Washburn, Anne

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    Review: In ‘Mr. Burns,’ Apocalypse Now, With ‘The Simpsons’ and Songs

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    Anne Washburn’s 2012 play about a post-pandemic society reckoning with loss has not aged at all, our critic writes.Stories, like viruses, are transmissible. In the brain, in the blood, they mutate and change. Tragedies become comedies; dramas become myths. And in Anne Washburn’s visionary and wackadoo “Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play,” revived by the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival, an episode of “The Simpsons” becomes an opera and that opera becomes a way for a post-apocalyptic society to reckon with all it has lost.After a devastating contagion and concomitant nuclear meltdowns, the American population has shrunk to maybe a million, maybe half that. In the first act, set in the very near future, somewhere in the northeast, a few survivors have gathered around what should be a campfire (did the fire marshal not allow it?) to tell stories. Or as on this night, one particular story. Collectively, they piece together the events and jokes of “Cape Feare,” a Season 5 episode of “The Simpsons.”Recalling Sideshow Bob’s flourishes and Homer’s doofus behavior connects them to a lost world in a way that feels bearable. Real memories are too painful. Memories of a television show — in a time when televisions no longer work — are what they can manage. In the second act, these scattershot remembrances have been refashioned into a revue. The third act, set decades later and entirely sung through, with music from the composer Michael Friedman, transmutes them further.“Mr. Burns” debuted in May 2012 at the Woolly Mammoth Theater in Washington, and then moved to Playwrights Horizons. Sept. 11 was more vivid in the cultural memory a decade ago. One passage includes a haunting reference to twin towers of light. But with the pandemic, we have a new cataclysm to absorb, which makes “Mr. Burns,” directed by the festival’s artistic director, Davis McCallum, a timely selection. (Will there always be some new disaster? Will this play always seem of the moment? Yes. Probably. Ugh.) In its invention, its cool ruthlessness, its interrogation of why and how we use narrative, it has not aged at all.Sean McNall, Merritt Janson, Quintero, Karaman, Ota, and Zack Fine. With three-quarter seating, the director and his designers sometimes struggle to make the action visible to all.T. Charles EricksonIn some ways, the festival, with its sandy floor and jaunty tent, provides an ideal location. The opening at the back of the tent looks out into some old-growth trees. Even considering the mowed lawn — a concession to picnickers and the tick-averse — it suggests what the landscape might look like if nature made a comeback. (If the vista had shown the recently decommissioned Indian Point nuclear plant, located just down the Hudson, that might have been even more evocative.) But the play was built for a proscenium stage, not three-quarter seating, and McCallum and his designers sometimes struggle to make the action visible to all, particularly in the final act.The acting is uneven here, the rhythms sometimes off, though Sean McNall, a festival veteran, has a terrific turn as a newcomer in the first act, and Merritt Janson, a welcome Off-Broadway presence, does pointed and specific work as an actor-manager in the second. Zachary Fine, who operates on a very low-key in the first two acts, triumphs in the third. During that act, a chorus member banged a drum straight into my ear, which I could have done without.And yet, if you are in the area, and you can book a seat away from that drum, you should see “Mr. Burns.” Here’s why: It seems to me that no new work of art — theater, television, film, fiction — produced in these past few years has really represented the pandemic, at least as I’ve experienced it. Sometimes the more on the nose they were (“Station Eleven,” say) the further away they felt.“Mr. Burns” doesn’t exactly capture it either, but it captures something else. In these past two years, when I have had a moment of downtime, I have turned to comedies and procedurals, shows that made the world feel regular and knowable. “Mr. Burns” explores the ways that we use stories, even seemingly irrelevant stories, to make sense of our lives. “Mr. Burns” is a play about where we find comfort and it is also, more chillingly, about the limits of that comfort, about how reality can intrude even before the credits roll.Reality sometimes intruded, even here, out of the city, out of doors. The show’s opening had been delayed owing to coronavirus cases among the cast. The spectators closest to the actors were asked to wear masks; most did. Still, we could lose ourselves for a while, in imagining how a society much like ours might handle a disaster much worse than this one, how we might or might not come through it. To watch this feels pleasurable and painful and mysterious and weird. Or to put it another way: D’Oh.Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric PlayThrough Sept. 17 at the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival, Garrison, N.Y.; hvshakespeare.org. Running time: 2 hours 30 minutes. More

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      With Its Future Uncertain, the Humana Festival Will Not Return in 2022

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      The showcase of work by contemporary American playwrights will not take place this year, either in person or online — and after that, it’s up in the air.Opportunities for emerging playwrights to break into the industry are few — and now there’s one less.The Humana Festival of New American Plays, one of the premiere showcases for new work by contemporary American playwrights, will not take place this year, either in person or online, Actors Theater of Louisville confirmed in a statement this week. When the theater announced its fall and spring programming in September, it did not include the annual event, and the status of the 2022 festival had remained unclear.“In order to uplift, celebrate and expand the tremendous legacy of the festival, it is necessary to reimagine a 21st-century model that is sustainable, equitable and radically accessible,” Robert Barry Fleming, the theater’s executive artistic director, said in the statement. He did not specify what that might look like.The last in-person festival was held in 2019. Actors Theater, a regional company, canceled the 2020 festival because of the pandemic, scrapping five world premieres, though it pivoted to streaming some of the plays that had managed to open. In 2021, the theater hosted a virtual exhibition of digital plays, virtual reality productions and an interactive video game, with premieres scattered throughout the year. (A number of them are still available online.)Amelia Acosta Powell, the theater’s impact producer, whose focus is on outreach to donors and audiences, said a decision had not yet been made on whether the festival would return — or what form it would take — in future years.Instead, she said, the theater is focusing on developing work from the virtual exhibition held last year, including an in-person production of “Still Ready,” originally a musical docu-series celebrating Black artistry, that will have its premiere at Actors Theater in May.Fleming told WFPL, the Louisville NPR affiliate, in October that festival organizers believed it was less important to try to cram the development of new plays into “a six-week kind of window” than to be “contributing to the canon, and continuing to innovate.”The Humana Festival, which was founded in 1976, typically takes place over multiple weeks in March and April at the Actors Theater of Louisville in Kentucky. It attracts an international audience and has hosted the premieres of work by Anne Washburn, Will Eno and Sarah Ruhl.Since 1979, the festival has been sponsored by the Humana Foundation in Louisville and has also received support from the National Endowment for the Arts. Powell declined to share the cost of producing the event, or to specify how much the foundation contributes, but she said it had been less than half of the overall cost, with the remainder coming from Actors Theater’s operating budget, as well as from other corporate, foundation and individual gifts.Mark Taylor, a spokesman for Humana, a health insurance company based in Louisville, said that the foundation’s most recent grant to the theater ended last year. “Humana and the Humana Foundation look forward to continuing to support the arts in Louisville and other communities in creative new ways,” he said in an email. Several of the more than 400 plays presented at the festival have gone on to win wider accolades — “The Gin Game” by D.L. Coburn, “Dinner With Friends” by Donald Margulies and “Crimes of the Heart” by Beth Henley, all won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama — and the event is often regarded as a milestone in the careers of emerging playwrights. Programming is a mix of short pieces, 10-minute plays, one-acts and full-length shows.Recent world premieres have included Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’s “Appropriate,” Lucas Hnath’s “The Christians” and Eno’s “Gnit.”Washburn, the author of “Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play,” has premiered work at the festival. She said that what was most beneficial about the event was the collegiality — the impromptu meetings with critics, directors, apprentices and fellow playwrights — in a setting outside New York.“You’d have playwrights from around the country, but it’s also super set in Louisville,” she said in a phone conversation on Wednesday. “You’d explore the city, have lots of bourbon and banana pudding, and the playwrights would get together and drink and despair about the world.”It was also one of the few places where an up-and-coming playwright could get work produced, she added.“New York was much less set up for new plays,” she said. “There were very few of these smaller, secondary stages or development production programs. A lot of playwrights started at Humana when they couldn’t get a production in New York. It’s a big deal, but it doesn’t have the same pressures as a singular opening.”Eno, whose play “Thom Pain (based on nothing)” was a finalist in 2005 for the Pulitzer Prize for Drama, said in an email that it would be disappointing if the festival didn’t return as an in-person event.“Playwriting is almost impossible, and this just makes it a little harder, and a little less, I suppose, heralded, or communal,” he said. “It’s like the death of a hardware store or a coffee shop people liked.”Powell, the impact producer, said that it was unlikely that any future iteration of the event would be structured as it was prepandemic, but that the theater recognized the value of certain aspects of the annual gathering, which “we would hope to capture in new ways.”Among them: giving artists from around the country the opportunity to collaborate in the development of their works-in-progress, as well as to “engage in creative and intellectual discourse.”But the in-person aspect of the gathering, Eno said, can’t be replicated.“We all learned something over the last couple years about the importance of people, people gathering, physically assembling for some higher or greater or more mysterious purpose,” he said, “And it’s too bad it won’t happen anymore at Humana.” More

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      Revisiting a Post-Apocalyptic Play in the Pandemic

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      Anne Washburn’s phantasmagoric “Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play” is getting a timely new run at Theater Wit in Chicago.CHICAGO — One of the most unbearable things about the pandemic is the uncertainty: about what we can and cannot do, and the way our understanding of what is going on gets tangled in conflicting stories or collapses altogether. And then there is the dread about what will happen next.Or at least that is what I was thinking as I watched this pandemic-era production of “Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play,” Anne Washburn’s 2012 apocalyptic phantasmagoria about hope, storytelling and “The Simpsons.” At Theater Wit in Chicago, Jeremy Wechsler, its longtime artistic director, is offering an expressive new staging that leans on the horror of the last 18 months to draw out the work’s fresh urgency. But he has also found new comfort in its meaning.I saw “Mr. Burns” twice in the Before Times — in 2013, at Playwrights Horizons in New York, and, in 2015, which was Wechsler’s previous Theater Wit production. Like many critics, I was won over by Washburn’s agile, boisterous storytelling and her tangled, semi-redemptive vision of how humans would respond to the end of the world as we know it.The plot is ingenious: In Act I, a group of people try to keep it together after a series of nuclear meltdowns by retelling the story of a single “Simpsons” episode: “Cape Feare,” a sendup of the movie “Cape Fear.” Seven years later, in Act II, those same characters, now an itinerant theater troupe, are recreating episodes of “The Simpsons,” commercials and hit songs. But they lose whatever unity they had and, in the closing scene, are gunned down by rivals. The sung-through third act begins 75 years later, with a ritual homage to the meltdown and a fantastical, grisly and surprisingly comedic version of “Cape Feare.”Washburn and the composer Michael Friedman, who died of complications from AIDS in 2017, were trying to examine how pop culture and storytelling might survive after a disaster. To take a line from the play: “What will endure when the cataclysm arrives — when the grid fails, society crumbles and we’re faced with the task of rebuilding?”Wechsler’s new production lands differently. And the pandemic isn’t the only threat it evokes. Take, for instance, climate change and all that comes with it: fire, heavy rain, droughts, people buying blocks of ice in a city with no electricity, gas stations running out of gas, power grid failure. “We have a larger sense of ourselves as being on precarious ground,” Washburn said in an interview.An emblematic moment arrives at the end of Act I, when one character, Maria, crouched around the fire, shares an anecdote about someone she met at Walmart who courageously tried to shut down the plant. But as she goes on telling the story, it begins to seem as if he never made it to the plant at all: “It’s not knowing,” Maria recounts the unnamed character saying. From the safety of a nearby gas station, he dreams himself fleeing the generator, nuked, and dying. But he actually walks in the other direction, away from the plant.Moments like this — as full of vivid, free-floating theories and fears as our current lives — make it fitting that “Mr. Burns,” which opened Sept. 8, was until recently the only Actors’ Equity Association production in Chicago.Theater Wit requires proof of vaccination and masks; the actors, who are unmasked, perform 10 feet away from the audience of the 99-seat house. But the attendees I saw didn’t seem fazed by the restrictions. And one of them, comparing Wechsler’s 2015 “Mr. Burns” with this one, said during a post-show discussion, “What was speculative became realistic.”In an interview, Wechsler agreed. “Back then,” he said, “the play had a funnier, sci-fi spin and a hallucinatory, giddy feeling.”He did not start the pandemic plotting to restage “Mr. Burns.” In March 2020, Theater Wit was presenting “Teenage Dick,” Mike Lew’s take on Shakespeare’s “Richard III.” Wechsler took the show online, but then he sank into a depression. “What surprised me was how quickly the profession could vanish,” he said.Once the theater reopened to in-person audiences, Wechsler thought, it would need “something real, big, complicated and recklessly extravagant.” And he wanted that show to ask: What would theater need to provide in a post-lockdown landscape?Tina Muñoz Pandya and Ana Silva in the play, whose Act III costumes are made from materials including Amazon packaging and pieces of plastic buckets.Charles OsgoodHe thought of Washburn’s layered storytelling and how it might hit more closely now. “I became obsessed with it,” he said.Although Wechsler has directed over 50 shows, restaging “Mr. Burns” felt different. He had never done a remounting in which the lives of artists, and culture at large, had changed so much, he said. This run is different from 2015 in many ways: It is the largest production in the theater’s history (with help from a $140,000 Shuttered Venue Operators Grant); and although a few actors reprised their roles, most of the cast was new, including Will Wilhelm, the first nonbinary actor to play Jenny.The design team is mostly intact from the 2015 production, though the set and costumes in Act III are more of, as Wechsler put it, a “fever dream” this time. The clothes worn by “Simpsons” characters are made of comparatively wackier found materials like Amazon packaging and pieces of plastic buckets. Humorous frescoes of Marge Simpson as Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz” and Homer crossing the Potomac River have been moved closer to the audience.But the most marked changes are in the staging. In 2015, Wechsler set Act I in a forest; now, it opens on the characters huddled around a pile of burning chairs in a backyard. It is also set later in the year, with how people passed time during the pandemic in mind. “Act I is really, ‘How We Spent the Winter,’” he said.Earlier productions I saw dragged at times in Act II, but Wechsler’s new staging of it is ragged and brisk. “There is a shared sense of a new normal and managing dreams, the things the characters talk about, like the fires and the grid going down, have already happened,” he said. “I wanted that ‘Let’s put on a show’ spirit in desperate circumstances.” He was inspired in part, he said, by things that he had previously taken for granted, such as friendly visits and birthday parties, becoming difficult during the pandemic.Wechsler also updated the poignant and hilarious “Chart hits” medley, in which the actors perform (and flub) lines from pop songs. He added snippets from Billie Eilish, Lorde and Taylor Swift. Act III, too, has transformed: Its ceremonial theater piece seemed sharper, or maybe I understood better that we need the grandeur of a chanting masked chorus to communicate apocalyptic horror.In that scene, the actors also used details from their lives during the pandemic. Leslie Ann Sheppard, who plays Bart Simpson, said in an interview: “We incorporated a little bit more of the coughing and ‘Stay away from me. We need to cover our faces.’”During one striking moment of Act III, Jenny reads the names of people who have died. “When we first did the show in 2015, we would sing audience members’ names that were there that evening,” Wechsler said. “This was arresting in its way, but too anxiety-producing and flip after the last 18 months.”Now the names include those in the script, as well as theater luminaries who have died — not just from Covid-19 — including the Chicago actor Johnny Lee Davenport and the Organic Theater founder Stuart Gordon.Later in Act III, Mr. Burns brutally murders Homer, Marge and Lisa, and then Bart seems to kill the villain. But when the lights come on, Mr. Burns is not dead. The last moment reveals him pedaling more and more slowly on a stationary bike hooked up to a generator. It’s an image that “is uncertain,” Washburn said. “It can toggle more difficult or more heartening.”In his production, Wechsler wanted to emphasize the positive. “Life is hard, and none of us is going to emerge unscarred,” he said. “How do we heal? The answer is just keep living.”That moment, in 2015, ended with a blackout after a spotlight shone on Mr. Burns pedaling for a long time. Not now: Rather than close with that image, several colorful electric fixtures slowly descend from the ceiling as the house lights come on.“We wanted to bring the audience in,” Wechsler said, “to show them we are in this together.” More