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      Neil Marcus, Whose Art Illuminated Disability, Dies at 67

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      A playwright and actor, he saw his life as performance art. He was best known for his play “Storm Reading.”At each performance of his play “Storm Reading,” the writer and actor Neil Marcus offered his audience a reminder: “Disability is not a brave struggle or courage in the face of adversity. Disability is an art. It’s an ingenious way to live.”Mr. Marcus, who had dystonia, a neurological disorder that causes involuntary muscle contractions and affects speech, starred in the play, which comically illuminated how he passed through the world in a typical week, through vignettes of him conversing with grocery shoppers, doctors and passers-by.In 1988, when the show had its premiere at the Lobero Theater in Santa Barbara, Calif., people more often than not looked away from those with disabilities. “We’ve always been taught as kids we don’t point, don’t laugh, just basically ignore them,” Rod Lathim, the director of “Storm Reading,” said in an interview.In contrast, “Storm Reading” encouraged audiences to laugh with Mr. Marcus about his experiences.“Neil invited and welcomed, and in some cases demanded that people look,” Mr. Lathim said. “And so he brought them into his reality, which was not a reality of disability; it was a reality of his definition of life.”The success and longevity of the play, which toured throughout the country until 1996, turned Mr. Marcus into a pioneer of the disability culture movement. He called his work a reclamation of personhood in a world determined to deny people with disabilities their autonomy.Mr. Marcus died on Nov. 17 at his home in Berkeley, Calif. He was 67.His sister Kendra Marcus said the cause was dystonia.In 1987, Mr. Marcus and his brother Roger contacted Mr. Lathim, the director of Access Theater, a Santa Barbara company that regularly mounted plays featuring disabled artists. Neil Marcus sent over samples of his writing and asked Mr. Lathim if the theater would be interested in adapting them.Their conversation led to the genesis of “Storm Reading.” Mr. Marcus, his brother and Mr. Lathim worked together to draft the play, whose cast of three originally also included Roger as “The Voice,” who portrayed Neil’s thoughts during his interactions (the role was later played by Matthew Ingersoll), as well as a sign language interpreter.The show was physically taxing for Mr. Marcus. But it also invigorated him.“There’s no drug, there’s no treatment, that is, in my opinion, as powerful as the interaction between a live audience and an artist on the stage,” Mr. Lathim said. “And watching Neil transform from that was astounding.”Scenes from “Storm Reading” were filmed for NBC as part of a 1989 television special about disability, “From the Heart,” hosted by the actor Michael Douglas. The cast reunited in 2018 for a performance at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington.Neil Marcus was born on Jan. 3, 1954, in Scarsdale, N.Y., the youngest of five children of Wil Marcus, who worked in public relations, and Lydia (Perera) Marcus, an actor. When Neil was 6, the family moved to Ojai, Calif.Neil was 8 when he learned he had dystonia, and he attempted suicide at 14 after a taxing series of surgeries, he said in a 2006 oral history interview for the Bancroft Library at the University of California, Berkeley.But counseling gave him confidence. He attended Ojai Valley School, where he was often spotted zooming around in a golf cart. After graduating from high school as valedictorian in 1971, he traveled to Laos; when he returned, he hitchhiked around the West Coast and eventually took classes at Fairhaven College, part of Western Washington University, and elsewhere. He moved to Berkeley in 1980 and became active in the disability activist community there.He explored art through various partnerships. With professional dancers, he participated in “contact improvisation” performances, which eschewed formal choreography and instead followed the seemingly frenetic movements of Mr. Marcus’s dystonia.He also wrote widely. He worked with the University of Michigan professor and activist Petra Kuppers on the Olimpias Performance Research Project, an artist collective that spotlights performers with disabilities in performances and documentaries. Their conversations on disability as art were published in a 2009 essay, “Research in Drama Education: The Journal of Applied Theatre and Performance.” The two also wrote a book, “Cripple Poetics: A Love Story” (2008), which features poetry and photography highlighting the physicality and sensuality of disability.The Neil Marcus Papers, including his essays, poems and correspondence, are held at the Bancroft Library.In addition to his sister Kendra, Mr. Marcus is survived by another sister, Wendy Marcus, and his brothers, Roger and Russell.In 2014 the Smithsonian National Museum of American History commissioned Mr. Marcus to write a poem dedicating its online exhibition “EveryBody: An Artifact History of Disability in America.”His poem began: “If there was a country called disabled, I would be from there./I live disabled culture, eat disabled food, make disabled love,/cry disabled tears, climb disabled mountains and tell disabled stories.” More

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      in Music

      ‘Ain’t Too Proud’ to Close on Broadway as Covid-19 Takes Its Toll

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      The jukebox musical about the powerhouse Motown group will end its run on Jan. 16. It is now the fourth show to announce a closing in the last eight days.“Ain’t Too Proud,” a jukebox musical about the Temptations that opened on Broadway in early 2019, will close on Jan. 16, the show’s producers said on Tuesday.The musical is the fourth Broadway show to announce a closing in the last eight days, as the spike in coronavirus cases from the Omicron variant has exacerbated the financial woes of an already pandemic-damaged theater industry.Last week, the musicals “Jagged Little Pill” and “Waitress,” as well as the play “Thoughts of a Colored Man” announced that they had closed without so much as a farewell performance — all were already on hiatus because of coronavirus cases among cast or crew.The Broadway production of “Ain’t Too Proud,” about the powerhouse Motown group, has not run since Dec. 15, citing coronavirus cases. It is planning to resume on Tuesday, Dec. 28, and hoping to run for three more weeks before closing for good.The musical also has a touring production that had to postpone shows at the Kennedy Center in Washington because of coronavirus cases; it is scheduled to have its delayed start on Tuesday night, as well.“Ain’t Too Proud” had a yearlong prepandemic run, opening in March 2019 to a positive review in The New York Times, where the critic Ben Brantley wrote, “While honoring all the expected biomusical clichés, which include rolling out its subjects’ greatest hits in brisk and sometimes too fragmented succession, this production refreshingly emphasizes the improbable triumph of rough, combustible parts assembled into glistening smoothness.”After the lengthy Broadway shutdown, “Ain’t Too Proud” resumed performances on Oct. 16; because the Broadway League is no longer releasing box office grosses for individual productions, it is not clear how the show has been doing over the last two months. The production received a $10 million Shuttered Venue Operators Grant as pandemic emergency assistance from the U.S. Small Business Administration.The musical won a Tony Award for its choreography by Sergio Trujillo; it features a book by Dominique Morisseau and direction by Des McAnuff, and the lead producers are Ira Pittelman and Tom Hulce. The show was capitalized for $16.75 million, according to a filing with the Securities and Exchange Commission; it successfully recouped that investment, according to a spokesman. More

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      On Broadway, Newly Vital Understudies Step Into the Spotlight

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      As Omicron spreads, shows are relying on replacement actors more than ever. And productions without enough of them have had to cancel performances.One evening in November, just a few hours before showtime, stage management told LaQuet Sharnell Pringle to prepare. A practiced swing, Pringle covers the female parts in the ensemble of the new Broadway musical “Mrs. Doubtfire.” She also understudies the role of Wanda, the social worker usually played by Charity Angél Dawson.The musical was still in previews. Pringle had never really rehearsed as Wanda. But she had studied the script, mastered the choreography and watched dozens of performances. So when Dawson called out (for a reason unrelated to Covid-19), Pringle went on.“It’s the job,” she later explained. “It’s the gig — to be able to be thrown on in a moment’s notice and to be able to deliver.”Swings and understudies are the undersung heroes of Broadway theater. (Off Broadway and regional theater productions may or may not hire them, depending on a production’s budget and priorities.) If a curtain rises when one or more actors has suffered illness or injury, that’s because a swing or an understudy has stepped in, sometimes with just a few minutes to get into costume, sometimes in a costume that isn’t even theirs. At a time of pandemic uncertainty, their contributions have become even more essential.For those unfamiliar with the terminology: Understudies can fill in for one or more of a play or musical’s principal characters. They may regularly appear onstage in a smaller role or they may spend most nights backstage, performing only if needed. Swings have no regular role in a show. Instead they cover up to a dozen ensemble parts in a musical, each with its separate vocal and dance track. Swings may also cover a principal character or two. (Some shows also use alternates, who take over principal roles for a number of performances on a predetermined basis.)In the past week, about half of the shows on Broadway canceled some number of performances. Charlotte St. Martin, the president of the trade association the Broadway League, seemed to blame certain understudies for these cancellations in an interview published Monday in The Hollywood Reporter. “My educated guess is the newer shows maybe have understudies that aren’t as efficient in delivering the role as the lead is,” she said.St. Martin quickly apologized, but not before fans and stars had leapt — or maybe, grand jetéed — to the defense of swings and understudies. “*My* educated guess is that when employers consistently reject our efforts to negotiate for more swings, understudies and sub stage managers, because the industry model has grown dependent on people working sick/injured, it’s short sighted and unsafe,” Kate Shindle, the president of Actors’ Equity, wrote on Twitter.In an interview a few hours later she expanded on those comments. “I hope that Broadway producers will be as proactive as possible in making sure that there is adequate coverage,” Shindle said. “Covid has changed how that looks.” Shows that don’t have enough coverage are forced to cancel.Hiring practices aren’t the only conventions worth re-examining. Historically, swings and understudies have not typically received dedicated rehearsal time until after a show’s opening night. Thursday night, after the fourth preview of “The Music Man,” Hugh Jackman saluted the understudy Kathy Voytko for going on for an absent Sutton Foster, despite having first rehearsed the part of Marian Paroo earlier that day.Without their own rehearsal schedule, swings and understudies have had to learn scenes, songs and choreography by observation and osmosis. (And in reverse, as they were often relegated to watching from the house.) If they had to go on in previews, like Voytko did, their castmates knew to “shove with love,” nudging them toward their correct positions.But the pandemic has encouraged a reckoning with the “show must go on” culture. Graham Bowen, a longtime swing for “The Book of Mormon,” described the mood backstage as, “Hey, if you’re just not feeling great, don’t come to work. It’s OK. We got this.” He referred to nights when only the Playbill-listed cast performs as “unicorns now.” (In mid-December, Bowen tested positive for Covid-19 and had to quarantine, so other swings, many of whom he has trained, are performing in his place.)In response, a few shows are rehearsing understudies earlier, sometimes right alongside the main cast or with the principal director rather than an assistant. “I told them from the jump, ‘We have to all trust each other because there’s all this intimate work. You can’t just come in halfway through,’” said Robert O’Hara, the director of “Slave Play,” which includes several sex scenes. And there is also a drive to allow some understudies to deliver distinct performances, rather than simply copying the work of listed performers.Rehearsal makes some aspects of the job easier. But it doesn’t alleviate the anxiety of not knowing whether you will go on. Or the weirdness of earning a Broadway salary when you may not set foot on a Broadway stage for weeks at a time. Or the feeling that you may be disappointing ticket holders if they see your name printed on a Playbill slip.Despite her longtime career as a swing for “The Phantom of the Opera,” Janet Saia said she once returned a ticket when she arrived at “The Producers” and found that Nathan Lane was out. “That show is all about him!” she said.Yet understudies and swings are always hired because they can do the role — or the many roles — with the virtuosity that Broadway demands.“We’re the last resort,” said Reynaldo Piniella, an understudy on “Trouble in Mind.” “But I do know, watching my understudies rehearse, these people are incredible artists.”On Wednesday night, about 10 minutes before curtain, Piniella got his own call. Though he had already booked a last-minute job on a different Broadway show, “Thoughts of a Colored Man,” he hurried to the “Trouble in Mind” theater, stepped into a costume he had never worn and made his entrance. “I bumped into pretty much every piece of furniture on that stage,” he said. “But I was prepared to tell the story.”In late November and early December, a few weeks before the current string of cancellations, I interviewed a number of swings and understudies about the rewards, stresses and peculiarities of the job and how Covid-19 has altered waiting in the wings. These are edited excerpts from the conversations.Galen J. Williams of “Slave Play” started rehearsals much earlier than usual for an understudy, partly because the play contains quite a bit of intimate work.George Etheredge for The New York TimesGalen J. WilliamsUnderstudy, “Slave Play”What makes you take an understudy job?I’m an Aries, we thrive on spontaneity. It keeps the job exciting, never really knowing when you have to turn the light switch on. Every time you go on, it feels like it could be the last time. So let me really give it my all, go full in and have a good time.Andrea SyglowskiUnderstudy, “Pass Over”What was your rehearsal process like?From the first week, we rehearsed with the main cast, warmed up with them. We were never under any obligation to do exactly what the main cast was doing. We were actually encouraged to create our own characters.The show ended its run before you went on. How did that feel?It was really upsetting. It became increasingly possible that I was going to go on at the end of the run. So the anxiety and the tension increased. I was so excited to be a part of the first Broadway play back. I wanted to be able to show my work. I’m sure every understudy feels that way.“My fantasy is that the actor I’m understudying books some big Marvel movie,” said Reynaldo Piniella, an understudy on “Trouble in Mind.” George Etheredge for The New York TimesReynaldo PiniellaUnderstudy, “Trouble in Mind”How do you feel about understudying?I equate it to being the sixth man on a basketball team. You’re not a starter, but you understand that you play a very vital role. When your number is called, you want to make sure you’re on your game. My fantasy is that the actor I’m understudying books some big Marvel movie. This show is my Broadway debut, and I would love to get on that stage at least one time, feel what that’s like.LaQuet Sharnell PringleSwing, “Mrs. Doubtfire”How do you keep all of those roles in your body and head?I physically need to do choreography every single day, I physically need to say words out loud every day so that it’s a part of my muscles. I will do cross training to make sure I have the stamina to do all of the dance choreography. I increase my voice work so that I am strong enough to sing the songs no matter what. I generally read the script two to three times a week.If you’re not on, do you ever relax backstage?It makes me feel weird if I’m just chilling out. As I’m watching the show, I try to say the lines in real time. I’m trying to go over steps that I want to perfect and really understand. I wait until I get home and I’m in my Epsom salts bath to relax.Graham BowenSwing and co-dance captain, “The Book of Mormon”How does it feel to receive that last-minute call?I have experienced the stage manager coming into a dressing room and saying, “Hey, we need you for the next scene.” And that scene would be in a matter of minutes. It’s kind of one of the best parts of it. You have this adrenaline rush. It’s definitely nerve-racking. But you can ride that and really have a wonderful experience.Janet Saia outside the Majestic Theater, where she’s an understudy in “The Phantom of the Opera.” “You make mistakes, but then you say to yourself, ‘I’m covering eight roles, give me a break,’” she said.George Etheredge for The New York TimesJanet SaiaSwing, “The Phantom of the Opera”What makes a great swing?As a swing, you have to have the fantastic five. First, you have to be fast, you have to learn things fast, you have to adjust to change fast. Second, you have to be fabulous at what you do. The next one is focused, really, really focused. And flexible. And then the last one is fastidious, you’ve got to pay attention to all the details and make sure they’re all in there.With so many roles to cover, have you ever mixed them up?There’s a number in “Phantom,” “Don Juan.” It has all the people I cover in the ensemble around a table with props. One time I went out there and I had the jug and everything. Two seconds before the curtain goes up, somebody came in and said, “That’s my jug.” Then I realized, I’m not this part. Instantly, I had to switch my brain and go into the correct part. You make mistakes, but then you say to yourself, “I’m covering eight roles, give me a break.”Cameron Adams is an ensemble member and understudy in “Mrs. Doubtfire,” which recently resumed performances after a 10-day hiatus prompted by coronavirus cases.George Etheredge for The New York TimesCameron AdamsEnsemble member and understudy, “Mrs. Doubtfire”Have you ever felt that you were disappointing an audience?I covered Kelli O’Hara in “Nice Work if You Can Get It.” Her name is above the title, people are excited to come and see Kelli O’Hara. I understand, because I want to see Kelli! I don’t think I’ve ever come off feeling, like, “Oh, my God, they hated me.” But I sometimes think, “Why do I do this to myself?” Because I get so nervous every time. That doesn’t go away.Sid Solomon of “The Play That Goes Wrong” said he has “an even greater personal sense of pride of showing up to the theater every night.”George Etheredge for The New York TimesSid SolomonUnderstudy, “The Play That Goes Wrong”Has Covid-19 made you feel differently about the job?I have an even greater personal sense of pride of showing up to the theater every night, knowing just how important having understudies is, so that nobody is ever put in a position where if they’re sick, if they’re injured, if they have a family issue, they ever have to think, I’m choosing between my well-being and whether or not a show happens that evening. I’m glad to be part of a production that’s really sort of living those values right now. More

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      in Movies

      Mike Faist on Playing Riff in ‘West Side Story’

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      He’s the menacing gang leader who fights, frolics and finger-snaps his way through “West Side Story”: that’s Riff, the frontman of the Jets, who commands a cadre of lost boys in their turf battles against the Sharks, and takes center stage in numbers like “Jet Song” and “Cool.”In Steven Spielberg’s remake with a screenplay by Tony Kushner, the role of Riff is played by Mike Faist, a 29-year-old veteran of the New York stage. Faist earned a Tony Award nomination in Broadway’s “Dear Evan Hansen,” where he originated the role of the title character’s would-be friend, Connor Murphy; he also performed in “Newsies the Musical,” understudying its hero, Jack Kelly.Despite his theatrical pedigree, Faist said it was not so easy to keep calm and collected for this “West Side Story” — he did not necessarily think he had the required dancing skills and wasn’t sure of the project’s intentions.As he explained in a recent video call, “I was nervous going into it, because of the Hollywood of it all. I thought it was maybe going to be this overproduced thing, and I was just going to be told what to do and where to stand and how to say it.” But, Faist said, Spielberg “allowed me the freedom, quite frankly, to run wild and to be liberated.”Faist is garnering strong reviews for the performance and he is considered to be a contender for the coming awards season. He spoke further about the making of “West Side Story,” learning the choreography for “Cool” and being a leader to his Jets both onscreen and off. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.Faist leading the Jets in a scene from the film. He didn’t think he had the dancing skills for the part.20th Century StudiosHow did you find out that Steven Spielberg was planning a remake of “West Side Story”?Tony Kushner came to see us Off Broadway at “Dear Evan Hansen” and mentioned it. At the time I just thought, well, that’s cool. Congratulations. Best of luck with that. That was six years ago. Casting wanted me to submit a tape and then another tape and then come into the room and dance. I didn’t really want to. I do remember asking specifically, “Do I have to dance?” And they said, “This is ‘West Side Story.’”.css-1xzcza9{list-style-type:disc;padding-inline-start:1em;}.css-3btd0c{font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-size:1rem;line-height:1.375rem;color:#333;margin-bottom:0.78125rem;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-3btd0c{font-size:1.0625rem;line-height:1.5rem;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}}.css-3btd0c strong{font-weight:600;}.css-3btd0c em{font-style:italic;}.css-1kpebx{margin:0 auto;font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.125rem;line-height:1.3125rem;color:#121212;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-1kpebx{font-family:nyt-cheltenham,georgia,’times new roman’,times,serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.375rem;line-height:1.625rem;}@media (min-width:740px){#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-1kpebx{font-size:1.6875rem;line-height:1.875rem;}}@media (min-width:740px){.css-1kpebx{font-size:1.25rem;line-height:1.4375rem;}}.css-1gtxqqv{margin-bottom:0;}.css-1g3vlj0{font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-size:1rem;line-height:1.375rem;color:#333;margin-bottom:0.78125rem;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-1g3vlj0{font-size:1.0625rem;line-height:1.5rem;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}}.css-1g3vlj0 strong{font-weight:600;}.css-1g3vlj0 em{font-style:italic;}.css-1g3vlj0{margin-bottom:0;margin-top:0.25rem;}.css-19zsuqr{display:block;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}.css-12vbvwq{background-color:white;border:1px solid #e2e2e2;width:calc(100% – 40px);max-width:600px;margin:1.5rem auto 1.9rem;padding:15px;box-sizing:border-box;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-12vbvwq{padding:20px;width:100%;}}.css-12vbvwq:focus{outline:1px solid #e2e2e2;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-12vbvwq{border:none;padding:10px 0 0;border-top:2px solid #121212;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-rdoyk0{-webkit-transform:rotate(0deg);-ms-transform:rotate(0deg);transform:rotate(0deg);}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-eb027h{max-height:300px;overflow:hidden;-webkit-transition:none;transition:none;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-5gimkt:after{content:’See more’;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-6mllg9{opacity:1;}.css-qjk116{margin:0 auto;overflow:hidden;}.css-qjk116 strong{font-weight:700;}.css-qjk116 em{font-style:italic;}.css-qjk116 a{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration:underline;text-decoration:underline;text-underline-offset:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-thickness:1px;text-decoration-thickness:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:visited{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:hover{-webkit-text-decoration:none;text-decoration:none;}Hadn’t you danced on Broadway?The only dance show that I’d really done in New York was “Newsies.” For the most part, really, I just pushed around sets. I danced as a kid and I like dancing at weddings, that’s fun. But I wouldn’t say that I speak the language.As you started to audition for the film, could you see yourself as Riff?Originally they asked if I could put a tape together for Tony. I sang “Maria” and I read a scene or two. Months later they called me in and said we’d like you to put together a tape for Riff. I got excited. But you can never invest too much. After reading for the part, there was just this energy and this realization that this shoe fits. And, oh crap. [Laughs.] Now I have to do it.Once you had landed the role, did you talk with Kushner and Spielberg about how they envisioned Riff?We talked about the relationship between Tony and Riff. Tony wants to be a different person, someone better than who he was. And it’s nearly impossible for Riff to let go of who Tony was for him. It’s like going home for Thanksgiving. “This is who I am.” And your family’s like, “No, you’re this.” That’s the simpler version of what I’m trying to say.Were you also considered for the film adaptation of “Dear Evan Hansen”?I was approached about being part of the film. But the truth is that for me, I just felt like I couldn’t do it. I had already given everything I could to that role and I had already left it at that point. I didn’t feel like I could do it justice. It was something that I really grappled with. I came to the realization that you can’t go home again.Faist initially wasn’t sold on a new “West Side Story”: “I thought it was maybe going to be this overproduced thing, and I was just going to be told what to do.”Erik Carter for The New York TimesOnce you started work on “West Side Story,” where did you begin?Early in the rehearsal process, it was just Ansel [Elgort, who plays Tony] and I and handful of Jets, and we started to work on “Cool.” There wasn’t a script yet, for that first month of rehearsals, so it was mostly for them to get Ansel and me into shape — learning this choreo, then explaining the story and the context of that number.Did you film that sequence on a soundstage?That was a set in Sunset Park in Brooklyn over the East River. One of the Jets, Harrison Coll, who’s in that number, his father had passed away recently. We had been rehearsing that number for four or five months at this point, and when we finally finished, on that last day of shooting, Harrison brought his dad’s ashes and we went to the East River right there. We actually sang “Jet Song” and Harrison said a little something and thanked his dad and then he released his dad’s ashes into the East River. It was something that was transcendent and we really valued the experience.“Jet Song” is one of Riff’s iconic numbers. What did that mean to you, particularly as it’s depicted in this version of the film?Where we start with the Jets, they are on the brink of destruction. They are done but they just don’t realize it yet. They’re saying, “When you’re a Jet, you stay a Jet” — on top of a mound of rubble.Did you feel particularly bonded to the other actors who played your fellow Jets?I felt it was my personal obligation that we become a tribe. After the first day of rehearsal, we all went out to the bar down the street. Sans Baby John [the young gang member, played by Patrick Higgins], because he’s not old enough. [Laughs.] And I said, “Look, this one’s ours. This is our story and this is our version. You guys are a part of that.” I handed out assignments; “Jet-tivities” is what I called them. And no matter what it was, we all had to do it. We did a whole bunch of shenanigans that summer.Are there any you can safely discuss?We went to upstate New York and bought a full arsenal of Nerf guns. There’s video of us setting up this relay race in a house, having to shoot all these red plastic Solo cups from different angles. We did LARPing. It’s brutal, man. It looks like something totally nerdy, but then you’re there and you’re getting tackled by someone and shot in the private areas by arrows. We played laser tag once. I wanted them to feel like they were a part of something bigger. That way, when the cameras rolled, they just were there.Did you have the opportunity to confer with Russ Tamblyn, who played Riff in the original film?He did come to set and hung out for a day. He told us anecdotes, what the experience was like for him. But in terms of approaching the work, I’m not Russ Tamblyn. Only Russ Tamblyn is Russ Tamblyn. I can’t try to emulate or mimic what he does. And I didn’t want to. I think it would have done a disservice to try to incorporate him. It would have been an insult to what he brought.The new film’s release was delayed by a year because of the pandemic. How did you feel when you learned it was being postponed?I actually was relieved. Steven and I had a phone conversation last year, around September, when they were deciding whether they were going to release the film. At the time, I said to him, if no one ever saw this movie, it wouldn’t change anything to me. The experience of making the movie was everything. I meant it, but I’m an idiot and I take it all back now. Because if we’re going to show it, you want people to see it. After I had seen the film at the New York premiere, I ran into Steven in the lobby. And I said to him, I got to relive the experience of making the movie. I think when people see this, we give them a taste of that. I think this movie is a real testament to why a theatrical experience is important. More

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      in Theater

      What Three Broadway Shows Tell Us About Racial Progress

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      The female protagonists in “Trouble in Mind,” “Caroline, or Change” and “Clyde’s” show the richness that comes from having a multitude of Black voices onstage.Now that Broadway has returned and made it through the fall, and as it deals with a raft of cancellations because of the resurgent pandemic, I’ve been thinking a lot about the meaning of progress. Promoted, in large part, by the racial reckoning of 2020, the theater industry has responded to criticisms about its systemic racism by featuring an impressive number of plays by Black writers or with Black leads.In the last few weeks, I’ve seen a handful of these shows: “Trouble in Mind,” “Caroline, or Change” and “Clyde’s.” Individually, their plots and period settings offer great insight into how far we’ve really come. But taken together, they reveal a full range of aesthetic and racial possibilities that exist for their African American characters once the white gaze is diminished or fully removed.My feelings largely align with the points Alice Childress makes in her 1955 play, “Trouble in Mind,” a comedy-drama about a veteran Black actress named Wiletta Mayer who, while preparing to stage an anti-lynching play called “Chaos in Belleville” for Broadway, begins to challenge the racial paternalism through which its white playwright and director insist on depicting Black Southern life. More specifically, the plot follows Wiletta’s mounting frustrations about her role as a mother who does not protect her Black son from a white mob after he tries to vote. It’s an act that seems inconceivable to Wiletta.“Trouble in Mind,” which was originally produced in Greenwich Village, did not make it to Broadway in 1957 after its white producers insisted that Childress provide a more conciliatory ending for her Black and white characters, and she refused. Now, Charles Randolph-Wright, a Black director, is overseeing the Roundabout Theater Company’s Broadway production of the show at the American Airlines Theater.In the play, Wiletta (portrayed brilliantly by LaChanze) initially accepts her character’s subservience and exaggerated Southern drawl, and the problematic messaging about civil rights in “Chaos in Belleville,” as the price she must pay in order to have one of the few parts offered to Black actors at the time. Set backstage, as Wiletta and her fellow cast members begin rehearsing with the director, Al Manners (Michael Zegen), we follow Wiletta’s progression from a woman trying to school a younger Black actor on how to ingratiate himself to white people, like Manners, who can make or break his career to a woman threatening to leave the production if her role continues to traffic in such offensive and absurd racial stereotypes.As she evolves, the audience is exposed to multiple gazes: the intimate conversations that Black performers have with one another beyond the purview of white people; the figurative masks that Black actors wear in front of their white peers and theater power brokers as a matter of professional survival; and the white gaze that Al and the other white characters don throughout the rehearsals in which they slip back and forth between declarations of how liberal they are and their racist insults.These three perspectives collide when Wiletta fully exposes Al’s racism, a climax that not only puts her career at risk but jeopardizes the future of the play. However, in Childress’s deft hands, this potential loss is not a tragedy, but rather a reversal of fortunes for Wiletta: Once Al is no longer able to determine her fate, she is able to give the performance of a lifetime — and live out her dignity in its fullness onstage.Sharon D Clarke, far left, with Nasia Thomas, Harper Miles and Nya in the musical “Caroline, or Change” at Studio 54.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesI thought a lot about Wiletta’s limited theatrical options — a mammy, a maid, an emotionally repressed Southern mother — while watching Tony Kushner and Jeanine Tesori’s musical, “Caroline, or Change,” which first appeared on Broadway in 2004, and now is also being produced by the Roundabout Theater on Broadway, at Studio 54. Set in Louisiana in 1963, eight years after “Trouble in Mind” made its debut and when the civil rights movement was reaching full bloom, the musical does not focus on the major events affecting the nation at the time — the assassination of Medgar Evers, the March on Washington, or the bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Ala.Instead, “Caroline, or Change” is a semi-autobiographical exploration of how the country’s racial dynamics affected an 8-year-old boy named Noah Gellman, his middle-class Jewish American Southern family, their 39-year-old Black housekeeper Caroline Thibodeaux (played by the breathtaking Sharon D Clarke), and her three children.When we first meet Caroline, she is doing laundry in the Gellman’s basement. Physically alone, her world seems to come alive when the radio (Nasia Thomas, Nya and Harper Miles), the washing machine (Arica Jackson), and the dryer (Kevin S. McAllister) become characters onstage and provide Caroline with a sense of camaraderie and comfort that she does not share with her white employers.Public spaces are even more segregated so she finds community in the moon (N’Kenge) and the bus (McAllister again), who speak to her as well. The richness of Caroline’s life, however, is always illusory: The gaze through which we understand her story is never hers, but rather that of Noah’s as he reminisces on his childhood and his family’s (especially his stepmother Rose’s) fraught relationship with her during this turbulent time in American history.To his credit, Kushner’s script never pretends that Noah’s lens is Caroline’s. One of the musical’s most revealing scenes takes Noah’s myopic vision head-on. After Rose (Caissie Levy) tries to teach Noah a lesson by asking Caroline to take home any “change” that she finds in his pockets before she washes them, Noah imagines Caroline’s children at home, happy to spend their entire evening thinking about him and how they will spend the money. This satirical turn challenges Noah’s nostalgia, putting his racial narcissism front and center. It is also a perfect counterpoint to the professed liberalism of Al Manner’s from “Trouble in Mind” and the unacknowledged white male privilege that he wields over his cast and stage crew.And yet, “Caroline, or Change” still feels incomplete. Not because Noah and Caroline are unable to resolve their conflict or because the unrest driving the civil rights movement is nodded to through the toppling of a Confederate statue, but because for the entirety of the show Caroline remains Noah’s fantasy, and thus unknowable to us. She is not a fully realized character.Such distance, of course, is realistic. Memory is fallible and given their differences, I expected Noah to have very little access to Caroline’s inner life or imagination. But I longed to see her unmediated through his sentimentality, and truly on her own terms. Though Caroline is the protagonist of this musical (and Clarke really does own this stage), Caroline is not fully empowered, her agency limited in the story because it was not really hers in the first place.Kara Young, left, and Uzo Aduba as the title character in Lynn Nottage’s play “Clyde’s” at the Hayes Theater.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesThis is not to say that I need to have an all-access pass to a Black woman’s interiority in order to appreciate the depth of her humanity. In fact, I found the title character in Lynn Nottage’s comedy “Clyde’s,” played by the ever-perfect Uzo Aduba at the Helen Hayes Theater, to be refreshingly inaccessible.The owner of a truck stop diner in Reading, Pa., Clyde also oversees the kitchen that she only staffs with formerly incarcerated men and women. Not only does she impose her exacting demands on her employees — a direct contrast to the Zen-like style of her head cook, Montrellous (the wonderful Ron Cephas Jones) — but she is the only person whose back story we never learn and who, besides her endless stream of costume changes, has no clear character arc.In other words, she is intentionally flat, a feature that Aduba’s nuanced performance leans into with wit and grit, making Clyde a rarity for a Black woman actress: an antihero. She does not have agency, she has full-fledged power. Her omnipresence is most likely a stand-in for state violence or Satan, or both. Unlike Wiletta, who needs to break free of roles that confine her, or Caroline, who, we assume, feels suffocated by the oppressive conditions of the South, Clyde is the one who traps her employees in a permanent space of unfreedom and social purgatory.“One of the things about where we are today is now we have a multitude of Black voices on the stage,” Nottage said to me during a recent interview at the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture. “I feel the freedom to put someone onstage who isn’t perfect, who isn’t heroic, who isn’t necessarily showing the best of us, but showing an aspect of us.” In other words, Clyde’s villainy is also an aesthetic liberation for Nottage, a character that is neither born out of nor now embattled with the white gaze.Ultimately, such provocative personalities are signs of progress for us all, both on and off stage. We can only hope that such roles continue to exist — not as a one-off or in a vacuum — but as a sister among many. This is the Broadway that Wiletta Mayer really fought for as she longed to celebrate the complexity, diversity and messiness of Black life. More

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      Catherine Was Great. But Was She a Girl Boss?

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      In seeking to turn historical women into yassified contemporary heroines, pop culture creators are narrowing what female success can look like.Catherine of Aragon, the first wife of Henry VIII, enjoyed embroidery and fasting. Little in the historical record suggests that she was any fun at a party.“Unfortunately, Catherine of Aragon just, like, loved church and was always praying and was kind of a bummer,” Dana Schwartz, a writer who hosts the podcast “Noble Blood,” told me recently.Yet there Catherine is, in the Broadway musical “Six,” vibrating her vocal cords like a Tudor-era Beyoncé, in a thigh-scraping miniskirt and studded boots — a girl boss, early modern style. “Six,” a giddy pop confection about the six wives of Henry VIII, joins recent works like “Dickinson,” the AppleTV+ comedy just concluding its final season, and “The Great,” the Hulu dramedy that recently released its second, in revamping notable women of past centuries as the cool girls of today. It’s history. With contouring.For decades now, popular culture and media have made a concerted effort — mostly laudable, occasionally cloying — to reclaim forgotten or maligned women. Think of the “Rebel Girls” books, the biopics that glut the Oscar race, even the Overlooked obituary series in The New York Times.Some of these works explore women’s lives mindful of particular historical contexts, acknowledging their achievements within the often oppressive systems of their times. Others, like “Dickinson” and to a lesser extent “The Great,” take a deliberately freewheeling approach to history, inventing counterfactual privileges and possibilities for their heroines. Still others, like “Six,” feed history through the YassifyBot, Facetuning women’s lives so that they seem fiercer, sexier, more aspirational — selfie-ready, way before cameras were invented.This girlbossification nearly always puts women in competition with each other, rather than emphasizing shared struggle. It diminishes oppression and bias, suggesting that any woman can get ahead if she just puts on her big girl panties and rises-and-grinds hard enough, retconning the necessary fictions of our own cultural moment into the past.In a moment when popular culture confuses fame and excellence, works like these also imply an inability to appreciate female merit absent of sex and glamour. The desire to zhuzh up women of history — Hey, it’s so super that you changed the world, but couldn’t you have done it in a bustier?— says a lot more about our own time than times past. When we reframe herstory as an Instagram story, what do we lose?I should probably tell you that questions like these make me feel like a scold. I hate that. You know who’s really no fun at parties? Scolds. Besides, I love “Dickinson.” I admire “The Great.” The songs in “Six” are absolute bops. None of these works aspire to historical accuracy. “The Great,” in particular, has the cheeky tagline of “an occasionally true story.” And even if they did, we probably shouldn’t be getting our history from prestige comedies and musicals.Hailee Steinfeld, left, as Emily Dickinson and Wiz Khalifa as Death in “Dickinson.”Michael Parmelee/Apple TV+Also, real life, even the real lives of great women, is mostly boring. Would you watch three seasons of a show in which Emily Dickinson sits alone at her desk, scratching out verse with a pencil? But there are telling emphases in these shows and equally telling excisions. This new breed of heroine is ambitious and sex positive, with impeccably modern politics. Rather than understanding these women as products of their time, we make them creatures of ours.Schwartz told me that she understands the impulse to sex up historical women. It lavishes attention on them, correcting the dismissiveness of earlier historians.“But that then has the collective effect of making these women less interesting and less honest in who they were within their periods,” she said.At least, “Dickinson,” created by Alena Smith, plays with this dishonesty purposefully and boldly, taking the wildness and desire that suffused Emily Dickinson’s poetry, if not her life, and externalizing it through scenes in which Hailee Steinfeld’s Emily twerks at house parties and takes carriage rides with Wiz Khalifa’s Death.The real Dickinson was introverted and, despite her on-trend eyebrows, not a particular beauty. “In terms of being a cool girl, I don’t really know if she was,” Monica Pelaez, a Dickinson scholar who has advised the show, told me. “She chose to seclude herself.”The historical Dickinson doesn’t seem to have dressed as a man or protested as an ecowarrior or taken multiple lovers or heaved her bosom in a daring red dress. But her poetry and letters conjure vivid emotional states, so “Dickinson” colors Emily’s life with this dynamism, colliding reality and fantasy.“What the show does is bring that sensibility from her poetry and dramatize it,” Pelaez said.The Emily who emerges is confident, career-minded, fascinating to men and women, a corrective to previous works (even recent ones like Terence Davies’s 2016 movie “A Quiet Passion”) that ignored the queerness her letters and poems suggest. But while “Dickinson” seems acutely aware of the sociopolitics of 19th-century New England, the show often argues for Emily’s exceptionalism by differentiating her — and to a lesser extent her sister, Lavinia (Anna Baryshnikov), and sister-in-law, Sue (Ella Hunt) — from the other women of Amherst.Rather than looking for solidarity among the women of her progressive community, Emily emphasizes this difference. “I’m just not made for traditional feminine handicrafts,” she complains during a sewing circle scene, the implication being that women who are made for them don’t deserve a prestige TV series.Elle Fanning as Catherine in the second season of the Hulu series “The Great.”Gareth Gatrell/HuluIn this way Emily resembles Catherine, of “The Great,” which slid its 10-episode second season onto Hulu a few weeks ago. Created by Tony McNamara (who also co-wrote the lightly counterfactual battling-British-royals comedy “The Favourite”), the series stars a luminous Elle Fanning as a German princess who arrives at the Russian court as a teenager and promptly claims the tsardom for herself. Liberated from chronology and fact, the comedy-drama twiddles the timeline of Catherine’s career and marriage. (Let’s just say that the real Peter struggled to consummate their relationship and the Peter of “The Great,” played by Nicholas Hoult, does not.)Bright, colorful and cruel, like a dish of poisoned candies, the show occasionally portrays Catherine as naïve. But she learns fast and her emergent politics and commitment to hustle are beautifully modern. She wants to end Russia’s wars, free its serfs, teach women to read, inoculate her subjects. (This is more or less true of the historical Catherine.) And in her ball gowns? An absolute smokeshow.The legacy of the real Catherine, who came to the throne not as a dewy teenager, but as a more seasoned 33-year-old, was of course more complicated. “She actually increased serfdom,” said Hilde Hoogenboom, a professor of Russian who has translated Catherine’s memoirs.Hoogenboom describes “The Great” as the “Disneyfication” of the real Catherine. To make her a fairy tale princess, the series also insists on differentiating Catherine from the other women at court, representing her as a savvy It Girl, more beautiful and more powerful than her peers.“Bitch,” one noblewoman sneers.“Empress bitch,” Catherine corrects her.The real Catherine was different. (And as someone who routinely elevated her lovers and male allies, not so big on sisterhood.) But she was one of several 18th-century female heads of states, including the Empress Elisabeth, her immediate predecessor, a fact that “The Great” conveniently elides. Instead it presents Elisabeth (Belinda Bromilow) as a dithery nymphomaniac, raising Catherine up by pushing Elisabeth and her underwear down.“Six,” created by Lucy Moss and Toby Marlow, puts its women in competition even more explicitly, structuring the show as an “American Idol”-style vocal contest. A blingy take on trauma porn, it demands that each woman sing not about her character or integrity, but about the wrongs she suffered at Henry’s meaty hands. Here are the rules, as detailed in the opening number:The Queen who was dealt the worst handThe Queen with the most hardships to withstandThe Queen for whom it didn’t really go as plannedShall be the one to lead the band.From left: Andrea Macasaet, Adrianna Hicks and Anna Uzele in the musical “Six.” Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesBefore ending in a mostly empty gesture of solidarity, “Six” simplifies and updates many of these women, turning Anne Boleyn, an astute political player, into a foxy good-time-girl, framing Katherine Howard, a blatant victim of abuse, as a barely legal tease. (“Lock up your husbands, lock up your sons/ K-Howard is here and the fun’s begun.”) The costume design, in a nod to pop norms, sexualizes each women, coupling their worth with their hotness.In her song, Katherine Parr, Henry’s widow, reminds listeners of her accomplishments:I wrote books, and psalms, and meditations,Fought for female educationSo all my women could independently study scriptureI even got a woman to paint my pictureWhy can’t I tell that story?Well, why can’t she? Instead, the songs from “Six” center the women’s relationships to Henry, emphasizing his attraction to them (or rejection of them) over any of the wives’ accomplishments. “The things that these women were doing should be of historical interest, regardless of whether or not they were all married to this [expletive] dude,” Jessica Keene, a history professor who studies the Tudor period, said.This substitution of sexuality for excellence can extend even into more enlightened shows. That sewing circle episode of “Dickinson” includes a dynamic cameo from Sojourner Truth, played by the writer and talk show host Ziwe. Because “Dickinson” remains exquisitely self-aware, it jokes about Ziwe’s youthful appearance (“I’m roughly 66, but I look good as hell”) and Truth’s 19th-century sex bomb vibe (“Oh, they’re going to know I’m a woman in this dress”).But the real Sojourner Truth, who came to public life in middle age, didn’t lead with sex. Corinne T. Field, who has written on Truth, described her as a figure who critiqued girlish beauty and sexuality. “Her whole public career is built as someone who had already aged beyond youth and was occupying a position of power and charisma that did not rely on girlish beauty,” Field said.I asked Field what we miss when “Dickinson” depicts a woman like Truth this way. “An investment in intergenerational networks of mutual care,” Field said without pausing. “We need to think about how you sustain female empowerment over the course of a whole life.”If creators, even creators with explicitly feminist aims like Smith and Moss, believe that audiences won’t pay attention to female protagonists absent of youth and beauty, they will likely frame empowerment narrowly. And maybe that’s necessary on some level. The recent and more accurate versions — like “A Quiet Passion,” 2019’s “Catherine the Great” and this year’s “Anne Boleyn” — tend to be less fun.“If girlbossification is the price to elevate female historical figures to the mainstream consciousness, so be it,” Schwartz said.That consciousness could then encourage viewers to seek out what Schwartz called “actual historically accurate sources.” And in these sources they might find that sometimes women changed the world in flats or with split ends or in common cause with other women or when they weren’t especially sexy or young. A few of them must have had a really solid grasp of traditional feminine handicrafts. Where is the absolute bop for that? More

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      Sardi’s Is Back After 648 Days, Its Fortunes Tied to Broadway

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      The caricatures are back up. But many shows are canceling performances just as Sardi’s reopens, a hurdle for a restaurant catering to the theater crowd.It felt sort of like old times, the other night at Sardi’s.Joe Petrsoric, back in his familiar red jacket, was lining up martini glasses at the second floor bar where he has worked since arriving from Yugoslavia in 1972. Manning the front door, his traditional dark suit now accessorized with a face mask, was Max Klimavicius, who started working in the kitchen in 1974 after immigrating from Colombia; he now runs the place.It had been 648 days since Sardi’s, a watering hole so closely entwined with Broadway that it was name-checked in the Rodgers and Hart song “The Lady Is a Tramp,” last served its cannelloni au gratin. And now, on the long night of the winter solstice, the oft-imperiled Main Stem mainstay with caricature-covered walls was ready to try again.The timing is nerve-racking. The Omicron variant is rampaging through New York City, wreaking havoc in the theater industry.There were 33 Broadway shows scheduled to perform Dec. 21, which Mr. Klimavicius chose for a soft reopening with limited hours, a limited menu and reduced capacity. But so many actors and crew members are now testing positive for the coronavirus that only 18 shows actually took the stage that night, and one of those made it to curtain only because the playwright grabbed a script and went on to replace an ailing performer.“The place has to live,” said Mr. Klimavicius, who greeted customers like the long-lost friends many of them were, but also helped make sure they had proof of vaccination. “It’s part of the fabric.”The restaurant is a combination of Broadway commissary and tourist magnet. As it reopened, the producer Arthur Whitelaw, who still remembers a childhood visit to Sardi’s more than seven decades ago (his parents were taking him to a new musical called “Oklahoma!”), settled into a cozy corner from which he could survey the room. A few tables away sat four friends from The Villages, the fast-growing retirement community in Florida, who were in town to see “To Kill a Mockingbird” on their annual Broadway trip.The restaurant’s owners did a substantial rehabilitation of the four-story eatery this year, but are hoping no one will notice, because Sardi’s customers are tradition-bound.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesThe work was made possible in part by help from the Shubert Organization, which owns the building, and in part with a large grant from a federal government program designed to provide emergency assistance to restaurants and bars affected by the pandemic. Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesBroadway is a small town, but a big business — in 2018-2019, the last full season before the pandemic, 14.8 million people saw a show, spending $1.8 billion on tickets. Many of those patrons also spent money at hotels, shops, and at restaurants like Sardi’s — a symbiotic, and symbolic, economic relationship that is essential to Times Square and the city at large.“Sardi’s is a symbol of Broadway and the Broadway scene, and it’s been closed for far too long,” said Tom Harris, the president of the Times Square Alliance, which represents a theater-dependent neighborhood that occupies 0.1 percent of the city’s land mass, but contributes 15 percent of its economic output. With New York’s business districts threatened by remote work, and its brick-and-mortar stores by e-commerce, in-person experiences like live theater and dining are more important than ever.Times Square is still in recovery mode. “Office workers are coming back slower than anyone would have expected or wanted — occupancies are about 30 percent — and about 77 percent of businesses are open,” Mr. Harris said. “We still have a ways to go.”Sardi’s, which has been operating on West 44th Street since 1927, employed nearly 130 people during peak seasons before the pandemic arrived; it’s restarting with 58.The restaurant has weathered its share of challenges — booms, busts, and bankruptcy. It has been popular and it has been passé, but it has always been there, known more for its caricatures than its cuisine, drawing a mix of industry insiders and theater-loving visitors to eat, drink, kibitz and commiserate.It was established by Vincent Sardi Sr., who in 1947, at the very first Tony Awards, won a special prize “for providing a transient home and comfort station for theater folk.” Mr. Klimavicius is now the majority owner.Sardi’s has about 1,200 caricatures of famous people who have eaten in the restaurant, most of whom are connected to the theater industry. About 900 are on display at any given time. Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesThe original caricature of Barbra Streisand was stolen, so now her image is the only one screwed into the wall, keeping watch over the empty dining room throughout the shutdown.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesHabitués understand the risks now faced not only by Sardi’s, but by the industry, the neighborhood, and the city.“We haven’t proven that the pandemic is over, and that everything is not going to fail,” said Thomas Schumacher, the president of Disney Theatrical Productions, who likes to transact business at the upstairs bar while shows are running and the room is quiet. “But then, I grew up in California where the ground shook all the time and you never knew if your whole house was going to collapse on you, so I see it differently.”Sardi’s began the pandemic, appropriately, with a moment of high drama: On March 12, 2020, just moments after agreeing to shut down all 41 theaters, a group of Broadway bigwigs gathered at the bar to drown their sorrows. They ate, they drank, they hugged. Then many of them got the coronavirus.Among the industry gatekeepers who fell ill — with, to be sure, no way of knowing how — was Robert E. Wankel, the chairman and chief executive of the Shubert Organization, which has 17 Broadway theaters, and which is the restaurant’s landlord. On Tuesday, Mr. Wankel was there again, happily holding court over a vodka tonic and relentlessly bullish on Sardi’s, where he has been coming for 50 years, and lunches three times a week.“Sardi’s is going to do very well,” he said, “now that the theater is back.”Max Klimavicius, who grew up in Colombia, started working at Sardi’s in 1974 as an expediter in the kitchen. Now he owns the place.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesAmong the restaurant’s most longstanding patrons: Arthur Whitelaw, a producer whose parents first brought him to Sardi’s in the 1940s. On the first night back, Whitelaw had a pre-theater dinner with his producing partner, Ruby Persson.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesSardi’s has been a part of Broadway longer than some theaters, and has become part of the industry’s lore. As a line in “The Lady is a Tramp” has it: “The food at Sardi’s is perfect, no doubt / I wouldn’t know what the Ritz is about.” Alice Childress mentions it in her play, “Trouble in Mind,” now being staged on Broadway, while in the musical “The Producers,” Mel Brooks has a would-be showman dream of “lunch at Sardi’s every day.”Over the years, the restaurant has hosted luminaries from Eleanor Roosevelt to Ethel Merman, scads of Tony winners, Oscar winners and even, once a year, the dog that wins the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show. “I went there with Elizabeth Taylor, for God’s sake,” said Charlotte Moore, the artistic director of Irish Repertory Theater.Among its current boldfaced regulars: the designer Michael Kors, who created a Sardi’s-themed cashmere sweater for Bergdorf Goodman (selling for $990).“When I walk into Sardi’s I feel like I’m living in ‘All About Eve’,” he said. “I know Times Square needs to come back, and I know Sardi’s needs to come back.”Joe Petrsoric has been working the bar at Sardi’s since 1972. “What am I going to do at home?”, he asked.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesAlthough the dining room and bar will look quite familiar to Sardi’s regulars — polished but unchanged — the kitchen was completely overhauled in order to modernize it, and some equipment has yet to arrive because of supply chain woes.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesSardi’s is among the last Broadway institutions to resume operations.Since June, 39 Broadway shows have begun performances, the TKTS booth is once again selling discounted tickets, and other industry watering holes, like Joe Allen and Bar Centrale, have long since reopened.But for months Sardi’s remained shuttered, with an eerie menu in the window still listing the specials for March 13, 2020: a tasting of five cheeses, meatballs over bucatini, sautéed sea scallops.Early in the pandemic, Mr. Klimavicius, like many, had his doubts — theater was dark, Midtown was dead, everything seemed uncertain. But this June, buoyed by $4.5 million from the federal government’s Restaurant Revitalization Fund, he began overhauling the space — redoing the kitchen, the gas lines, the ventilation, and the wiring, among other things — hoping to modernize it in a way that no one would notice. People who love Sardi’s are, to put it mildly, change-averse.“I was concerned when I heard ‘renovation’,” said Andrea Ezagui, a Sardi’s regular from Long Island, who showed up at 4 p.m. — the moment it reopened — and immediately repaired to the bar upstairs, where she celebrated with champagne and friends. “They kept it the way it should be,” she said, “a little piece of heaven on Broadway.”The restaurant’s famous caricatures came off their picture ledges for the restoration — all but one, that is. Barbra Streisand has the only caricature screwed to the wall, because fans stole the original; so now she remains, irremovable, with her admonition “Don’t steal this one” inscribed above her signature.On a recent afternoon, Mr. Klimavicius and his crew set about putting the hundreds of caricatures back up, starting with one of Lin-Manuel Miranda, “a good friend of the house.”As he settled into his domain on the second floor, Mr. Petrsoric, the bartender, was clearly relieved to be back on the job, after spending too many months in Mamaroneck, N.Y., riding a stationary bike and, by his own account, going crazy. “What am I going to do at home?” he said. “I love people. And think about 50 years behind the bar. You know how many people I know?”He started by mixing a Belvedere martini, a cosmopolitan and a lemon drop. “This is unbelievable,” he marveled. “But you know, it takes me one hour, and you’re back to normal.” More

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      Two More Broadway Shows Close as Omicron Takes a Toll on Theater

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      “Thoughts of a Colored Man” and “Waitress” became the latest productions to end their runs because of coronavirus cases among their cast or crew.Two more Broadway shows announced Thursday night that they had closed as the spike in coronavirus cases fueled by the Omicron variant takes a growing toll on the theater business.“Thoughts of a Colored Man,” a new play about one day in the life of a group of Black men in Brooklyn, said it had closed after two days in which it was so short of performers that it had kept going only because the playwright, Keenan Scott II, stepped in to perform. The play, which began previews Oct. 1 and opened Oct. 13, had been scheduled to run until March 13.“While this is not the outcome we had hoped for, being part of this historic season on Broadway has been the greatest privilege of our lives,” the play’s producers, led by Brian Moreland, said in a statement. A return engagement of “Waitress,” which began performances Sept. 2 and was scheduled to run until Jan. 9, also closed after missing several performances because of coronavirus cases in the cast or crew. The show said on Thursday that it had detected new cases in its company.“We are heartbroken that the Covid virus won’t allow us to finish our glorious scheduled run,” Barry Weissler, one of the show’s producers, said in a statement.Meanwhile, Sutton Foster, the lead actress in a revival of “The Music Man” that just started previews on Monday, missed Thursday night’s performance for reasons that the show would not explain.The closing announcements come at a brutal time for Broadway. The last weeks of the year are usually quite lucrative as tourists and vacationers turn to theater for entertainment, but this week about half of the shows scheduled to play on Broadway have canceled most nights. On Thursday, only 16 shows had performances, down from the 33 that would have performed without the surge in cases.The closings of “Thoughts of a Colored Man” and “Waitress” follow a decision on Monday by the producers of “Jagged Little Pill,” a musical with songs by Alanis Morissette, to shut down. That show, too, had been missing performances because of positive coronavirus tests, and the producers said that given the uncertain climate they could not justify continuing. And in November, a new comedic play, “Chicken & Biscuits,” also closed citing the coronavirus.Those closings come on top of other disappointments for producers this fall. The musical “Diana” closed last weekend, just a month after opening, following a number of brutal reviews and low ticket sales. And a pair of well-reviewed experimental plays, “Dana H.” and “Is This a Room,” also cut short their scheduled runs over soft sales.The Coronavirus Pandemic: Key Things to KnowCard 1 of 4The U.S. surge More