the dodge that it’s all made up, but going further, adding that there is no such thing as a true story. “It’s like a wood fire,” he says. “The story-ness affects the truthiness.”He’s right, in a way, and in focusing on the origin story of a relationship, he found a resonant metaphor to illustrate and expand his point. For many people, telling this tale is as close as they will get to understanding how a comedian’s set, refined through repetition, can’t help but blur the line between truth and fiction. To take one example, after so much retelling, the memory of the story of how your parents met tends to crowd out the actual events in their minds.Kitson displays a skepticism about romantic love but a more subtle and fascinating kind about stories. Our cultural faith in stories has never been greater and more unquestioned, what a recent book by the literary theorist Peter Brooks described as “our mindless valorization of storytelling.” Kitson did not write a didactic show, but he seems to be suggesting that the power of stories is more limited than we think. A good story can evoke real emotions, but it can’t replace them.Seeming to spoof himself, Kitson sounds self-important notes, telling his friend that his goal as an artist is to show, not tell, leaving it up to the audience to put it together. One of the nice things about the audio play is that its narrative is so fractured that it benefits from multiple listens. I have occasionally felt this with his plays, that the ephemerality of theater doesn’t always suit them. Ultimately, Kitson is a comic who likes the sound of laughter. He isn’t trying to be esoteric for its own sake. His insistence on producing his work his own way is not a rejection of the crowd, but it does reflect an interest in reinventing his relationship with them.His goal appears to be to forge a more intimate, human bond, a point he made implicitly in the live show I saw in Yorkshire. At various points he singled out audience members, gently explaining a joke to one who didn’t get it; urging another who looked sleepy and struggling to stay awake, not to feel bad, to close their eyes and rest; and telling a person in the front row that if he wanted to put his foot onstage, he should go ahead.This appeared to me to be a demonstration that he was paying as much attention to us as we were to him, modeling a relationship between performer and patron as peers, each deserving attention and care. But maybe that’s just a story I am straining to tell to make sense of disparate comments. That’s the tricky thing about art. Once you put it in the world, it’s out of your hands. Maybe forgotten or reshaped by memory. This can happen in life, too, even the most major events.Kitson himself said that he hadn’t processed the events of the pandemic, before pausing to speculate that maybe we never process anything. “Maybe we just forget stuff and the rest becomes the narrative.” More