Category Archives: NYC Theater Reviews
Broadway,
‘Two Strangers (Carry a Cake Across New York),’ Smashing Performances, Delightful, Lyrical, Poignant
A simple rom-com it is not. When New York (a town that’s all about money) figures as a character in the dynamic of a budding relationship, complexity arises. It seems especially so with the musical comedy Two Strangers (Carry a Cake Across New York) by Jim Barne & Kit Buchan, currently at the Longacre Theater until Jul,y, unless it receives an extension. Judging from the audience who knew the songs, and reveled in the fun and celebration when I saw it, it may extend its run.
Originally, titled The Season in two regional English theaters (2019), a new title and opening in London at the Kiln Theatre (2023-2024) and the West End at the Criterion Theater (2024) helped the musical make its mark. At the Criterion Theater it received an extension due to popular demand. Gaining momentum it kept the new title and began its North American premiere at the American Repertory Theater. There, it received another extension. Again, Sam Tutty reprised his role of Dougal Todd at A.R.T. (2025) when Christiani Pitts joined him as Robin.
Ironically, the longer, detailed title kills for its uniqueness which characterizes this musical comedy that resonates also because the writers make New York a character viewed through the eyes of two broke, twenty-somethings. The world-weary New Yorker, Robin (Christiani Pitts, Ann Darrow in King Kong) contrasts with the kooky, exuberant Brit, Dougal (Sam Tutty shepherded the role since the Kiln Theatre).
Delectably opposites, the characters are thrown together by Dougal’s invite to his dad’s wedding in Manhattan where he will meet Mark Todd for the first time in a town he’s only seen on film. No wonder why he’s excited.
Deliciously, the actors inhabit the characters’ dialogue as if they wrote it themselves. Tutty’s quick, off-handed, throw-away one liners, perfectly timed, always land. Pitts’ Robin, the perfect foil, picks up steam after she drops her bored, ironic pose and jumps into the pools of Dougal’s freeing enthusiasm.
Indeed, on a deeper level, much recommends this musical comedy directed by Tim Jackson, effortlessly performed with charisma and chemistry by its leads. The minimalist production (i.e. Soutra Gilmour’s set of variously sized, silver-grey suitcases that hold surprises) aligns old-fashioned and hyper modern tropes. The equally unostentacious lighting design (Jack Knowles) appropriately adds atmosphere when most needed.
When Robin bumps into Dougal and tramples his passport, Robin knows about Dougal,. But neitherhe nor the audience know about her. So the idea of strangers meeting and caring about each other after twenty-four hours or so twerks off the rails of typical “boy-meets-girl” ho-hum.
Importantly, little about the characterizations and storyline are predictable. In the twists and bends we note the refreshing unusual. For example, she is one of the few NYC waitresses who isn’t trying to be an actress or performer. In fact she circles the edges of struggling, lonely, confused, an invisible nobody to the well-heeled crowd (“Be Happy”). He awkwardly circles the edges of dorkdom, living with mom as best mates and drinking buddies. However, their far from admirable backgrounds heighten audience empathy in this on-point two-hander, incisively and acutely directed by Jackson.
Arranged by sister Melissa (the bride-to-be), to ease Dougal into the NYC scene, Robin accompanies Dougal to his hotel from JFK. Initially, we don’t understand Robin’s cool attitude. Is it because she’s a sophisticate annoyed that he acts like a wide-eyed, bushy-tailed ten-year old at Christmas about being in Manhattan (“New York”)? Or is her attitude a cover for deeper knowledge about the marriage of her 30-year-old sister to Dougal’s 57-year-old millionaire dad Mark, who abandoned Dougal before he was born?
Nevertheless, the combination of her dour attitude and his outsized ebullience and film buff references make their choppy interplay continually humorous. It becomes LOL in Act II when Robin removes her mask “the morning after” their wild night during their song, “The Hangover Duet.” Barne’s and Buchan’s clever script and at times profound lyrics and beautiful music enhance the perplexing situation of these two strange “family members” growing toward love, despite the weird circumstances.
Along the journey of discovery which begins with Dougal’s conflict (“Dad”), his disappointment that his father didn’t meet him at JFK, the truth eventually unravels. Perhaps spurred by passive aggression, Robin fails at her mission to deliver a whole wedding cake to her sister, as well as other tasks Melissa demands of her. With his cheerio attitude and stock of film plots at the ready to reference during the major catastrophe that will drive Melissa to a terrorist act when she finds out, they flee despite their poverty into the dreamland New York can be. Happily, they end up spending a fabulous evening together dancing, eating and blindly drinking their way into the classy Plaza Hotel for a stay-over.
How is this possible? Mark gave Melissa his card which she improbably gave to Robin to pay for the $2000 wedding cake. With the card (during the fast-paced, frenetic, “American Express”), they charge for the hotel room and various sundries, like a tux rental and exquisite dress and shoes, food, drink and breakfast. Their joyful abandon is courtesy of Mark. Come on! He’s Dougal’s dad and Dougal’s making up for lost time. And we discover in a note Mark sends to their Plaza hotel room, he gladly bestows his largess on “little Robin,” because of their former “friendship.” He even invites her to the wedding, which we later understand is a slap in her face.
By the conclusion we “get” Robin’s initial cynical attitude toward Dougal, whose boyish, angelic hope eventually rubs off on Robin. How can it not as they journey up and down devastating emotional mountains (“New York/What’ll It Be,” “About to Go In,” “This Year”) and work through their explosive blow-out (“He Doesn’t Exist,” “What Did You Say?”). They reconcile in uncertainty as Dougal suggests, “If you ever need anything, I’ll be 4000 miles away,” and sing one refrain of “New York,” then return to their lives.
Two Strangers (Carry a Cake Across New York) runs 2 hours 15 minutes with one intermission at the Longacre Theater. twostrangersmusical.com.
‘The Queen of Versailles,’ Fabulous Kristin Chenoweth Makes Dreams Realities
If the road to excess leads to the palace of wisdom (quote by English poet William Blake), do people know when they’ve reached their limit? When is enough enough? According to the themes of the new musical The Queen of Versailles, currently at the St. James Theatre, knowing this depends upon the seeker.
In the clever, sardonic musical, based on Lauren Greenfield’s titular documentary film and the life stories of Jackie and David Siegel, the question of excess and how to measure it shines into the darkness of American culture, conspicuous consumption, surgically enhanced, plastic looks, and meretricious values. With an ironic, humorous, no holds barred book by Lindsey Ferrentino, and music and lyrics by Stephen Schhwartz, the Siegel’s riches to more riches story, including the 2008 mortgage debacle, takes center stage. By the conclusion, the audience leaves shaken and maybe stirred, either with a bad taste in their mouths or with the prick of guilt in their consciences.
At its finest, The Queen of Versailles inspires the audience to peer into their own values and behavior and evaluate their souls to correct. Ultimately, it asks, do the Siegels have a worthwhile life or have they allowed their childhood poverty to overwhelm their good sense and inner emotional well being? Despite its ripe fun Ferrentino’s book and Schwartz’s music encourage a hard look at crass, materialistic greed that blinds the rich from using their largess for the social good. Lastly, it questions do the representative Siegels count the cost to live the oversized billionaire’s lifestyle which causes harm? To what extent has their craven indulgence choked off their lifeblood to their own destruction?
Starring an endearing, heartfelt and bubbly Kristin Chenoweth as the materially insatiable Jackie Siegel, and F. Murray Abraham as billionaire workaholic David Siegel, the New York premiere which has an end date of March 29, 2026, rings with disturbing truths. It’s farcical, dark elements present many themes. Chief among them is the theme that the Siegel’s shiny ostentation hides a sad emptiness that can never be fulfilled.
Framing the Siegel’s story with the key meme of Versailles, the mansion in France that 17th century Louis XIV, built as a memorial to his majesty, the opening scene and song (Pablo David Laucerica is King Louis XIV) replete with period chandeliers, furniture, costumed butlers and maids reveals how and why the Sun King built his palace on swampland (“Because I Can”). Without giving thought to the inequities in French society that necessitated the economic gap between royalty and its impoverished, destitute subjects, Jackie and David want one.
In a quick switch to the present (2006) we see the Siegel’s Versailles in progress. With construction scaffolding in the background and a documentary film crew in the foreground, Chenoweth’s Jackie glows as she sings “we want to have the very best for the biggest home in America because we can.” The fluid set design with appropriate props and pieces by Dane Laffrey, who also does the video design, brings perfect coherence to the Siegel’s intentions. It connects the idea of royal wealth manifest in Louis XIV’s lavish excess to their rich/famous lifestyle which reeks of tawdriness. Thanks to Michael Arden’s staging and direction and Cristian Cowan’s costumes, and Cookie Jordan’s hair and wig design, the shifts from the present to the court of Louis XIV and back solidly establish the trenchant themes of this profoundly current musical.
Presuming themselves American royalty, the Siegels hope to replicate a modern-day Versailles, like their mentor king. Indeed, they will best him. Their Versailles has whatever the family wants. This includes a jewelry-grade gem stone floor, an in-house Benihana (with all those tossed shrimp because David doesn’t like to stand on line), a spa, a pool with a stained glass roof, and a family wing with numerous bedrooms and bathrooms so Jackie doesn’t lose track of her seven kids.
After this opening salvo that mesmerizes like any show about the “lifestyles of the rich and presumptuous,” we discover that Jackie didn’t always come from wealth. In fact her story mirrors the old Horatio Alger “rags-to-riches” fable that Alger shaped into the American Dream, which abides today and which also influenced F. Scott Fitzgerald’s take on it in The Great Gatsby. Jackie, albeit a female dreamer, buys into the concept that if she pulls herself up with determination, works hard and does good works, she can lift herself into the upper classes.
We see how this manifests in the next segment of Chenoweth’s 17-year-old version of Jackie with her parents Debbie (Isabel Keating) and John (Stephen DeRosa) in their humble Endwell, New York home. Debbie and John count on Jackie to continue to work as many jobs as possible to become rich and famous like the titular show they watch together. Singing the song “Caviar Dreams,” a ballad that expresses beautifully a female Alger hero, we “get” Jackie’s drive and pluck to work day and night to achieve an engineering degree at IBM, then kick the job to the curb because it won’t give her wealth fast enough.
As she “keeps on thrustin” she makes a bold turn into marriage with alleged banker Ron (Michael McCorry Rose), who disappoints when he drags her to the Everglades, and opposes her Mrs. Florida win. When he physically abuses her, despite her pregnancy, Jackie leaves. Singing “Each and Every Day” beginning when Victoria is a baby, the scene switches to the present at the construction site and the teenage Victoria (the excellent Nina White) enters. Chenoweth’s Jackie soulfully finishes the song to Victoria in an important transitional moment. We understand Jackie as a survivor who loves her firstborn, who she claims saved her life.
Not only does Jackie not look back, we learn she and baby Victoria lived in an apartment which “barely fit the baby’s crib and Jackie’s sleeping bag.” However, always “thrustin’ forward,” she recognizes opportunity when she goes to a party where she meets David Siegel, the CEO of Westgate Resorts. As it turns out, his impoverished childhood was similar to hers and left him with dreams of extreme wealth. F. Murray Abraham does justice to David throughout, first as a “cowboy” in the wild west of timeshares as son Gary (the fine Greg Hildreth) sings with the ensemble “The Ballad of the Timeshare King.” Occasionally, for emphasis, Abraham’s David chimes in with irony.
For example, David’s sales force make “one hundred percent of their sales on the first day.” Gary sings, “George W.’s president now, thanks to David Siegel.” When folks can’t afford the timeshare, Siegel helps them with financing from his bank, so the ensemble sings joyfully, “Yippee-I-owe-you-owe-we-owe.” We recognize the sardonic humor for David’s dishing out sub-prime mortgages to “anyone who breathes.” Of course this adds to the mortgage crises of 2008 which taxpayers foot the bill for. Eventually, the sub-prime loans bring his empire to the brink of bankruptcy as the crash swallows whole billionaires like David.
At that point, Jackie and David have been married with children and are two years into the Versailles construction having cycled through songs of their outsized wedding (“Trust Me”), a honeymoon trip to Versailles bringing back a scene of King Louis XIV and his courtiers. Smartly, Ferrentino and Schwartz reinforce their themes by joining past and present in the reprise “Because I Can and the “Golden Hour.”
However, conflict looms on the horizon. Though David and Jackie live their wildest dreams and birth child after child, daughter Victoria feels miserable, insular and ugly. “I know mom wishes I was prettier,” she sings in the poignant “Pretty Wins.” And in Act II in the superb “Book of Random” Victoria sings from her journal, the thoughts that she keeps hidden. Unlike her mother Victoria grounds herself in her current feelings of sadness brought on by reality, escapism fueled by drug addiction and scorn for their damaging and excessive lifestyle. However, when Jackie’s niece Jonquil (Tatum Grace Hopkins) arrives and Jackie takes her in, we think that Victoria has someone to confide in.
But Jonquil doesn’t understand Victoria’s dislike of Jackie’s appetite for more. And it doesn’t help Victoria that Jonquil becomes a clone of Jackie (“I Could Get Used to This.”). Ironically, when the crash happens and Victoria hears of the talk that they will sell Versailles to keep David from going belly up, she feels relief. In a farce-filled scene in the 17th century Versailles, with some of the most ironic lyrics, the Sun King chides the Siegels and Americans in the song “Crash.” “You thought you’d be egalitarian, let peasants own their own homes in some altruistic plan. Well, what were you expecting from a choice so rash? Crash…”
At the end of Act I, we have only Jackie’s spunk and perseverance (“This is Not the Way”), and David’s connections to rely on to bail them out of bankruptcy and foreclosure. Act II reveals that deus ex machina saves them when the government (taxpayers) bail out billionaires and banks. Naturally, the little people with no safety net lose their shirts. Where the peasants of France revolted against their royals (there is a humorous scene with the luckless Marie Antoinette on her way to the guillotine), in America, no one goes to jail because the banks and firms are “too big to fail.”
At the end of Act II, in a scene with King Louis XIV, in a reprise of “Crash,” King Louis and his courtiers sing as Marie Antoinette says “goodbye.” Here, Schwartz’s lyrics and tune underscore a crucial theme. America’s Aristocracy has cleverly worked it out that “democracy” will prevent revolutions. How? The rich have peasants “thinking they’re tomorrow’s millionaires; that you’re special privileges will someday soon be theirs.” And the ensemble adds, “No blade across the throat for you. Instead it seems your peasant class will all turn out to vote for you!” Thus, with no accountability for wrecking the economy and countless lives, the rich get richer, and Jackie and David, out of bankruptcy, continue building Versailles.
However, in all of the mayhem of trying to regain solvency, the Siegels sacrifice a family member. If material empires go on for centuries, flesh and blood does not. The unreality of excess belies mortality. But some folks never learn. Schwartz and Ferrentino ironically underscore this as Chenoweth’s Jackie holds a glass of champagne standing in front of a ring light. She speaks to a social media audience and hopes that, like her, they get their “champagne wishes and caviar dreams.”
The Queen of Versailles runs 2 hours 40 minutes with one intermission at the St. James Theatre. https://queenofversaillesmusical.com/
‘The Other Americans,’ John Leguizamo’s Brilliant Play Targeting the American Dream Extends Multiple Times
After a long career in every entertainment venue from films, to TV, to theater, Broadway, Off Broadway, etc., the prodigious work by the exceptional John Leguizamo speaks for itself. Now, Leguizamo tackles the longer theatrical form in writing The Other Americans, extended again until October 24th at the Public Theater.
Superbly directed by Ruben Santiago-Hudson, the theatrical elements of set design, lighting, costumes speak to the 1990s setting and cultural nuances. The following creatives developed a smart, stylish representation of the Castro household (Arnulfo Maldonado-set design, Kara Harmon-costumes, Justin Ellington-sound, Lorna Ventura-choreography).
Perhaps Leguizamo’s play could be tweaked to tighten the dialogue. All the more to have it shine with blinding, unforgettable truths sounding the alarm for immigrants in this nation. If tightened a bit, the complex, profound play would land perfectly as the unmistakable tragedy it inherently is. However, in its current iteration, Leguizamo gets the job done. The powerful play with comedic elements resonates to our inner core as a nation of immigrants and especially for Latinos.
Clearly, Leguizamo’s characterizations and themes add to the canon of classics that excoriate and expose the corrupted myth of the American Dream as a lie fitted to destroy anyone who believes it. That immigrants make the sacrifices they do to embrace it, is the ultimate tragedy.
Nelson Castro (played exquisitely by John Leguizamo), born in Jackson Heights from Columbian ancestry, embraces the American Dream. His wife Patti (the amazing Luna Laren Velez), from her Puerto Rican heritage, not so much. Patti’s values lead to loving her family and friends with devotion. Daughter, Toni (Rebecca Jimenez), who will marry the solid but nerdy Eddie (Bradley James Tejeda), looks to fit in as a white woman. The younger Nick (Trey Santiago-Hudson) was like his dad and took advantage of others, fiercely competitive. However, an incident changed him forever.
As the play unfolds, Leguizamo deals with the central question. To what extent have the warped values of the predominant culture negatively impacted this Latino family? From his first speech on we note that these twisted values have lured Nelson. The ethos-scam to get ahead-guides Nelson like a veritable North Star. He uses “getting over” as the key reason to provide for his family. This excuse rots everything under his power.
For example, Nelson acts the part of the upwardly mobile success story who always has a deal on the table ready to go. The irony is not lost on us when Nelson hypes a deal with a real estate big wig. Meanwhile, the mogul lives off his reputation for ripping off minorities. Sadly, Nelson admires the mogul’s pluck and con abilities. He ignores how this can potentially harms Latinos.
Mirroring the sick culture and society that values money and material prosperity over people, Leguizamo’s tragic hero tries to wheel and deal to get ahead. Making bad decisions, he overextends himself. Meanwhile, he encourages Nick and Toni to follow his lead. His overweening pride as the patriarch drives him to assume the mantle of a power player. Indeed, the opposite is true. During the process that causes him to fail and lie about it, he compromises his integrity and family’s probity and sanctity. That he willfully blinds himself to the consequences of his beliefs and suppresses his intelligence and good will to fit in, is the final heart breaker.
As in the classic tragic hero, Nelson’s pride also dupes him into a psychotic circularity to believe he has no recourse. Of course he believes the wheels have been set in motion against him by the society’s bigotry and discriminatory values. He should recognize and reject the society that uplifts such values because they support doing whatever necessitates getting ahead. The entire rapacious structure promotes financial terrorism and, whenever possible, it must be rejected. However, Nelson can’t reject it because he can’t help himself from being seduced. Instead, he persists in a prison of his own making, digging his family grave, on a collusion course of self-destruction.
Sadly, he internalizes the society’s inhumanity and makes it his own, a self-hating Latino. Because he adopts this construct because he loathes his immigrant self, he tries to create a new identity apart from his inferior ancestry. Thus, he moves to Forest Hills away from Jackson Heights where he lived “like an immigrant” in a place where cockroaches multiplied.
Finally, as we watch Nelson struggle to assert this new identity in a flawed, indecent, racially institutionalized culture (represented by Forest Hills and what a group of kids did to his son in high school), Leguizamo’s play asserts an important truth for immigrants. Internalizing and adopting the culture’s corrupt, sick, anti-human values is not worthy of immigrants’ sacrifices. This theme is at the heart of Leguizamo’s play. In his plot development and characterizations Leguizamo reveals his tragic hero chases after prosperity and upward mobility. The incalculable loss of what results-losing what it means to be human-isn’t worth it. If one does not weep for Leguizamo’s Nelson at the play’s conclusion, you weren’t paying attention.
To exemplify his themes, Leguizamo uses the scenario of the Castros, an American Latino family. They move from the homey, culturally diverse Jackson Heights to the white, Jewish upscale, racist enclave of Forest Hills. At the outset of the play Nelson, a laundromat owner, awaits his son’s return from a psychiatric facility. Patti has cooked up her son’s favorite dishes. Not only does this reveal her care and concern for her son, her comments to Nelson show her nostalgia for the Latin foods and people of their original Jackson Heights neighborhood in Queens.
By degrees Leguizamo reveals the mystery why Nick was in a facility. Additionally, the playwright brilliantly explores the conflicts at the heart of this family whose parents put their stake in their children, chiefly son Nick to get ahead financially in the Castro business. To recuperate, the doctors partially helped Nick with medication and therapies.
However, on his return home months later, he still suffers and has episodes. Patti sees the change in his dislike of his old favorite foods (symbolic). Not only does he reject meat, he rejects Catholicism and turns to Buddhism. Because a girl he met at the facility influences him, he moves away from his Latin roots. Later, we learn he loves and admires her and they plan to live together. However, he doesn’t look at the difficulties of this dream: no money, no family support.
The family conflicts explode when Nick attempts to be truthful with his parents. In his conversation with his mother we learn the horrific details of the beating he received in high school, why it happened, and how it led to episodes in college. Wanting to move beyond this through understanding, Nick learns in therapy that he must talk to his father. Nelson refuses to acknowledge what happened, and becomes a stalemate to Nick’s progress.
Additionally, his doctor supports Nick’s getting out from under the family’s living arrangements. Inspired, Nick yearns to create a life for himself away from their control to be his own person. Ironically, he follows in his father’s footsteps wanting to create a new identify for himself. Yet, he can’t create this identity unless he confronts the truth of what happened to him in high school and talks to his father. Unless he understands the extremely complex issues at the heart of his father’s tragedy, they won’t move forward together. Nelson must understand that he hates his own immigrant being and has embraced sick, twisted corrupt values which he never should have pushed on his family.
Meanwhile, in a fight with Nelson, Nick demonstrates what may really be happening to him. Though he survived the high school beating with a baseball bat, he most probably suffers from what doctors have come to understand as TBI (traumatic brain injury). With TBI the individual suffers debilities both physically and emotionally. When Nelson questions the efficacy of the treatment Nick received from doctors who didn’t really know what was happening to Nick, Nelson is on the right track. But the science had to catch up to Nelson’s observations.
Meanwhile, the problems relating to Nick needing the right help from his parents and his doctors, Nelson’s financial doom and the future of this Latino family under duress are answered in a devastating, powerful conclusion.
There is no spoiler. Leguizamo elegantly and shockingly reveals this family as a microcosm of the ills of our culture and society. Additionally, he sounds the warning for immigrants. If they don’t recognize and refuse the twisted folkways of the “American Dream,” they may lose their self-worth and humanity for a for a lie.
The Other Americans runs 2 hours 15 minutes including an intermission at The Publica Theater until November 23, 2025. https://publictheater.org/theotheramericans
Keanu Reeves, Alex Winter carry Ted and Bill into the adventure of ‘Waiting for Godot’
Referencing the past with Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure movie series, something has happened. Bill (Alex Winter) and Ted (Keanu Reeves), who long dropped their younger selves and reached maturity in Bill and Ted Face the Music (2020), have accomplished the extraordinary. They’ve fast forwarded to a place they’ve never been before in any of their adventures. An existential oblivion of uncertainty, Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot.
There, they cavort and wallow in a hollowed out, megaphone-shaped, wind-tunnel (Soutra Gilmore’s clever set design). The gaping maw is starkly, thematically lighted by Jon Clark. Ben & Max Ringham’s sound design resonates the emptiness of the hollow which Winter’s Valdimir and Reeves Estragon fill up to the brim with their presence. And, among other things, Estragon loudly snacks on invisible turnips and carrots, and some chicken bones.
Oh, and a few others careen into their empty hellscape. One is a pompous, bullish, land-owning oligarch with a sometime southern accent, whose name, Pozzo, means oil well in Italian (a superb Brandon J. Dirden in a sardonic casting choice). And then there is his slave, for all oligarchs must have slaves to lord over, mustn’t they? Pozzo’s DEI slave in a wheelchair, seems misnamed Lucky (the fine Michael Patrick Thornton).
However, before these former likenesses of their former selves show up and startle the down-on-their luck Vladimir and Estragon, the two stars of oblivion wait for something, anything to happen. Maybe the dude Godot, who they have an arrangement with, will show up on stage at the Hudson Theatre. Maybe not. At the end of Act I he sends an angelic looking Boy to tell them he will be there tomorrow. A silent echo perhaps rings in the stillness of the oblivion where the hapless tramps abide.
Despite the strangeness of it all, one thing is certain. Bill and Ted are together again for another adventure that promises to be like no other. First, they’ve landed on Broadway, dressed as hobos in bowler hats playing clowns for us, who happily watch and wait for Godot with them. And it doesn’t matter whether they tear it up or tear it down. The excellent novelty of these two appearing live as Didi (Vladimir) and Gogo (Estragon), another dimension of Bill and Ted, illuminates Beckett.
Keanu Reeves’ idea to have another version of their beloved characters confront Samuel Beckett’s tragicomical questions in Waiting for Godot seems an anointed choice. It is the next step for these bros to “party on,” albeit with unsure results. However, they do well fumfering around in this hollowed out world, a setting with no material objects. The director has removed the tree, the whip, or any props. Thus, we concentrate on their words. Between their riffs of despair, melancholy, hopelessness and trauma, they have playful fun, considering the existential value of life. Like all of us, if they knew what circumstances meant in the overall arc of their lives, they wouldn’t be so lost.
Director Jamie Lloyd, unlike previous outings (A Doll’s House, Sunset Boulevard), keeps Beckett’s script without alteration. Why not? Rhythmic, poetic, terse, seemingly repetitive and excessively opaque, in their own right, the spoken words ring out, regardless of who speaks them. That the characters of Bill and Ted are subsumed by Beckett’s Didi and Gogo makes complete sense.
What would they or anyone do if there was no intervention or salvation as occurs fancifully in the Bill and Ted adventure series? They’d be waiting for salvation, foiled and hopeless about the emptiness and uselessness of existence without definition. Indeed, politically isn’t that what some in a nation of unwitting, passively oppressed do? Hope for salvation by a greater “someone,” when the only possibility is self-defined, self-salvation? How long does it take to realize no one is coming to help? Maybe if they help themselves, Godot will join in the work of helping them find their own way out of oblivion. But just like the politically passive who do nothing, the same situation occurs here. Godot is delayed. Didi and Gogo do nothing but play a waiting game.
From another perspective eventually unlike political passives they compel themselves to act. And these acts they accomplish with excellent abandon. They have fun.
And so do we watching, listening, wondering and waiting with them. Their feelings within a humorous dynamic unfold in no particular direction with a wide breadth of expression. Sometimes they want to hang themselves to end the frustration. Sometimes, bored, they engage in swordplay with words. Sometimes they rage. Through it all they have each other. And despite wanting to separate and go their own ways, they do find each other comforting. After all, that’s what friends are for in Jamie Lloyd’s anything is probable Waiting for Godot.
In Act I they are tentative, searching their memories for where they are and if they are. Continually, they circle the truth, considering where the one is who said they were coming. However, the situation differs in Act II because the Boy gave them the message about Godot.
In Act II they cut loose: chest bump, run up and down their circular environs like gyrating skateboarders seamlessly navigating curvilinear walls. By then, the oblivion becomes familiar ground. They relax because they can relax, accustomed to the territory. And we spirits out there in the dark, who watch them, become their familiar counterparts, too. Maybe it’s good that Godot isn’t coming, yet. They may as well while away the time. Air guitar anyone? Yes, please. Reality is what we make it. Above all, we shouldn’t take ourselves too seriously. In the second act they don’t. After all, they could turn out like Pozzo and Lucky. So they do have fun while the sun shines, until they don’t and return right back to square one: they wait.
As for Pozzo and Lucky a further decline happens. In Act I Lucky gave a long, unintelligible speech that sounded full of meaning. In Act II Lucky is mute. Pozzo, becomes blind and halt, dependent upon Lucky to move. He reveals his spiritual and physical misery and haplessness by crying out for help. On the one hand, the oppressor caves in on himself via the oppression of his own flesh. On the other hand, he still exploits Lucky whom he leads, however awkwardly. The last shreds of his bellicosity and enslavement of Lucky hang by a thread.
Pozzo has become only a bit less debilitated than Lucky, whereas before, his identity commanded. Fortunately for Pozzo Lucky doesn’t revolt and leave him or stop obeying him. Instead, he takes the role of the passive one, while Pozzo still acts the aggressor, as enfeebled as he is. The condition happened in the twinkling of an eye with no explanation. Ironically, his circumstances have blown most of the bully out of him and reduced him to a pitiable wretch.
Nevertheless, Didi and Gogo acknowledge Pozzo and Lucky’s changes with little more than offhanded comments. What them worry? Their life-giving miracle happened. They have each other. It’s a congenial, permanent arrangement. After that, when the Boy shows up to tell them the “bad” news, that Godot has been delayed, yet again, and maybe will be there tomorrow, it’s OK. There’s no “sound and fury” as there is in Macbeth’s speech about “tomorrows.” We and they know that they will persist and deliver themselves and each other into their next clown show, tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
If one rejects the comparison of this version of Waiting for Godot with others they may have seen, that wisdom will yield results. To my thinking comparing versions takes the delight out of the work. The genius of Beckett is that his words/dialogue and characters stand on their own, made alive by the personalities of the actors and their choices. I’ve enjoyed actors take up this great work and turn themselves upside down into clown princes. Reeves and Winter have an affinity and humility for this uptake. And Lloyd lets them play, as he damn well should.
In the enjoyment and appreciation of their antics, the themes arrive. I’ve seen greater and lesser lights in these roles. Unfortunately, I allowed their personalities and their gravitas to distract me and take up too much space, crowding out my delight. In allowing Waiting for Godot to settle into fantastic farce, Lloyd and the exceptional cast tease out greater truths. These include the indomitably of friendship; the importance of fun; the tediousness of not being able to get out of one’s own way; the uselessness of self-victimizing complaint; the vitality and empowerment of self-deliverance, and the frustration of certain uncertainty.
Waiting for Godot runs approximately two hours five minutes with one intermission, through Jan. 4 at the Hudson Theatre. godotbroadway.com.
‘Punch’ Makes its Vital Impact on Broadway
In 2025 when US citizens witness violence by those who profess patriotism, conservatism and religious fervor, one must look past the cognitive dissonance for clarity and understanding. Though the setting of Punch is Nottingham, England between 2011-2025, it is representative. The initial events might have happened in the US or any other country where punches are thrown as a right of passage for strapping young men. For these reasons Punch at Manhattan Theatre Club arrives at a crucial time.
Importantly, the heartfelt drama explores trending social concepts and themes that impact our cultural well being. The play presses hot button issues with vitality and energy. It examines the ethos of violence as the evidence of weakness. It explores how accountability for wrongdoing must be a part of rehabilitation or the likelihood of rehabilitation decreases. Finally, through the arc of the protagonist’s transformation, the play reveals that restorative justice can promote self-forgiveness and healing.
Based on Jacob Dunne’s book Right from Wrong, playwright James Graham with crystal clarity squares off against the confusion associated with brawling as thrilling, fun and justifiable. The play identifies the societal constructs that in the last decade have been infused with political nuance to exploit division and violence. Such constructs lift up physical assault as an emblem of masculinity. Likewise, they demean and dismiss kindness, compassion and empathy as true measures of strength and power.
Through Graham’s well-articulated characterizations of Jacob (the sensational Will Harrison), whose one punch kills James, and James’ mom Joan (the equally sensational Victoria Clark), we learn that redemption, forgiveness and hope are not empty words bandied about after violent acts that kill. Made alive by spiritual goodness, the process of redemption and forgiveness can manifest positive results. And with hope and persistence, nihilistic behavior can be turned around.
The two act structure of Punch stylized by minimal sets and props put to suggestive use seems front-loaded with exposition in the first act. In the prologue Graham carefully creates the circumstances moving from the present to Jacob’s past during the fateful night that changed his life. In the present Jacob barely is able to articulate what happened to a facilitator and “circle group” in an initial therapy session. To them he describes the night of Raf’s birthday celebration and the reasons how and why the confrontation with a stranger upends his life.
Principally through his precise descriptions, the choreographed action via Leanne Pinder’s movement direction, and director Adam Penford’s staging of Jacob and his mates, we understand how and why the killing happened. After they celebrate with drugs and pub crawls, his friends scatter in various directions planning to meet up later. Jacob runs into a girl, Claire (Camila Canó-Flaviá) and has a brief flirtation. Then, Raf phones him for some “action” going down at Yates’ Bar in Market Square. For Jacob, “You always step in, your mate, my mates, your people.”
Sadly, Jacob allows himself to be Raf’s and his friends’ tool. Jacob describes that he arrives at Market Square where they wait for him but they take no responsibility for their own provocation. Helping his “mates” Jacob slams a man with his fist during what he assumes to be a brawl. With one blow, he knocks down the guy he doesn’t know whose name he discovers later is James. It is a punch that lasts forever, symbolized effectively in a freeze frame tableau and directed lighting.
In the first act the events move to James’ parents David (Sam Robards) and Joan (Victoria Clark), who deal with James’s condition and eventual diagnosis that he can’t just sleep off being drunk in the ER. Through a series of acute, brief questions, Joan queries David why James needs hospitalization. We divine he received a severe concussion. Subsequently, a diagnosis comes. A brain bleed requires James to have surgery. However, he never regains consciousness. After a decision to pull him off life support, his parents review how and why their giving, gentle, twenty-eight year old son died.
In his circle group, Jacob discusses his childhood, parents divorce, change of living arrangements and choice of friends in school. Jacob makes the point that his early decisions to choose one group of friends over another directly influenced his life negatively. Additionally, trouble in his school work because of autism adds to his alienation from school, his feelings of inferiority and need to fit in with “his mates.” For them engaging in violence bonds them together in a show of masculinity and power.
These scenes and Jacob’s discussing his jail time and encouragement by convicts to seek revenge on Raf for tipping off the police alternate with scenes between David and Joan. The couple discuss wonderful memories of James, the trial, appeals for a tougher sentence for their son’s killer and the underestimation of the “one punch” that frequently causes death. In another turning point, Joan discusses the uselessness of the situation where she feels no relief. In seeking relief, she ends up in a program called “restorative justice.” During the program she communicates with Jacob who is encouraged by his social worker (Camila Canó-Flaviá) and parole officer (Lucy Taylor).
Segments of the first act might have been streamlined and tightened as the repetition of scenes with Jacob and his mates become tiresome. The second act moves more quickly. It profoundly deals with Jacob’s self-realizations and transformation prompted by communication with David and Joan. The three, who agree to participate in the British restorative justice system communicate through letters. At this point Jacob is out on parole after 14 months. David and Joan question him about the circumstances of the fateful night. In the last scenes, they meet face to face and Jacob asks for forgiveness.
Harrison and Clark with the assistance of a fine ensemble (who take on many roles) breathe life into the characters and make them identifiable. The power of the play lies in the performances. Harrison’s move deeper into the emotions of Jacob as he seeks relief, redemption and forgiveness astounds. Clark’s Joan makes one admire James’ mother’s spiritual strength. She recognizes that she cannot live with hate and resentment toward her son’s killer. By seeking to understand and have hope for Jacob’s future, she gives birth to the possibility that Jacob can make something of himself. That satisfies her so that her own son’s sacrifice gains meaning in Jacob’s redemption.
The adaptation from narrative to drama requires theatricality. At times, the dialogue doesn’t deliver and must be activated. In the shuffling into action some scenes are awkward and need tweaking. Some might have been removed altogether. Overall Punch rides the zeitgeist of the moment. Its performances elevate its timeless themes and strike us with their vitality and power.
Punch runs approximately 2 hours and 30 minutes with one intermission at the Samuel J. Friedman Theatre until November 2nd. https://www.manhattantheatreclub.com/shows/2025-26-season/punch/
‘Saturday Church’: The Vibrant, Hot Musical Extends Until October 24th
With music and songs by Grammy-nominated pop star Sia and additional music by Grammy-winning DJ and producer, Honey Dijon, Saturday Church soars in its ambitions to be Broadway bound. The excitement and joy are bountiful. The music and songs, a combination of house, pop, gospel spun into electrifying arrangements by Jason Michael Webb and Luke Solomon, also responsible for music supervision, orchestrations and arrangements, become the glory of this musical. Finally, the emotional poignance and heartfelt questions about acceptance, identity and self-love run to every human being, regardless of their orientation and select gender identity (65-68 descriptors that one might choose from).
Currently running at New York Theatre Workshop Saturday Church extends once more until October 24th. If you like rocking with Sia’s music, like Darrell Grand and Moultrie’s choreography and Qween Jean’s vibrant, glittering costumes, you’ll have a blast. The spectacle is ballroom fabulous. As J. Harrison Ghee’s Black Jesus master of ceremonies says at the conclusion, “It’s a Queen thing.”
However, some of the narrative revisits old ground and is tired. Additionally, the music doesn’t spring organically from the characters’ emotions. Sometimes it feels imposed upon their stories. Perhaps a few songs might have been trimmed. The musical, as enjoyable as it is, runs long.
Because of the acute direction by Whitney White (Jaja’s African Hair Braiding), the actors’ performances are captivating and on target. Easily, one becomes caught up in the pageantry, choreography and humor which help to mitigate the predictable story-line and irregularly integrated songs in the narrative.
Conceived for the stage and based on the Spring Pictures movie written and directed by Damon Cardasis, with book and additional lyrics by Damon Cardasis and James Ijames, Saturday Church focuses on Ulysses’ journey toward self-love. Ulysses (the golden Bryson Battle), lost his father recently. This forces his mother to work overtime. Unfortunately, her work schedule as a nurse doesn’t allow Amara (Kristolyn Lloyd) to see her son regularly.
Though the prickly Aunt Rose (the exceptional Joaquina Kalukango), stands in the gap as a parental figure, the grieving teenager can’t confide in her. Even though he lives in New York City, one of the most nonjudgmental cities on the planet, with its myriad types of people from different races, creeds and gender identities, Ulysses’ feels isolated and unconnected.
His problem arises from Aunt Rose and Pastor Lewis (J. Harrison Ghee). Ghee also does double duty as the master of ceremonies, the fantastic Black Jesus. Though Ulysses loves expressing himself in song with his exceptional vocal instrument, Aunt Rose and Pastor Lewis prevent him from joining the choir until he “calms down.” In effect, they negate his person hood.
Negotiating their criticisms, Ulysses tries to develop his faith at St. Matthew’s Church. However, Pastor Lewis and Aunt Rose steal his peace. As pillars of the church both dislike his flamboyance. They find his effeminacy and what it suggests offensive. At this juncture with no guidance, Ulysses doesn’t understand, nor can he admit that he is gay. Besides, why would he? For the pastor, his aunt and mother, the tenets of their religion prohibit L.G.B.T.Q Christianity, leaving him out in the cold.
During a subway ride home, Ulysses meets Raymond (the excellent Jackson Kanawha Perry). Raymond invites Ulysses to Saturday Church and discusses how the sanctuary runs an L.G.B.T.Q. program. With trepidation Ulysses says, “I’m not like that.” Raymond’s humorous reply brings audience laughter, “Oh, you still figuring things out.” Encouraging Ulysses, Raymond suggests that whatever his persuasion is, Saturday Church is a place where different gender identities find acceptance.
Inspired by the real-life St. Luke in the Fields Church in Manhattan’s West Village, Saturday Church provides a safe environment where Christianity flourishes for all. When Ulysses visits to scout out Raymond, with whom he feels an attachment, the motherly program leader Ebony (B Noel Thomas), and her riotous and talented assistants Dijon (Caleb Quezon) and Heaven (Anania), adopt Ulysses into their family. In a side plot Ebony’s loss of a partner, overwork with running activities for the church with little help, and life stresses bring her to a crisis point which dissolves conveniently by the conclusion.
The book writers attempt to draw parallels between Ulysses’ family and Ebony which remain undeveloped. As a wonderful character unto herself, the subplot might not be necessary.
As Ulysses enjoys his new found persona and develops his relationship with Raymond, his conflicts increase with his mother and aunt. From Raymond he learns the trauma of turning tricks to survive after family rejection. Also, Ulysses personally experiences physical and sexual assault. Finally, he understands that for some, suicide provides a viable choice to end the misery and torment of a queer lifestyle without the safety net of Saturday Church.
But all’s well that ends well. J. Harrison Ghee’s uplifting and humorous Black Jesus redirects Ulysses and effects a miraculous bringing together of the alienated to a more inclusive family of Christ. And as in a cotillion or debutante ball, Ulysses makes his debut. He appears in Qween Jean’s extraordinary white gown for a shining ballroom scene, partnering with Raymond dressed in a white tux. As the two churches come together, and each of the principal’s struts their stuff in beautiful array, Ghee’s Jesus shows love’s answer.
In these treacherous times the message and themes of Saturday Church affirm more than ever the necessity of unity over division, and flexibility in understanding the other person’s viewpoint. With its humor, great good will, musical freedom and prodigious creative talent, Saturday Church presents the message of Christ’s love and truth against a pulsating backdrop of frolic with a point.
Saturday Church runs with one fifteen minute intermission at New York Theatre Workshop until October 24th. https://www.nytw.org/show/saturday-church/?gad_source=1&gad_campaignid=22911892225
‘Ava: The Secret Conversations’ is Enthralling
What happens to beautiful women after Hollywood chews them up and spits them out? Ava Gardner, who the studio labeled in a promotion for The Barefoot Contessa (1954) as “The World’s Most Beautiful Animal,” worked in the industry and mostly on TV until her stroke in her 60s. After her illness, she clawed her way back into functioning health to sit for a series of interviews with author Peter Evans who she asked to ghostwrite her autobiography. In Ava: The Secret Conversations, Downtown Abbey star Elizabeth McGovern channels Ava Gardner at New York City Center until September 14th. Her riveting performance mesmerizes with an equivalent assist from Aaron Costa Ganis as Peter Evans and Ava’s husbands.
The play, written by Elizabeth McGovern, reveals known facts about Gardner. However, for those who haven’t read Peter Evans’ titular book on which McGovern bases her writing, the work includes many surprising details.
When Gardner met with Evans at her apartment in London, both had achieved success in their careers. An iconic actress during the Golden Age of Hollywood, Gardner lived her life to the fullest with marriages to Mickey Rooney, band leader Arti Shaw and Frank Sinatra. Additionally, her relationships with many men alluded to in the play indicate she enjoyed her femininity and sexuality. Journalist Evans, who had been recommended to her by a friend wrote biographies of Peter Sellers and Aristotle Onassis to name a few. Together, they brought excitement, experience and expertise to the project which Gardner initiated.
Essentially a two-hander, Ava: The Secret Conversations displays the Gardner/Evans relationship, conflicts about how Ava Gardner wanted to present her legacy, and the split that caused the shuttering of their project. The production features film clips of her husbands integrated throughout, thanks to Alex Basco Koch’s projection design, Cricket S. Meyrs sound design and Amith Chandrashaker’s lighting design.
David Meyer’s scenic design and Amith Chandrashaker’s lighting design present Ava’s lush apartment, and minimal sets and spots to reference Peter Evans’ writing study and other scenarios.The technical elements serve Moritz Von Stuelpnagel’s vision of the push and pull of Gardner and Evans who were dependent upon one another for a hoped for profitable outcome which never happened.
Instead, Gardner wrote her own autobiography published shortly after her death in 1990. From the interviews that Evans cobbled together, he wrote Ava: The Secret Conversations published in 2013 after his death. Neither were alive to see their work’s success.
Thematically, as we watch these individuals whose attitudes and values collide, we recognize their interactions happened in a more gracious, decent world than today’s current media circus.
At the top of the play in the prologue, McGovern’s Gardner ominously calls Evans in the middle of the night and tantalizes him like a siren. She mentions she’s thought about assisted suicide, using the organization “Exit.” Then, the scene switches and Ganis’ Evans faces the audience. As he talks to his agent Ed Victor (Chris Thorn’s voice throughout), he questions where to begin the “play?” In a surreal moment we realize the characters discuss “the play” as a framing device. What follows becomes a series of layers which unfold to a core of intimate moments shared between these two individuals remarkable in their own right.
During the uninterrupted span of ninety minutes we watch how Evans engages his subject to be authentic and even raw in her descriptions. For her part McGovern’s Ava tugs at the image of her glittering celebrity and overlays it with her humanity. For example she discusses some graphic details of her rehabilitation after her stroke. The glamor vanishes. Instead, we appreciate Ava’s beauty in mortality.
This key identification reinforces the theme that the human need for community and warmth increases with age and may be hard to come by the greater the celebrity. Gradually, the portrait of Gardner clarifies so we understand the extent to which she experienced heartbreak, loneliness and regret. Additionally, we learn that in exchange for her status, she allowed the studio to dictate her decisions about having a family.
In the interim between discussions, projections and re-imaginings of conversations between Ava and her husbands (Mickey Rooney, Arti Shaw, Frank Sinatra), Ed Victor presses Evans for salacious details. The concept of commercialism everpresent today rears its ugly head. Of course “the dirt” fascinates readers. Obviously, Evans has thoroughly researched Ava’s life, so he attempts to confirm rumored sexual tidbits. Sometimes Ava obliges, enthralled with her own history. Then she realizes she takes the honesty and authenticity too far. Indeed, how will she be viewed if Evans uncovers this earthy, untoward portrait of her brought to life beyond a two-dimensional screen?
On the other side of Evans and Ava’s relationship Victor stands. He intends for the book to achieve best seller status, an easy “slam-dunk.” However, Evans’ scruples and perhaps fears of lawsuits take over. And then Ava makes a decision about the project guided by an important influencer in her life. Abruptly, Evans and Gardner never speak again. However, she does leave him a sign he is in her thoughts, a promise she once made when they first met.
Ava: The Secret Conversations challenges one’s expectations about celebrity without using tired cliche’s. Once the conflicts emerge between Evans and Gardner, the pace picks up. When Evans steps into the characters of Rooney and Sinatra, he does so winningly. With Sinatra he gives McGovern’s Ava emotion to respond to. Toward the last half of the production, the play pops. Toni-Leslie James’ costuming as McGovern dresses for a red carpet appearance, enhances the fading star’s glamor. For most of the play Ava has been sitting around in track suits. Putting on her long sleeve white gloves, McGovern dons Ava’s skin. Regally, she convinces us that Ava is every inch a star, even in her 60s after a stroke.
Ava: The Secret Conversations runs 90 minutes with no intermission at New York City Center, 131 W 55th St (between Sixth and Seventh avenues) until September 14th. https://www.nycitycenter.org/pdps/2025-2026/ava-the-secret-conversations/
‘Duke & Roya’ Review, in Love and War
What does Hip Hop music have to do with a Muslim country whose strict religious practices frown on it? Nothing, unless an American base commander brings in a rapper to raise morale and entertain the troops stationed at Bagram Air Force base in Kabul, Afghanistan circa 2017. As unlikely as Hip Hop is to Afghanistan, so is the unlikelihood of the developing relationship between famous rapper Duke (Jay Ellis) and Afghan translator Roya (Stephanie Nur). The evolution of their love and respect for each other develops with humor and insight in Charles Randolph-Wright’s entertaining and meaningful play Duke & Roya. Currently, the hybrid comedy/drama runs at the Lucille Lortel Theatre until August 23rd.
Randolph-Wright unfolds his intriguing play through a series of flashbacks stirred by interviews and interrogations. The purpose of the interviews for the media, obviously is to entertain and titillate. On the other hand the interrogations yield information for investigators. Though we never see the questioners, the four principals, who answer the interrogators,’ questions do the heavy lifting. Through the nimble and talented actors, we form a perspective of the danger and the intrusion into their characters’ personal lives and identities. Randolph-Wright uses the “questioner” device so he can move immediately into the action and adventures between the titular characters in scenes between 2017 and 2025.
Initially, the media questions Duke about his music in the present. Then action transfers from the TV studio to his time in Kabul, Afghanistan. When Duke helicopters onto the base he meets Roya (Stephanie Nur) and her father Sayeed (Dariush Kashani), translators for the American military during the War in Afghanistan. Amiable Sayeed and cool Roya extend their hospitality as employees of the American government. Immediately, Duke shows interest and flirts with Roya, using his confident, “full-of-himself” attitude. Unsurprisingly, his approach, which most likely works on American women, falls flat with Roya.
A product of her culture’s strict mores which Duke knows little about, Roya remains aloof. Because he interprets her reaction as “playing hard to get,” their acquaintance happens slowly. Influentially, Roya redirects him toward a new approach with women to encourage his respect. We recognize her brilliant balancing act. Cleverly, she resists his charms, yet lets him know he does appeal to her. So she teases and surprises him with ironic jokes. However, he eventually understands she must be her own woman.
Throughout their experiences together, this push-pull by Ellis’ Duke and Nur’s Roya plays believably. Acutely shepherded by director Warren Adams, the actors and Adams’ staging of them grounds the play in Wilson Chins’ minimal, stylistic set.
Vitally, the contrast between folkways of the west and east reflected in the lightheartedness, emotional drama and revelation of their personalities does capture our interest. For example we learn about the Afghan practice of bacha posh. Because Sayeed has many daughters, he chose the oldest Roya to live as a boy until puberty. Thus, as a boy she had the opportunity of an education. However, sometimes for purposes of safety she dons male clothing and practices bacha posh, which jeopardizes the situation for her later in the play.
In addition to the standout performances by Ellis and Nur, Noma Dumezweni and Dariush Kashani keep us guessing as Duke’s mom and Roya’s dad. As Desiree, Dumezweni’s strong and forthright sister/mother figure, who chastises Duke when he needs it most, gains our admiration. She’s spot-on mesmerizing. The affable and charming Dariush Kashani authentically conveys the plight of Afghanis caught in an impossible situation. Not aligned with the Taliban that threatens to take over, nor with Americans who will leave the forever war, he, Roya and the family face ever-present danger. Though American visas have been promised for almost a decade, none are on the horizon, a horrific betrayal.
The complex themes sometimes get in the way of each other as the production moves toward the conclusion. Subtly, Randolph-Wright throws into the mix the perspective that Duke exploits the Black experience as a rapper, though his mother is middle upper class. However, Duke’s relationship with Roya changes his perspective and deepens his creativity. Of course the issues of religion, gender and politics come into play. Randolph-Wright intimates the strange parallel of Taliban repression to current oppression of women in the US.
Also, in pointing out facts about the culture clashes and the Afghan war, Randolph-Wright shows the poisonous fallout when the Taliban made a peace deal with the Trump administration without the commitment of Afghan President Ghani. This led to a disastrous withdrawal of American troops and chaos, torture, imprisonment and death for Afghani/US government employees left behind. (Though it is true President Biden extended the evacuation dates, he could not delay the withdrawal indefinitely. Forced to cave to the previous administration’s pressure, he evacuated American personnel and as many of their Afghan counterparts as possible.)
As Duke and Roya mature over the 9 year period, Ellis particularly reveals his maturity during the completion of his interview at the play’s conclusion. Finally, when Duke and Roya meet up again after things become settled, we enjoy watching how their relationship continues to evolve into something profound. Whether or not they end up together is uncertain. However, they have earned their joyful moments together, especially when Ellis’ Duke sings his rhymes for Nur’s Roya with energy and pace. (Ronve O’Daniel’s original music and lyrics are easy and approachable in Ellis’ presentation.)
Amina Alexander’s lighting design, Sanowber Sabrina Spanta’s costume design, Taylor J. Williams sound design and additional music, and Caite Hevner’s projection design provide the background to enhance Chin’s minimal props and set design. These suggest an office at Bagram Air Force Base, an exterior scene in Kabul at night, a swanky hotel room in Dubai, an interrogation room and more.
As one of the more unique, nuanced offerings during this summer Off-Broadway, Duke & Roya shouldn’t be missed.
Duke & Roya runs 2 hours 20 minutes with one 15-minute intermission at the Lucille Lortel Theatre (121 Christopher Street) until August 2nd. https://dukeandroya.com/
‘The Weir’ Review: Drinks and Spirits in a remote Irish Pub
Conor McPherson’s The Weir currently in its fourth revival at Irish Repertory Theatre has evolved its significance for our time. It captures the bygone Irish pub culture and isolated countryside, disappeared by hand-held devices, a global economy and social media. Set in an area of Ireland northwest Leitrim or Sligo, five characters exchange ghostly stories as they drink and chase down their desire for community and camaraderie. Directed with precision and fine pacing by Ciarán O’Reilly, The Weir completes the Irish Rep’s summer season closing August 31st.
Charlie Corcoran’s scenic design of the pub with wooden bar, snacks, bottles, a Guinness tap and heating grate is comfortable for anyone to have a few pints and enjoy themselves at a table or nearby bench. With Michael Gottlieb’s warm, inviting lighting that enhances the actors’ storytelling, all the design elements including the music (Drew Levy-sound design), heighten O’Reilly’s vision of an outpost protective of its denizens and a center of good will. It’s perfect for the audience to immerse itself in the intimacy of conversation held in non-threatening surroundings.
On a dark, windy evening the humorous Jack drops in for drinks as a part of his routine after work at the garage that he owns. A local and familiar patron he helps himself to a bottle since he can’t draw a pint of Guinness because the bar’s tap is not working. Brendan (Johnny Hopkins) owner of the pub, house and farm behind it informs him of this sad fact. But no matter. There are plenty of bottles to be had as Jim (John Keating) joins Jack and Brendan for “a small one.” The entertainment for the evening is the entrance of businessman Finbar (Sean Gormley), who will introduce his client Valerie to the “local color,” since she recently purchased Maura Nealon’s old house.
Initially, Jack, Jim and Brendan gossip about the married Finbar’s intentions as he shows up the three bachelors by escorting the young woman to the pub. Jim, caretaker of his mom, and Jack are past their prime in their late 50-60s. Brendan, taken up with his ownership of the pub and farm, is like his friends, lonely and unmarried. None of them are even dating. Thus, the prospect of a young woman coming up from Dublin to their area is worthy of consideration and discussion.
McPherson presents the groundwork, then turns our expectations around and redirects them, after Finbar and Valerie arrive and settle in for drinks. When the conversation turns to folklore, fairy forts and spirits of the area, Valerie’s interest encourages the men to share stories that have spooky underpinnings. Jack begins his monologue about unseen presences knocking on windows and doors, and scaring the residents until the priest blesses the very house that Valerie purchased.
Caught up in his own storytelling which brings a hush over the listeners (and audience), Jack doesn’t realize the import of his story about the Nealon house that Valerie owns. Thankfully, the priest sent the spirits packing. Except there was one last burst of activity when the weir (dam) was being built. Strangely, there were reports of many dead birds on the ground. Then the knocking returned but eventually stopped. Perhaps the fairies showed their displeasure that the weir interfered with their usual bathing place.
Not to be outdone, Finbar shares his ghost story which has the same effect of stirring the emotions of the listeners. Then, it is Jim who tells a shocking, interpretative spiritual sighting. Ironically, Jim’s monologue has a sinister tinge, as he relays what happened when a man appeared and expressed a wish, but couldn’t really have been present because he was dead.
As drinks are purchased after each storyteller’s turn, the belief in the haunting spirits rises, then wanes as doubts take over. After Jim tells his story about the untoward ghost, Valerie goes to the bathroom in Brendan’s house. During her absence Finbar chides all of them. He regrets their stories, especially Jim’s which could have upset Valerie. With Jack’s humorous calling out of Finbar as a hypocrite, they all apologize to each other and drink some more. By this point, the joy of their conversation and good-natured bantering immerses the audience in their community and bond with each other. I could have listened to them talk the rest of the night, thanks to the relaxing, spot-on authenticity of the actors.
Then, once more McPherson shifts the atmosphere and the supernatural becomes more entrenched when Valerie relates her story of an otherworldly presence. Unlike the men’s tales, what she shares is heartfelt, personal, and profound. The others express their sorrow at what happened to her. Importantly, each of the men’s attitudes toward Valerie changes to one of human feeling and concern. Confiding in them to release her grief, they respond with empathy and understanding. Thus, with this human connection, the objectification of the strange young woman accompanied by Finbar at the top of the play vanishes. A new level of feeling has been experienced for the benefit of all present.
After Finbar leaves with Jim, McPherson presents a surprising coup de grâce. Quietly, Jack shares his poignant, personal story of heartbreak, his own haunting by the living. In an intimate emotional release and expression of regret and vulnerability, Jack tells how he loved a woman he would have married, but he let her slip away for no particularly good reason. Mentoring the younger Brendan not to remain alone like he did, Jack says, “There’s not one morning I don’t wake up with her name in the room.”
McPherson’s theme is a giant one. Back in the day when the world was slower, folks sat and talked to each other in community and conviviality. With such an occasion for closeness, they dispelled feelings of isolation and hurt. As they connected, they helped redeem each other, confessing their problems, or swapping mysteries with no certain answers.
As the world modernized, the ebb and flow of the culture changed and became stopped up, controlled by outside forces. Blocked by fewer opportunities to connect, people retreated into themselves. The opportunities to share dried up, redirected by distractions, much as a dam might redirect the ebb and flow of a river and destroy a place where magical fairies once bathed.
McPherson’s terrific, symbolic play in the hands of O’Reilly, the ensemble and creative team is a nod to the “old ways.” It reminds us of the value of gathering around campfires, fireplaces or heating stoves to tell stories. As companions warm themselves, they unfreeze their souls, learn of each other, and break through the deep silences of human suffering to heal.
The Weir runs 1 hour 40 minutes with no intermission at Irish Repertory Theatre (132 West 22nd St). https://irishrep.org/tickets/
Casey Likes, Lorna Courtney are Terrific in ‘Heathers The Musical’
Heathers the Musical
Currently in revival, Heathers The Musial, based on the cult classic film Heathers (1988), written by Daniel Waters, has rocketed onto New World Stages with fans screaming in delight. The production with book, music and lyrics by Kevin Murphy and Laurence O’Keefe first opened at the same Off-Broadway venue in 2014 with Andy Fickman directing. However, O’Keefe and Murphy continually reworked the production honing it to a fine brilliance during the last decade. Most recently in a limited engagement in the West End, it finally transferred to New World Stages. There, it has been extended until January 25, 2026 for good reason.
The 2025 version incorporates changes, including new songs, created in the intervening decade. The concept and subject matter appeals because the sardonic musical comedy satirizes the cruel power dynamics prevalent in high schools across America. Unless one is a part of the ruling elite and finds popularity and favor, the typical high school social machine grinds you up as trash. Admittedly, each high school has its own peculiar “selektion process” of those who “matter,” and those who “don’t.”
How do communities fight this? In a backlash, one character’s notion to purge the toxicity is to “burn everything down.” However, exchanging one form of hatred, nihilism and supremacy for another can create a never-ending cycle of retribution as the musical indicates. Can anything be done?
In its latest version this terrific, complex production asks and answers these questions. Additionally the top notch performances, music (Will Joy), choreography, (Gary Lloyd, Stephanie Klemons), Andy Fickman’s direction and the design elements cohere with near perfect unity to present an overall message. Despite the darkness present in all of us, our humanity has a softer side. We have only to manifest it with courage in the face of bigotry.
The musical opens as narrator/diarist Veronica Sawyer (the amazing Lorna Courtney) considers the negative transformations her classmates have gone through since kindergarten (“Beautiful”). Brainy, misfit Veronica is a senior at Westerberg High in1989, Ohio. Though Veronica believes herself to be a good person (she befriended uncool Martha Dunnstock {Erin Morton}), she must navigate around her classmates who welcome each other with the insults, “FREAK! SLUT! LOSER! SHORT BUS! BULL-DYKE! STUCK-UP! HUNCHBACK!”
Though Veronica blames this toxicity on their growing up and losing their innocence, we wonder if anyone in authority can rein in the students’ brutality toward each other? Therein lies one conflict. Of course the power dynamic is sub rosa. Because students maintain its secrecy, clueless parents and teachers like Ms. Fleming (Kerry Butler), don’t satisfactorily deal with the horrible social culture. Thus, nothing changes.
It is precisely because those in authority can’t influence the students that the three “Heathers” (McKenzie Kurtz, Kiara Lee covered for Oliva Hardy when I saw the show, and Elizabeth Teeter) rule with ferocity (“Candy Store”). In order to lift up their own status, the Heathers make everyone else feel worthless. Ironically, the students electrify the Heathers’ power grid because they fear their wrath and retribution. What would happen if they didn’t bow to Queen Heather Chandler?
The situation looks up for Veronica when she uses her talent for forgery to save the Heathers from detention. As a result they take her under their wing, give her a make-over and lift her status to “beautiful.” However, she must set up her friend Martha for a grand humiliation at an upcoming party (“Big Fun”) to maintain her popularity.
In a counter punch to stop the Heathers’ obnoxious reign of terror, the new student J.D. (the superb Casey Likes) provides another perspective. He criticizes Veronica for selling out Martha to the, “Swatch-dogs and Diet-Cokeheads.” Likes’ JD, dressed in a trench coat and dripping charisma and courage dazzles, a rebel against the stifling social order.
Because JD, stands up to popular jocks, Ram Sweeney (Xavier McKinnon) and Kurt Kelly (Code Ostermeyer), Veronica becomes interested in him (“Fight For Me”). They form an attachment (“Freeze Your Brain”), and J.D. helps Veronica avoid becoming the “laughing stock” of the school (“Dead Girl Walking”). However, Veronica’s innocent plan to apologize to Heather Chandler for throwing up on her outfit backfires. Mistakenly, Veronica gives Heather the wrong cup filled with drain cleaner (JD’s instigation), instead of the cup with her usual prairie oyster hangover cure.
This unexpected twist brings Veronica and JD closer. But their love relationship fueled by a conspiratorial cover-up of Heather’s death leads to more diabolical behavior. With JD’s help Veronica forges a suicide note imitating Heather’s handwriting. The clever, ironic lyrics to dead Heather’s suicide note, in “The Me Inside of Me,” resonate hysterically. (“No one thinks a pretty girl has substance. I am more than just a source of handjobs. No one sees the me inside of me.”) Easily duped, despite Chandler’s horrible nature, the school community believes in her vulnerability and unhappiness.
The suicide note elevates Heather to even greater status as a flawed, lonely teenager like everyone else. Meanwhile, the ghost of dead Heather haunts Veronica and cryptically comments while Heather Duke takes Chandler’s place as “Queen.” In a downward spiral Heather Duke’s reign turns out to be worse than Chandler’s. Duke sets up Veronica to be sexually attacked by Ram and Kurt. Though Veronica foils the rape, she and JD plot revenge. Once again the vengeance which begins innocently in Veronica’s misguided mind turns deadly in JD’s hands.
After Veronica and JD tally up two more “accidental” murders, they write believable suicide notes that Ram and Kurt were gay. Neatly, they’ve cleansed the school of three of the most brutal kids in the social hierarchy. In Act I’s closing number (“Our Love is God”), they affirm their love and righteous acts of “justice” with the mind-blowing lyrics: “We can start and finish wars. We’re what killed the dinosaurs. We’re the asteroid that’s overdue.” As JD tells Veronica he’d give his life for her, Veronica cannot resist his love and allure. Energized by her and their new found form of justice, JD’s nihilism continues in Act II. Only Veronica can stop him.
With Andy Fickman’s superior staging and humorous, well-paced timing, the production flies by at two hours and 30 minutes. The ensemble’s exuberance, voices and dancing are cracker-jack, the arrangements super. Memorable throughout, Lorna Courtney sustains her portrayal of Veronica’s transformation from “good person” to JD’s unwitting accomplice to murder, and back again. As JD Casey Likes is Courtney’s match pitting his phenomenal voice against hers with every song. As a couple they shine, reminding us that evil can be seductive.
Finally, McKenzie Kurtz lifts the ironic character of Heather Chandler in death with fine pacing and great humor. She aligns in a perfect contrast with Erin Morton’s kind-hearted, loving Martha Dunnstock, who would be everyone’s friend if they they opened their eyes to her goodness. Standout numbers “My Dead Gay Son,” (Ben Davis, Cameron Loyal are hysterical) and “Shine a Light” (the funny Kerry Butler) are LOL. “Kindergarten Boyfriend” (Erin Morton is spot-on authentic) resonates with pathos.
Thematically, Water’s film and the Heathers musical (2014) were harbingers of today’s cultural divisions. With prescience they exposed the danger of allowing high school communities to be breeding grounds of hate and discrimination, fostered by a school’s particular “master race” clique. If high schools reflect the larger culture, then social media exponentially spreads their poison. Is it any wonder that insults, hate and bigotry are embraced by “seleckt” political groups to gain votes? Spawned in community settings and reinforced by boards of education in their curriculums, hate and discrimination become normalized.
Heathers the Musical reveals the social construct which accepted a “president” who uses insults, bullying tactics and death threats to get what he wants. It also reveals a better answer than JD’s nihilism in the concluding song. It’s up to us to “make it beautiful.”
Heathers The Musical runs 2 hours 30 minutes with one intermission at New World Stages. https://heathersthemusical.com/new-york/about-ny/
CAROLE DI TOSTI 