Wood, Frank (1960- )

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    Adam Driver in ‘Hold On to Me Darling,’ a Satire of Sincerity

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    A country music star embodies the clichés of celebrity in an Off Broadway revival of Kenneth Lonergan’s 2016 comedy.Women fall hard and fast for Strings McCrane, the “third biggest crossover star in the history of country music.” He dates supermodels “at will.” Fangirls who flirt with him at night send him sex tapes in the morning. A hotel masseuse, kneading his sculptural glutes, exclaims: “I’ve had a crush on you since I was in trade school.”Playgoer, he marries her. But not before seducing a young relative at his mother’s funeral. Coming clean to the masseuse, he later owns his indiscretion. “I went to see Essie as a cousin,” he says. “But I stayed there with her as a man.”Did the clichés of country music make Strings (Adam Driver) such a melodramatic, self-justifying, emotional boomerang? Or are his pre-existing gifts in that department what made him a country music star in the first place?These are among the questions you may find yourself asking, in want of much else to do, while watching the baggy, overlong “Hold On to Me Darling,” a comedy by Kenneth Lonergan now being revived at the Lucille Lortel Theater. Well, not so much revived as — like Strings’s mother — embalmed.Other than a few cast changes, most notably Driver in the role first played by Timothy Olyphant, the show is pretty much what it was when it debuted at the Atlantic Theater Company in 2016. The physical production looks as if it had been preserved since then in mothballs, with the same cramped, slowly revolving set by Walt Spangler. The few tweaks to the script are almost invisible. Neither Lonergan nor the director, Neil Pepe, seems to have felt the need for refinement.And why should they have? Lonergan has proved himself a terrific dramatist many times over: “This Is Our Youth,” “The Waverly Gallery,” “Lobby Hero.” This play, too, was well received by most critics, if not by me. It is certainly funny in places, and droll in others; it is occasionally even stinging in its satire of show-business sincerity. We learn that Strings’s most recent celebrity fiancée, making “a statement of solidarity and sexual enlightenment on behalf of the women of Afghanistan,” wore a see-through mesh burqa on a junket there.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      Review: In ‘The Best We Could,’ the Players Follow Directions

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      The playwright Emily Feldman structures this work like a personal GPS that plots the course of a family.A bare stage is like a blank canvas; it’s all potential until the artists begin to shape their work. Life can follow a similar logic, in that every move is a foreclosure of possibility, narrowing both the focus and the way forward.Ella (Aya Cash), the drifting Millennial daughter in “The Best We Could (a family tragedy),” which opened at New York City Center on Wednesday, has cycled in and out of enough careers (modern dance, a museum gift shop) that she’s written a children’s book about giving up on your dreams. (She also teaches chair yoga.)We learn all this from a narrator called Maps (Maureen Sebastian), who welcomes the audience to the Manhattan Theater Club production, introduces each character in bitingly specific detail and dictates plot and dialogue before it happens.It’s an apt mode of giving directions, as the play’s nominal throughline is a cross-country road trip that Ella takes with her father, Lou (Frank Wood), to pick up a rescue dog. At the time of their drive, Ella has just broken up with her girlfriend, while Lou, who is nearing retirement age, is angling for a research job. On the way, they visit Lou’s closest friend and former colleague Marc (Brian D. Coats), and Lou appeals to him for help in landing the gig. His wife, Peg (Constance Shulman), chimes in through phone calls to Ella and Lou and appears in revelatory flashbacks.The actors are impeccably cast and deliver unaffected and subtly astonishing performances. Their characters form a kind of Ur-family, their dynamics both convincingly particular and broadly representative of relationships connecting husbands, wives and generations.The playwright Emily Feldman achieves a captivating depth of field beyond her characters’ surface actions, and even their mordant, often bleak powers of observation. (Tragedy seems like a misnomer through most of the show’s 90 minutes, which are shot through with easy but deceptively dark humor.) Cosmic questions that lurk beneath everyday routines seem to creep in from the periphery of the director Daniel Aukin’s minimal but imaginative staging — the loudest being, is this really all there is to life?There is more to Feldman’s layered investigation of consumer capitalism, kinship and gendered power imbalances, which she brings to light throughout “The Best We Could” in the manner of family secrets: There’s no escaping the ones you love, or the truth. Though it also may be no surprise to learn that like the sort of men he represents, Lou is in a crisis of his own making.For Ella, aimlessness itself is a kind of privilege. As her father points out, there’s a reason she was able to take ballet lessons, buy whatever she wanted from the mall and drive her own car. If there’s an element of myopia to Feldman’s otherwise searingly insightful play, it’s the cultural specificity of someone with the luxury of blowing in the breeze, trying out this or that, with a safety net to catch them when they fall.The Best We Could (a family tragedy)Through March 26 at the New York City Center, Stage I; manhattantheatreclub.com. Running time: 1 hour and 30 minutes. More