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      Review: In Lea Michele, ‘Funny Girl’ Has Finally Found Its Fanny

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      The “Glee” star is stupendous in the role Barbra Streisand made famous, turning the 1964 musical into something better than we know it to be.Though it can be a great vehicle, “Funny Girl” has rarely been a great ride. Even its first-rate Jule Styne songs — “I’m the Greatest Star,” “People” and “Don’t Rain on My Parade” among them — are problematic. Not only are the lyrics, by Bob Merrill, often inane (“I’ll light up like a light”?) but the challenge of the vocal writing that made Barbra Streisand a star in 1964 makes casting anyone else now a nightmare.And let’s not get started on the book, by Isobel Lennart, which in telling the (mostly fictional) story of the early-20th-century comic Fanny Brice, and her disastrous love affair with the gambler Nick Arnstein, seems to have been assembled from a warehouse of used musical-comedy parts. They do not work well together, however well they work individually.The revival that opened in April at the August Wilson Theater — its first on Broadway — only made matters worse. Harvey Fierstein’s meddling with the confusing book confused it further by giving Nick (Ramin Karimloo) more to do; nobody cares what Nick does. And Fanny, whom we do care about, was just too much of a reach for Beanie Feldstein, offering a pleasant performance in a role that shouldn’t be. “Without a stupendous Fanny to thrill and distract,” I wrote at the time, “the musical’s manifold faults become painfully evident.”Lea Michele, who took over the role on Sept. 6, turns out to be that stupendous Fanny. Yes, she even lights up like a light. Both vulnerable and invulnerable, kooky and ardent, she makes the show worth watching again.She can’t make it good, though. Michael Mayer’s production is still garish and pushy, pandering for audience overreaction. A confetti cannon tries to put an exclamation point on a dud dance. Many of the minor players overplay. The lighting by Kevin Adams would make a rat clap, and the unusually ugly set by David Zinn seems weaponized against intimacy. It looks like a missile silo.But at least “Funny Girl” now has a missile: a performer who from her first words (“Hello, Gorgeous”) shoots straight to her target and hits it.It has been a tortuous path to this obviously right and seemingly predestined casting, with decades of false starts involving Lauren Ambrose, Debbie Gibson, Sheridan Smith and others. Feldstein was just another in the long list of misfires; after she ditched the show in a cloud of apparent acrimony — a cloud everyone denied — her standby, Julie Benko, took over.Benko, who is still the Thursday night Fanny, sings the role very well, so you never worry, as you did with Feldstein, that she might not make it through the songs. Then too, Benko gets closer to the dark heart of the comedy, backfilling its shtick with something like anger. Still, good as she is, her voice and the rest of her performance don’t yet match; she even has a different accent when acting the role than when singing it.Like Barbra Streisand, Michele brings added depth to her performance. When Michele sings “People,” our critic writes, it’s not a bald statement but a genuine inquiry.Matthew MurphyMichele matches throughout. Her voice, an exceptional instrument, is not an ornament but a tool, and she knows how to use it. That in itself is no surprise; she seems to have been trying out for the role since 2009. Over the course of her six seasons as Rachel Berry on “Glee,” she sang most of Fanny’s numbers with exceedingly high polish, if sometimes a powerful whiff of Streisand karaoke. (Rachel’s middle name was Barbra.)Onstage, though, the Barbraisms are less in evidence. A few are unavoidable, Streisand having in essence rewritten, and improved, some of Styne’s vocal lines. And in general, anyone hoping to make a success of “Funny Girl” has to follow the originator’s template, because it was created for her — you might almost say “on” her, like a couture gown. The songs work (and the scenes nearly do) when a performer can access a manic desperation to succeed, not caring how she comes off or what she loses in the process. Let’s just say that Michele, like her idol, has that access.What surprised me in “Funny Girl” is that she can also access much more. You need not understand the details of vocal placement to understand that a performer able to belt all of “People” without worrying about switching registers has plenty of bandwidth left over to worry about more important things. When Michele sings the song, it’s not a bald statement but a genuine inquiry: Can Fanny be successful in both love, which means a lot to her, and work, which means more?And at the end, when life has delivered its unhappy answer, Michele isn’t playing at sadness. A hot mess of tears, she takes her time recovering sufficiently to move into the finale, a reprise of “Don’t Rain on My Parade.” It’s a mark of her shaping of the role that she sings it quite differently than she did at the end of Act I, when Fanny is reaching outward to grab the life she wants. Now she’s reaching inward to rescue herself from emotional disaster — a point Michele makes with typical vocal daredevilry in the song’s final heart-stopping phrase.Unfortunately, you may not hear it. Despite the amped-up vocals, the amped-up audience is often even louder than Michele. (On Tuesday, one of her several mid-show standing ovations was actually mid-song.) You can’t blame fans for their excitement, and at least there’s something worth being excited about here. But it seems to me that the production is reaping the dubious reward of its constant goading and prodding. You can see Michele having to calculate on the fly how and when to resume, or whether to blast right through, unheeded.Tovah Feldshuh, left, replacing Jane Lynch as Fanny’s mother, brings grit to the role.Matthew MurphyIn a way, she’s almost too serious for the show; comedy, at any rate, isn’t her (or its) best suit. That’s a problem when the title is “Funny Girl.” Still, when Michele is given a good situation to play, as when Nick seduces her in a restaurant, she gets good laughs. Other times, as in an embarrassing in-joke added post-Feldstein, coyly referring to a song sung on roller skates in the 1968 movie, she looks lost, even as the audience yuks on cue.I hope she’ll keep burrowing into the role and not give in to the general hysteria. She certainly has allies in that fight: Karimloo, especially as the broken man Nick becomes at the end, does some lovely, quiet work, and Tovah Feldshuh, having replaced the zany Jane Lynch as Fanny’s mother, is so gritty and salty she could turn ice into slush. In the smaller role of Florenz Ziegfeld, Peter Francis James remains a model of dignified restraint.Charismatic performers make the thing they’re performing disappear. In effect, they replace it; their voice becomes its voice, their skin its story. That Michele makes “Funny Girl” seem better than we know it to be is the wonderful but possibly irreproducible product of the mutual need between an old-fashioned talent on the way up and an old-fashioned musical on the way down. It’s a need like that of lovers, and you know what the song says about them: Despite all evidence, they’re the luckiest people in the world.Funny GirlAt the August Wilson Theater, Manhattan; funnygirlonbroadway.com. Running time: 2 hours 50 minutes. More

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      Rita Gardner, an Original ‘Fantasticks’ Star, Is Dead at 87

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      In 1960 she originated the lone female role in an Off Broadway show that became part of theater history thanks to a record-setting run.Rita Gardner, who in a long cabaret and theater career earned an enduring place in stage history in 1960, when she originated the role of Luisa in the musical “The Fantasticks,” the longest-running musical in theatrical history, died on Saturday in Manhattan. She was 87.Claire-Frances Sullivan, her personal assistant and caretaker, said the cause was leukemia.Ms. Gardner was in her mid-20s and not particularly well known when she responded to an audition notice for “The Fantasticks,” a romantic fable with a book and lyrics by Tom Jones and music by Harvey Schmidt. She had called Lore Noto, the show’s producer, before attending the audition, and he told her that though the creative team already had another actress in mind for the part, she should audition anyway.“I didn’t know Tom or Harvey or anybody,” she said in an interview for the book “The Amazing Story of ‘The Fantasticks’” (1991), by Donald C. Farber and Robert Viagas. “I came in, essentially, off the street. They didn’t know me either.”She sang the song she had once used to win an “Arthur Godfrey’s Talent Scouts” contest, “Over the Rainbow.” Mr. Schmidt heard a quality he liked.“With a lot of singers you can tell when they go from head to chest voice; it’s two different voices,” he said in an interview for the same book. “With Rita it was all one voice. Rita was like a pop singer, yet she could do these obbligato things, and it didn’t seem strange.”She got the part of Luisa (also sometimes called simply “the Girl”), the only female role in the piece. The show, whose signature number, “Try to Remember,” became a standard, opened in May 1960 at the Sullivan Street Playhouse in Greenwich Village. Tickets were $3.75.In The Daily News, Charles McHarry pronounced the show “recommended without reservation.” But in The New York Times, Brooks Atkinson, while having kind words for the actors, thought the story lost steam. “Although it is ungrateful to say so,” he wrote, “two acts are one too many.”In a 2000 interview with The Associated Press, Ms. Gardner recalled that keeping the show open was touch and go until that August, when the production took time off amid the New York City summer and played in East Hampton, N.Y., for a week.“All the posh people saw it and told their friends,” she said. “Audiences started to grow.”Ms. Gardner with the other members of the original cast of “The Fantasticks,” including, top row center, Jerry Orbach.PhotofestThe show ran for 42 years, closing in 2002 after more than 17,000 performances, and then reopened in 2006 and ran until 2017. Ms. Gardner stayed only until the end of 1960. (Jerry Orbach, who was also in the original cast, left at about the same time.) But she was with the show long enough to record the original cast album.In a 2001 interview with The Bradenton Herald of Florida, Ms. Gardner recalled that, about 10 years earlier, she had attended a production of “The Fantasticks” for the first time as an audience member.“I didn’t know I had been in something so good,” she said.She was in Bradenton performing a revue she had assembled called “Try to Remember: A Look at Off Broadway,” in which she sang songs from “The Fantasticks” and other shows and told stories. A few months earlier she had staged the show at the Sullivan Street Playhouse, the same theater where she had originated the “Fantasticks” role 40 years earlier. There, her performance started at 10 p.m. — because “The Fantasticks” was still running in the theater’s main evening slot.Rita Schier was born on Oct. 23, 1934, in Brooklyn to Nathan and Tillie (Hack) Schier. She studied opera and dance and sang in a close-harmony group called the Honeybees; in the late 1950s she appeared in a revue called “Nightcap,” which featured songs by the then unknown Jerry Herman. In 1957 she married the playwright Herb Gardner, who would become known for “A Thousand Clowns.” Their marriage ended in divorce, as did her marriage to Peter Cereghetti. At her death she was married to Robert Sevra, who is her only immediate survivor.Ms. Gardner left “The Fantasticks” to appear in a movie called “One Plus One” (1961), and she had small parts in other movies over the years. She also appeared on television, including in several episodes of “Law & Order,” the show that helped make Mr. Orbach an instantly recognizable star. She appeared on Broadway in “A Family Affair” (1962) as well as in the 1963 revival of “Pal Joey,” among other shows.She performed frequently on the cabaret circuit, where she employed not only her fine singing voice but also her droll sense of humor. In her show “Try to Remember,” she talked about life beyond Broadway’s bright lights.“Off Broadway is not just a location, it’s a definition,” she said. “The Actors Equity definition is a theater that has less than 300 seats, but my definition growing up Off Broadway was a little different. It was a theater that had less than 300 seats, most of them broken.” More

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      in Theater

      ‘Bold Enough to Go Full-Tilt’: Gabby Beans Is Playing to the Balcony

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      The actress, a Tony nominee for “The Skin of Our Teeth,” is bringing her sharp eye for comedy to Atlantic Theater Company’s production of “I’m Revolting.”Onstage in Lincoln Center Theater’s maximalist revival of “The Skin of Our Teeth” last spring were a giant brontosaurus puppet, a full-scale amusement park slide and a stage-spanning verdant field in full bloom. But it was the towering performance from a 5-foot-3 force of nature named Gabby Beans that made the production a must-see.Taking on the role of Sabina in this messy epic by Thornton Wilder, nebulously set between prehistory and the end of the world, is a hard enough task for any actor. And though Tallulah Bankhead, who originated the role in 1942, left big shoes to fill, Beans, in her Broadway debut, stuffed them with a gargantuan presence and a knowingly ridiculous voice, picking up a Tony nomination for lead actress in a play. (Alexis Soloski, in her review for The Times, described Beans as a “ferocious actress” whose “ample” comic gifts “come beribonned and frilled.”)While growing up, Beans said her mother, a fan of classic Hollywood actresses, would call her “Tallulah Bashula” and, because of her early comedic flashes, liken her to Lucille Ball — apt comparisons for anyone who saw Beans darting around the stage in Lileana Blain-Cruz’s production, pausing to flash her expressive eyes and deliver a big, vaudevillian one-liner.Beans, with James Vincent Meredith, in “The Skin of Our Teeth.” In her review, the critic Alexis Soloski called Beans “a ferocious actress” whose ample comic gifts “come beribboned and frilled.”Richard Termine for The New York TimesShe later added Eartha Kitt to that list of brassy acting inspirations during an interview at a coffee shop in Chelsea a few weeks ago, before a dress rehearsal of Gracie Gardner’s “I’m Revolting.” (The Atlantic Theater Company production, currently in previews and scheduled to open Oct. 5, is Beans’s first show since “The Skin of Our Teeth” closed in May.) “She is the brightest star in my artistic constellation,” Beans said of Kitt. “She had a way of relating to the audience, and it’s really special to see someone hold everyone’s attention with their presence.”The operative word is “presence,” which Beans has plenty of. Seemingly unafraid to make bold choices, and bolstered by pure charisma and a sharp eye for comedy, hers is a type of performance that hearkens back to when theater was the only way to see personality writ large.One of her “I’m Revolting” co-stars, Patrick Vaill, put it this way: “The acting style of the time we’re in is rooted in doing less; a glance, a shift in physicality. We don’t have actors playing to the balcony, so when someone does that, it’s invigorating.”In Gardner’s dark comedy, about patients at a skin cancer clinic, Beans’s comedic chops are tighter, this time blended with the forceful compassion of the type-A older sister she plays.Beans, left, and Alicia Pilgrim as her sister in Gracie Gardner’s dark comedy “I’m Revolting,” which opens Oct. 5 at the Atlantic’s Linda Gross Theater.Sara Krulwich/The New York Times“She understands the tone of storytelling very well and can throw herself into that, whatever it is,” the director, Knud Adams, said. “With confidence comes that transformational fearlessness where she knows what needs to be served and dives in headfirst.”Both collaborators referenced Beans’s presence, onstage and off, with Vaill noting that “the performance is happening before you even realize it’s a performance,” and Adams, who said the role was hers as soon as she expressed interest, praising Beans as seeming “boundless in what she can take on.”That limitlessness is a trait that also comes through in conversation, even if Beans is unaware of it, half-joking that she was grateful that she’d had no faith in herself for her “Skin of Our Teeth” audition.“I got the audition through Lileana, because we’d worked together quite a bit, and she’s a friend,” explained Beans, who has appeared in several Off Broadway productions directed by Blain-Cruz, including “Anatomy of a Suicide” and “Marys Seacole.” “I read the play and, I’m going to be honest with you, thought, ‘OK, this play is weird, but this part! How are they going to cast someone who’s not famous?’ It made me go into the audition with a lot of freedom, so I did the craziest version I possibly could. It empowered me to make really big choices, and I felt free in a way I’d never felt before as an actor.”Blain-Cruz said she first starting “keeping tabs” on Beans after seeing her in a non-equity showcase production of Sam Shepard’s “Curse of the Starving Class” at Williamstown Theater Festival in 2017, and has since cast her in four productions.“I was excited, but not sure, about Gabby for ‘Skin,’ because it is such a particular role,” Blain-Cruz said. “But she came in and blew it out of the water. Her alacrity with language is stunning, and her moving the character between an exhausted lady-of-the-stage into this zany character voice revealed somebody who is willing and bold enough to go full-tilt.”The director noted that, along with the other productions on which they’ve collaborated (including “Girls” at Yale Repertory Theater), Beans has excelled at “existing in different realities and times.” Blain-Cruz commended her as a “dramaturgically intelligent actor” who has become her muse, and whose “humor and intensity” she believes would perfectly suit a Yorgos Lanthimos film like “The Lobster.”But before Gabby Beans became a performer, she was Gabby Beans, Army brat. Born in Georgia to a physician mother and a father who was in the military, she “kind of grew up in Northern Virginia,” also living in Louisiana and Hawaii before settling in a German ski town in the Bavarian Alps, Garmisch-Partenkirchen, for high school. She was accepted to Columbia University, which brought her back stateside to study neuroscience and theater.After three years of working at a neonatal intensive care unit and doing student plays at Columbia, she decided against medical school, instead opting for a master’s degree in classical acting at the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art, a city she fell in love with while growing up in Europe. She credits seeing Fiona Shaw in a 2009 production of “Mother Courage” at the National Theater, and Kristin Scott Thomas in the Old Vic’s 2014 production of “Electra,” as formative theatrical experiences.The actress, who opts for “a monastic life” whenever she’s working, has a passion for the city’s house and techno music scene.Desmond Picotte for The New York Times“It’s really nurturing as a young actor to be in a country whose most famous writer is a playwright,” she said. “There’s just a different sensibility around theater, an awareness of and value for the work of actors that I think is not quite true here unless you’re incredibly famous.”Though she has a deep knowledge of actors past and present, it becomes clear, listening to Beans discuss her other interests, that she has a life beyond the stage. She loves the structure and discipline required of acting — a holdover from her upbringing, she said she opts for “a monastic life” whenever working — but she lights up with an insider’s passion when describing her love for New York City’s house and techno scene.“I’m into the beep-beep-boop music,” she said, smiling. “I grew up in Germany, so how could I not be?”Back in Bavaria, she and her friends would travel to Munich for its “debaucherous” club scene. Here, it’s electronic music hot spots like Elsewhere and Nowadays in her Bushwick neighborhood, where she’s lived since 2016. What first drew her to the scene was footwork, a type of electronic music out of Chicago that she’d hear in grungy Brooklyn warehouses. But she hasn’t kept up with that scene lately, she said, because of the pandemic, her busy schedule and the effects of gentrification.“A lot of my favorite parties went away,” Beans said. “The small record labels throwing them were priced out of the spaces. There used to be all these D.I.Y. venues on Kent Avenue before they turned into the Vice offices. That was my scene: fast-paced Black electronic music in a warehouse, where the bar would be a cart table with a handle of Everclear and a bottle of Sprite. Once those places went away, I wasn’t as present in the clubs.”Warehouse parties, acting, Eartha Kitt adoration, her recent turn toward writing and directing short films with a magical realism bent: “It’s all the same, all just about being alive and feeling free,” she said. “It’s all me.” More

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      in Movies

      Wendell Pierce Steps Into ‘Death of a Salesman’

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      A Broadway revival of “Death of a Salesman” has a Black lead for the first time, giving Pierce a chance to step into a role he was “born to play.”“Are my best days behind me?” Wendell Pierce said as he put down his steak knife. “Was I ever any good? A man can’t go out the way he came in. A man has got to add up to something.” It was here that he began to cry.This was on a recent weekday evening at the Palm, an upscale steakhouse in the theater district, and Pierce was quoting, at least in part, from Arthur Miller’s “Death of a Salesman,” which is in previews now and will open on Broadway on Oct. 9, following a successful London run a few years ago. Pierce, 58, stars as Willy Loman, the decompensating salesman of the title. It is his first Broadway appearance in more than 30 years. And even though Pierce has enjoyed a robust career, which includes long stints on prestige television shows and an Obie award for sustained excellence of performance, the questions that obsess Willy — questions of attainment, opportunity, legacy — are questions that obsess him as well. So much that when asked to consider them, he found himself weeping into his surf and turf.“I want to make my mark, too,” he said. “I’m like Willy Loman.”Pierce grew up in Pontchartrain Park, a midcentury New Orleans suburb that attracted middle-class Black families. He graduated from an arts high school, then matriculated at Juilliard, graduating in 1985. For years he was a journeyman, filming an episode of television here, a movie there, then perhaps appearing in a play, like Caryl Churchill’s finance industry farce, “Serious Money,” which came to Broadway, briefly, in 1988. (He has helped to produce two other Broadway shows, but “Salesman” marks his return as an actor.)In 2001, he was cast as William Moreland, a detective nicknamed Bunk, on the HBO series “The Wire.” While Bunk’s partner, Dominic West’s Jimmy McNulty, commanded the larger story lines, Bunk emerged as a character as richly drawn and portrayed as any. When the writer David Simon began to dream up his next series, “Treme,” created with Eric Overmyer, he built a role, that of the trombonist Antoine Batiste, with Pierce explicitly in mind.Sharon D Clarke as Linda Loman and Wendell Pierce as Willy Loman in the Broadway revival of “Death of a Salesman,” which opens Oct. 9 at the Hudson Theater.Sara Krulwich/The New York Times“He can play anything,” Simon explained in a recent phone conversation. “He can play belligerent, he can play vulnerable, wounded. The angles are all really acute.” Simon went on, calling Pierce an actor’s actor, a student of the human condition, a “total pro.”That evening, at the Palm, Pierce looked professional, dapper and gentlemanly in a well-cut suit and pinstriped shirt. He has a round face, like a moon that’s nearly full, streaks of silver in his beard and deep-set, observant eyes. His expression looks as if it ought to relax into a smile, but it doesn’t. If you have heard his voice, then you will know that it is rich and sonorous, barrel-aged, with cadences that border on the biblical. Had acting not worked out, he has the skill set to have made a great career as a preacher, which he seems to know.“Here endeth the sermon,” he joked at the close of one of his speeches. And then, self-consciously: “Actors, man.”Acting did, of course, work out. (Detours into entrepreneurship have met with perhaps less success.) But Pierce has rarely been a leading man and he’s aware of that, sometimes painfully. His résumé reveals a long career as an ensemble player, a sidekick, lately a dad, nearly always an actor who subsumes himself to the character. When I mentioned to friends that I would soon speak with him, there was often a pause while they scrambled to look up his credits, followed by a “Yes. Of course. That guy.”Simon has a theory about this. Two theories. One emphasizes the texture and realism of Pierce’s acting. “A lot of our culture is about everything is heightened. And nothing about Wendell Pierce’s performances are ever heightened,” he said. The other comes down to a question of prettiness. “Wendell has an everyman look,” Simon said. “He’s an attractive man. But he has an everyman look.”And yet, all of this — the everyman quality, the realism, the vexed relationship to his own success — makes him ideal for Willy. As Marianne Elliott, who co-directed the London production of “Salesman” put it in a recent conversation: “He was kind of born to play it. He’s so perfect for the part.” Perfect, but with one significant departure. Pierce is Black. And Willy, in America, has nearly always been played by white men.A few years ago, while directing “Angels in America,” Elliott had an idea for a “Death of a Salesman” with a Black family at its center. Together with her associate director, Miranda Cromwell, who is directing the Broadway production, and in conversation with Rebecca Miller, Arthur Miller’s daughter, Elliott put together a workshop as proof of concept. When they saw that this staging could work, with hardly any changes to the script, Elliott and Cromwell reached out to Pierce, seeking an actor of both stature and deep feeling.Willy Loman is a role that Pierce never anticipated having the opportunity to play and a role that yet felt uniquely personal.Nate Palmer for The New York Times“He’s an exceptionally classically trained, brilliant actor, but he has so much heart, so much warmth, so much charisma,” Cromwell explained in a recent interview. “There is a complication within him and a vulnerability.”“He is not afraid to share his personal lived experience,” Cromwell continued, “and really be vulnerable on that stage.”Pierce sprang at it. Because Willy Loman is a great role and a lead role, a role that he never anticipated having the opportunity to play and a role that yet felt uniquely personal, even though Pierce has the gift of making every role he plays feel personal.“Wendell acts the way he lives: With the deepest appreciation for where he’s from and an insatiable curiosity of where he can go,” said John Krasinski, Pierce’s co-star in the Amazon series “Jack Ryan.”REHEARSALS BEGAN in 2019 and the show, which co-starred Sharon D Clarke as Willy’s wife Linda, opened in June at the Young Vic in London before transferring to the West End that fall. In a glowing review for The New York Times, Ben Brantley noted that in Pierce’s hands, “what has often felt like a plodding walk to the grave in previous incarnations becomes a propulsive — and compulsively watchable — dance of death.”That wasn’t necessarily what I saw when I visited the New York rehearsal room in early September to watch the cast — all new, except for Pierce and Clarke — work through the first scene of “Death of a Salesman.” After the cast sang a spiritual, Pierce entered, plodding, through a stage door. “I’m tired to the death,” his Willy said. His overcoat seemed made of lead and he looked hunched, beaten down, a decade older easily.But this, he explained to me at dinner, is what he spends the rest of the play fighting against. Those sunken shoulders represent every obstacle that Willy encounters, the threats to his livelihood, his masculinity, his sense of himself as a self-made all-American man. In this production it also represents the racist behavior that Willy faces, the microaggressions and epithets.“I have to know and feel that lead coat, the heaviness and the weight of the world that is placed upon Willy so that I can fight with all the fire and exuberance,” he said.Clarke, the Tony-nominated actress who has worked with him for more than three years, noted the energy that Pierce had brought to the role and the sense of overpowering love that his Willy has for Linda and their children.Pierce, right, as Bunk Moreland in “The Wire,” with Dominic West, left, and Larry Gilliard Jr. David Lee/HBO“His Willy is so lovable,” she said in a recent interview. “He will make you laugh, he will make you feel joyous, which makes the heartbreak at the end all the more deep and all the more resonant.”Rendering the Loman family as Black aggravates that heartbreak. As Cromwell explained it, the play remains the same, but its themes hit even harder. “The play is still, I believe, about the American dream,” she said. “When we see that through the lens of a Black family, we really see how much further away that dream is.”Playing Willy has eluded the great Black actors of previous generations, if they dared to dream it at all. In considering the opportunity, Pierce listed off at least a dozen actors — James Earl Jones, Ossie Davis, Roscoe Lee Browne among them — whom he thinks of as his forebears, all of whom, he believes, would have made a magnificent Willy.“I am humbled to be here now for them, to honor them, to honor their desires,” he said. “I owe it to them to step up and do my part and make a contribution to the American theater and that’s a humbling and a beautiful honor to have.”That contribution may hit differently here than it did in London, when this distinctly American play has returned to an American stage and to America’s particular racial climate. Cromwell told me that the play felt changed already.“Because it is closer to home,” she said. “I really feel that it’s holding a mirror to itself. It’s a great classic play being seen through a lens that it hasn’t been seen through before. And it will be surprising and dangerous in that space.”That this lens centers a Black family has and will continue to make headlines. But Pierce brings much more than his race to Willy, and the role has brought him things in return, some of which he anticipated, some he didn’t. Willy’s mortality has made him conscious of his own. He has dreamed about death throughout the rehearsal process — his own death, those of his loved ones — and had been preoccupied with how much time he has left and if he has used his time well.Willy finds solace, however incomplete, in his family. Pierce has never married. He has no children. And yet, he relates to Willy in this way, too, as a man who has put his career above his personal life. “My disruption has been that personal aspect,” he said. “So now I’m trying to learn the lesson of not being blind to what’s there. That’s what the lesson of this play will be for me.”Well, it’s one lesson. Others help him to appreciate the work and the choices that have brought him here. People have told him that he shouldn’t think of himself as a journeyman actor, but he does. And that, he said, is what makes him so much like Willy. He was crying through this, too. And he asked me to write about it, so that a reader would understand how much all of this means to him.“I want people to know. I want people to know. I want them to know,” he said. “It’s close. It’s so close. I’m proud of that.” More

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      in Theater

      Book Review: ‘The Whalebone Theatre,’ by Joanna Quinn

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      Joanna Quinn’s “The Whalebone Theatre” breathlessly follows a trio of British youngsters from frolics on the beach to service and spycraft.THE WHALEBONE THEATRE, by Joanna QuinnWhales loom large not just in the ocean but in landlocked imaginations: these mysterious mammals, gentle but fearsome, threatened and threatening, almost unfathomably enormous. So like us with their warm blood and communication skills, and yet so not.You might never have cracked Herman Melville’s “Moby-Dick” and still use the phrase “great white whale” to mean an obsessive but elusive goal. The massive model in the Museum of Natural History was immortalized further by Noah Baumbach in “The Squid and the Whale.” Don’t forget Carvel’s Fudgie, the ’70s sheet cake that won’t quit. And one of the most appealing characters in Lidia Yuknavitch’s recent novel “Thrust” was the wearily maternal whale who helped out the human protagonist.The 60-foot-long, seven-foot-tall creature that appears in Joanna Quinn’s first novel, “The Whalebone Theatre,” is, alas, D.O.A., found beached on the coast of Dorset, England, by a 12-year-old named Cristabel, with the all-too-apt surname Seagrave. She quickly pierces her discovery with a homemade flagpole fluttering with the family coat of arms and shouts, “A mighty leviathan, I have claimed it,” to amused fishermen in the vicinity.Taking up toy weapons and disdainful of marriage plots, Cristabel is outlined in the endearing if slightly stock shape of unconventional heroine. Having wondered, “Why aren’t there interesting girls in the stories?” while being read the “Iliad” by Maudie, the kitchen maid who for a time shares her attic bedroom, she is determined, perhaps a little overdetermined, to write her own.She and her younger half sibling, Flossie (nicknamed “the Veg” for an indelicate countenance), and cousin Digby, whom she treasures as a brother, circumvent the laws about “fishes royal” belonging to the king, and will make of the whale skeleton a giant play space: to stage actual plays, the greatest hits of Shakespeare’s catalog, with help from the bohemian adults visiting Chilcombe, the estate where they live. Quinn has said in interviews she got the idea of the skeleton set from a Kate Bush concert.She is being eagerly interviewed because “The Whalebone Theatre,” a generous slab of historical fiction cut from the same crumbling stone as Evelyn Waugh’s “Brideshead Revisited” and Elizabeth Jane Howard’s “The Cazalet Chronicles,” is a big hit in England. Centered on imperiled aristocracy during the well-trod period of 1919-45, it’s also been compared (inevitably, and to Quinn’s dismay) to “Downton Abbey,” Chilcombe being almost a character in its own right. I was reminded further, at least during its delightful first third, of Dodie Smith’s cult classic “I Capture the Castle” and of a lesser-known work by the prolific children’s book author Noel Streatfeild, “The Growing Summer,” in which four siblings are sent to live with their eccentric aunt in Ireland.Shimmeringly if sometimes a little preciously, Quinn depicts the strange, resourceful magic that can be conjured by a cluster of children when they’re neglected by selfish adults. Overseen by a vague French governess, they educate themselves with books stolen from the study, by eavesdropping from cloakrooms on drunken dinner parties and by running around with young “savages” they encounter scuttling naked around the shore, the progeny of Taras, a daring Russian artist.We first meet Cristabel when she is just 3, finding the taste of snow “disappointingly nothingy.” Her mother died in childbirth and her new stepmother, Rosalind, is vain, beautiful and cold like the snow, though not evil. Her stolid father, Jasper — still mourning his late wife, who haunts the ancestral pile like a more benign Rebecca de Winter — will soon be dead as well, tumbled from a horse (of course), his dashing younger brother, Willoughby, stepping easily into his shoes.The new couple will entertain a parade of international visitors of which Taras is the most vivid and voluble, enjoying boozy picnics by the sea and shopping expeditions — at least until it’s time to fight the Nazis. “We don’t have a choice,” Willoughby tells Rosalind, crackling his newspaper, when the doted-upon Digby enlists. “Surely they had a choice. They always had a choice,” she thinks, suspended in the recent past. “They chose extravagantly and at length. Fabrics, perfumes, tables in restaurants.”On atmospherics, “The Whalebone Theatre” is absolute aces, to borrow the patois of the Americans who drop in for cultural contrast, new-moneyed and loud. Reading it is like plunging into a tub of clotted cream while (or whilst) enrobed in silk eau-de-Nil beach pajamas. You’ll immediately want to change your font to Garamond and start saying things like “Toodle-pip, darlings!” The weather, whether misty or stormy, dappling sunshine or “moonlight falling through the window like an invitation,” is consistently impressive.Quinn is an energetic narrative seamstress. Into her giant tapestry she stitches in letters, lists, scrapbook entries, dramatic dialogue, Maudie’s sexually adventuresome diary entries and the occasional piece of concrete poetry. All of this is lovely and unforced.The novel begins to veer off the rails, however, when a grown Cristabel, “sick of pushing tiddlywinks about” as a member of the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force, becomes a secret agent, wrestling down an SS officer with the sudden physical dexterity of Angelina Jolie in “Mr. and Mrs. Smith.” The theater of childhood has become, yes, the theater of war. Flossie joins the Women’s Land Army, remaining at Chilcombe, where the finances have become predictably shaky, skinny-dipping with a German prisoner of war as vegetables fill their onetime proscenium. Maudie writes of sleeping with a Black soldier who plays her Billie Holiday (“he calls me a tall drink of water, but he is a river and I will lay myself along him”). Like many characters, even the older principals, even the poor whale, he is just passing through.Gorgeous and a little breathless, with luscious food scenes from beginning to end — enough cake and pudding for a thousand Carvels — “The Whalebone Theatre” could have been tighter corseted. But Quinn’s imagination and adventuresome spirit are a pleasure to behold, boding more commanding work to come.THE WHALEBONE THEATRE | By Joanna Quinn | 576 pp. | Knopf | $29 More

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      ‘Sesame Street: The Musical’ Review: Everything’s A-OK

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      Jonathan Rockefeller’s Off Broadway production blends the charm and wit of the show’s early days with more modern characters.Bert has stage fright, Ernie has wandered off to take a bath, and a certain blue gourmand has already eaten the first two letters of his alphabet song. (They appear to be made of chocolate chip cookie, what was the prop master thinking?) But everything is just as it ought to be at “Sesame Street: The Musical,” a playful and captivating on-ramp to a love of show business, now running Off Broadway at Theater Row.Though the cuddly oddballs of “Sesame Street” have been amusing and educating children on TV for more than 50 years, on a Saturday morning at the theater, the pint-size fans are a discerning and unruly bunch, liable to throw their hands up and start wailing at any moment. (The show is recommended for ages 3 and above.) They are not afraid to ask the tough questions. (“Hey, where’s Elmo going?” one eager voice appealed.) And they have an instinctual appreciation for the shiny things in life. (“Look, bubbles!”)The new stage production, written, directed and produced by Jonathan Rockefeller, in collaboration with Sesame Workshop, delivers a meta look behind the scenes at the art of putting on a musical. A headset-clad lamb, defying the typical all-black stage manager’s uniform in favor of its natural coat, is running the show. (“Quiet ba-a-a-ackstage!”) The dramatic crisis, quickly resolved, arrives early: Somehow, the gang forgot to book a special guest. Stephen Fala, posing as a stray patron, ambles onstage and finds his big break. And with dimples like that, it’s no wonder.Pinnacles of the indelible “Sesame Street” song catalog are mixed into the musical, and Elmo is able to show off his moves.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesPinnacles of the indelible “Sesame Street” song catalog, like “Rubber Duckie” and “C Is for Cookie,” are mixed in with numbers meant to teach the human newbie in their midst, a clear audience surrogate, how to save the show. Never carried a tune? Be Rosita’s echo in “Sing After Me.” Can’t dance? The Count can teach you “The Batty Bat,” though you may prefer to take after Elmo, who at least has legs to demonstrate that he’s got the moves. A few new songs by Tom Kitt, Helen Park and Nate Edmondson touch on the power of imagination and dressing up as a vehicle for self-affirming play.Naturally, all that sounds like a reeking load of garbage to Oscar the Grouch, who assumes the part of a critic at large for this paper — subtly rebranded “The New Yuck Times” — with a review that decries the show as, “Stinky! Rotten! Trash!” (Respectfully, I disagree.) “You better not enjoy yourselves,” he warns. “Or I’ll have nothing to write about!” What’s an introduction to theater without a proper critic’s roast?Unfortunately for Oscar, who growls his signature ode “I Love Trash” with sour panache, the musical he knocks is far from rubbish, though it’s largely and lovingly fashioned from recycled material. A classic count-to-12 ditty harks back to the program’s 1970s roots, as do a pair of hares whose accordion limbs stretch like taffy in a funky dance break.Rockefeller’s production nicely blends the charm and wit of the early days of “Sesame Street” with both old-school and more modern characters, all courtesy of Jim Henson’s creature shop. Gabrielle, who sports Afro puffs, and Rosita, who speaks Spanish, are markers of its continued attention to social values like inclusion and understanding.Though its rich-hued aesthetics and loose structure are smartly designed to hold the attention of the young and restless, “Sesame Street: The Musical” rewards adults with the wonders of nostalgia and a few knowing ribs about life behind the footlights. It’s a beguiling place to play pretend — and to learn a thing or two about how to grow up in the real world.Sesame Street: The MusicalThrough Nov. 27 at Theater Row, Manhattan; sesamestreetmusical.com. Running time: 1 hour 10 minutes. More

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      Lynn Nottage’s ‘Clyde’s’ Is the Most-Staged Play in America

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      An annual survey, suspended during the pandemic, resumes and finds theaters nationally doing fewer shows and torn between escapism and ambition.Theaters around America appear to be staging fewer shows than they were before the pandemic, but a lot of the work they are doing is by Lynn Nottage.An annual survey by American Theater magazine, conducted this year for the first time since the start of the pandemic, found that Nottage’s sandwich shop comedy, “Clyde’s,” will be the most-produced play in the country this season, with at least 11 productions. The survey also found that there were 24 productions of Nottage plays planned this season, which ties her with the perennial regional theater favorite Lauren Gunderson for the title of most-produced playwright in America.“Clyde’s,” which had a well-reviewed Broadway production starring Uzo Aduba that opened late last year, is peopled by characters who previously served time in prison, and its mix of laughter and social commentary, plus Nottage’s stature as a two-time Pulitzer winner, apparently appealed to those who program theater seasons. Among those staging the play are the Arden Theater Company in Philadelphia, the Arkansas Repertory Theater, Berkeley Repertory Theater, Center Theater Group in Los Angeles and TheaterWorks Hartford.“‘Clyde’s’ just hit the sweet spot — it has a multiracial cast, it addresses issues of incarceration and racial tension, it’s a comedy, and it’s really smart, and it’s by a Pulitzer winner,” said Rob Weinert-Kendt, the editor in chief of American Theater and an occasional contributor to The New York Times. “It’s a comedy, but it’s not turning away from the world.”Nottage, in an email, said she was pleased the play was finding an audience.“‘Clyde’s’ is a play about people trapped in a liminal space. It is also about community, healing, creativity, mindfulness and forgiveness,” she said. “I’m really quite humbled to be back on the most-produced list with this particular play, which speaks to the moment, as it is about the process of resurrecting one’s spirit and finding grace in the simple business of living.”Lynn NottageJingyu Lin for The New York TimesThe finding that fewer productions are being mounted is troubling, though not surprising — artistic directors around the country have been saying that they were ramping back up slowly after the pandemic shutdown because audiences have not come back in prepandemic numbers. The American Theater lists are based on a survey of theaters that are members of Theater Communications Group; in the 2019-20 season, respondents reported planning to stage 2,229 full-run shows; this season, even with the first-time addition of audio and streaming shows, as well as productions on Broadway, the count is only 1,298.The survey, which counts both plays and musicals but excludes work by Shakespeare and variations on “A Christmas Carol” (because there are so many productions they would swamp everything else), finds more diversity than in the past: Seven of the 14 most-produced plays are by writers of color, and 10 of the 24 most-produced playwrights are writers of color.Notably, though composers are not tracked by the survey, work with songs by Stephen Sondheim is experiencing a spike in popularity since his death last year, with at least 19 productions planned around the country. (In New York, there are three: “Into the Woods,” which opened on Broadway this summer; “Merrily We Roll Along,” running at New York Theater Workshop this winter; and “Sweeney Todd,” coming to Broadway next spring.)After “Clyde’s,” the other most popular shows include some crowd-pleasing entertainments — the comedy “Chicken & Biscuits,” a stage adaptation of “Clue,” the musical “Once” — alongside more challenging fare, like Nottage’s play “Sweat.” After Nottage and Gunderson, the most-produced playwrights are Matthew López, August Wilson and Dominique Morisseau. The complete lists are at americantheatre.org.Update: After publishing its survey results on Friday, American Theater magazine amended its lists to reflect new information. As a result, the statistics about the season’s diversity have been updated in this story. More

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      A Show With a Cryptic Title but No Code to Crack

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      “300 el x 50 el x 30 el,” the Belgian troupe FC Bergman’s ambitious theatrical installation, will open BAM’s Next Wave festival with an elaborate set that recreates a rural settlement onstage.The Belgian theater collective FC Bergman was still young when it landed an invitation to a prestigious festival in its town, Antwerp, in 2011. “They said, ‘You have one evening — do something,’” Marie Vinck, a company member, recalled in a recent video conversation.The troupe members, who were finishing drama school, were thrilled — except that they had no money and no time. Still, in just a month, they hatched the sprawling “300 el x 50 el x 30 el,” an ambitious hybrid of theater, installation and live video, with an elaborate set that recreated a rural settlement onstage.“It was around Christmas time and we thought we could take the Christmas trees out of the streets to create this forest in the back of the theater,” Thomas Verstraeten, another member, said during the same Zoom conversation. “It was a very crazy experience, actually. We invited our friends to be onstage but also our parents, the father of a technician of ours,” he continued. “Marie’s old babysitter was in it. Because it was only once, they said, ‘OK, we’ll do it for free.’”From left: Thomas Verstraeten, Stef Aerts, Marie Vinck and Joé Agemans make up the theater collective FC Bergman.Paule JosepheDespite its abbreviated gestation, the show turned out to have legs: It has toured Europe, and this month will open the Brooklyn Academy of Music’s Next Wave festival on Sept. 28 and run through Oct. 1. It will be FC Bergman’s U.S. debut.“It’s funny, it’s thought-provoking, it sprang from biblical sources, but it’s 100 percent contemporary,” David Binder, the artistic director of BAM, said of the show in a phone interview. “On one hand it’s pushing boundaries, and on the other hand it has a level of accessibility for everyone.” Well, not quite everyone. Binder quickly added that the evening is unsuitable for children.The cryptic title refers to the dimensions of Noah’s ark as described in the Bible, and the scale is appropriately awe-inspiring: The village that New York audiences will discover in “300 el x 50 el x 30 el” will accommodate a cast of 15, supplemented by scores of locally hired extras, live pigeons and, of course, that forest. “It’s one of our smaller shows, actually,” Stef Aerts, another company member, said, laughing.The collective’s productions have drawn comparisons to the physicality and transcendence found in the work of European superstars like Romeo Castellucci and Pina Bausch.Kurt Van der ElstAerts, 34, Verstraeten, 36, and Vinck, 39, were talking from Stockholm, shortly before a performance of their 2021 production “The Sheep Song,” a poetic fable about a sheep dissatisfied with its fate, at the Royal Dramatic Theater, once the home base of the Belgian troupe’s namesake, Ingmar Bergman. (Missing from the call was Joé Agemans, 40, also part of the collective. The other two founding members left in 2018.) FC Bergman regularly travels to the finest European houses and festivals, and since 2013 it has been a resident company at Antwerp’s municipal theater, Toneelhuis. The group doesn’t need to scavenge discarded goods for its sets anymore, leaving extra time for hatching new concepts.Indeed, while FC Bergman has tackled existing works, including an adaptation of William Gaddis’s novel “J R” and the Bizet opera “Les Pêcheurs de Perles,” it usually conceives its own, typically wordless, material. For “The Land of Nod” (2015), the collective set a show inspired by Jean-Luc Godard movies and Flemish masters in a custom-built, full-scale replica of the Rubens room at the Royal Museum of Fine Arts in Antwerp, Belgium, garnering comparisons to the physicality and transcendence found in the work of European superstars like Romeo Castellucci and Pina Bausch.As for “300 el x 50 el x 30 el,” the troupe drew from the aesthetics of the Scandinavian crime series that were becoming popular at the turn of the 2010s. “That was also the period when we discovered the work of the great Swedish filmmaker Roy Andersson, who became a really big influence,” Aerts said, before mentioning “the other Scandinavian guy, Lars von Trier, and also, of course, the Catholic religion and lots of Flemish visual arts.”“It’s about people who are very much isolated in their mini-community,” Aerts said of the show, which uses live video to take audiences inside the homes of the villagers. Kurt Van der ElstRelatively little in this production happens in full view of audience members, who watch the proceedings via a live video feed. “It’s about people who are very much isolated in their mini-community — they live in the village but they don’t interact with each other, only in their little houses and with their little families,” Aerts said. “I think the use of the camera translates this feeling to the audience. You’re just presented the walls of locked houses, but you can peek through the keyhole.”This leaves viewers a lot of room to superimpose their own narratives and interpretations on the visuals. “We played in Greece in the middle of the Euro crisis and you felt that people saw the show as some kind of a metaphor for their situation,” Verstraeten said. “Now it will become something else. I love the idea that meaning is something that can change all the time.”The three company members also emphasized that there is no right or wrong way to read the show.“I hope that the audience permits itself to be very open and to not have the urge to analyze it or to find a key, to crack the code,” Aerts said. “You have to get underwater and let the performance flow over you.” More