Long Day's Journey into Night - Roundabout Theater Company at the American Airlines Theater

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Gabriel Byrne and Jessica Lange
Photo: Joan Marcus

It is almost pointless, almost futile, to start comparing one production of Eugene O’Neill’s autobiographical masterpiece “Long Day’s Journey Into Night” from another as each in turn resides in memory for different reasons. The thing about British director Jonathan Kent’s production for the Roundabout Theatre Company now at the American Airlines Theatre is not that it may not be the most definitive but that it may be the most atmospherically haunting. That doesn’t preclude me saying that the one in 1988 with Jason Robards and Colleen Dewhurst, under the direction of Jose Quintero was even more or less haunting than the next one I recall a decade or more later in which Robert Falls directed Vanessa Redgrave, Brian Dennehy, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Robert Sean Leonard (OMG that was stupendous.)

In addressing what many consider to be the greatest play in American theater literature, Kent need not have any qualms that his production may not have nailed every personal and shared pain felt by the members of the Tyrone Household. What we get is pretty darned good, that is if spending nearly four hours with three alcoholics and a morphine addict is your idea of well-spent time. For me, I’m not willing to concede that the current and quite formidable company has altered any ideas or fixed notions I may have about the play.

Others, I mean many others, who claim to have been transformed by the works of O’Neill are apt to say about this epic that it deserves its place at the top of the heap. It seems that every production tries as hard as it can to re-validate the greatness of this unwieldy and emotionally excessive masterpiece. Maybe a decade or more between productions is as obligatory as it is for his other lengthy “masterpiece” “The Iceman Cometh, ” but don’t get me started on that one.

As for this play, Kent’s assured contentment with the text is notable as is the inevitable deliberateness of the play’s characters to get from one drink to another in this sorrowful play. Give the Tyrones their due as they face their most tragic memories with the greatest amount of poignancy during one embroiled summer day in 1912. This is a family that also relishes its free-for-alls, but not one that necessarily makes the one with the loudest voice the winner. It is important to know that they are shadows of O’Neill’s own family.

I’m not embarrassed to admit that I love Jessica Lange on film and on stage and that she is undoubtedly giving her greatest performance as the hopelessly morphine-addicted Mary Tyrone. She may be “acting” up a storm but I was with her every step of the way as the desperately mean-spirited avenger with a ravishing noble spirit.

I was mesmerized by Lange’s fidgeting, her self-conscious twitches, her hallucinatory meanderings,  and her increasingly wistful voice that could at any moment disappear into a vapor, a state of retreat from the enveloping fog that was slowly shrouding their dilapidating summer home.

Behind the virile posturing, the implacable vanity, and the devilishly Irish eyes that seem, at times, to know more than they care to share is Gabriel Byrne, who, as the aging matinee idol James Tyrone - now a miserly and alcoholic patriarch - finds enough dramatic contours in the aborted dreams of his past and the pained realities of the present to commandingly hold up his end of the incessant bickering, accusing, recriminating and even lying household. Let us anticipate that this superb O’Neill interpreter who played James Tyrone in the acclaimed revival of “A Moon for the Misbegotten” and Con Melody in “A Touch of the Poet” (both on Broadway) continues to shed even more light on O’Neill’s men.

Michael Shannon is an intriguing presence, almost like an outsider except that he drinks like an insider. He is effectively volcanic and cynical as James Tyrone Jr., the wastrel actor and alcoholic older son who has attempted to reach out to the younger brother he both envies and protects. And John Gallagher, Jr. also seems to be from another planet at times but eventually steps up to the plate as Edmond, the young, poetic and consumptive seafarer whose burning love-hate relationship with his family is destined to make him the autobiographical eyes and ears of the Tyrones. Representing the young O’Neill, he is splendid and touching as he emphasizes Edmond’s sensitive brooding nature. It takes a while for him to rise to the challenge of each new tidal wave of emotion as it threatens to drown him. Colby Minifie has the right Irish flavor as the family’s summer servant whose duties invite a little nip on occasion. 

The fog really rolls in with a vengeance in designer Tom Pye’s evocative setting, the gloomy living room of the Tyrone’s summer home. Natasha Katz’s lighting masterfully considers James Tyrone’s unwillingness to pay the electric bill. But who needs light when the actors and the audience are already either blinded by the booze or by the haze.

“Long Days Journey Into Night” (through June 26)

American Airlines Theatre, 227 West 42nd Street

"Crossing Swords" at the American Theatergroup through May 1, 2016

 Jeremy Greenbaum, Ali Gordon, Chase Crandell

It is a shame to have to write about a terrific almost new musical knowing that it is about to close this weekend (Sunday May 1.) But that is the case with the disarmingly performed, musically pleasurable, altogether winning “Crossing Swords” by Joe Slabe (rhymes with The Bay) in which its 20th century plot pivots off the classic 19th century romantic drama “Cyrano de Bergerac.” It is a teenaged twist on the old he loves her but she loves another.

If you most likely missed “Crossing Swords”  (as I did) when it was first presented as part of the New York Musical Theater Festival in 2013, you must keep your antennas on the alert for future productions, some of which are bound to show up on regional stages across the country. With its play-within-a-flashback-within-a-play conceit and set in and around the all-boys St. Mark’s Catholic School in 1969 and the all-girls St. Anne’s, the main story is cradled within a present prologue and epilogue.

In the prologue/present, Jeremy (Steven Hauck) is middle-aged as is Nicky (Sarah Dacey Charles.) These former teens have reunited and choose to reminisce following a funeral of Sir one of the teachers at St. Marks. Their memories are primarily of their own romantic experiences as teenagers rehearsing a production of “Cyrano.”

In the flashback, a very fine Hauck now has the role of Sir a stuffy, closeted math teacher who has a slightly contentious relationship with Miss Daignault, the girl school’s French teacher, as played with Gallic esprit by Charles.) Both Sir and Miss have touching back stories that add a commendable dimension to their characters.  

Back in 1969, Jeremy is played with an appealing exuberance by Jeremy Greenbaum who has won the role of Cyrano. During rehearsals he finds that his attraction to his good-looking co-star, best friend and school jock David (Chase Crandell) is more than simply friendly. With an impressive tenor, Crandell is splendid as the frustrated, poetry-challenged Christian. As you might expect, the shy David is enamored of Nicky (a beguiling Ali Gordon) who, misguidedly has the more effusive Jeremy in her sights.

Friendships all around are strained to the breaking point and fueled by the constraints of the as yet un-liberated sexual mores of today. In particular, Sir’s discomforting lecture to the embarrassed Jeremy on the need for suppressed feelings is a stinging reminder of outmoded psychology.

Pleasures abound within this mangled mingling of three romantic teens and their seniors and include humor-filled rehearsals, some excellent swordplay (credit to fight choreographer Trey Compton), and the high level of acting, under the direction of Igor Goldin. Best of all is the ambitious, bright and lyrical score by Slabe in which every affecting ballad and ensemble number is beautifully sung by an exceptionally talented company.

The modest but accommodating setting designed by Bethanie Wampol serves the action. Of importance there is also an underlying poignancy to the plot that makes this refreshing musical something very special. So, I hope that I’ve said enough to get you headed with haste to the production by the American Theatergroup at the Hamilton Stage in Rahway, NJ.

“Crossing Swords” (through May 1, 2016)

Hamilton Stage at UCPAC, 360 Hamilton St. Rahway, NJ

For tickets ($38.00) call (732) 499 - 8226

"School for Scandal" at the Lucille Lortel Theatre

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Dana Ivey, Frances Barber, Helen Cedpedes

Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s “The School for Scandal” is unquestionably a masterpiece of 18th century artificiality. It is easy enough to cloak its pretentions in pure synthetic theatricality but it is more rewarding and fun to see this view of Restoration high life when presented as winningly as it is by the Red Bull Theater now at the Lucille Lortel Theater. And what could be more difficult for a contemporary actor in a play such as this than to flit and flirt amidst yards of ruffles and lace while maintaining the validity and integrity of two centuries removed characters. It’s good to report that it is also the human side of metaphor-strewn Old England that shines through under Marc Vietor’s direcion.

As a result, the grace and humor of the play’s characters come through, especially watching the incessantly disapproving Sir Peter Teazle (Mark Linn-Baker) wrangle with his incorrigible child bride (Helen Cespedes.) We are given plenty of opportunities to identify with the men those “unconscionable dogs,” and the distaff “daughters of calumny” that Sheridan satirically reproves with such wit and polish. Bravi to this company for making Sheridan’s glitteringly dialogued expose of London’s polite society from being much more than an over dressed convention of relentless boors and tiresome scandalmongers.

Costume designer Andrea Lauer knew she had better utilize all the extravagant and colorful ruffles, laces, satins, silks and multi-colored powdered wigs to measure up to the obligatory scenery-chewing performances that do all but devour the modest but elegant scenery - mostly moving panels - as designed by Anna Louizos. While some members of the company are more skilled than others in the meticulously schooled art of sniffing/snuffing, mincing and raising of the eyebrows, there is a general consensus that the appropriate attitude is sufficient. It’s almost enough to see how the mastery of lines and asides nicely conveys the form and elegance of Sheridan’s world.

Standout among the company is Dana Ivey, who, not surprisingly, is a joy to watch as the gossipy Mrs. Candour and like the others in her social circle, doesn’t slip into caricature but rather reveals the formalized naturalism that must exist in equal measure with the period’s affectations. Aside from Baker, Ivey and Cespedes,  others who appear as equally accomplished haute farceurs are Frances Barber as the rich and ribald Lady Sneerwell, Jacob Dresch, as a really slinky gossip columnist Mr. Snake and Ryan Garbayo as his obnoxious protégé cum society poet Sir Benjamin Backbite.

The always terrific Henry Stram nails the more subtly of decorous mannerisms as Sir Oliver Surface. You may be hard pressed not to laugh aloud every time a gong rings announcing the arrival of Punjabi family friend Master Ranji (Ramsey Faragallah). But stifling laughs is almost a must if you want to hear all the lines. Sheridan’s play exposes disguises, deceptions, and dishonesties without obscenities. That’s quite a feat and with this lovely production we see how his spirit is kept alive.

“The School for Scandal” (through May 8, 2016

Lucille Lortel Theatre, Christopher Street

For tickets ($80.00 & $100.00) call (212) 924 - 2817

"Arthur Miller's The Crucible"

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 Sophie Okonedo and Ben Whishaw
Photo by Jan Versweyveld

Whatever was anticipated or expected from the provocative and always challenging director Ivo Van Hove, his unique approach to the classics (“A View from the Bridge”) as well as to modern works (“Lazarus”) virtually insured us a stunning and arresting revival of “Arthur Miller’s “The Crucible” Be prepared for a staging that more than equates this classic drama to its theme and to its relevancy in today’s world.

The mass hysteria that the Salem witch-hunt provoked in the 17^th century was no more or less insidious an epidemic than the one that McCarthyism fostered during the 1950s. We need never forget the political, moral and ethical issues on trial, in either century, thanks to Miller’s arresting drama of rampant intolerance and misguided religiosity. “The Crucible” is the play he wrote in 1953 specifically to denounce the prevalent inequities of so-called justice.

In yet another century, and in the light of the most recent and horrific events that surround us and invade our consciousness, the sixty-three year old play asks us if we are prepared and willing to be tested again, to see how one’s rage and fear is apt to be manipulated and used to create another witch-hunt? Just when I thought I’d had enough of Miller’s award winning classic, it has been given a hauntingly illuminating and thought-provoking production at the Walter Kerr Theatre.

With a highly controlled amount of hysteria, Van Hove is giving us a most chilling and non site-specific consideration of Miller’s troubling  play. The infamous Salem witch trials of 1692, with its not too subtle political analogies, were dramatized by Miller to not only pontificate on the general evils of superstition and mass hysteria, but to vividly recreate a time when these human and inhuman aberrations lived in a society that feared both God and the devil, in equal propensity. “The Crucible” tells the tale of innocent people victimized by a jealous, lecherous girl and her young followers when their devilish fantasies get out of control.

As performed on designer Jan Versweyveld’s grandly abstracted/minimalist stage setting, made evocative largely by his own somber lighting designs, the plot abounds, sometimes chaotically, in accusations, denials, threats, and confessions. This havoc unfolds as the misguided minister Reverend Paris (Jason Butler Harner) and the Deputy Governor Danforth (Ciaran Hinds) interrogate the good citizens of Salem, Mass. Harner is as infuriating as a clergyman blinded by his own self-serving goals, as is Hinds as the chillingly stiff-necked and arrogant law enforcer. While it is the household of adulterous farmer John Proctor (Ben Whishaw) and his reverential, loving wife Elizabeth (Sophie Okonedo) that is the central focus, the involvement of the townspeople is made into riveting cameo scenes. Nothing alarming about Van Hove’s staging as it as expected another example of the kind of unorthodox display of pretentions that he famously showers on plays - - - basically attention-grabbing theatricality. Quite a season for this Belgium-born director.  

All the performances are first rate, with not a single actor either overstepping or under-addressing that fine line of credibility. Whishaw (whom I recently enjoyed in the BBC series “London Spy”) and Okonedo (Tony Award-winner for “A Raisin in the Sun”) as John Proctor and his wife, are extraordinarily moving and tragic figures in this riveting chronicle of a civilization run amok by vindictive predators.  Okonedo is impressive as the farmer’s wife who, although limited by the restraints of a puritanical social structure, reveals in her modest movements and tormented expressions a mighty spirit. Whishaw’s intense performance, as the stolid farmer guilty of adultery, but who ends of representing the most noble and ethical aspects of the human spirit, stands high among an altogether compelling company.

Memorable moments are also contributed by Brenda Wehle, as the dangerously literate Rebecca Nurse and Jenny Jules, as Tituba, the servant from Barbados. Teagle F. Bougere, as the irrational Judge Hawthrorn, makes a good case for the pompous attitude of the law. A steely Saoirse Ronan is appropriately chilling as the as the vengeful Abigail, a bad seed among a barrel full. Wojciech Dziedzic’s appropriately drab costumes offset the almost blinding tension that permeates “The Crucible” from start to finish.

Yet it is the sheer force of Miller’s writing that will have you reeling long after the final curtain. If nothing else, Van Hove’s version is a reminder that we need to see this play at least once in every generation to consider its meaning - - - to test as well as put on trial our moral and ethical fiber.

Walter Kerr Theater, 219 W. 48th St; tickets: $149 top. Opened March 31, 2016.

"She Loves Me" at the Roundabout Theatre Company at Studio 54

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Laura Benanti and Zachary Levi
(photo credit: Joan Marcus)

The year was 1963 and the lovers of Broadway show tunes were singing and listening to the title song from “Hello Dolly,” and “People” from “Funny Girl,” the year’s biggest musical hits. But there was another wonderful song – “Ice Cream” – that didn’t make the hit parade but that many people loved yet few had the technique to sing. It was from the less popular but highly praised musical “She Loves Me,” and sung in the show by lyric soprano Barbara Cook, who subsequently made it her signature song. It’s too bad that more attention was not paid to “She Loves Me,” the show that one critic rightly described as “a bonbon of a musical.”

The bonbon is back, if not for the first time since its premiere 53 years ago. But this time the bonbon is more like a sourball. As it is one of my favorite musicals of all time, it grieves me to mention that the old world charm of Budapest is totally missing from this glossy sugar and sex-coated revival directed by Scott Ellis who also directed the same show (more beautifully and sensitively) for the Roundabout Theater Company in 1993.

Perhaps trying hard to not repeat himself, Ellis has made and abetted changes that do not serve or honor either the original production or his first revival. The production in general looks, with its fanciful/whimsical settings by David Rockwell, more like more a product out of the Disney factory.

And while this is traditionally a delicately conceived musical brimming with luscious  melodies, the sound engineer has opted to make the singing of them sound harsh and lacking anything close to a human. It is especially damaging to the lovely Laura Benanti who gives a spirited performance but whose tendency for full out vibrato is done a disservice by the electronic enhancement. At the performance I attended her voice was shrill and piercing. and especially unpleasant in the delicate octave-spanning aria “Ice Cream.”

This is especially saddening for those of us who love the work as composed by Jerry Bock and lyricist Sheldon Harnick who bravely abandoned the clichés of standard musical comedy writing. Of course, they were already the recipients four years earlier of the Pulitzer Prize in drama for “Fiorello.” For “She Loves Me” they collaborated with librettist Joe Masteroff on what many consider as the first chamber musical comedy. If Bock and Harnick are most famously known as the composers of “Fiddler on the Roof,” “She Loves Me” has commanded a quiet popularity in the musical theater repertory.

Originally a play, “Parfumerie” by Hungarian Miklos Lazlo, it is the story of two habitually sparring salesclerks working in the same Budapest perfume shop during the Christmas season who have been anonymously courting each other, linked by series of romantic missives. If this seems familiar, you may recall Ernst Lubitch’s tender 1940 film “The Shop Around The Corner” with Margaret Sullivan and James Stewart; the more robust “In the Good Old Summertime,” with Judy Garland (1949) ; and the nicely modernized “She’s Got Mail,” starring Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks (1998), all retelling the same story.

The musical, intimate by recent musical theater standards, is designed to reveal the interior and exterior of Maraczek’s Parfumerie, a small café and Amalia’s bedroom that looked pretty as far as it goes but without providing a feeling for the era. Considering the song “Days Gone By,” the costumes by Jeff Mahshie more egregiously ignored the styles of the time, especially the kind of wardrobe likely to be worn by shop-girls.

The gorgeous Jane Krakowski, who plays the playful Ilona has been dressed as she has been directed to further cheapen this loose-living saleslady’s already challenged morality. And why was she given an inappropriate blonde Veronica Lake wig with peek-a-boo bangs? It is not 1942.  

“She Loves Me” was not a huge success at first, but it has gained increasing admiration and even a cult following through the years. With twenty three richly melodic musical numbers, almost double the usual score, a semi-operatic framework was created where dialogue, songs and lyrics meshed delicately into a seamless musical fabric, moving the plot effortlessly forward. In recent years the virtually sung-through style has been expanded to the point of being almost obligatory.

Those of us who saw the unforgettable original cast (Barbara Cook, Daniel Massey, Barbara Baxley and Jack Cassidy) have our memories. But the current cast has been led down a cruder path without a trace of the froth and atmospheric fragrance that should embrace the show.

As the romantically insecure yet virile Georg, Zachary Levi  is appealingly reserved, that is until his Act II encounter with the title song when falling in love becomes his catalyst for an impressive display of unrestrained exhibitionism. I understand his cartwheel more than the out-of-character splits that Krakowski is made to do. And while I digress, may I add that Ilona’s crush on the two-timing in-house cad Steven (Gavin Creel) might have worked if he had been the least bit suave instead of simply supercilious.

A mugging to end all mugging turn by Peter Bartlett, as a stuffy head waiter in a café singing the clever “A Romantic Atmosphere,” could have been funny if we hadn’t seen his shtick before. Choreographer Warren Carlyle guided the dancers predictably through the parody in which the romantic couples suddenly turn the café into pure bedlam.

I did admire the performance by Byron Jennings as the winningly stiff-necked parfumerie owner Mr. Maraczek who gives the schmaltzy waltz “Days Gone By” its due. Another curious performance is given by Nicholas Barasch, as Arpad the delivery boy who creates a character as close to a wind-up toy soldier as you are likely to see this side of The Nutcracker. So that leaves the always terrific Michael McGrath to be terrific once again as Sipos, the otherwise disarming clerk whose good intentions backfire.    

 

 If it can be found, “She Loves Me” contains stretches of romantic rapture, broad moments of hilarity and oodles of charm, particularly the “Twelve Days of Christmas,” as sung with ever increasing speed and anxiety by the carolers, shoppers and clerks. What I found, however, was a lesser replication of one of the most cherished of American musicals. P.S. I have read all the rave reviews. . . go figure.