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      ‘Told It Like It Was’: Ntozake Shange’s Tales of Black Womanhood

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      As ‘For Colored Girls’ returns to the New York stage, we look at how the show found its way from a Bay Area bar to Broadway in 1976.Ntozake Shange’s “For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide/When the Rainbow Is Enuf” defied Broadway conventions when it opened at the Booth Theater on Sept. 15, 1976. An experimental “choreopoem” focusing on the lives of seven women of color, who are each named after colors of the rainbow, was revelatory and not something you might expect to find on a mainstream Broadway stage.“At the time, Black actresses were still coming out of the stereotype framework of people looking at us and judging us,” Trezana Beverley, who won a Tony for her portrayal of Lady in Red, said during a recent Zoom interview. “Zake broke all those rules and we broke them with her. We were indeed the colors of the rainbow — that was what was so exciting about it.”Monologues detailing loss, betrayal, violence and love are told poetically and combined with movement and music. Through a gentle touch, a soft embrace or an impromptu dance, the women comfort one another as a supportive collective.“Ntozake had an extraordinary way of blending prose with poetry — the rhythms of her words and, of course, the incredible imagination, that she had in her storytelling,” Beverley said.The show ran on Broadway for nearly two years, closing in July 1978 after a total of 742 performances (“Godspell,” which had opened in June 1976, only made it to 527). It became an instant classic and continues to inspire new generations of playwrights, including Aleshea Harris and Dominique Morisseau.To fully appreciate Shange’s work, and what it means to have it return to Broadway this spring (in a production directed by the dancer and choreographer Camille A. Brown), it helps to explore the historical and cultural contexts that led to its original Broadway production in 1976.From Poems to a PlayShange began developing “For Colored Girls” in 1974 while living in the Bay Area, and performed it with the dancer Paula Moss at a bar called the Bacchanal.“Whenever she read her poems, like at the Nuyorican Cafe years ago, she always had musical accompaniment,” Beverley recalled. “She always had a saxophonist, a flutist or a cellist, and she moved with her poems. She has a line in her poem, she says ‘music was like smack to me,’ and you knew it.”She had found inspiration in the Black Women Writers’ Renaissance, which began to unfold around the time she graduated from Barnard College. In works like Toni Morrison’s “The Bluest Eye” and Alice Walker’s “The Third Life of Grange Copeland,” both published in 1970, the writers explored the specific ways Black women contend with racial and gendered violence.And Shange had her own inner struggles. Her college journals reveal that she “tried to commit suicide,” said Kim F. Hall, the Lucyle Hook professor of English and a professor of Africana Studies at Barnard. “Go back to some of the early interviews. She talks about it very forthrightly,” she said, adding that the title of the play is not “an abstraction.”All of this fed her poetry, and after spending several years on the West Coast for graduate school, she returned to New York and began to turn her poems into a play. And that’s when Ifa Bayeza, Shange’s sister, introduced her to the director Oz Scott.“I directed right from the beginning,” Scott, 72, said. “We did it at DeMonte’s, the bar on the Lower East Side where we started it, and then we went to Henry Street [home of the New Federal Theater], then we went to the Public, and then we went to Broadway.”Opening at the New Federal TheaterBefore the show could move to Midtown from downtown, producers had to invest in an experimental new work. It’s not like there were many plays by Black women, with an all-Black female ensemble, having sustained runs on Broadway.Ntozake Shange in 1977 in a production of “Where the Mississippi Meets the Amazon,” a play that she wrote with Jessica Hagedorn and Thulani Nkabinde.Marilynn K. Yee/The New York TimesThat’s when Woodie King Jr., founder of the New Federal Theater, came to see “For Colored Girls” at a bar. He was immediately drawn to the work. And he was especially drawn to the poem “Sorry,” Scott recalled. (“Sorry” details myriad excuses that women have heard from lovers to justify mistreatment.)“I gave it to Laurie Carlos [one of the show’s original cast members] the night before,” Scott explained. “I said, ‘I need this poem in this place. Here’s the poem, memorize it for tomorrow.’ And she looked at me and said, ‘Oz, are you crazy? I can’t.’”“I said, ‘Laurie, don’t worry. Just memorize it,’” Scott recalled. “And so, we got to that spot, and she just went into it, and Woodie King was sitting there, and she just looked at Woodie, and she gave the whole poem to Woodie, and she was letter perfect.”It was as if King were the “sorry” lover, sitting there and absorbing the women’s stories. “What propelled me to bring it to the New Federal Theater,” King, now 84, recalled, was that the “women in it were very beautiful and very Afrocentric.”The cast continued to rehearse and eventually performed for Joseph Papp, director of the New York Shakespeare Festival and the Public Theater.“I’d been working for Joe Papp,” Scott said. “I was stage managing ‘The Sun Always Shines for the Cool,’ Miguel Piñero’s play, and around seven o’clock when we’d finished rehearsal, I just scooted everybody out and would sneak the colored girls into the Public Theater and we would rehearse there. Somebody told me that Joe knew. And I said, ‘Joe doesn’t know.’ Joe knew.”They showed Papp the work in a little space that Papp had turned into a movie theater, Scott said. Gail, Papp’s wife, was there and she cried. “She said, ‘You got to do this, Joe,’” Scott said. “And so, Joe said, ‘OK, we’ll just do it in this little 40 to 50 seat theater.’”“I said, ‘You give me a theater, I’ll fill the space.’ So, Joe teamed up with Woodie, and we did it at Henry Street,” Scott said.In the introduction to the 2010 published version of “For Colored Girls,” Shange described opening night at Henry Street as being “divine” with “supplicants flocking from everywhere.”Beverley noted that “At the New Federal Theater, it was like we were at church. Sisters were falling out in the aisle, they were so energized and charged.”After the shows, Beverley said: “We would see a sister in the shadows, and she would follow us down the street, and then she would say, ‘Can I say, can I say something to you?’ And they would say thank you. Thank you for telling my story.”“You see,” she continued, “that’s one of the great impacts that the show had because it told the Black woman’s story. She told it like it was.”Opening Night at the PublicWith the move from Henry Street to the Public, the audience shifted from predominately Black to predominately white, and that continued to be the case when the production moved to the Booth Theater. Even with the growing size of the theaters, the work maintained its intimacy through its poetry, dance and music.On June 2, 1976, opening night at the Public’s Anspacher Theater, the show was sold out. “Joe Papp said, ‘I want you to invite all your friends,’” Scott recalled. “And I said, ‘Joe, the play is sold out.’”“He said, ‘Oz, tell your cast to invite all their friends,’” Scott said. “So, all our friends were out in the lobby of the Anspacher. And when the place was full. Joe said, ‘OK, bring all your friends, have them sit on the stairs.’” King was one of many to fill the stairs.“They sat in the front on the stage. There was no room. And I said, ‘Joe, what about the fire marshal.’ He said, ‘Oz, the play is an hour and 15 minutes. By the time the fire marshal gets here, the play will be over.’”“It was an absolute brilliant move,” Scott added, “because the energy in that room — you had the critics, they were all locked into that room, everybody was locked into that room. It was a magnetic night.”In its move to Broadway, the cast was expanded to include understudies. “I was brought in to audition to replace Zake,” Seret Scott, 72, an original member of the Broadway cast, said in a telephone interview. (Shange also performed in the play, as the Lady in Orange.)From the opening night on Broadway, the cast knew they had a hit. “You could hear ‘Oh!’ or ‘Mmm’ or somebody who would suddenly weep because it was too close,” Seret Scott said. “You could hear the comments. So that is how we knew we were embraced.”The Show’s LegacyPhysical movement drives “the choreopoem.” Instead of completing the play, Shange’s work is meant to unfold through dance and changes to the poems. Donald Sutton, the Shange estate’s literary trustee, said, “Ntozake saw herself as a dancer who supported herself as a professional writer.”He continued, “The chorepoem is driven by the poetry, but the poetry is danced and the poetry is accompanied in sound and the music. Putting all three of those elements together is very difficult.”For the Broadway revival, he added, “Camille’s background as a choreographer and her experience in stage directing gives her the opportunity to realize the choreopoem.”For the 2022 production, which begins previews April 1 and opens April 20, Brown will make her Broadway directorial debut; she is also choreographing the show. (Brown previously choreographed the Public’s 2019 revival of “For Colored Girls,” which was directed by Leah C. Gardiner.)The show “provides me the space to really dive into what I do which is choreography, but also storytelling of the body,” Brown said in a telephone interview. In executing her dual role, Brown will be drawing from her own work, specifically “Black Girl: Linguistic Play” and “Ink,” to find a physical language for Black girls and women to express their stories. “One of the lines in the work says, ‘sing a Black girl’s song,’ and that’s what it’s about,” Brown said. “What is the song for each of us — that anthem, that macro anthem that we all respond to but individually that speaks to us personally?”Although Brown said she is committed to providing a healing space for women of color, she said she plans to build on that legacy as well. “I think it is easy for you to get trapped into a certain way that this show needs to be done,” Brown said. “We need to hit these markers. They need to say it this way, we need to make sure this happens. I had to get out of that. I was talking to a friend and she said, ‘This is an offering.’ It’s going to be my offering.” More

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      K-Pop Star Luna to Make Broadway Debut in ‘KPOP’ the Musical

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      The show, which had an Off Broadway run in 2017, will begin previews this fall at Circle in the Square Theater.“KPOP,” a high-energy multimedia show about Korean pop stars, will transfer to Broadway this fall.And at New York’s Korean Cultural Center on Wednesday morning, it was announced that the K-pop star Luna will be making her Broadway debut as the star of the show.“Anyone who has followed my career knows that musical theater has always been a driving passion of mine,” Luna said at the announcement. “Broadway represents the pinnacle of achievement in my profession, so being able to bring my culture to the fans who flock here from all over the world to see a Broadway show is the honor of my life.”The musical, conceived by Woodshed Collective and Jason Kim, had an Off Broadway run in 2017 at A.R.T./New York, where it was an immersive performance piece that occupied two floors of a building in Hell’s Kitchen. Kim wrote the book, and music and lyrics are by Helen Park and Max Vernon. “The world we explore in ‘KPOP’ is cutthroat, relentless in its pursuit of perfection, full of passionate, hugely ambitious artists, and ultimately a source of joy,” Park said on Wednesday.The show’s Off Broadway director, Teddy Bergman, and its choreographer, Jennifer Weber, will return for the Broadway production. Previews are to start on Oct. 13 at the Circle in the Square Theater; opening night is set for Nov. 20.Luna began her career in 2009 as the main vocalist and lead dancer of the K-pop girl group f(x) — one of the first groups to cross over into the United States — and went on to establish herself as a musical theater actress. In 2011, the singer, born Park Sun-young, starred as Elle Woods in the South Korean production of “Legally Blonde.”The same year she also starred as Violet Sanford in a musical adaptation of “Coyote Ugly” in Seoul. Since then, she has had lead roles in “High School Musical on Stage!” (2013), “In the Heights” (2015-16) and “Mamma Mia!” (2019-20).The cast of “KPOP” during the Off Broadway run, which was an immersive performance piece that covered two floors of a building in Hell’s Kitchen.Vincent Tullo for The New York TimesNow, she’ll be starring in “KPOP.” The producers say that the Broadway version of the show will tell the story of one singer’s internal struggle, which in turn threatens to dismantle one of the biggest labels in the industry. At the same time, a host of international superstars are risking it all for a one-night-only concert.“For those of you who already know and love K-pop music, this show is going to remind you why you fell in love with it in the first place,” Luna said. “For those of you yet to discover K-pop, get ready. We are going to blow you away.”The lead producers of the Broadway production of “KPOP” are Tim Forbes and Joey Parnes. The Off Broadway show, which had a sold-out run, was an Ars Nova production in collaboration with Ma-Yi Theater Company and Woodshed Collective.The Off Broadway production received mostly positive reviews. In his review for The New York Times, Ben Brantley, said: “The show is best when parody blurs into the already surreal dimensions of what’s being parodied.” More

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      Hollywood Star Gives Broadway a Much-Needed Boost. Sound Familiar?

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      A Broadway comeback is a box-office triumph: Parallels abound between two starry shows, more than 80 years apart.It was as dark a time as Broadway had ever seen. Multiple stages were shuttered, uncertainty abounded, and a beleaguered theatrical season was limping along, desperate for a hit. But then a Hollywood movie star — who was also a uniquely magnetic performer on the musical stage — rode into town, bestriding a vehicle perfectly suited to his outsize talents. He had retreated to a film career for nearly a decade, and frequently hinted at a Broadway return, but then, in his 50s, he finally did so — and it didn’t hurt that a beloved musical comedy ingénue was at his side.Consumers tossed money over the box-office transom by the sackful, creating one of the biggest box-office advances in memory. It was a triumph that prompted one critic to conclude: “Broadway is beginning to look like Broadway again.”While this may sound an awful lot like Hugh Jackman’s highly anticipated return to Broadway in “The Music Man” (co-starring the captivating Sutton Foster), this précis also captures another Broadway comeback: Al Jolson’s star turn in “Hold On to Your Hats,” a long-forgotten show that took a forlorn town by storm 82 years ago. And, though “The Music Man” grossed $3.5 million the other week — the most of any show since theaters reopened after the long pandemic shutdown — Jolson, it should be noted, got better reviews.Sutton Foster as Marian Paroo and Hugh Jackman as Professor Harold Hill in the Broadway revival of “The Music Man.”Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesBy the end of the 1930s, Jolson’s eight-cylinder performance persona had been idling over in Hollywood. Although he had dominated Broadway in the late teens and the 1920s, usually in rickety vehicles that accommodated his performances in blackface, the phenomenon of talking pictures — which he had exploded with “The Jazz Singer,” the first feature-length “talkie” with musical sequences, in 1927 — had changed over the following decade.“His kind of all-devouring star personality was no longer the kind that would thrive on film; Jolson was instrumental in creating the movie musical, but it had left him behind by then,” Richard Barrios, the musical film historian, recounted in a phone interview. His earlier films had been commercial blockbusters, showing off his ebullient and narcissistic way with a musical number, but Hollywood musicals were pivoting from such personality-pounding packages to more ensemble-driven stories and gentler stars such as Fred Astaire or Judy Garland. This transition made Jolson feel as if he was being put out to pasture on the West Coast — not to mention his fraying marriage to Warner Bros.’s tap-dancing ingénue Ruby Keeler. As the new decade began, Jolson’s primary passion was for playing the ponies out at Santa Anita Park.And it was a pony that would carry him back to the East Coast.The producer Alex Aarons had an idea for a stage show that would star Jack Haley, who had just starred as the Tin Man in “The Wizard of Oz.” The show’s concept was pretty clever by the standards of the day: a Western action hero for the Nationwide Broadcasting Company, named the Lone Rider (and his faithful companion, Concho — get it?), is recruited by denizens at the Sunshine Valley Rancho to defend them against bandits; they don’t realize he’s a radio entertainer playing a fictional character. The scenario provided for plenty of high jinks and heroism for the performer playing the Lone Rider, who’s “so tough, he uses a rattlesnake for a whip.” Spoiler alert: in real-life, he’s not. (This is an original concept, though, “borrowed” subsequently for such films as “Three Amigos” and “Galaxy Quest.”)Aarons recruited the “Wizard of Oz” lyricist, Yip Harburg, and the composer Burton Lane, who was also working in Hollywood at the time, to collaborate with the “Anything Goes” writer Guy Bolton (abetted by a few errant gag men). When Haley bowed out, Jolson was immediately interested, piqued by the comic and musical potential offered by the Lone Rider character. (Jackman, of course, has his own resonance with an action hero, having played Wolverine in the “X-Men” movies.) He signed on for a fall 1940 Broadway opening of “Hold On to Your Hats” and agreed to front 80 percent of the show’s nearly $100,000 investment.Ruby Keeler, Jolson’s wife, took on the ingénue role in the show even though she had filed for divorce.Lucas & Monroe, via Billy Rose Theatre Division, The New York Public Library
      for the Performing Arts
      That meant Jolson was calling most of the shots, and he cannily shaped the new musical around his strengths. Thankfully, he eschewed any of his blackface routines (though, typical of its time, the show’s script embraced the casual racist stereotypes of Mexicans, Native Americans and Jews). But Jolson — for whom the fourth wall was a mere inconvenience — managed to stop the show each night, usually at its climax, to sing a medley of his popular hits. Audiences were given a vague context for such digressions — the Lone Rider was a radio entertainer, after all — and his interpolations so offended Harburg and Lane that they refused to leave Hollywood to watch Jolson’s antics once the show hit Broadway. (They would return to New York in 1947 for “Finian’s Rainbow.”)Another of Jolson’s creative decisions was downright deranged: He offered the ingénue role to Keeler, who had just filed for divorce back in California. According to Lane, in an interview decades later, Jolson “expressed this: ‘She’s never been on the stage with me. I think that if she works with me on the stage, she’ll see how wonderful I am and she won’t want to divorce me.’” Somehow, Keeler agreed to sign on for the thankless role and off the show went to out-of-town tryouts in the summer of 1940.“Thankless” seemed to have been the key word in the Jolson-Keeler marriage; there was a 24-year age difference between the two, and Barrios recalled a comment made by Keeler to a commentator in the 1970s: “Al was the world’s greatest entertainer. He used to tell me so every day.” Jolson’s anxiety about the incipient rapprochement got the better of him during the Chicago leg of the tryout; during their duets, Jolson would make cracks about their marriage, Keeler’s talent, Keeler’s mother. That was it. Keeler stormed off the stage, quit the show and divorced Jolson within months.None of this mattered to the cheering throng that greeted Jolson when he sidled up to Broadway’s Shubert Theater on Sept. 14, 1940. (He had wanted his cherished Winter Garden Theater — where Jackman’s “The Music Man” is currently playing — but it was occupied by the manic comedy “Hellzapoppin.”)“Al Jolson is back on the home grounds,” wrote John Anderson of the New York Journal-American, “in celebration whereof I toss my own critical headgear over the moon and over the dictionary.”10 Movies to Watch This Oscar SeasonCard 1 of 10“Belfast.” More

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      ‘Piano Lesson’ With Samuel L. Jackson Plans Fall Broadway Bow

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      The revival of August Wilson’s play, directed by LaTanya Richardson Jackson, will also star Danielle Brooks and John David Washington.From left, Samuel L. Jackson, Danielle Brooks and John David Washington, who will be appearing in the revival of “The Piano Lesson” at the St. James Theater.Caroline Brehman/EPA, via Shutterstock, Leon Bennett/Getty Images, Rosdiana Ciaravolo/Getty Images LaTanya Richardson Jackson first saw August Wilson’s “The Piano Lesson” in 1987 — it was the original production, at Yale Repertory Theater, and of course she was going to see it, because her husband, Samuel L. Jackson, was in the cast.This fall, Richardson Jackson will direct a revival of the Pulitzer Prize-winning play, again with her husband in the cast, although in a different role.The Broadway revival — the first since “The Piano Lesson” arrived there in 1990 — will star Danielle Brooks and John David Washington as a sister and brother at odds over whether to sell a piano on which are carved the faces of their enslaved ancestors. Jackson will play their uncle, Doaker Charles (at Yale, he played the brother).Richardson Jackson will be the first woman to direct a Wilson play on Broadway. She is best known as an actress — in 2018, she originated the role of Calpurnia in “To Kill a Mockingbird,” and in 2014, she was nominated for a Tony Award for her performance as Lena Younger in a revival of “A Raisin in the Sun.” This will be her first time directing on Broadway, but she has directed elsewhere, including a production of Wilson’s “Two Trains Running” at True Colors Theater in Atlanta.In her view, Richardson Jackson said in an interview, the play is “about the struggle of African Americans in this country to actually face what it is that we’re against.” She noted that her own ancestors had been enslaved, and reluctant to talk about it, and she said that she sees the tension within the Charles family as a vehicle for exploring “us facing all of it.”“I’m dealing with this as a ghost story — I’m unashamedly, unabashedly telling a ghost story,” Richardson Jackson said. “And it’s about the bigger ghosts that haunt us, that are part of our lives, that we are carrying around like an anvil.”“The Piano Lesson” is part of a series of 10 plays Wilson wrote about African American life; each is set in a different decade of the 20th century. “The Piano Lesson” takes place in the 1930s, and, like most of the plays, is set in Pittsburgh.The revival is scheduled to begin performances on Sept. 19 at the St. James Theater; the run is expected to last 16 weeks.Brian Moreland (“Thoughts of a Colored Man”), Sonia Friedman (“Harry Potter and the Cursed Child”) and Tom Kirdahy (“Hadestown”) are the producers. Moreland said the play would be capitalized for about $6 million.The producer Scott Rudin previously planned to stage a revival of “The Piano Lesson,” with many of the same artists, but relinquished the rights when he stopped producing after being accused of bullying employees and collaborators. The actor Denzel Washington, who is John David Washington’s father, last year told The Daily Mail he was planning to produce a film adaptation, with the same stars, and with Rudin as a co-producer; a spokesman for Denzel Washington said the actor is still planning to produce a film adaptation. More

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      in Television

      Review: In ‘Plaza Suite,’ the Ghosts of #MeToo Haunt the Halls

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      Matthew Broderick and Sarah Jessica Parker star in a Neil Simon comedy that no longer feels very funny.The first thing you see when the curtain goes up on “Plaza Suite” is an aquatint image of that grand hotel in its antique glory. But when it comes to datedness, the faux-French pile that opened its doors in 1907 has nothing on the Neil Simon comedy — itself a faux-French pile — that debuted on Broadway in 1968. Despite the wearying efforts of a likable cast headed by Matthew Broderick and Sarah Jessica Parker, the passage of 54 years is more than enough to reveal the triptych of one-act plays as uninhabitable in 2022.That may be why the creative team, led by the director John Benjamin Hickey, has taken pains to set the revival, which opened on Monday at the Hudson Theater, so squarely in its period. The grand but dowdy décor of John Lee Beatty’s champagne-colored rooms, along with Jane Greenwood’s transitional costumes (sometimes mod Pucci, sometimes seamed stockings) and Marc Shaiman’s groovy interstitial pop, put a velvet rope around the action to mark it off as a museum piece.But it would need something more like a cordon sanitaire to protect the audience from the trickle of smarm that leaks from the play. Structurally it barely stands, the three stories joined only by the setting they share — Suite 719 — and the two stars playing the leads in each. Beyond that, if you were looking for a theme, you would have to conclude that Simon, still early in his record-breaking career, was mostly interested in demonstrating that men may bluster, but women — whether wives, mothers or sirens — are dopes.The wife arrives first. In “Visitor From Mamaroneck,” Parker plays Karen Nash, a woman who does not know her age because she has not mastered basic arithmetic. (She’s 47.) On what she asserts is her 24th wedding anniversary but is really a day shy of her 23rd, she has arranged for a romantic evening with her husband in the suite she thinks they shared on their wedding night. But Sam Nash (Broderick) is in no mood for romance; as men in such stories always do, he has contracts to work on, with the audience meant to understand that by this he means having an affair with his secretary. (Molly Ranson gives the brief role more dignity than Simon did.)If it’s hard to find the funny in this setup, it’s harder to buy the sad in its payoff; the evident affection between Parker and Broderick, who are married in real life, extinguishes the spark of fury needed to ignite both laughs and pathos. (The original stars were the far more tempestuous George C. Scott and Maureen Stapleton.) Or perhaps Broderick alone is the culprit; he’s about as fiery as a frozen dinner. Parker fares better, occasionally spinning a line to show us that Karen is not as dumb as Sam and Simon think — but she’s pedaling uphill in a story that posits knowledge as a threat to womanly happiness.Broderick and Parker as old flames in the second one-act, “Visitor From Hollywood.”Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesAt least it posits something. The second act, “Visitor From Hollywood,” evidently meant as a post-intermission palate cleanser, has barely any content at all, and what it does have is icky. This time the ditz is Muriel Tate, a New Jersey woman who comes to the Plaza to see, for the first time in nearly 17 years, her high school boyfriend, Jesse Kiplinger. Jesse is now a famous movie producer whose every film, we are told, makes money. And though Muriel from Tenafly, like Karen from Mamaroneck, is an innumerate homemaker — her three children, she says, are “a boy and a girl” — she has the saving grace in Simonland of being “extremely attractive” and thus available for mashing.In the manner of a Benny Hill sketch or an off-brand French sex romp, “Visitor From Hollywood” is single-minded, its action consisting solely of Jesse’s escalating stabs at seduction. But when neither his extreme unctuousness nor a pitcher of vodka stingers quite do the trick, he resorts to the ultimate aphrodisiac: name-dropping. It’s finally the likes of Charlton Heston and Yvette Mimieux who get Muriel into bed.That she eagerly falls for this transparent ploy is not the worst part of the story, which is meant as a satire of celebrity culture; Parker makes Muriel’s star-struck, suburban shallowness, if not exactly funny, then at least endearingly odd. And Broderick, in a hilarious wig and eye-bruising plaid pants, begins to thaw a little, intermittently attempting a New Jersey accent and emitting some lustful grunts.But the possibility of responding to this ruttishness with a lenient giggle is forestalled by the ghosts of #MeToo stalking the play; when Jesse, painting himself as the victim of his unfaithful ex-wives, describes them as “three of the worst bitches you’d ever want to meet,” you may find yourself looking, on Muriel’s behalf or your own, for the exit.Parker and Broderick as the increasingly frustrated parents of a jittery bride in the third one-act play, “Visitor From Forest Hills.”Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesAlas, as the third act demonstrates after a pause, the doors in this kind of comedy tend to be locked. In “Visitor From Forest Hills,” Roy and Norma Hubley are at their wits’ end trying to get their daughter, Mimsey, who’s supposed to get married downstairs any minute, to leave the bathroom she’s bolted herself into. As a quasi-violent farce ensues, in which Roy (Broderick) tries smoking her out, screaming through the keyhole and turning himself into a battering ram, Norma (Parker) stands by simpering, contradicting and driving Roy to distraction.The joke, not a bad one in itself, is that in their response to Mimsey’s jitters about the wedding, the bickering Hubleys exemplify exactly what’s worrying her. Will she and Borden, her fiancé, wind up fighting just like her parents? But the problem Simon actually dramatizes isn’t, as he seems to think, marriage: It’s men. The act’s punchline, in which we get a sour taste of the peremptory Borden, only underlines that inadvertent point.You could, I suppose, investigate “Plaza Suite” as a catalog of male failings in midcentury America; certainly “The Odd Couple,” a Simon comedy from 1965, can support such a reading, even if its two female characters are birdbrains. In any case, that’s not what the current production is offering. Rather, it seems to hope we will look forgivingly enough on our benighted past to excuse it with a “that’s how things were” shrug and laugh.But that’s not how things were, it’s just how Simon saw them, at least until he began to grant women some intelligence and agency a decade later, in “Chapter Two.” Looked at now, his “Plaza Suite” jokes, however well formed, keep dying on the vine. The past is not yet past enough to find such an unfair battle of the sexes funny.Plaza SuiteThrough June 26 at the Hudson Theater, Manhattan; plazasuitebroadway.com. Running time: 2 hours 40 minutes. More

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      ‘Camelot’ Is Returning to Broadway, Reimagined by Aaron Sorkin

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      The Lincoln Center Theater production, with a new book by Sorkin and directed by Bartlett Sher, will open in December.Lincoln Center Theater said Monday that it would stage a revival of the classic musical “Camelot” on Broadway this fall, with a new book by the screenwriter Aaron Sorkin.The revival is to be directed by Bartlett Sher, who in 2019 directed a one-night concert performance of “Camelot,” starring Lin-Manuel Miranda to benefit Lincoln Center Theater. The project will be a second joint Broadway venture between Sher and Sorkin, who previously collaborated on a stage adaptation of “To Kill a Mockingbird” that opened in 2018. Sher has also directed several Golden Age musicals for the nonprofit Lincoln Center Theater, including “South Pacific,” “The King and I” and “My Fair Lady.”“Camelot,” first staged on Broadway in 1960, is based on the novel “The Once and Future King,” which, in turn, was based on the British legend of King Arthur. Lincoln Center Theater described the show as “about the quest for democracy, striving for justice, and the tragic struggle between passion and aspiration, between lovers and kingdoms.”“Camelot” features music by Frederick Loewe and lyrics by Alan Jay Lerner; Lerner and Loewe also wrote “My Fair Lady.” Lincoln Center Theater said that Sorkin’s book would be “reimagined for the 21st century” but based on the original written by Lerner.The musical has been revived on Broadway several times, most recently in 1993, and was adapted as a film in 1967.The new production is scheduled to begin performances Nov. 3 and open Dec. 8 at Lincoln Center’s Vivian Beaumont Theater, which is a 1,080-seat Broadway house. No casting has been announced. More

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      Review: In Stefano Massini’s ‘7 Minutes,’ It’s Make or Break

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      The author of “The Lehman Trilogy” sets his new work in a fictional textiles factory, where workers debate in real time the new owners’ demands.Though based on real events, “7 Minutes,” produced by Waterwell in association with Working Theater, is a piece of hopeful fantasy. It envisions a roomful of people in profound disagreement. Despite disparities of attitude and background, these people listen, respectfully, to one another’s arguments. In our increasingly partisan society, “7 Minutes” offers a portrait of representative democracy — functional, unmired — in action. Can you believe it?Written by the Italian playwright Stefano Massini (author of “The Lehman Trilogy”), and translated by Francesca Spedalieri, this American premiere, at HERE, is set at Penrose Mills, a fictional Connecticut textiles factory. New owners, backed by foreign investors, have taken it over. As the play opens, 10 members of the workers’ executive committee, all women and nonbinary employees, are huddled in the break room waiting for news of the new owners’ demands. (The break room — fluorescents and stained paneling above, linoleum below — is designed by You-Shin Chen and lit by Hao Bai, who also provides the ominous sound design.)After a few increasingly tense minutes, Linda (Ebony Marshall-Oliver), the committee’s spokeswoman — and its 11th member — arrives. The factory will not close, she tells her co-workers. Benefits and salaries will remain stable. But the owners have asked for one small concession: a seven-minute reduction in the employees’ break time. And they require a decision in just over an hour, which means that the debate in the 90-minute play unfolds in real time.From left, Danielle Davenport, Marshall-Oliver, Mahira Kakkar, Simone Immanuel and Layla Khoshnoudi in “7 Minutes.” Sara Krulwich/The New York Times“7 Minutes” is smart. It’s also chilly, as if someone has run the air conditioning at full. And while the documentary framing lends it currency, it can feel familiar. The play, which transposes conflict between management and workers onto conflict between worker and worker, has dramatic antecedents as far back as Clifford Odets’s “Waiting for Lefty” (a drama about unionized cabdrivers so galvanizing that on opening night the audience joined the actors in calls to strike) and as near as Lynn Nottage’s “Sweat” and Dominique Morisseau’s “Skeleton Crew.”At first Linda’s is the only no vote. But as the play progresses, generational rifts emerge as well as differences of ethnicity and pay rate, and several of the other workers shift to her side. (This makes a work like Reginald Rose’s teleplay “Twelve Angry Men” one more forerunner.) On an individual basis, the concession isn’t onerous. The seven lost minutes themselves don’t really matter, and certainly not when compared with the possibility of layoffs or a lockout. But almost immediately the minutes take on symbolic value: Why should the workers reward the new owners? What precedent would a yes vote set?Ultimately, the vote becomes a referendum on freedom, a mostly abstract concept, and the security of a steady paycheck.Linda’s fiercest opponent, Danielle (Danielle Davenport), needs to keep her medical insurance. She has no time for abstraction. “Do you want to start a fight because of your doubts?” Danielle asks.Linda replies, “And do you want to keep the peace, no matter the cost, because of your fears?”Massini has an obvious interest in capitalist systems and the ways in which they can deform individuals and societies. In this production, directed by Mei Ann Teo, ideas dominate, with character consistently subordinated to debate. This is partly a problem of translation. The real conflict on which the play is based took place in a French factory. Massini moved it to Italy. Waterwell’s version uproots it to Connecticut, but without any real feeling of place or circumstance. It could be anywhere.The language is oddly formal (“May they all die,” “If 10 think red, the 11th must blush”) and largely undifferentiated among the characters, who are given only the thinnest carapace of background. The stronger actors — Marshall-Oliver and Davenport among them — can fill in these blanks, but the weaker ones struggle to flesh out the women and nonbinary workers behind the words.This renders “7 Minutes” a play that makes you think. But in contrast to Nottage’s and Morisseau’s works, which consistently ground the political within the individual, it is never one that makes you feel. Democracy without emotion? That’s a fantasy, too.7 MinutesThrough April 10 at HERE, Manhattan; here.org. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. More

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      Review: ‘Confederates’ Talks Race in Double Time

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      In Dominique Morisseau’s promising new play, the action is in the ideas and the setting bounces between the Civil War era and the present.“This play is not like all of my others,” Dominique Morisseau writes in an author’s note in the script for “Confederates.” The new play, about two Black women living in different times but dealing with similar oppression, carries several signatures of Morisseau’s work and yet uses narrative techniques that are departures for her. It makes sense then that “Confederates,” which opened on Sunday at the Pershing Square Signature Theater, feels like an elegant experiment, thoughtful and put-together but not quite realizing its full potential.“Confederates,” which was commissioned by the Oregon Shakespeare Festival and Penumbra Theater, begins with Sandra (Michelle Wilson), a political science professor who has just found an offensive photoshopped image of an enslaved woman on her office door. A few minutes later she’s gone and we’ve stepped back in time to the Civil War, where we meet Sara (Kristolyn Lloyd), a fierce young enslaved woman who will become a spy for the Union.These women and their contemporaries are the alternating focal points of the play, directed by Stori Ayers. The attention shifts so rapidly from one story to the other that they become two halves of a dialogue.Michelle Wilson as Sandra, a college professor, in “Confederates.”Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesKristolyn Lloyd as Sara, an enslaved woman and Union spy in the Civil War era.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesRachel Hauck’s scenic design — two antique chairs, a bench and a side table with drawers, surrounded by the towering white columns and high balcony of a plantation house — is neutral and, at eye-level, uninspiring. But through the heights of the house’s architecture and the spaces between the columns, the set creates a dimension and depth that makes it seem as if the background extends into the ornate corridors and rooms of a Southern home.Known for her Detroit cycle, including “Skeleton Crew,” which just completed its debut Broadway run last month, Morisseau typically opts for realism and traditional, chronological storytelling. In fact, she excels at it; she examines the intersections of race, class and gender through characters that feel as real as a neighbor you hear kicking off his boots at the end of a workday.This play’s structure, however, is different. There’s a textbook quality to it; every scene baldly illustrates a theme, whether it’s the sexualization of Black women, the ways institutions turn Black women against one another, or how expectations of Black men and Black women differ. What action there is consists of arguments and discussions usually involving two or three people, with everything else taking place in the background. For Sara, that means the usual toils of the plantation and the not-so-distant gunshots of the war, which she imagines spells freedom. For Sandra, it’s her search for the perpetrator of the photo and her troubled relationships with her colleagues and students.Morisseau blurs this binary by having the three other characters in the play double-cast: Abner (Elijah Jones), Sara’s brother who escaped the plantation to fight for the Union, is also Malik, one of Sandra’s students. In the past there’s Missy Sue (Kenzie Ross), the plantation owner’s daughter and Sara’s childhood friend; in the present, she is Candice, Sandra’s talkative student assistant. LuAnne (Andrea Patterson) is a house slave when she isn’t Jade, in the present day a colleague of Sandra’s. Morisseau cleverly mirrors the conversations between story lines, so, for example, Missy Sue naïvely adores her slave friend the way Candice idolizes her Black professor.Jones, left, as Malik, a student of Sandra, right.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesAyers’s direction, along with Ari Fulton’s clever tear-away costumes and Nikiya Mathis’s chic array of wigs and hairstylings, is liveliest in the transitions from the past to present, and in the production’s tiny anachronisms, like a slave giving dap. It appears that the play is going into more experimental territory as the characters’ entrances and exits begin to overlap across the timelines, but Ayers seems wary of doing anything more than having them pass like anonymous commuters at Port Authority. Too often her approach seems procedural, but there are moments when the direction shows spunk, as in the flashier transitions, when someone marches or struts to the music, which switches between old racist ballads like “Dixie” and “Oh! Susanna” to rhythmic original songs arranged by Jimmy Keys (a.k.a. J. Keys).Though the show uses the ancillary characters as the points of contact between Sara’s world and Sandra’s, the two women themselves don’t actually meet. “Confederates” creates this tension between its two parts but doesn’t do anything with it. If Morisseau has built her stories with this inherent magic of alternating settings, allowing us to time-travel with her through a discussion of racial politics then and now, why not try to allow the worlds of the two protagonists to extend a bit more? Why not go bigger? Get more bizarre?Because there’s a certain isolation to the story; we’re in the Big House or Sara’s cabin or we’re in a university office. “Confederates” wants to keep our eyes on the two main institutions here (slavery, academia), each of which breeds or fosters its own forms of oppression. Each scene so clearly illustrates a point in the play’s thesis on race that the stakes don’t seem real; we’re just in the realm of discourse.At least Morisseau doesn’t let the pedagogic obscure the poetic. Her language is as gorgeous as always — and just as sharp. So a conversation about sexuality leads LuAnne to say, “Nature ain’t no slave. It move to its own rhythm,” using the terms of enslavement as a way to talk about the untamable lusts of the body. And Morisseau can dress up an atrocity in a metaphor without obscuring the horror beneath the surface, as when Sara describes seeing slaves “whipped so bad looked like their skin came alive and was crawling on they own flesh.”Beautiful language that’s wedded to tales of adversity — the play is full of such paradoxes, another one being that “Confederates” is a work about racism that is truly funny. There’s a lightness to the satire, but it’s not in the writing alone; the roughly 90-minute production has a nimble cast.From left, Kenzie Ross as the master’s daughter, Missy Sue, with Lloyd, as Sara. Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesJones brings an animated repartee to his characters’ interactions, and Ross successfully plays up the cluelessness of her white characters (“OMIGOD. I was completely racist just then,” she exclaims as Candice, owl-eyed in shame with mouth agape). Patterson oozes cool as the brusque, sharpshooting Jade but has less heft to her characters.Wilson embodies the poised and self-assured academic in a red power suit, but the character doesn’t allow her to show much range, while Sara is the play’s most rewarding role, incorporating both a brassy brand of satire and ferocious politico-historical oration. Lloyd easily hits the comic notes and channels a Harriet Tubman-esque bearing in Sara but isn’t as comfortable holding the deeper emotions of the character.Morisseau is a fabulous playwright, so much so that even in her plays’ flaws her brilliance still shines through. And seeing an artist try something new in her art is exciting. What’s even more exciting than that? Anticipating how much further — in her settings, in her stories — she can go.ConfederatesThrough April 17 at the Pershing Square Signature Center, Manhattan; signaturetheatre.org. Running time: 1 hour 40 minutes. More