“Hamlet” (Opened July 13, 2017) at the Public’s Anspacher Theater, 420 Lafayette Street

---

Oscar Isaac
Photo credit: Carol Rosegg

Plenty of characters die in William Shakespeare’s “Hamlet,” but plenty of them live long enough to make us laugh at their misfortunes, smile at their misguided assumptions, and maybe even smirk at their misplaced loyalties in controversial director Sam Gold’s vision/version of this great tragedy. I think we can agree that this is not the way the play is generally expected to hit you. In some ways, “Hamlet” has always been an entertainment.  

As an entertainment, the production now at the Public Theater relies heavily on Gold’s presumption that the audience comes prepared with knowledge of what is going on or what is supposed to be going on in the rotten state of Denmark. It worked fine enough for me as well presumably for the large group of theater students from Las Vegas (I asked an usher) who were there at the performance I attended to primarily see film and TV star Oscar Isaac give what actually turned out to be a terrific portrayal of the famously melancholy Dane. Running just under four hours including two intermissions, this “Hamlet” scores heavily with its theatrical pretentions and much less so with its ability to involve us emotionally.

Gold starts the play with the audience in the dark (realistically not metaphorically) as he also did with his recent mesmerizing staging of “Othello,” as we simply listen to the opening scene in which appears the ghost of Hamlet’s murdered father (Ritchie Coster.) Coster returns not only as the ghost but as the dead king who is placed on a folding table atop a pile of artificial flowers. Coster also plays most wily, although with the same visible body tattoos, the dastardly Uncle Claudius, who has hurriedly married Hamlet’s duplicitous mother Gertrude (passively played by Charlayne Woodard.)

Notwithstanding the growing trend with actors to not conceal body art (an unfortunate trend), the outer attire designed by Kaye Voyce for Hamlet and Ophelia (Gayle Rankin) is distractingly faux funk. And I’m not particularly taken by Isaac parading around for much of the play in a black t-shirt and color-coordinated undershorts. My reaction to Rankin’s bi-polar performance is further compromised by her unattractively braided hair. For some unfathomable reason, Gold has made Ophelia, as he did his also braided Desdemona in “Othello,” appear as unattractive  as possible. Most clever conceits in the play are having Ophelia sing her mad scene, drown herself with a shower hose dragged from the toilet and then throw herself into the grave with Polonius. What a stunner to see them arise side by side having morphed into the two gabby gravediggers. This tragi-comical diversion works perfectly in abetting Gold’s imaginatively conveyed perversity.

More unseemly than untimely is the curious use of a toilet metaphorically as a throne for Polonius (a wonderfully wry Peter Friedman.) He gets a laugh as does Hamlet who delivers lines with a paper toilet seat hung around his neck. It’s a wonder, nevertheless,  that all of Hamlet’s lines ring out with an impressive clarity of thought and execution. Isaac’s exquisite phrasing of the famous soliloquies - “To be or not to be,” “Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt” - is palpable and made extremely personal.

To exhibit true and terrifying madness amidst the free-wheeling wackiness of Gold’s variations on Shakespeare’s play probably wasn’t such a stretch for the actor who rose to fame in films “Inside Llewyn Davis” and “Star Wars: The Force Awakens.” Standout support comes from Anatol Usef as Laertes, Keegan-Michael Key expertly playing both Horatio and with comical panache the Player King. Perhaps we are meant to have a good time at "Hamlet" knowing as we do that the point, even when its dipped in poison, is deconstruction.

Review by Simon Saltzman based on performance July 23.

Performances through September 3, 2017

“Marvin’s Room” Opened at the American Airlines Theatre on June 29, 2017

---

Celia Weston and Lili Taylor

Will Broadway be receptive to a revival of “Marvin’s Room?” It has its best shot with the largely subscription audience that comes with this fine Roundabout Theatre Company production under the direction of Anne Kauffman. With leading roles played by the equally outstanding Janeane Garofalo, Lili Taylor and Celia Weston, the sad/funny play by Scott McPherson, with a plot dealing with chronic physical disability, mental disorder, and the process of dying, isn’t the downer you might expect.

It has been twenty-five years since I first saw this play at Playwrights Horizons. It remains a touching consideration of all of the above. The core of it is given to a remarkable pivotal character named Bessie (Lilly Taylor) who reaffirms for us the value of unselfish giving and the blessing in avoiding martyrdom. Although the play is principally about Bessie, a 40 year-old spinster who has devoted the better part of her adult life caring for her terminally ill father (the title character) and his ailing sister, it also revolves around an extended family circle forced to deal with physical and emotional transitions.

Marvin, the totally paralyzed victim of strokes and advanced cancer, is never seen but is revealed through a screen as an occasionally shrieking shadow whenever his daughter Bessie and his aging and innocently forgetful sister Ruth (splendid work by Celia Weston) make their regularly scheduled administering visits, often entertaining him with a display of lights that appear to bounce off the wall.

Things don’t improve when an over-tired Bessie is diagnosed with Leukemia in an unexpectedly funny scene at a medical clinic presided over by a flaky and flagrantly incompetent doctor (Triney Sandoval.) Bessie turns for help to her estranged, unmarried, cosmetology-trained sister Lee (a terrific Janeane Garofalo), a noticeably bi-polar woman saddled with two even more emotionally troubled sons, one a teenager under treatment at a mental institution for burning down his home.

Lee makes the trek from Ohio to Florida accompanied by Hank (Jack DeFalco) who has just been conditionally released in her care and Charlie (Luca Padovan), a severely myopic introvert who faces life head down in a book. Splendid work from both DeFalco and Padovan. The joy and the power of the play comes from watching Bessie neutralize the negative energy around her and triumph over the neurotic self-centeredness of her support group. On close inspection, McPherson’s play delivers a defiantly positive prognoses.

Neither depressing nor altogether absurdist with its assertively comical tract, “Marvin’s Room” welcomes the gently empowering lift it gets from Kauffman’s unforced direction and from a cast that doesn’t miss a heartbeat of the play’s inherent poignancy or the compulsively funny sick room jokes.

Taylor, who doesn’t appear often enough on Broadway or Off-B’way, is wonderful as a pathetic figure of stooped and scrawny resignation. She somehow grows beautiful before our eyes as she is forced to summon up hidden resources of strength dealing with her self-absorbed sister, the troubled sons, the aunt whose brain has been wired to alleviate the pain in her back, her father and, of course, her own mortality. Designer Laura Jellinek’s modernist revolving setting gets us from one emotionally cathartic scene to next.

“Marvin’s Room”

Roundabout's American Airlines Theatre 227 West 42nd Street
Tuesday through Saturday evening at 8:00PM with Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday matinees at 2:00PM.

Reviewed by Simon Saltzman on 07/07/17
From 6/08/17; opening 6/29/17; closing 8/27/17   

“Pacific Overtures” at the Classic Stage Company through June 18, 2017

---

Kelvin Moon Loh, Austin Ku, George Takei, Marc Oka, and Thom Sesma. (Photo by Joan Marcus)

This Stephen Sondheim - John Weidman musical remains as it has always been since it first opened on Broadway in 1976 and in its few incarnations, a shining example of the concept musical. In episodic music hall fashion, it tells the East-meets-West story with acknowledgments to both the Oriental and Occidental theatrical traditions. But, most of all it boasts a remarkable Sondheim score that evokes age old Eastern simplicity with new age Western resonances.

The handsome but purposefully spare production at the Classic Stage Company, under the direction of John Doyle (who also designed the show) has such a delicate yet stirring ambiance that I can’t imagine anyone interested in either Japan or the American musical theater not able to enjoy it riches no matter how reduced as it is now in visual spectacle. With only a long and narrow runway that curls upward at one end of the theater, the show is basically free of scenic effects. It does have some arresting and amusingly considered staging with the performers, except for their use of long silk shawls and on occasion some fluttering fans, are attired in contemporary street clothes. This works, even if totally eschewing exotica.

The story of the opening up of a feudal Japanese society in 1853 to the trade-seeking American Commodore Perry, is told within short intricately structured scenes that propel the action with the help of a narrator (a wryly informative George Takei). At its center are a fisherman (Orville Mendoza) and a samurai (Steven Eng) who are unwittingly caught up in the intrigue between the East and the West. I had forgotten how cleverly anecdotal and happily cohesive is Joseph Weidman’s book, It shares its wit and wisdom beautifully with Sondheim’s skillful score. Not exactly hit-tune-filled, the score, nevertheless, continues to fascinate us with its story-telling style and musical ingenuity. “The Advantages of Floating In the Middle of the Sea,” “Four Black Dragons,” and “A Bowler Hat” convey a cultural heritage more precisely than a hundred years of scholarly historical documenting.

The ten members of the ensemble are all top-notch with many assigned multiple roles. A standout is Ann Harada who plays both an industrious Madam and a French Admiral. Only ninety minutes in length, “Pacific Overtures” will I hope make you feel, as I did, that you can’t ask for more pleasure than to find yourself floating in the middle of the sea with Sondheim, Doyle and Company. Did I miss the songs that were cut? Did I want more trappings? Did is miss bright colors? Did I really expect more Geisha glitz? Perhaps yes but perhaps also no.

"Hello Dolly" at the Shubert Theatre

---

Bette Midler

With Bette Midler playing Dolly Gallagher Levi on Broadway, it is safe to say there isn’t a whiff of the Irish left in the role that is the centerpiece in the beloved musical “Hello Dolly.” Not that there ever was much of a Gallic glint invested in the role, although I respectfully refer back to Tovah Feldshuh who added a slight brogue to her portrayal at the Paper Mill Playhouse a decade ago. Midler’s presence apparently doesn’t command an accent or even a discernible characterization given the circumstances and lavish trappings afforded it under the direction of Jerry Zaks. Sadly, it is simply showcase for the also beloved performer to strut, parade and pander (not too harsh a word) to the multitudes who are there in force at every performance.

There is no question that fans will come to worship at the feet of the divine M no matter what she was doing or in this case not doing. This, however, does not excuse certain aspects of the production for not delivering. Many of the basic requirements that insure that a star with a noticeably unsteady (to be kind) voice for singing and with a questionable regard for the character she is playing are missing.

For many reasons I have delayed voicing my opinion that have nothing to do with the almost irrational raves and huzzahs that are being hurled at the 71 year-old performer whom I have loved since her early days singing with Barry Manilow and amongst those “Clams on a Half Shell” and beyond. Having seen numerous Dollys on the stage, including Ethel Merman (who was divine herself at the time singing two songs written especially for her,) I am keenly aware of what Midler is supposed to be doing up there on the stage of the Shubert Theatre.

Except for the stunning gowns she wears designed by Santo Loquasto, there was no real evidence that the world’s most famous matchmaker (not Yenta) on the make had found a way to surface in light of Midler’s purposely but also egregiously self-aggrandizing posturing. Somehow in the back of my mind, I firmly believe that she could have come through with a real and unforgettable character had she had the right director. Zaks wasn’t and she didn’t.

 

The supporting cast generally keeps the faith with the familiar and melodic Jerry Herman score. There is, however, no excuse for the lackluster/what-am-I doing-here performance by the usually terrific David Hyde Pierce who is shockingly miscast as Horace Vandergelder, the miserly bellowing boob who avoids Dolly until he can’t. That he and Midler have no discernible chemistry between them makes their romance a moot point.

We can almost forgive such fine performers as Gavin Creel, Kate Baldwin and the others who, as professionals must, comply with this misguided vision of Dolly as a self-conscious cartoon in a production that encourages unapologetic mugging. Despite Loguasto’s pretty settings, this is not a revival that respects its source. Choreographer Warren Carlyle has, however, effectively filled many of the most cringe-worthy gaps with obligatory bursts of robust dancing.

Many of us have fond memories of either Thornton Wilder’s “The Matchmaker” or the original musical show that Jerry Herman and Michael Stewart created with the collaboration of Gower Champion and starred (almost forever) Carol Channing. Others may have seen any number of regional, college and community theater productions presented around the world. I realize I probably stand notably alone in saying that this lamentable revival does no service to the legacy of Bette Midler as one of the great entertainers of our time. Will she and it sweep all the awards and also win the Tony? You bet!

"Six Degrees of Separation" at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre

---

Allison Janney and Corey Hawkins
Photo: Joan Marcus

John Guare’s 1990 play, which he based on the real-life scam of a man who posed as the son of Sidney Poitier and managed to worm his way into an elitist circle of New York society, is back in a splendidly acted and handsome production (stunningly designed by Mark Wendland) directed by Trip Cullman. Both dark in its perspective and sparkling with wit and social insight, the play is about a cluster of surprisingly gullible, egregiously superficial and also very wealthy people who unwittingly allow themselves to be victimized by their collectively subconscious desire to effect change. This, as well as add purpose and meaning to their already prosperous but decidedly self-serving lives.

If Guare’s theme is let the buyer beware, the characters he has created to convey his realistic fable are dramatized with brutal frankness as well as layered with various degrees of sophistication. What is gratifying to see is how the initial gripping power of the play, whose duration is only 90 minutes, is maintained to the end by director Cullman who seems to have been able to further enhance (Jerry Zaks directed the original) the playwright’s vision, as least for me in this second experience with it. Even the play’s somewhat disappointing, strangely fragmented denouement and vague dissolve don’t hinder our enjoyment, particularly those moments of surprise and shock that are well calculated to keep us in suspense.

With obvious relish, the cast is extracting every ounce of innuendo out of the odd, sordid, tragic and even perverse doings that keep the plot in motion. We can easily forgive the many implausible loopholes as well as the purposefully graphic depiction of homosexual activity. Allison Janney is terrifically funny and sad as Ouisa (role originally played by Stockard Channing) the wife whose spellbound relationship with an unscrupulous  young black man presumably leads her to some new plane of cathartic self-awareness. John Benjamin Hickey is also superb as Flan, the wheeling dealing art-dealer husband. In probably the play’s most complexly considered character, a splendid Corey Hawkins disarmingly conveys the corrupted charms of the reckless gay intruder.

A very fine supporting cast gives its all to characters caught up in a series of intrigues and deceptions that will eventually lead them from social isolation to universal connection. The play uses a dazzling premise to lead us from one unexpected threshold to another before dropping us into an abyss filled with uncertainties and regrets.  

"The Little Foxes" Opened April 19 at the Samuel J. Friedman Theatre

---

 
Cynthia Nixon and Laura Linney as Birdie

Take your choice or take them both now that Laura Linney and Cynthia Nixon are playing the old bait and switch game (well, not quite) in the very fine Manhattan Theatre Club revival of Lillian Hellman’s “The Little Foxes. ”  

It always amazes me how certain principal characters in classic plays sometimes drift from their positions of dramatic power depending on how the role is being played and by whom. It isn't that Shakespeare's Hamlet or Tennessee Williams' Blanche (in “A Streetcar Named Desire”) lose their top spot as the primary dramatic catalysts in their respective plays, it's just that the sheer force and imprint of the interpretation by an actor in a secondary role can shift our attention and empathy from what has been formerly seen as the play's center of gravity.

Not the first time two prominent stars switched and/or alternated roles while appearing in the same production. Under the sturdy direction of Daniel Sullivan, Hellman’s 1939 play is now offering really different perspectives to audiences, most of whom are rarely given the opportunity to taste and compare. Having seen both leading actors take on the two principal and supporting female roles, I have strong feelings as to which one has the shifted the balance of power more specifically to meet the demands of the play. I expect that Linney and Nixon will invite comparison but that only invites more discussion on the inherent merits or even social veracity of the play. That’s good.

For those familiar with the Hubbards,  that infamously greedy, selfish, corrupt, ethically-challenged Southern family— it is Regina Giddens who traditionally demands our most undivided consideration as she determinedly proceeds to secure her share of the family's impending fortunes from her ruthless brothers. Regina demands the intensity of a dramatic dominatrix. Linney (“Time Stands Still,” “Les Liaisons Dangereuses, ”) fills that demand with a imposingly venomous front and a blinding charm. Tony award-winner Nixon (“Rabbit Hole”) who is best known for her role in the TV series “Sex and the City” is more subtle/subdued and cautious in exposing Regina’s underhanded treachery. Not exactly a draw, but wait.

Melodramatic at its core, we are drawn into the play's relentless drive as Regina takes on her sneaky-to-a-fault brothers Oscar (Darren Goldstein) and Benjamin (Michael McKean) as they attempt full control of the construction of a cotton mill. To this end, she will do anything, including virtually affect the demise of her morally upright banker husband Horace (a terrific Richard Thomas). As the middle-aged Regina, both  Linney and Nixon delivers the dramatic goods with verve, but it was Linney’s bite that was the decidedly more lethal. Tallulah Bankhead famously originated the role of Regina Giddens on Broadway in 1940. Bette Davis played Regina in the 1941 film version. Subsequent Broadway Reginas have been Anne Bancroft (1967), Elizabeth Taylor (1981, and Stockard Channing (1997).

It was rare indeed, for a woman to be an industrial mover and shaker in 1900 when the play is set and certainly not in the South. But what is it about the almost stealthily devised but unforeseeable shift we make from Regina's machinations to the plight of her sister-in-law Birdie Oscar's wife? It happens early and it remains a constant throughout the play. It isn't just that Birdie, born of gentry whose family plantation is now owned by the Hubbards.

Why is the belittled Birdie, who Oscar says “chatters like a magpie” suddenly the pulse and the prevailing heartbeat of this otherwise brilliantly callous portrait of a ruthless family? She is undeniably a figure of pity and needs our sympathy. She is ridiculed, belittled and physically mistreated by Oscar. Look to a heart-breaking brilliance from Nixon as Birdie who serves as the play's wellspring of emotional pain.

While Linney is affecting and could this splendid actress not be, it is Nixon who casts upon her character the more luminous reflection of embattled gentility. Nixon may, indeed, be the best Birdie in my memory. Birdie discloses some personal well-kept secrets to Regina's yet-unspoiled daughter Alexandra (Francesca Carpanini) and to the house maid Addie (Caroline Stefanie Clay). Alexandra presumably becomes the unexpected heartbeat/representative of the playwright herself in Act III.  

Evans as the maid and Charles Turner, who plays the Giddens' man-servant, are terrific and bring a concerted and carefully delineated sub-text to their supporting roles that might otherwise not demand more than our passing interest: remembering the adage that there are no small parts only small actors. As for the brothers, Goldstein is splendid as the viciously condescending Oscar as is McKean as the more insidious conspiring Ben. Michael Benz neatly filled the shoes of Oscar's irretrievably stupid son Leo. Both Linney and Nixon filled costume designer Jane Greenwood’s period-perfect gowns to perfection.

As designed by Scott Pask, the Giddens' Greek Revival residence deserves consideration with its obligatory staircase, hidden dining area and Victorian furnishings. The play's title is derived from the King James version of the Song of Solomon ("Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes"). It remains a gripping reminder that there is a price to pay for the recycling of greed and the ravaging of our humanity as we enter another century.

"The Little Foxes" ends its limited run on June 18.