"Good People" at George Street Playhouse

“Good People”

It is doubtful that George Street Theater audiences will see a finer contemporary play or experience a more splendid production this season than David Lindsay-Abaire’s “Good People.” This play confirmed that this Pulitzer Prize-winning (“Rabbit Hole”) playwright was at the top of the list of superior American writers of dramatic literature. I am ready to say that Lindsay-Abaire topped himself with “Good People,” reaffirming his affinity for subjects that are both ultra real and profoundly touching. They are both plays that were a decided leap from the darkly comical, skewed reality that marked his previous plays Fuddy Meers, Kimberly Akimbo, and Wonder of the World. 

David Saint has masterfully directed this co-production with the Seattle Repertory Company (where it will go following this engagement), a production that marks a high point in his career at George Street’s artistic director, as well as a peak for the George Street Playhouse. 

With “Good People,” Lindsay-Abaire focuses on a very timely and topical issue: the gap between the rich and the poor, the successful and those without prospects. While you may only think you know to whom the title refers for most of the play, the concept of what is meant by being or doing good and what is acceptably or inherently right, eventually and inevitably becomes the point in this multi-layered comedy-drama. From my perspective, this production succeeds as well, if not more so than in its world premiere on Broadway. Or maybe I just realize how really exceptional is this play. 

It doesn’t seem that life can get much worse for Margaret (Ellen McLaughlin), a fifty year old single mom trying to care of her mentally challenged adult daughter (unseen.) Because she had to rely on her unreliable landlady Dottie (Cynthia Lauren Tewes) to stay with her daughter while she went to work, she is fired from her job as a cashier at the local Dollar Store for being consistently late. 

Unfortunately, her excuses don’t work as an excuse for the otherwise compassionate store manager Stevie (Eric Riedmann) whose own job, as he explains it, is on the line. Set behind the Dollar Store, this opening scene between two adults who have known each other since childhood also opens our hearts to the situation confronting Margaret. 

Margaret’s prospects for finding another job are not great even though she is willing to walk up and down Main Street filling out applications. While Dottie professes to be Margaret’s friend and enjoys sitting in her kitchen and gabbing with her and another neighborhood friend Jean (Marianne Owen), she considers evicting Margaret if she can’t come up with the rent in order to give the apartment to her unemployed son. 

A high-school drop-out, Margaret is basically without skills. However, a bright prospect suddenly appears in her no-exit life in South Boston’s Lower End where the residents are known as “southies.” When Margaret learns that Mike (John Bolger), a bright young man with whom she went to school and had a short romantic fling before he went to college, is now a medical doctor with a practice in Boston, she grasps at this opportunity to reach out to him. Would he be able to either employ her or at least help her get a job? With its skillfully written, sharp-as-a-tack dialogue, the play begins to vibrate with a palpable tension when Margaret visits Mike’s office. 

Through the desperate, unsettling manner in which the insecure but determined Margaret tries to persuade Mike to help her, we can see how Lindsay-Abaire is using this as a means to reveal not only the guarded admiration for those who rise above their environment, but also to expose the resentment, jealousy and sense of betrayal felt by those who have not had the good fortune to escape. Margaret’s willingness to go the distance, no matter how assertive or even scarily aggressive, is buoyed by her instinctively funny, feisty personality – one that allows her to follow a rather risky path to achieve her end. 

To see the many facets of this character in action is a credit to McLaughlin’s on-the-mark performance (Frances McDormand won the Tony for Best Actress in this role), one that not only stands on its own with the unique flavor of someone raised in South Boston, but also for making us feel deeply  Margaret’s impassioned displays of tenacity. McLaughlin, who is famed for making a memorable landing on Broadway as the Angel in “Angels in America,” and has continued her impressive career as an actor and as a playwright, is quite simply superb as the play’s ever-struggling center-piece. 

With this production’s tie to the Seattle Rep, it is easy to understand the casting of three actors who have strong Seattle credits. More importantly, it gives George Street audiences a chance to see a trio of actors who have made their mark in the northwest and can now wow us. Tewes is a hoot – a cross between Patsy Kelly and Tugboat Annie – as the affably mercenary landlady who, as a side business, crafts bunnies with googly eyes to sell at local street markets. Owen’s performance is a sass-based gem as Margaret’s best friend who urges Margaret to reconnect with Mike. Margaret, Jean and Dottie are regulars at Bingo at the neighborhood church. Among the issues that define their snappy dialogue is wondering why Steve also goes for Bingo, a clever bit of plotting that gives the very fine Riedmann a chance to become more than a peripheral character. 

Bolger, who was impressive as Juror 12 in “Twelve Angry Men” last season at George Street, has once again gotten to the gritty core of a character as the increasingly agitated Mike whose soon realizes that he may have opened himself up to an uncomfortable situation by inviting Margaret to his home. Their past and his, specifically in regard to an incident when he was a tough street kid, surfaces with unexpected results in front of his beautiful African-American wife Kate, as played with upper-crust geniality by Zakiya Young. The resolve is, at the very least, conspired to make us re-think the way our presumably moral directions and ethical decisions can and do determine who are really the good people among us.

Not the least of this production’s many attributes is the stunning physical production, particularly the frame provided by designer James Youmans highlighted by a black and white virtual tour of the Boston environs in which the play takes place that serves as visual intros for the four smartly evocative sets – the back alley of the Dollar Store, the kitchen of Margaret’s apartment, the Bingo parlor, the doctor’s office and his expensively furnished home in Chestnut Hill, MA. Simon Saltzman

“Good People” (through February 24, 2013

George Street Playhouse, 9 Livingston Ave. New Brunswick, NJ  

(732) 246 – 7717 or visit www.GSPonline.org

Tickets: $28 - $67 

Performances: 8 p.m. Tuesdays-Saturdays, 7 p.m. Sundays, 2 p.m. Thursdays, Saturdays and Sundays

Muhammad Ali: A Tribute to the Greatest

“Muhammad Ali: A Tribute to the Greatest”

There is no doubt that the Crossroads Theatre Company’s presentation of “Muhammad Ali: A Tribute To The Greatest” is an appropriate theatrical supplement in observance of Black History Month. Originally presented as a solo piece under the title “Ali,” it was first produced Off Broadway in 1992 with Geoffrey Ewing as Ali. Ewing, who also co-authored the play with Graydon Royce, has evidently gone back to the original and used excerpts from it to create a cross between a partly informative lecture and a partly animated narrative. As a theatre-piece, it suffers from Ewing in his role as scholar reading his notes from behind a lectern; as a lecture, it suffers from not offering fresh insights or a unique perspective to his legendary subject; and as a tribute-driven play it simply suffers.

While we still have the pleasure of Ewing’s impressive investment in personifying Ali, including a smattering of the action in the ring, as well as the fast talk that sparked the original, there is little that qualifies it as an improvement to the padded and punchier staging at Crossroads in 1999 in which Lloyd Goodman and Charles Brown played the younger and older Ali. There is nothing that I can see in this version that makes it clear why Ewing, after fourteen years, found it necessary to author and star in his own solo version of the Ali legend – or, for that matter, not to simply just bring back the well-regarded original.

This version opens with an aging, slowed down Ali apparently in retirement on a lecture tour eight years after his last fight. His slightly slurred speech is just beginning to reveal the onset of Parkinson’s. He kibitzes with the audience as he makes his way slowly down the aisle’s steps to the stage upon which is a lectern, a stool, a large screen and an illuminated square on the stage floor, the latter used for the fighting scenes. Ably personified by Ewing, Ali’s short opening commentary segues to the decidedly scholarly dissertation on Ali’s life as given by lecturer Ewing. Ewing makes the transitions from himself to Ali with more ease than the text does in transiting the highlights of Ali’s life and career.

If nothing else, Ewing’s portrayal offers some testimony to Ali as “the meanest,’ and “the prettiest” of men. Ewing could also be called a pretty sight in his boxing attire, his toned and chiseled body as admirable as is his acting. Although somewhat repetitive, demonstrating Ali as an engaging, generous, sympathetic, intelligent and heroic man doesn’t appear to be too much weight for one episodic chronicle to bear.

With no director given credit, Ewing isn’t terribly concerned that his lecturing gets a bit tedious, despite the movement-filled digressions into the ring. There is also the inherent problem of watching a series of fights with only the motor-mouthed Ali visible. This is not to imply that witnessing Ewing’s fancy footwork and his perpetual jabbing and jabbering isn’t a feat to inspire our awe.

When the young Cassius Clay hurled a number of choice expletives at the sportswriters who had predicted a loss for him in his historic fight with Sonny Liston on February 26, 1964, it was to become the first in a long line of quotable zingers and provocative statements from the African-American who was destined to become, in his own words, “champion of the whole world.”

Ewing has unquestionably captured much of Ali’s humor and hubris and his gift for rap and repartee. But it all too quickly begins to sound like so much neurotic ranting and raving, especially as it seems to pervade and propel virtually every moment of the play. However, “the fastest talker on two feet” never lets the avalanche of words trip him up in the ring, whether he’s out-boxing Liston for his first championship, or badmouthing Floyd Patterson.

Ali has plenty to say about the famed “fight of the century” with Joe Frazier, the “rumble in the jungle,” with George Foreman, and other fights. One of the play’s most compelling scenes occurs out of the ring. Still a teenager and proudly wearing the gold medal he has just won at the Olympics, the young Clay is devastated when he is denied service at a restaurant.
Just around the corner, it appears, is the beginning of his religious transformation. The play does not neglect the turbulent late 1960s, when Ali was labeled a black racist. The stirring transformation from Cassius Clay to Muhammad Ali, the new fearsomely outspoken spokesman for the nation of Islam, is given a lot of time and interestingly contrasted against Ewing’s personal embrace of the Baha’i faith.

We see Ali, intoxicated by his new-found religion, either the cause or at the center of controversy. As was true of the previous versions, this play’s attempt to define Ali as the symbol of the modern black man is flawed by its lack of personal and psychological inquiry. Ali’s personal life and loves (including four marriages) are simply tossed aside. Ali’s political views are given more time and space, including the devastating consequences of being stripped of his boxing title when he refused to be inducted into the military on the grounds of being a conscientious objector.

Although this new-ish one-man version stalls with a lack of dramatic inquiry, it is, nevertheless, packed with facts and figures. The story of how Ali was instrumental in the release of 15 hostages in Iraq is one outstanding feat I was happy to learn about. Except for a flashed photo of the author’s young son taken with Ali, there is, unfortunately, a woeful lack of evocative projections on the screen. Simply projecting the title of the play on the screen does not constitute creative imagery or design.

Whether or not the record is set straight, hitting the highlights of any well-known figure can never qualify as a complete story. But this well-intentioned gesture does pay respectful, if not an especially exciting, homage to a superman who would bring unequivocal validity to the “Black is Beautiful” movement. Simon Saltzman

“Muhammad Ali: A Tribute to the Greatest” (through February 16)

Crossroads Theatre Company, 7 Livingston Ave. New Brunswick, NJ

(732) 545 – 8100 or www.CrossroadsTheatreCompany.org

Tickets $50.00Performances: Evenings: Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays at 8 P.M. Matinees: Saturday and Sunday at 3 P.M.

Manilow On Broadway

There is no denying there was an awesome outpouring of love, demonstrated on opening night by the prerequisite standing, screaming, and the waving of illuminated lights (distributed by the ushers). Despite his recent bout with bronchitis causing the cancellation of previews and the delay of the official opening night, the seventy year-old crooner, whose songs the whole world has been singing for almost forty years, gave us his all and a helluva show.

He got his first laugh following his "Give My Regards to Broadway" opening saying, "It wasn't the flu part, it was the Jewish guilt part." He, nevertheless, added jokingly a little later into his repertoire, the unnecessary apology, "Here are more songs I'd like to croak for you."

One might easily chalk up Manilow's slightly raspy voice to the way sound is also manufactured these days , call it "tunnel voice" — perhaps a companion accessory to "tunnel vision." But this is coming from ears that also remember the incredibly gifted Manilow from his peak years when his voice was purer and amplified sound not a barrier to the singer's soul.

But first, this is how I became a fan and an admirer. It was near curtain time early in December 1973 and my wife and I just happened to be passing the Palace Theater (believe that!) when a poster grabbed our attention, a sketch of the up-and-coming super star Bette Midler who was beginning a limited but sold-out run in "her concert debut" Bette Midler at the Palace.

While we had yet to become fans, we couldn't resist the lure of the sketch of the gloriously tacky cum divine diva, and pushed our way to the box office to see if there was any chance of getting last-minute seats. Miraculously, we did, and if you know the Palace Theater, we lucked out with the best location, in a lower box just slightly raised above the orchestra level. Sure, Midler was unforgettable "trash with flash" that the audience adored; but also a revelation was Manilow the exuberant and slim young man who was her musical director at the piano down stage left. He used his chance to step out of her shadow and usher in a new phase of his amazing career.

Manilow shares a few disarming stories of growing up in the toughest section of Brooklyn and the love he has for his grandfather ("This One's For You"). However, he never mentions Midler with whom he has had a long off and on-again business and recording relationship. Changing twice from black sharkskin to a hot pink jacket to a white suit, he looked spiffy but not quite as dazzling as he looked in a video of him in a glitter-encrusted white jacket playing piano and singing on a 1975 TV show.

Although Manilow has not appeared on Broadway since his 1977 special Tony award concert, his return to Broadway after a little more than twenty five years is again honored by the renaming of the corner of 44th Street as Barry Manilow Way. Further down the street is the St. James Theater where this iconic singer-composer-producer is presenting a version of the show he has been performing in such venues as the Las Vegas Hilton and at the Paris Las Vegas Hotel and Casino.

Among the last of the honest-to-goodness crooners, Manilow, with his spiky, youthful haircut and a lovable face however stretched to near immobility by plastic surgery, still conveys that deliberately home-spun, unassuming, not-quite-polished personality and look that has endeared him to the public over the years. The flashy light-show and the blaring medley by the on-stage band split into two sections behind see-through partitions have more to do with Las Vegas than Broadway.

Apparently the hip surgery he had two years ago is not a major obstacle to the way he moves. He even does a he Conga with the support of his two terrific back-up singers Kye Brackett and Sharon Hendrix. He goes seamlessly through almost two dozen songs some at the keyboard and some at the piano.

The audience truly loved and was, indeed, encouraged to sing along with him such classics as "Can't Smile Without You," "I Write the Songs," and "Copacabana." He instilled a genuine poignancy to such enduring ballads as "Looks Like We Made It," "Somewhere in the Night," "I Made It Through the Rain "and," When October Comes" (lyrics by Johnny Mercer). He also juics up the set with the raucous "Bandstand," and "Brooklyn Blues," "New York City Rhythm," as well as with a tribute to songs from the 1960s ("Can't Take My Eyes Off of You," and "I Love You Baby").

The "I Love You Baby" drove a certain segment of the audience to a near frenzy. There was no stopping many who were previously seated in the orchestra from dancing in the aisles. The big revelation for me, however, was a lovely ballad from his yet-to-be-produced-in-New York musical Harmony. I assume it may have book trouble. But what a revelation it would be to have a new musical on Broadway with real melodies.

As a yet-to-be-surpassed purveyor of melodic songs written from the heart, Barry Manilow undoubtedly means it when he sings to us, "I"ll love you every single day from now on." ("Every Single Day"). That love was sent back by an enraptured audience many of whom could identify with his song "Looks Like We Made It."

Simon SEEZ -- Moose Murders -- Review

Moose Murders

We all expect to see popular, lauded as well as classic plays get their fair and rightful share of revivals, especially to celebrate a significant anniversaries such as the recent 50th anniversary production of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf and the 60th anniversary production of Picnic. However, it is more than a little surprising that a play renowned for being the stinker to end all stinkers, as is Moose Murders,, is deemed worthy of a revival—, albeit an Off Off Broadway revival in this, the 30th anniversary of the year it opened (and also promptly closed) on Broadway.

Although the painful memories of seeing the last preview of the infamous Moose Murders are now as fleeting as the last time I had a tooth pulled, the image of the number of moose heads mounted on the walls of Marjorie Kellogg’s original spectacular setting is indelibly impressed. Not surprisingly, there is only one moose head and a deer head mounted on the wall in the production by the Beautiful Soup Theater Collective, under the clueless direction of Steven Carl McCasland, but this is, after all one step above (or maybe below) community theater.

Theater history buffs will recall that film and TV star Eve Arden left the Broadway-bound cast out-of-town and Holland Taylor took over her role of Hedda Holloway, unwittingly earning a kind of immortality. Taylor, of course, went on to a fine career on stage and TV and is currently preparing to play the title role in Ann, the biographical play about Ann Richards, the former governor of Texas, this Spring on Broadway.

Let’s clarify at the very top. This “shamelessly revised” (according to the front page of the program) version by the play’s author Arthur Bicknell is still not about the disappearance and/or mutilation of any endangered species, unless you include playwriting, acting, and direction.

While it would be nice to have some kind words to say about any single aspect of this amateurishly performed and poorly staged resurrection, I can’t think of any, except adding, that if this is (as stated in the press release) a continuation of a student group that director McCasland founded while at Pace University — “Group Therapy Productions”— the therapy is evidently still in progress and I wish them all well.

The play is, as was the original, still punctuated with the periodic claps of thunder which, as you know, were once upon a time a prerequisite for a certain genre. With such special sound effects, what can one expect of a ludicrous plot that involves an entire family stranded at a mountain resort with a murderous moose on the loose?

But let’s get on with it. Hedda Holloway (Anna Kirkland) has purchased aforementioned establishment called The Wild Moose Lodge, high in the Adirondacks, presumably to make the final days of her wealthy quadriplegic husband Sidney (Dennis DelBene) a little easier. Sidney is immobile, his head wrapped like a mummy. It seems, he was either pushed or fell out of a window. Confined to a wheelchair this “mummy’s curse” cannot utter a word. Assigned to his care, is chain-smoking Nurse Dagmar (Noelle Stewart) who has an on-again-off-again accent from no discernable place on earth.

Arriving neurotically attached to the bellowing Hun-like Hedda are Stinky (Jordan Tierney), her moronic son with a crassly incestuous attachment to her; Gay (Caroline Rosenblum), her youngest daughter, an obnoxiously precocious eleven year old brat who fancies herself a tap-dancing Shirley Temple; Lauraine (Ali Bernstein), the hyper-emotional married daughter and Nelson (Cory Boughton), Lauraine’s scheming husband. As it’s not over until its over, let give a mention to the participation of Snooks (Brittany Velotta) and Howie (Steven Carl McCasland, yes, the director) as two lamentably untalented entertainers formerly employed at the hotel who find themselves trapped at the lodge when the bridge collapses on this dark and stormy night. Lastly, if not least of the victims of this farrago, is the caretaker Joe Buffalo Dance (Orlando Iriarte) who wears a feathered Indian headdress pretending to be an Indian for the locals.
As this unfortunately slip-shod, embarrassingly performed and staged production unraveled within the confines of Dennis DelBene’s shabby, make-shift setting, I also hoped that it wouldn’t affect the future of The Beautiful Soup Theater Collective that has as one of its commitments to give a portion of its proceeds to charitable organizations. It is a shame that this collective could not have collected a company of actors with the necessary flair for the play’s “shamelessly” absurd antics, one that could have had some sport with it and made it fun for us. They didn’t and it wasn’t.

Connolly Theater, 220 East 4th Street
212-868-4444
Tickets: General Admission $30.00; students and seniors $25.00
Performances: Evenings at 7 PM; matinees Saturday and Sunday at 2 PM.
From 01/29/13 Opened 1/30/13 Ends 02/10/13
Review by Simon Saltzman based on performance 01/31/13