Category Archives: NYC Theater Reviews
Broadway,
‘Smash,’ Fabulous Send up of a Musical Comedy About Marilyn Monroe
Smash
Chatting with two theater critics beforehand, who referenced the 2012 NBC television series also called “Smash,” I was initially distracted. The TV series set in the present revolved around two aspiring actresses who compete for the role of Marilyn Monroe in a Broadway-bound musical called “Bombshell,” about Marilyn Monroe. Apparently, the TV series which devolved into a musical soap opera, lasted two seasons then was cancelled. Since I never saw the series, I tried to ignore the critics’ comments. I fastened my seat belt and settled in to watch the revamped production in its current run at the Imperial Theatre with tickets on sale through January 4, 2026.
I had no reason to”fasten my seat belt.” Smash is a winner. Superbly directed by Susan Stroman, a master of comedic pacing and the quick flip of one-liners, Smash is a resounding must see, retaining little of the TV show with the same title. I adored it and belly-laughed my way through the end of Act I and throughout Act II.
Into the first act when Ivy Lynn (the grand Robyn Hurder), introduces her Method Acting coach, Susan Proctor (the wonderfully funny Kristine Nielsen channeling Actors Studio Paula Strasberg), I embraced the sharp, ironic and often hysterical, theater-referenced send-ups. The book by Bob Martin & Rick Elice is clever and riotous, pushing the true angst of putting on a big Broadway musical and spending millions to make it a success. Martin and Elice’s jokes and the characterizations of Nielsen’s Susan Proctor and director Nigel, the LOL on point Brooks Ashmanskas (The Prom), who tweaks the gay tropes with aplomb, work. Both actors’ portrayals lift the arc of the musical’s development with irresistible comedic riffs shepherded by Stroman’s precise timing.
The music had me at the opening with the vibrant fantasy number, “Let Me Be Your Star,” sung by Robyn Hurder, whose lustrous voice introduces Marilyn and her fandom which the creators attempt to envision with fully costumed performers singing for their musical, “Bombshell,” the Marilyn Monroe story. Then, the scene shifts to the rehearsal room where we meet the creative team who imagined the previous number and scene. Ashmanskas’ director/choreographer Nigel humorously bumps heads with writer/lyricist/composer-husband and wife team Tracy (Krysta Rodriguez) and Jerry (John Behlmann).
Also present, is his associate director and Nigel’s right arm, the golden voiced Chloe (Bella Coppola). She runs interference and puts out fires, even covering for Ivy Lynn and understudy Karen (Caroline Bowman), during an audience invited presentation. Why Ivy Lynn and Karen can’t go on is hysterical.
The music by Marc Shaiman, lyrics by Scott Wittman and Marc Shaiman, and the choreography by Joshua Bergasse are upgraded from the TV series with a curated selection of songs to align with the comedic flourishes. The musical numbers and dances cohere perfectly because the performers rehearse for their show “Bombshell.” With music supervision by Stephen Oremus, an 18-piece orchestra charges the score with vibrant dynamism. Featured are some of Shaiman’s brassiest tunes, orchestrated by Doug Besterman. Lyricist Wittman seals the humor and advances the plot. All provide grist for Bergasse’s choreography. Hurder manages this seamlessly as she sings, breathes heartily and dances while the male dancers whip and flip Ivy as Marilyn around. Of course, all smile with effortless abandon despite their exertions.
Importantly, Martin and Elice’s book sports farcical, riotous moments. These build to a wonderful crescendo by the conclusion. By then we realize we’ve come full circle and have been delighted by this send up of the wild ride these creatives went through to induce the belly-laughing “flop,” we’re standing, cheering and applauding. It’s the perfect ironic twist.
Indeed, once the audience understands the difference in tone from the TV series, largely due to Nielsen’s Proctor (she’s dressed in black mourning {Marilyn?} from head to foot), and Ashmanskas’ Nigel, Smash becomes a runaway train of hilarity. This comedy about unintentionally making a musical flop (unlike the willful intent in The Producers), smartly walks the balance beam by giving the insider’s scoop why “Bombshell” probably never finds a home on Broadway. One of the reasons involves too many chefs trying to make a Michelin starred dish without really understanding how the ingredients meld.
Nielsen’s Proctor dominates Ivy Lynn to the point of transforming the sweet, beloved actress into the “difficult,” “tortured soul” of diva Marilyn. The extremes this conceit reaches is beyond funny and grounded in truth which makes it even more humorous. Without giving too much away, there is a marvelous unity of the book, music and Hurder’s performance encouraged by Nielsen’s Marilyn-obsessed Proctor. We see before our eyes the gradual fulfillment (Proctor’s intention), of “Marilyn,” from superficial, bubbly, sparkly “sex bomb,” to soulful, deep, living woman produced by “the Method.” Of course to accomplish this, the entire production as a comedy is upended. This drives Nigel, Tracy and Jerry into sustained panic mode, exasperation and further LOL behavior especially in their self-soothing coping behaviors.
Furthermore, Producer Anita (Jacqueline B. Arnold), forced to hire Gen Z internet influencer publicist Scott (Nicholas Matos), to get $1 million of the $20 million needed to fund the show, mistakenly allows him to get out of hand, inviting over 100 influencers to Chloe’s serendipitous cover performance. The influencers create tremendous controversy which is what Broadway musical producers usually give their “eye teeth” for. Publicity sells tickets. But this controversy “backfires” and creates such an updraft, even Chloe can’t put the conflagration out. The hullabaloo is uproarious.
The arguments created by the influencers and their followers (in a very funny segment thanks to S. Katy Tucker’s video and projection design), cause huge problems among the actresses and forward momentum of “Bombshell.” Karen, Ivy Lynn’s friend and long time understudy, who has been waiting for a break for six years, watches Chloe become famous overnight for her cover. Diva Ivy Lynn who IS Marilyn is so “over the moon” jealous and threatened, she breaks up her close friendship with Karen and turns on cast and creatives, prompted by Nielsen’s Proctor who keeps up Ivy Lynn’s energy with a weird combination of mysterious white pills and even weirder “Method” tips.
Thus, the musical “Bombshell” becomes exactly what the creatives swore it would never become and someone must be sacrificed. Who stays and who leaves and what happens turns into some of the finest comedy about how not to put on a Broadway flop. Just great!
Smash is too much fun not to see. What makes it a hit are the superb singing, acting and dancing by an expert ensemble, phenomenal direction and the coherence of every element from book to music, to the choreography to the technical aspects. Finally, the show’s nonsensical sensible is brilliant.
Praise goes to those not mentioned before with Beowulf Boritt’s flexible, appropriate set design, Ken Billington’s “smashing” lighting design, Brian Ronan’s sound design, Charles G. LaPointe’s hair and wig design, and John Delude II’s makeup design.
Smash runs 2 hours, 30 minutes, including one intermission at the Imperial Theatre (249 West 45th street). https://smashbroadway.com/
‘Boop! The Musical’ is a Dazzling Spectacle. I’m a Fan!
Boop! The Musical
If you need an uplift and who doesn’t listening to the news these days, Boop! The Musical is your vehicle of delight. Currently running at the Broadhurst Theatre, Boop! is pure joyous spectacle, a Broadway extravaganza with clever twists, and a wink to the best of the past, and a thematic nod to the present.
The cast sings and dances to a variety of song genres (from jazz, to pop, to blues), and Jerry Mitchell shows his razzle dazzle choreography and staging with abandon. There is just too much to praise. The glittering kick line is bar none. The nine principals are spot on with their humorous portrayals and exquisite vocals. Boop! is a welcome send up of the fanciful, historical cartooning of yesteryear, in a mesmerizing update that shines talented brilliance at every artistic level of this blazing production
What’s not to love if you enjoy an adorable story and salient themes reinforcing “girl power,” with the additional intention to pay homage to old Hollywood, and the Jazz-age, and depression era cartoons of Fleischer Studios? Importantly, the production is a throwback to old-fashioned Broadway musicals, where most songs are memorable with a beginning, middle and end. In its song variety and hot, superlatively executed dance numbers Boop! delivers.
Directed and choreographed by Tony Award®–winner Jerry Mitchell (Kinky Boots), Boop! features music by 16-time Grammy®-winning composer David Foster and lyrics by Tony-nominated Susan Birkenhead.
The cartoony, “tongue-in-cheek” book by Bob Martin (The Prom), brings to life the iconic, historic cartoon character and current meme Betty Boop (the sensational Jasmine Amy Rogers in her Broadway debut). Betty has been a symbol of charm and empowerment for almost a century, and Rogers channels her believably to the minutest gesture, giggle and batting of her eye lashes. Importantly, Betty has an identifiable problem to solve in her personal life. As the reluctant super-star, she eventually must choose between two worlds, fiction and reality. Mustn’t we all? The show is incredibly, ironically, thematically current.
Martin presents the thrust of Boop! as fun, family fare. Going deeper as one should, the irony in Boop! as a farce, emphasizes that this is a cartoon within a cartoon, with the simplicity of a fairy-tale.
Thus, the plot develops as follows. Betty works so very hard for Fleischer Studios, portraying women’s greatness in every job imaginable (“A Little Versatility”), which actually is maverick considering her original 1930s context. And there are vicissitudes and annoyances: the publicity grind and the slimy men who harass her for her “favors and charms.” Exhausted by overwork and untoward publicity, Betty has a moment of self-reflection, something more of us need to practice. She realizes she needs a vacation from her life as a cute, celebrity cartoon with no “real” identity to discover for herself. Above all, she wishes her life was less celebrated (“Ordinary Day), so a respite from cartoonland in a venue where she won’t be recognized and judged would be just fine.
Grampy, (the lovable, powerfully voice Stephen DeRosa), her guardian and roommate, reminds her the current “world” she lives in can’t qualify because she’s a globally recognized star. However, he does suggest a tenable place to go since he went there years before, fell in love, then left. Grampy tells her reality is the place for a grand vacation. It’s much more adventurous, unscripted and serendipitous than cartoonland. (I love the irony.) Of course, this is a family show with no untoward or frightening elements like ICE (Triple Canopy) agents kidnapping folks. So when the winning, charismatic Betty lands in the present at the Javitz Center’s funscape Comic Con, having been jettisoned there by Grampy’s DIY time machine, all works out swimmingly.
In this magical atmosphere and vibrant New York City fantasia, Betty fits right in with a host of rainbow-hued fans dressed as their favorite characters from comic books. Though she is recognizable, she tries to hide her cartoon identity. Nevertheless, she is gobsmacked by reality’s wild beauty (“Color”). At Comic Con, she meets her destiny which becomes tied up with two individuals. First, is her future love interest, dreamy, blue-eyed, politically correct to a fault Dwayne (the boyish Ainsley Melham who sports an amazing voice). Along with Dwayne, she befriends the cute, clever Trisha, a forever Boop fan, who she can’t fool when she tells Tricia her name is Betsy. As Tricia, Angelica Hale is the perfect sidekick teen with an exceptional voice.
Meanwhile, Grampy discovers Betty is gone when her bosses drop by looking for her. He divines she left for reality. The key conflict, of course, is to get her to return (“Get Her Back”). But to do that Grampy must take Betty’s cutie, white dog Pudgy, a marionette operated by the wonderful puppeteer Phillip Huber. The imperative is to jump in his time machine, set it for reality and find her. With energetic multi-tasking Grampy will locate her without GPS, while reuniting with his former love Valentina (the stalwart Faith Prince), for comfort and companionship during his quest. The quaint Grampy hero, love story, sub-plot with astrophysicist Valentina gives an extra pop of reality to the fantastic.
As Betty goes home with Tricia to stay, she meets Tricia’s family, her brother, the blue-eyed Dwayne, and her Aunt Carol (the terrific Anastacia McCleskey). She discovers that Dwayne’s love of jazz (“I Speak Jazz”), dovetails with her strengths singing and dancing. Finally feeling comfortable, Betty confides her real identity to Tricia, who breaks through the cartoon character’s confusion about herself with the upbeat “Portrait of Betty.”
Betty’s adventures in reality continue when Tricia and Dwayne take her on a tour of the city and to Times Square, where the dancers join them for the continuous party that goes on there in a great number, “My New York.” Whether in cartoonland or New York City’s reality, Betty is light, laughter and healing. In an interesting counterpoint, Dwayne sings about her in realityland in contrast with Betty’s studio bosses who sing about missing her (“Sunlight”). Thus, the conflict about which world she will select to live in intensifies, for both realms will certainly draw her with those who give her love and appreciation.
If Boop! is too ridiculously fantastic and purposeless for some, they are missing the point of depression-era entertainment and entertainment today. Even in the most despairing of places and times, the imagination takes flight and the fictional fantastic gets one though the horrors that life can bring.
Though the underbelly of darkness is rarely seen in the production, it does shows up. And the enemy is a modern one. The dark villain comes in the form of a grinning, perfectly coiffed, narcissistic politician, Raymond Demarest, who is running for the office of New York City mayor. Erich Bergen is terrific in a hysterical, nuanced, full-of-himself portrayal. The corrupt, money-hungry, and exploitive Demarest is offset by his hard-working, clever, organized campaign manager, Tricia’s Aunt Carol. Carol efficiently, competently runs his campaign and life. And eventually, her efforts pay off where Demarest’s dereliction and corruption receive its due reward.
As Act One sets forth the problem. Act Two answers it for Betty, her friends and family. Boop! even justly disposes of the villain in the process of ironing out all difficulties. Would the same occur in “real” real life USA with a certain criminal felon, as happens to Demarest. The riotous Bergen makes the most of the villain’s just comeuppance, intuiting the audience’s real wishes as they watch him tripping away, all smiles in his orange jump suit. Just great!
The shimmery white and grey-toned two-dimensional Boop world is cleverly created by David Rockwell to represent Boop’s artificial universe in a snazzy scenic design that contrasts perfectly with the real world of living color. Rockwell’s suggested black, and white, multi-patterned lines and squiggly designs reflect the Boop cartoon. Other cartoon characters peek out from the curtain following the same design. Betty’s materialization in the beautifully eye-popping, gloriously colorful, real world of New York City with the accompanying song and dance numbers seal the deal.
Whether in cartoonland or reality, the costumes by Gregg Barnes are ingenious and gorgeously appropriate. The costume design in a set of two-sided costumes which reveal the contrast of the alternating grey vs. color worlds, shows maximum creative brilliance. The same must be said for the other designers whose collaborative efforts contribute to the show’s gobsmacking effect. These include Philip S. Rosenberg (lighting design), Gareth Owen (sound design), Finn Ross (projection design), Sabana Majeed (hair & wig design), Michael Clifton (make-up design), Skylar Fox (illusions design).
Mitchell and the creatives have outdone themselves. “Professional” is a partially accurate descriptor. Amazing, phenomenal, superlative, genius seems more INCLUSIVE and PRECISE. In every aspect the designs cohere with the director’s vision. Above all Daryl Waters’ music supervision (with additional arrangements), is integral to making this extraordinary production what it is. And the cast? Beyond!
See Boop! two or three times to escape for the purpose of rejuvenation. Then go right back out there and work, march, resist, protest the current villainy, taking the wisdom manifest in this production, having learned persistence from a silly, ridiculous, cartoon character with a century of staying power.
Boop! the Musical runs 2 hours 30 minutes with one intermission at the Broadhurst Theatre (235 West 44th Street). https://boopthemusical.com/?gad_source=1
‘Purpose’ Brandon Jacobs-Jenkins’ Riotous Play, Directed by Phylicia Rashad
In Purpose, Brandon Jacobs-Jenkins’ satiric family expose directed by Phylicia Rashad, we meet a patriarchal Black American civil rights icon, Solomon “Sonny Jasper (Harry Lennix), who is forced to confront his disappointments and foibles as his family gathers to celebrate the homecoming of his eldest son and namesake, Solomon “Junior” Jasper (Glenn Davis). Navigating the audience through treacherous familial waters with asides and intermittent, pointed narration, the youngest son Nazareth “Naz” Jasper (Jon Michael Hill), explores his family’s complicated legacy as he attempts to confront issues about his own identity and future.
Currently running at the Hayes Theater until July 6th, this ferocious, edgy and sardonic send up of Black American political and religious hypocrisy resonates with dramatic power. Its superlative performances and Rashad’s fine direction, make it a must-see. Importantly, in typical Brandon Jacobs-Jenkins style, the tour de force with jokes-a-plenty raises questions. It prompts us to reflect upon our own life intentions, as we examine the Jasper family’s dynamic through the acute perspective of the endearing, sensitive, vulnerable and authentic Naz. Hill is just terrific in a role which requires heavy lifting throughout.
As the play opens we note the subject matter and foundation upon which Jacobs-Jenkins’ moralistically satiric drama rests, namely the Jaspers (think along the lines of Jesse Jackson), whose heritage boasts of leaders in civil rights, congress and the protestant church. Todd Rosenthal’s lovely, well-appointed, Jasper family home represents prosperity, upward mobility and the success of the celebrated Black political elite. Solomon Jasper was Martin Luther King, Jr.’s heir apparent in the civil rights movement.
However, among other questions the play asks is, what happened to the substance and efficacy of the movement, considering the current “state of the union” under MAGA Party president Donald Trump, whose cabinet has no Black American member? What are the legacies of the Jasper’s faith? What is the heritage of their former Black radicalism, which Naz calls into question throughout the play, as the evening explodes into tragicomedy in front of unintended witness Aziza Houston (Kara Young)? As a result of the evening with the Jaspes, Aziza is horrified to see her civil rights icons, Solomon and Claudine, smashing her respect for them to smithereens during the family imbroglio in Act I.
Via an intriguing flashback/flashpresent device, Naz exposes and illustrates how the family’s shining history becomes obliterated by circumstances in the present “state of the family union,” which has not lived up to their patriarch’s illustrious expectations. Ultimately, Solomon Jasper, too, may be counted as not living up to his own personal expectations, a fact revealed by the conclusion of the second act, which further adds to his hypocrisy for giving Naz a hard time about his sexually, abstemious, personal choices..
With increasing intensity, the upheavals occur by the end of the first act and augment into further revelations and complications well into the second, until the wounds exposed are too great to ignore. Naz’s final synopsis and soulful, poignant comments solidify at the conclusion bringing this family retrospective together. His questioning wisdom leaves us as he is left, wondering what is the trajectory of this once august Jasper legacy, which Naz has chosen not to perpetuate. Not going into politics or the church, Naz selected a career in photography where he communes with nature’s beauty and peace.
Jacobs-Jenkins’ work is filled with contrasts: truth and lies, health and sickness, moral uprightness and moral turpitude. In fact the contrast of the outer image of the Jasper calm and sanctity versus the inner corruption and turmoil becomes evident with Jacobs-Jenkins’ character interactions throughout, heightened by Naz’s confidential asides.
Additionally, this contrast of superficial versus soul depth is superbly factored in by Rashad and Todd Rosenthal’s collaboration on set design. Initially, all is peaceful in their gorgeous home set up by matriarch Claudine Jasper (the excellent Latanya Richardson Jackson). The home’s beauty belies any roiling undercurrents beneath the family’s solid, upright probity. Perfection is their manufactured brand, which Aziza has bought hook, line and sinker as a Jasper fan.
To continue with the Jaspers’ “brand,” the inviting great room boasts a comfortable and lovely open layout-living room and dining room-backed by a curved staircase to the second level of bedrooms off the landing. The dark peach-colored walls are beautifully emphasized with white trim molding. The cherry wood furniture and cream colored sofa color-coordinate with the walls. The sofa is accented with appropriate pillows. Interspersed among furniture pieces are obvious antique heirlooms. Indeed, all is perfect with matching table runners and dining room tablecloth and napkins and dinnerware tastefully selected for its enhancing effect.
Prominently featured is the Jasper family heritage and legacy, a large portrait of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. proudly displayed on the first level, and a lesser portrait of political/cultural heir apparent, Solomon “Sonny” Jasper on the second floor landing. Surrounding the Sonny Jasper portrait are framed photos chronicling the civil rights warriors and family, shining their historical significance. When Aziza first arrives and is welcomed desperately by Claudine who fears Naz’s not bringing any woman home means he is gay, Aziza is gobsmacked by the house. Seeing the portraits and Solomon Jasper, she realizes who Naz really is. She is over the moon slathering blandishments to Sonny. Thrilled, she can’t help but take selfies with the Jaspers to send to her mom, a mutual fan. Naz is beyond humiliated and surreptitiously pleads with her to leave.
What does Naz know about his family that he fears Aziza will discover? If Aziza doesn’t leave quickly, his mother’s hospitality to divine who Aziza is will make sure she stays. Indeed, Jackson’s Claudine never fails in her intentions.
Against the storied backdrop of their illustrious past that Aziza worships, the garish present unfolds at dinner. It is the celebration of Junior’s homecoming and reunion with the family since his thirty month prison stay for embezzling campaign funds. Junior’s behavior is one of the gravest disappointments that Sonny holds against his son. For him it is unforgivable that his namesake who was to take his place has tarnished the Jasper name with corruption.
Thus, when Junior presents a birthday gift to Claudine, of the letters she wrote to him in prison in a lovely book, Sonny scoffs, especially after reading a particularly mundane letter. (Lennix’s reading of a sample letter is hysterical). Then, Sonny questions Junior who wants to exploit their family name and go on tour with the book of Claudine’s letters, and Claudine, lifting up the hellishness of his imprisonment like a martyr.
Ironically, bitterly, humorously, Sonny airs his disgust that Junior would present himself as a Nelson Mandella, as if Junior’s prison experience was in any way equivalent to the horrors of imprisonment used as a tool of oppression and racism throughout US history. Sonny is especially livid because Junior’s crimes ripped off his father and Blacks who supported him. Additionally, the time Junior did was easy because Sonny used his influence to get Junior into “a minimum security playground.” Though it is revealed that Junior has bi-polar disorder, (the scene when Glenn Davis manifests this is superb), Sonny lacks empathy for Junior. He dismisses his illness and says he got caught where other politicians don’t get caught because Junior is stupid.
At dinner the dour Morgan (Alana Arenas), Junior’s wife, sits quietly at first. After Junior uplifts Claudine, Morgan claims neither he nor the Jaspers helped her through Junior’s mental breakdown. Nor does he acknowledge her visiting him through the prison experience with a present. Morgan rips into him and the family. They are “hucksters,” who don’t care about her and “have no sense of responsibility or remorse.” Listening to the Jasper’s accountants, Morgan signed their joint tax returns that implicated her in tax fraud with Junior. She has lost her career and will have to do time in prison for an error that she was ignorant about, trusting the family to not mislead her.
Thus, the artifice gradually peels away, shaped by the characters’ ever increasing digs at each other and Naz’s humorous perspective. To top it off, despite her promise to Naz that she will keep quiet, Aziza reveals how she trusts Naz to be the sperm donor for their child. This piece of information is a stick of dynamite for this religious family who chaffs at unmarried young people sleeping together. Then, when Claudine and Morgan go head to head and Morgan calls the family’s “honesty” into question and accuses Sonny of having “his fiftyleven other kids scattered all over this damn country,” Claudine loses it and gets violent.
Ironically, the act ends with the patriarch blaming Claudine, “I have let you build this house on a foundation of self-deceit.” Sonny loudly declares the time is now for “redemption” and a “new era in this family – a new era of truth! Truth!”
Act II indicates how that “truth” is to come about, as Naz and Aziza argue about why she broke her promise to him. Abashedly, Naz disavows the violence that spilled out between his mother and Morgan. Meanwhile, the verbal and emotional violence has always been an undercurrent in the family that has never confronted their issues. In other words, the dissembling, the lies and the deceit have augmented until “enough is enough.” Aziza, caught up in the fray rethinks what she has seen and no longer has any wish to have Naz’s child from their “illustrious” DNA. Additionally, she has learned not to lionize any other civil rights icon or celebrity easily, again. Celebrities, like the Jaspers, are not saviors or worthy to be made into icons. They have clay feet if you see them up close and personal.
Though the first act sails smoothly, the second act digresses in part with Naz’s extensive dialogue and explanations, which might have been slimmed down. Nevertheless, as we learn about each family member’s complications, the intensity shifts. Though there is less humor, there is incredible poignancy and each of the actors have their moments to shine. Not only do we note the profound aspects of character complexity, we understand the difficulty of attempting to maintain an oversized legacy of greatness when one is an imperfect human being. Indeed, the one who comes out best appears to be Naz, until the conclusion. It is then we understand how the family has impacted him and in response, he has sent himself spinning into his own chaos, which he will have to unravel for himself. So do we all as we deal with our own legacy, heritage and family dysfunction.
Purpose is brilliant, if a tad unwieldy. However, the ensemble cracks sharply like lightening. Rashad has a deep understanding of Jacobs-Jenkins’ themes, dynamic characters, prickly relationships and the sub rosa levels of meaning in the interactions. The pace is lively despite the playwright’s wordiness and keeps the audience engaged.
Kudos to the creative team including those not already mentioned: Dede Ayite (costume design), Amith Chandrashaker (lighting design), Nikiya Mathis (hair & wig design), and Bob Milburn & Michael Bodeen (sound design). Purpose runs two hours fifty minutes with one intermission at the Helen Hayes Theater on 44th between 7th and 8th. https://purposeonbroadway.com/
‘Tammy Faye,’ Starring Olivier-winner Katie Brayben in a Thematically Charged Musical
Tammy Faye
Tammy Faye, with music by Elton John, lyrics by Jake Shears and book by James Graham stars theater heavyweights Katie Brayben, Christian Borle and Michael Cerveris. All of them are letter perfect in the roles of Tammy Faye Bakker, Jim Bakker and Jerry Falwell. Considering that the show is about the rise and fall of the hugely successful PTL Christian network headed up by televangelists Tammy Faye Bakker and Jim Bakker, the production’s chronicle of a complex period in America’s sociopolitical and religious history is ambitious. Currently at the newly renovated Palace Theatre, Tammy Faye runs until December 8th.
For some, the production is hard to swallow. This is unfortunate because its themes are vitally connected to our country. Also, it is a satiric, entertaining new musical whose theatricality coheres in director Rupert Goold’s vision shepherding a fine ensemble and creative technical team. Because I have a familiarity with the Christian evangelical church and, in fact, went to the same church that Jessica Hahn went to during the PTL scandal, and knew and spoke to her, I have a different perspective. Arguably, I may be biased in favor of the musical. That must be considered when reading this review.
With choreography by Lynne Page and Tom Deering’s music supervision, arrangements and additional music, Tammy Faye presents a fascinating picture of individuals who currently are not held in high esteem. Only one comes out on top as James Graham’s book characterizes her and as the phenomenal voice and acting chops of Katie Brayben performs her. Singing from a core of emotion and heart, illustrating Tammy Faye’s trials of faith, Brayben belts out numbers that overshadow the real Tammy Faye’s voice. These high-points in Tammy Faye’s emotional journey include “Empty Hands,” “In My Prime Time,” and “If You Came to See Me Cry.”
Katie Brayben gives a bravura performance
During these dynamic and compelling songs, Brayben’s Tammy Faye reveals the depth and impact of her betrayal by husband Jim Bakker, as she attempts to find a way forward for and by herself. Not to be underestimated, Tammy Faye is a maverick among the Christian women of the church, a portrayal that we see time and again as she speaks out, despite Christian pastors trying to shut her up. Sharing her opinion at a conference with Billy Graham (Mark Evans), in a beginning flashback of “how it all began,” we note her courage at a time when women took a back seat to any form of leadership. Billy Graham encourages her as the new generation of spiritual warriors in front of a patriarchal, oppressive, conservative group of pastors.
From then on we see her emerge despite being dismissed by the pastors who become the hypocritical villains of Tammy Faye and who sadly lead the way for the massive hypocrisy present in the white supremacist leaning evangelical church today. The Falwell types and white supremacist pastors turn a blind eye to the bullying hatreds and criminality of the MAGA movement they undergird in supporting Donald Trump. Trump’s controversial presidency is in his violating the tenets of Christianity and patriotism. Indeed, he is an alleged pedophile consorting with friend Jeffrey Epstein. He is Putin’s asset who has undermined our election processes twice, and most probably cheated and defrauded the American voter to elicit a “win,” in 2024 (see the Mark Thompson Show on YouTube). He adheres to Putin’s guidance regarding NATO, and on a personal note to emphasize his “godliness,” he’s a lying adulterer and admitted sexual predator (the Hollywood access tape), many times over, in cover ups much worse than Jim Bakker ever committed.
Tammy Faye reveals how we got to the current politics of evangelism
Importantly, for those who would understand how the US “got here” with the rise of evangelism and a brand of political Christianity that belies the true tenets of Jesus Christ’s sermon on the mount, and “Love thy neighbor as thyself,” Tammy Faye gives a crash course in hypocritical Christianity that is right out of St. Paul’s letters to the hypocritical church in Corinthians I and II. It’s interesting to note that over two thousand years later, nothing changes much. Judgment, criticism and condemnation are alive in the human heart and in venues that are supposed to be uplifting the opposite and preaching Christ’s message of love.
Goold stages the production with scenic designer Bunny Christie’s “Hollywood Square” back screen and other projections (video design by Finn Ross), to emphasize the importance of TV to the rise of global evangelism in the 1970s to the present. When the PTL live program is not being taped with dancers and singers, other scenes reflect the importance of satellite TV in the square/screen motif in which appear the various players. Always present as a backdrop are the TV screens reflected in the grid of boxes strikingly lit by Neil Austin that represent what obsesses the actions of the preachers, the Bakkers and their employees (“Satellite of God”). The electric church was televised globally via satellite and its reach was and is expansive, though the screens became smaller on phones after streaming WiFi.
In its symbolism and its wayward themes of church leaders and politicians making damaging and unconstitutional bedfellows, Tammy Faye does its job perfectly, thanks to its creatives. And for that it has received its due misplaced disgust at a time in our nation when Americans have no more patience for hypocrites, scammers and thieves, especially those who profess “Christianity” and lie, cheat, steal, condemn, oppress, restrict, torment and insult as their brand of fun and sanctimony. Hello, Speaker Mike Johnson, Jim Jordan and JD Vance. Nevertheless, Tammy Faye is a vital musical of the time and should be seen for Elton John’s striking music, its irony in how the hypocrites dance around their own lies, and its themes which are more current than ever.
Graham’s book elucidates a version of PTL worthy of note
Book writer James Graham elucidates a version of what happened with PTL that is worthy of note. Laying the blame on the inability of the Christian Church to be united under the first two commandments that Christ preached (love God, love your neighbor as yourself), Graham reveals how Tammy Faye tried to bring disparate groups together with love, but failed. Additionally, to that point, if Tammy Faye had been part of the back room financial arrangements, the fraudulent situation with Heritage Village might not have gotten completely out of hand (“God’s House/Heritage USA”). Indeed, Heritage Village was Jim Bakker’s idea, and clearly, its idea development was mishandled and mismanaged.
Finally, we note that Jim Bakker, whose feckless leadership causes their collapse when he relinquishes PTL and the TV network to Jerry Falwell. With smiling duplicity and treachery, Falwell promises to help the Bakkers get on their feet again and pay their expenses. Tammy Faye warns Jim not to listen to Falwell whom she has always distrusted and deemed a self-serving, condemnatory, hypocritical preacher of hate. Tammy Faye’s unheeded warning proves correct. With his lies, misinformation and mischaracterizations, Falwell upends any goodness the Bakkers accomplish, defames them publicly, and kicks them out of the Christian fellowship for the “good” of the conservative church and himself.
The difference between preachers and preachers
The book underscores the difference between Tammy Faye and Jim, and the other preachers from conservative churches. Falwell (a dynamic Cerveris), Jimmy Swaggart (Ian Lassiter), Pat Robertson (Andy Taylor) and Marvin Gorman (Max Gordon Moore), demean Tammy Faye and Jim Bakker’s way of bringing people to the Gospel. They tolerate them, believing they will fail and are surprised and shocked at their success. Falwell’s massive ego can’t bear to see another preacher in his sphere of influence doing better than he. Not only does Falwell compete for viewership, he goes on their program and insults them attempting to send a message to church goers that they are not of God.
The turning point comes at the prodding of Ted Turner (Andy Taylor), who is concerned about PTL’s finances plummeting because of overspending. Part of the reason Turner suggests the program needs an uplift is because the love and charisma in Tammy and Jim’s relationship has cooled and viewers sense something is wrong. Even friends Paul Crouch (Nick Bailey) and Jan Crouch (Allison Guinn) warn them. At this point in time Tammy has learned of Jim’s infidelity with Jessica Hahn (Alana Pollard), and though he repeatedly asks for forgiveness, Tammy finds it difficult. Increasingly, she relies on prescription pain medicine to anesthetize herself which staff preacher, John Fletcher (Raymond J. Lee), sometimes gives her.
When Tammy strikes out on her own without Jim to carry a show, she draws greater audience viewership which Ted Turner praises. In a heartfelt satellite interview, she speaks with gay pastor Steve Pieters (Charl Brown), about having AIDS. Her public action is courageous. She hugs Steve and accepts him with love into Christ’s fellowship, an anathema to conservative Christianity which condemns gays and believes AIDS is God’s punishment for their sinful homosexuality.
A meeting sealing the fate of PTL
Falwell and the other ministers have a confidential meeting and Falwell even phones President Ronald Reagan (Ian Lassiter), who never acknowledged or worked to stem the AIDS crisis, despite having a gay son and working with gays when he was an actor. Of course, Reagan’s hypocrisy and need for the evangelical church to endorse him is why he speaks to Falwell. In another inflection point, we see the division between church and state morph into an unholy matrimony of religious politicos washing each other’s hands despite the historically traditional separation between church and state.
Thus, Reagan’s public uplifting of the evangelical community via Falwell and others provokes a sea change in the sociopolitical and cultural direction of the nation. The growing intrusion of religion into politics becomes the foundation of constitutional human rights’ reversals seen today, which are particularly uplifted in MAGA states.
Reagan and conservative evangelism, for the voting block-merging church and state
With Reagan in their corner, conservative religious leadership agrees that PTL is moving in an unGodly direction. Falwell and the other preachers see the Bakkers are headed for disaster and they give them a push when the opportunity arises. For example, they get prominent PTL member John Fletcher to turn on Bakker. He sets up Bakker with Hahn, then leaks information when Falwell threatens to expose him of his “infidelities” with gay men if he doesn’t play ball. Falwell also tips off the Charlotte Observer whose reporter Charles Shepard (Mark Evans), investigates the financial arrangements of PTL and finds them to be indebted and insolvent. The situation boils over in “Don’t Let There Be Light.” Tammy, Jim and Jerry recognize their shameful actions and pray that they will not be exposed.
Of course, they are all exposed and vilified by the press and other church leaders. One humorous scene involves Pope John Paul II (Andy Taylor), Mormon leader (Thomas S. Monson), and Archbishop of Canterbury (Ian Lassiter), staged in window squares raised to a higher level above the stage ironically. From their lofty positions, they comment on the troubles of the “electric church” and the Bakkers. Meanwhile, elements of the same unloving hypocrisy are present in their congregations. The pederasty, pedophilia and horrific abuse of the Catholic church is yet to be revealed by the Boston Globe and is still being revealed in the Irish Madeline Laundries and Mother and Baby Homes. Certainly, the church memberships fall off in the Mormon Church and the Church of England. Congregants loathe the leaderships’ hypocrisy.
Acting hate not love
Falwell, Robertson, et. al., end up backbiting each other with hate and jealously. A desperate Bakker, beyond Tammy’s counsel, gives the PTL reigns to Falwell after Tammy learns Jim paid hush money to Jessica Hahn. The scandal widens the more the Bakkers give interviews to defend their positions. In Falwell’s hands, PTL goes bankrupt and is closed down. Tammy divorces Jim and other pastors’ infidelities are exposed as Bakker ends up in jail (“Look How Far We’ve Fallen”). The biased judge ridiculously throws the book at Bakker when murderers are even given lighter sentences.
Eventually, the conservative hypocritical Falwell and Pat Robertson follow in Reagan’s footsteps and run for the presidency. Indeed, their great piety is a sham as they attempt to vault their notoriety to the White House and reap untold rewards, but fail. Unlike Donald Trump who has defrauded his way there again with the treasonous help of various conservative think tanks, True the Vote’s voter challenges in Georgia, voter suppression in swing states, Elon Musk and Putin, Falwell and Robertson’s reputations preceded them and they were rejected as candidates.
Nevertheless, the evangelical Christian movement had an established foothold in politics. The country then wasn’t ready for a conservative, religious president. Now, the MAGAS, building on white supremacists and overturning Reagan’s legacy, have evolved to the point that with Putin’s foreign interference paying influencers to promote misinformation, Trump has become their acceptable, religious MAGA god/autocrat. Despite what Trump/MAGAS/Putin and a complicit press would have voters and the world believe that Trump received “great” voting support, over half the voting public of both parties doesn’t agree with MAGA/Trump’s religious, conservative, oppressive and autocratically unconstitutional mandates. Most probably, if there had been a recount, the results would have revealed otherwise. Better to let sleeping MAGAS, Trump, Putin and others lie.
Favorable reviews in London, bad timing in Manhattan
The show, which originated two years ago at the Almeida Theater in London, received favorable reviews. Opening here at the time it did proved unfortunate because of its subject, a conservative evangelical church, now associated with Donald Trump: a twice impeached, three times indicted, one time convicted criminal, who attempted to overthrow the 2020 election with some of their help via militias and the support of Clarence Thomas’ wife Ginni Thomas.
From Reagan and Falwell and PTL televangelism to the racist, xenophobic, misogynist, MAGA Christianity of today, the conservative brand of evangelicalism has blossomed into “acceptable” white supremacy, oppression, hellfire condemnation and tyranny toward other religions and people of color. Is there any wonder that Tammy Faye, opening around the 2024 election, is a brutal and noisome reminder of what lies, misinformation and money do for those in power, who stir up hate, work unconstitutionally and divide even their own believers from patriotism and the love of God?
Important takeaways
Positive takeaways are the show’s performances which are sterling, especially the leads. The technical team under Goold’s guidance manifests his vision for the production. The book glosses over a complicated series of events (one of which never shows the other side of Jessica Hahn’s professed “virginal innocence,” nor the role her Long Island pastor played in strong-arming the PTL board to pay her hush money).
However, the production does manage to portray one individual, regardless of her psychic flaws, who preached love instead of messages of hate and condemnation (“See you in Heaven”). Tammy Faye did this at a time when standing up for individuals with AIDS was anathema to the general public, let alone Christians. Hers was a courageous, heartfelt stance as an independent Christian church woman. who, alone, went out on a limb to mirror God’s love and show how Christians were supposed to support and help one another.
I heartily recommend this production, especially for those who are interested to understand how evangelism became involved with our politics, despite the supposed separation of church and state. Tammy Faye runs at the Palace Theatre with one intermission until December 8th. https://tammyfayebway.com/?gad_source=1 It’s a shame it is closing so soon.
‘From Here,’ Poignant, Uplifting Musical, Theater Review
From Here, the musical by Donald Rupe, with arrangements and orchestrations by Jason M. Bailey, is a framed story told by the delightful narrator, Daniel (Blake Aburn), a gay man in Orlando, Florida. Daniel journeys us through his relationships with his selected family of friends and lovers, as he confronts his estrangement from his single mother.
From Here is a revelation of love and hope, as the musical’s events beginning in January of 2016 hurtle us toward June 12th, the date of the Pulse Night Club shooting, the largest mass shooting in the United States up to that point in time. Currently, the musical is running with no intermission at the Alice Griffin Jewel Box Theatre, at the Pershing square Signature Center until August 11tth.
The musical opens with Daniel’s introduction of himself, his problems and his friends who help him relate his angst at this time in his life. Blake Aburn’s Daniel focuses on his mother whose love he craves as he calls her every day, though she refuses to pick up. Though the reasons for their alienation are not revealed initially, in the tuneful song “Where do I go?” which begins “Hey Ma,” we learn the backstory of his love for his mother, her ambivalence toward him and his life questions about his future. Then, as this introductory song continues, we meet his partner Michael (Julien Aponte), and they go clubbing.
At the club, their friends pick up the refrains of the song which concludes the first scene. Thus, we have a picture of Daniel and his friends who are the players whose lives will be impacted by the shooting in June. Importantly, we note that Michael and Daniel’s relationship appears comfortable and warm. We learn it has burned brightly for seven years then blow”s up in the next scene when Michael dumps Daniel, who admits Michael’s reasons for their split are right-on. After they split, they decide to remain friends.
Another key figure in Daniel’s and his friends lives is Jordan (Michelle Coben), a petite but mighty powerhouse of a club singer who invites Daniel to her performance and also invites his mom to bring them together and smooth over their separation. As his mom, Becca Southworth spills her emotions about her failed marriage and her alcoholic husband who blamed Daniel’s homosexuality for leaving. Unable to assuage the guilt she feels, she carries her wounds around with her, and like Daniel, is forced to reconcile a situation which neither she nor Daniel are responsible for, but is dumped upon them by an emotionally damaged and sick man.
After his breakup with Michael, Daniel meets Ricky and forms an attachment which is binding by the end of From Here. Shy, awkward and sweet, Omar Cardona, as Ricky is embraced by Daniel and his family of friends. Cardon’s Ricky has an incredible voice and a deep heart. As the friends gather for togetherness and comforting, whether for fun, for a birthday party of just to hang out, we note how these gays and Jordan who is straight but who enjoys the warmth and non-judgmental attitude of these friends/family, remain uplifted despite whatever happens. This is especially so after they learn of the shooting in a scene of shared humanity, love and feeling as one after the other they confess their weaknesses and gain strength from their truthfulness to each other.
As the narrator who guides us from beginning to end with a variety of songs, monologues, beautiful philosophical bits of poetry (I.e. “Hand in hand, Time and her lover, Regret, dance circles around us, their loyal subjects.”), Daniel’s pointed self-reflection as a gay man strikes us as we note he hopes to evolve to a place where he is comfortable. The monologues and various bits are authentic and well-written by Rupe. Blake Aburn also grows upon the audience with his familiarity and confessional tone, winks and endearing expressions which he uses as Daniel twits himself and lets the audience in on his humorous self-deprecation.
Though he doesn’t take himself seriously for the most part, Daniel does take his relationship with his mother very seriously. When she doesn’t receive a call from him the night of the shooting, the only day he did not call, she is beside herself. He is sorrowful for causing her suffering. It is then he realizes the great love, perhaps unacknowledged before, between them. Their reunion is touching and leads to the last scenes of the play where the family of friends gathers together to uplift each other and speak a memorial to those who lost their lives in a senseless needless killing spree of hate.
By the conclusion, the musical’s themes are apparent. Without the friendships and love of community, we are lost. It is the lack of the friendship and love of community that caused a killer to wreck a vengeance of hate to answer the misery of his failed life. Without collective bonding and sharing of love, whatever one’s sexual preference, humanity can face little safely, and the darkness overwhelms. But the light of love and friendship sustains as friends go “from here,” to spread to others, what they’ve found with each other.
Importantly, Daniel concludes with the aftermath which establishes the goodness of people despite the horror of one night. Daniel remarks that Orlando has changed.
“For months after Pulse, each night the skyline would light up in Rainbow lights. Murals dedicated to angels appear when you least expect them to. There’s more art now. People stare less.” (at the gay-ness expressed). Daniel also reflects about the “quiet monument where Pulse once stood. It’s a rare time that you drive past and there isn’t someone sitting, quietly paying their respects.”
Rupe’s contemporary score succeeds lyrically because of its pop-ballad simplicity and repeated refrains of melody that are memorable, especially in the opening song. For example, the vital and effective “I love you/I miss you/I’m sorry” theme is resonant and a foreshadowing of the musical’s finale when we imagine that those words were said to those who were killed. Though the four piece band (bass, guitar, keyboard, and drums) accompanying the performers is excellent, the sound system (Matt Craig), needed adjusting the evening I saw the performance. Sometimes, the lyrics in the group numbers were unclear. However, that is not only in this show. Annunciation is a dying art in theater, oftentimes.
Rupe, who also directed, keeps the staging and scenic design spare and minimalist thanks to Philip Lupo. That simplicity serves to emphasize the dialogue and songs well, without any unrelated extravagant numbers distracting. All coheres in unity. Choreography is by Adonus Mabry and costume design is by J. Marie Bailey.
As a unique regional theater production, presented by Renaissance Theatre Company, which has transferred to New York’s Off Broadway, From Here succeeds largely because it doesn’t focus luridly on the Pulse mass shooting, but allows it to hover in the background. Indeed, Daniel’s narrative in songs with good will and humor presented to an interested audience occurs as a retrospective, a flashback of events leading up to that horrific night. And seen in light of the wisdom that memento mori, Daniel is chastened, and grateful for all he has, especially his community who are unique and wonderful.
From Here runs with no intermission for 1 hour 40 minutes. For tickets go to the box office at Pershing Square Signature Center or online at https://fromhere.com/
‘Here There Are Blueberries,’ No Evil. Just Ordinary, Enjoyable Routines.
Here There Are Blueberries, now in its third extension at New York Theatre Workshop, is a many-layered, superb production running until June 30. Stylized and theatricalized as a quasi-documentary that travels back and forth from present to past to present by enlivening characters in various settings, the play unravels the mysteries centered around an album of 116 photographs taken at Auschwitz. Though the album has no photographs of the victims to be memorialized, it eventually is donated to archivists at the US Holocaust Memorial Museum, by a retired U.S. Lieutenant Colonel.
Based on real events, interviews, extensive research and photographs rarely seen of the infamous concentration camp from another perspective, the play follows archivists who shepherded the photographic artifacts toward a greater understanding of the political attitudes and the daily routines of the people who ran the camp. Written by Moises Kaufman and Amanda Gronich, and directed by Moises Kaufman, Here There Are Blueberries is a salient, profound work that has great currency for our time.
With expert projection design by David Bengali, Derek McLane’s scenic design, which suggests the archivists’ workplace, and Kaufman’s minimalism, characters/historical individuals step forward to bear witness, like a Greek chorus, to speak from the ethereal realms of history. The play which has some Foley sound effects for purposes of interest, dramatizes scenes which hover around a concept. All of the fine artistic techniques by Dede Ayite (costume design), David Lander (lighting design), Bobby McElver (sound design), further the plays probing themes which examine questions the researchers ask about those who murdered and why they murdered. As the drama poses questions to its audience and itself, some, the play answers. Others, the audience must answer for themselves.
At the outset, a narrator explains the importance of the Leica camera for the people of Germany in the 1930s, when the society was at a crossroads after economic depression and the reformation of Hitler’s new government. Perched on a stand center stage is the camera in the spotlight, while projections of black and white photos scroll in the background, exemplifying the subjects taken by people using it. Some are of German people enjoying family events, as we note the narrator’s comment that in Germany, amateur photographers took up the activity as a national pastime and became “history’s most willing recorders.”
As the photos scroll showing stills of children and young adults giving the Hitler salute, the narrator suggests that “each frozen moment tells the world this is our shared history.” Her tone is ironic and the Hitler salute, as terrible as it is, physicalized by the bodies of children, indicates an alignment with Hitler’s politics, attitudes and way of life. Additional photos of children and adults enjoying outings, show Nazi flags; the narrator continues, the “apparent ordinariness of these images does not detract from their political relevance.” Indeed, she states, “On the contrary: asserting ordinariness in the face of the extraordinary is in itself, an immensely political act.”
In photographs and videos of Hitler’s marches by soldiers of the Third Reich (shown in the Nazi propagandist films of Leni Riefenstahl, etc.), we note Nazi militarization and might, which after a while are easily relegated to “the past.” Photographs throughout the play’s album note the Nazi flag, Hitler salute and SS uniform as a common fact of life lived at that time. Indeed, Hitler’s politics became the breath of life itself and all aspects of the German people’s existence and happiness were intertwined with Nazism, Hitler’s “great” leadership, his conquests, economic prosperity, and the ready identification with all of this by the average German. This was so until things went terribly sour and German war losses multiplied.
However, the Third Reich’s asserting ordinariness and commonality, when in fact it was anything but, is one of the concepts the archivists deal with throughout their journey to organize the photographs, categorize them and analyze what they are looking at in the photo album of the SS’ lives at Auschwitz.
The playwrights introduce us to the archivists in the second scene. It is then Rebecca Erbelding (Elizabeth Stahlmann), first reads the letter from the Lieutenant Colonel notifying the museum that an album with photographs from Auschwitz that he possesses might be of import. From that juncture on, we become engrossed in the archival journey as the researchers, experts and others delve into the album and attempt to understand it. Curiously, there are no photos of the victims and prisoners of Auschwitz.
As they take on the difficult task and uncover details through trial and error, eventually, researchers bring together the puzzle pieces which explain the photographs and identify the SS officials and the various workers up through the hierarchy, who helped Auschwitz seamlessly function. Clearly, Auschwitz was a huge endeavor that contained an industrial complex and barracks for laborers, housing for guards and administrators alike, and a killing machine and ersatz assembly line of death.
After pinpointing the owner of the album as Karl Höcker, who moved his way up to become the administrative assistant to the head of Auschwitz., the archivists (who also bring to life Karl Höcker and others via dramatization), gradually explore the lifestyle of those in the photographs. These include the SS guards, top brass, doctors, various secretaries (Helferinnen, who were in communications, etc., and held jobs at the camp), staff and others having meals, relaxing at a nearby resort and more daily activities.
None of the photos show the functions of Auschwitz, the prisoners, victims or crematoria. All is pleasant and reflective of the wonderful world that Hitler spoke about bringing to mankind after the “vermin” were removed. That the Helferinnen were photographed surprised a number of researchers who wondered if the young women knew about the gas chambers in the camp or smelled the acrid air of burning flesh in the crematoriums. After denials and relatives probing and finding innocence, what the women knew is later answered by one of the secretaries who was at Auschwitz. She was questioned after the war. Charlotte Schunzel stated she and the other women recorded how many were sent to hard labor and how many were sent to SB, “special treatment,” a euphemism for the gas chambers.
The archivists pin down the identity of the SS officers and high command in the photographs, one of whom was the notorious “Angel of Death,” Dr. Menegele. Another is the commandant who set up Auschwitz-Birkenau, Rudolph Höss. The researchers determine that the photos are like selfies that reveal the happy life of Karl Höcker (Scott Barrow), who would have been a “nobody” if he had not joined the Nazi party in 1937 and arrived at the camp in 1944, just in time to help “process” the thousands of Jewish Hungarians (350,000), who rode in trains three days, only to be murdered in gas chambers after they arrived.
Kaufman and Gronich seize our interest especially when actors take on historical personages, relatives of the SS, survivors, researchers, historians and others. in view of the audience, actors create Foley sound effects to usher in events and accompany Erbelding, Judy Cohen (Kathleen Chalfant), Charlotte Schunzel (Nemuna Ceesay), Tilman Taube (Jonathan Ravlv), Melita Maschmann (Erika Rose), Rainer Höss (Charlie Thurston), Peter Wirths (Grant James Varjas), and others as they uncover bits of information and puzzle together what is happening in each photograph.
The global attention the album receives (revealed by projections of headlines), brings new interest and revelations, some by grandchildren of the SS who are horrified to see uncovered aspects of their relatives they didn’t want to imagine. These aspects have been kept hidden from families out of shame and especially to avoid accountability. Perpetrators of murder and the accomplices to murder are still being located and held to account, even as recently as the last two years. Murderers and the complicit and culpable had a great need for covering up their crimes, as long as they were alive.
Another revelation comes from Holocaust survivor Lili Jacobs, who contacts archivists, as a result of the press reports. She had been holding on to an album she uncannily found of 193 photographs of the Hungarians arriving on the trains, all of whom were “processed” by the SS and high command in the photos. After she donates her album (it contains pictures of herself and family taken by the SS in the camp the day she arrived from Hungary), the researchers are able to solve the dates of the mystery of one photo which shows all the SS, high command and workers celebrating at Solahütte (a resort), where Karl Höcker occasionally rewarded the SS guards, workers, Helferinnen etc., when they did something special.
One example is given when guards prevented an escape by killing four prisoners. Administrator Höcker rewarded them for their “courage” by sending them to Solahütte for a few days.
Previously, the archivists couldn’t understand what and why the large group of camp officials, workers, drivers, Auschwitz staff, referred to by one archivist as the “Chorus of Criminals,” were photographed celebrating. However, through interviews with experts, and piecing together the facts, they divine why the entire group of Auschwitz Nazis standing and smiling, were enjoying the accordion music in one, fine, inclusive photograph, from the top brass in the front, to the lowly staff standing on a hill in the back.
With the evidence of the two albums together, archivists complete the full story of murderers and victims. The victims in Jacobs’ album were those who arrived in train transports from Hungary. The photographs included photographs of Lili and her family and her rabbi, right before they were separated into the lines for labor camp and gas chambers. In Höcker’s album, the administrator assembled and photographed the “Chorus of Criminals'” photograph for a vital reason. The murderers celebrating at Solahütte were congratulating themselves. They had successfully finished a job well done, the massive operation, processing Hungarians, dividing and selecting, so that 350,000 could be exterminated, among them Lili’s parents and two younger brothers.
Through their research, archivists discovered that Lili arrived one day after Höcker arrived at Auschwitz. He most probably received a career bump up to administer the massive “Hungarian Project.” In light of Lili’s discovery and sharing it with the archivists at the museum, she and they “get the full picture.” She sees the identity of the men who murdered her family. Finding the album of herself in the tie in with the album of the SS who ran the camp is an extraordinary sequence of events that is beyond coincidence. For her, the discovery is mystical and divinely spiritual.
Ironically, in Here There Are Blueberries, the victims that the Holocaust Memorial Museum has been so diligent about uplifting and respecting are not the only ones to be considered in studying and understanding the Holocaust. The innocent victims, indeed, were the extraordinary ones in Hitler’s politics that had infiltrated into the bones of the German people, but not the bones of the innocent ones ravaged by acts of the brutal tragedy delivered for the “good of the nation” in its lust for domination. The victims’ impossibly painful stories of survival or loss, escape, surrender, the trauma, and the horror, shock, astound and enrage.
That the ones who perpetrated murder and genocide were able to do it day in and day out as a matter of routine, a job to be done, exemplifies the normalization and internalization of a monstrous political attitude. That attitude that the SS, many Germans and surrounding cultures (i.e. Austria) adopted as right and true, a way of being, a way to live one’s life, which necessitated that others bleed and die for it as a general social good, is evidenced throughout Hocker’s album of photographs of the SS’s smiling faces as they perform daily activities.
It is this above all that Kaufman and Gronich bring to the table and highlight like no other work, with the exception of Martin Amis’ novel Zone of Interest, about the life of Auschwitz commandant Rudolf Höss, which was recently made into a film, directed by Jonathan Glazer. However, unlike Zone of Interest, Kaufman and Gronich don’t include responsive photos to the crematoria. All photos of camp function and purpose are missing. Only in Lili Jacobs’ companion album do we note the horror of the transports and the photos of her rabbi, her parents and siblings who died.
The photos of those accountable for all of the activities at Auschwitz, their reason for being there-to kill, oppress, subjugate and promote the war effort-is implicit. Their very images in the photographs stink with the noisome odor of the gas chambers. The absence of the victims and any evidence of the killing machine, a final realization of the archivists who investigate the album, if anything, incriminates all of the SS officers even more in their guilt. If they were innocent and in the right, why did Höcker need to edit out the buildings of the killing machine, the prisoners and torturing that happened in the labor complex? Why did he need to present his album of “happy days are here again?” when obviously the smoke of the burning had to be hidden?
In the archivists’ explorations they learned the backgrounds of the SS running the camp were ordinary-former clerks, bank tellers, confectioners, teenage girls. We are prompted to ask what separates these murderers and accomplices to murder from the rest of us? Stating the Nazis were monsters allows us the luxury to say “we are not like them.” It dupes us to think we would never be caught up as these were, convinced in the rightness of their actions. This is a dangerous attitude. Indeed, playwright Kaufman reflects the overriding theme of Here There Are Blueberries when he states that “the Nazis were not monsters-they were normal people who did monstrous things.”
How are political cults convinced of their rightness convinced to murder for the right? How did the January 6th insurrection fomented by a sore loser with revenge on his mind to punish his VP because he didn’t do what “was right” happen? Are there any elements that might be compared? This amazing play is filled with parallels to our time, as it raises profound questions about our humanity. For that reason, as well as the fine dialogue and overall presentation and ensemble work, one should see this play.
Here There Are Blueberries runs 90 minutes with no intermission at NYTW on 4th St. between 2nd and the Bowery. Don’t miss it.
‘Home,’ The Journey of a Lifetime in Wisdom and Poetry, Review
With lyricism and poignancy in this Roundabout Theatre Company revival of Home, directed by Kenny Leon, Samm-Art Williams spins a story of life’s rhythms, spanning decades during the Great Migration, the time when thousands of Blacks moved with hope to northern cities, leaving Jim Crow’s economic oppression and lynching violence behind. Williams’ covers distances and cultural spaces, all the while evolving his protagonist’s mental, physical and spiritual well being. Home has been receiving a “warm welcome,” at the Todd Haimes Theater, after a prolonged lapse since its original production in 1980 when it was Drama Desk and Tony-award nominated.
Starring Tory Kittles as Cephus Miles, newcomers Brittany Inge and Stori Ayers, portray a multiplicity of characters (40+) from family members to the men and women positively or negatively rubbing up against Cephus on his journey to self-realization. Williams’ representatives move us from a tobacco farm in Cross Roads, North Carolina to a prison in Raleigh, to a northern city (New York), of subways, a roiling, feverish, chaotic place for Cephus that spills out a never-ending cacophony of noise, colors, struggle and conflict.
Then finally, a battered, bruised and reformed drug and alcohol-addicted Cephus has had enough. By that point, he has died to his ego to return home to the rich black soil he thought he had lost, and God’s grace, which was apparently late in coming, but actually was with him all along.
It takes wisdom to know that God has been with him, which he has obviously gained as it is subtly expressed by the ersatz Greek chorus (Inge and Ayers), who introduce the theme of God’s grace which we and Cephus learn abides throughout his life. (“If there was ever a woman or man, who has everlasting grace in the eyes of God. It’s the farmer woman… and man.”) As Inge and Ayers repeat these affirmations as Woman Two and Woman One at the top of play and in a brief song and rhythmic summation of the life of the farmer/sharecroppers who labored and sweat under the sun, then left for the cities, they state that one “fool” came back. And Cephus, “the fool” sits in a rocking chair center stage listening to them.
Cephus, is anything but a fool. His travels have converted him to a contented man of wisdom who has learned, through patience, the hard lesson of God’s everlasting grace. Though we don’t realize it at the top of the play, Cephus has returned from his odyssey. The townspeople’s myths swirl around him (via Inge and Ayers), and town children (Ayers and Inge), whisper the rumors, “Old Cephus Miles. Can’t be saved,” that “he’s dead,” that “he’s a ghost,” as they throw rocks at the windows of the “haunted house,” where he has returned to claim “I’m alive,” “I’m flesh, blood and bone.”
The play is Cephus’ lyrical and dramatic life told in flashback, at times in and out of sequence, like an epic tone poem with the chorus (Ayers and Inge), at the ready to activate his narration, an exegesis exploring and explaining the spiritual text of the grace that threads through his life.
Against a backdrop of tobacco plants, corn stalks, golden lighting by Allen Lee Hughes and a projection of distant acres of crops to the horizon line (the projection changes when Cephus moves to the city), Leon employs a symbolic minimalism of set and props (set design-Arnulfo Maldonado). He adjusts scene changes based on the dialogue and simple objects, a box, a chair, a drop-down cross. Dede Ayite’s costumes and Ayers and Inge’s hair (Nikiya Mathis-hair & wig design), essentially remain the same with a few additions and subtractions (hats, scarves, hair let down-a wig). Miraculously, Leon’s simplicity which fits the thematic, lyrically flowing style of this work, is not only fitting, it is revelatory. However, it is also arcane and opaque at times.
Ultimately, Williams/Leon’s symbolic translation of Cephus’ seemingly “ordinary” existence becomes a spiritual guidepost that focuses on uplifting the souls of those who witness it. Thus, we gradually understand why Cephus quietly dismisses the extraordinarily horrid conditions of racism in the Jim Crow south. Slowly we realize how he withstands injustice related to his poverty and lack of education. That impact is demonstrated when Cephus, unlike those whites who paid to get bone spur deferments or were deferred by college, is drafted during the Viet Nam war. Many Blacks who were unable to get such deferments fought and died in the jungles. He reads the letters of two friends who warn him off going to fight.
But fear didn’t stop Cephus from serving. God’s commandment, “Thou shalt not kill,” stops him. A religious conscientious objector, he spends five years in prison because he refuses to kill in battle. After his imprisonment, Cephus gives up sharecropping and heads north. He has tethered his happiness to Pattie Mae, the love of his life, and thinks he may get an education and “improve” himself like she did. Her mother prompted her to go north, get an education, became a teacher and forget about marrying Cephus because she was “better” than he.
However, at this point in his life, destitute and without friends or shelter, somehow Cephus ends up in the city where life befalls him as he waits for God to “come back from Miami” and help him deal with countless issues. Life takes an unbelievable turn for him and he questions God’s absence. With humor Williams relates Cephus’ travails and shares stories out of the traditions of citified Black folk and stories from his country childhood, i.e. his time in the hayloft with Pattie Mae, gambling in the cemetery with friends, loss of close family members and more. Home presents the important and crucial moments in Cephus’ life under the long arm of God, who he prays to, sometimes.
Caught up in the emotionalism of his pain, Cephus, delivered in an incredible performance by Kittles, draws us in and keeps us engaged with humor bytes and memes that reoccur and have their final concluding day. The ending is more than a satisfactory relief and it is the first time we see Cephus grin from ear to ear. Indeed, he has come home in relating and reliving his journey with us with the dogged and wonderful supporting help of Inge and Ayers.
Williams’ style and poetic form is easy listening, as one catches the music inherent in the language and the word beats. At times, however, the pacing and lack of theatricality are uneven and I found myself drifting, despite the tremendous performances of the actors. Overall, the ensemble and their direction by Leon are smashing, as is Williams’ Homeric view which provides a look at war and battle in the human psyche filtered through the American Black experience.
This is one to see. Unless it is extended, the end date is July 21.
Home. Todd Haimes Theatre. 224 West 42nd Street with no intermission. https://www.roundabouttheatre.org/
‘The Great Gatsby,’ Sumptuously Re-imagined, A Must-See, Unforgettable Broadway Spectacle
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald is an iconic American novel set during the Jazz Age. It is about class, the privilege of old wealth and the excesses of the nouveau riche, who can never attain the status of the generational moneyed class, regardless of how hard they try. The Great Gatsby a New Musical, based on the titular novel, retains this key theme of America’s class system from the perspective of unreliable narrator Nick Carraway (Noah J. Ricketts). Carraway memorializes Jay Gatsby, the extraordinaire, whose ability to distill hope and materialize his dreams achieves its own artistic perfection. Examined from the perspective of Nick Carraway (Noah J. Ricketts), the tragic flaw in Gatsby’s process is that he attaches his hope to the imperfection of love and a woman who wasn’t worthy of his vision, faith or love.
The Great Gatsby, a New Musical made its premiere at the Broadway Theatre after its fall run at the Paper Mill Playhouse in New Jersey. With book by Kait Kerrigan in her Broadway debut, music by Jason Howland (Paradise Square), and lyrics by Nathan Tysen (Paradise Square), the musical is suprbly choreographed by Dominique Kelley and acutely directed by Marc Bruni (Beautiful: the Carole King Musical). Overall, it’s a gorgeously conceived production with exceptional ensemble work and flamboyant spectacle that sumptuously re-imagines the distinctive settings, individualistic characters and seminal events that make the novel a singular and timeless classic.
The strength of this production is that Kerrigan, Howland and Tysen are loyal to Nick’s perception of the magnificent Jay Gatsby, portrayed exquisitely by Jeremy Jordan. Jordan’s luscious, exceptional voice, Gatsbyesque persona, and passion do justice to Howland and Tysen’s lyrical and dynamic songs, “For Her,” “Past Is Catching Up to Me,” and the duet “Go.” We empathize with Jordan’s Gatsby, whose near divine love of Daisy (the lovely Eva Noblezada), never fails him, though Daisy can’t handle the irrepressible and divine nature of his efforts to transform time.
In “My Green Light,” an extraordinary duet between Noblezada and Jordan at the end of Act I, the couple consummates their love in Gatsby’s lavish bedroom with the projection of the rippling Long Island Sound at night, and the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock twinkling behind them in the background.
Bruni’s phenomenal staging, Paul Tate DePoo III’s projection and set unifies the key elements of the love relationship between Gatsby and Daisy, the artistry of Gatsby’s vision and his infinite hope (symbolized by the green light), driving it. The acting talents of Jordan and Noblezada, their lustrous singing and the setting are dazzling in this memorable, uplifting scene, where Gatsby, indeed, for a moment conquers time.
At that point we believe that Gatsby’s love is enough to hold Daisy and take her away from the craven, brutish, hypocritical Tom, who breaks his mistress Myrtle’s nose (Sara Chase), and manhandles Daisy leaving bruises on her arms during their quarrels. We believe like Nick and Jordan (the adorable Samantha Pauly), that Tom doesn’t deserve Daisy. However, by the conclusion of the musical, Nick realizes that Tom and Daisy do deserve each other. She won’t even attend Gatsby’s funeral, acting like he never existed. We agree with Nick that Gatsby is “worth the whole damn bunch put together.”
As Nick spins it, the tragedy lies in Daisy’s soulish weakness and her inability to live up to Gatsby’s love to “forget the past,” which he asks her to do in front of Tom in the superbly acted scene at the Plaza Hotel. Together the characters sing the sensational ensemble number “Made to Last.” John Zdrojeski’s Tom is particularly cruel as he arrogantly denounces Gatsby, his criminal bootlegging and his low class background. The lyrics are profound and spot-on. The dynamic music reinforces the themes which the characters forcefully embrace and symbolize. Tom sardonically sings, “It’s not about wealth, it’s blood. It’s class. The day you were born, your die had been cast.” And Gatsby insists, “Daisy, tell him you’re through.” And he tells Tom to “face reality,” affirming that Daisy never loved Tom.
During the explosive turning point in the song, Gatsby insists she renounce her marriage to Tom, and in effect her position and class to which Tom “elevated” her. When Tom sees she falters, that she honestly admits that she loved them both, and that Gatsby “wants too much,” Tom feels secure. He knows she is too weak and insecure to leave him and their daughter. Noblezada’s Daisy, Zdrojeski’s Tom and Jordan’s Gatsby strike the mixture of emotions of their characters with authenticity and power. Daisy’s heightened angst and tenuous state of mind force her to leave the suite, with Gatsby running after her. It is not a position of power from which Gatsby might redeem himself with her, though he tries.
Tom’s defamation and insults to Gatsby’s face and the reality of what Daisy would be giving up to leave him dislocates Daisy to distraction and ultimately causes the fatal accident and final tragedy of the underclasses, who make the mistake of becoming involved with the soulless, unimaginative upper class.
Noblezada portrays Daisy’s confusion with grist, making Jeremy Jordan’s desperation to stop Tom’s brainwashing and win her back even more pronounced. When Tom’s words hit their mark, it’s as if a curtain shuts down Daisy’s mind. Jordan’s Gatsby sees the impact of Tom’s cynicism as it disintegrates all the romance of what he has accomplished in order to turn back time to the fullness of Daisy’s love when Tom never existed. The scene is the brilliant high-point. What follows is the aftermath from which there is no recovering, except that Nick must lead the musical encomium to the greatness of his friend Gatsby. He alone fully grasps who the man was, so of course, he is furious that the papers slam Gatsby and further drive Daisy into oblivion and Tom into victory, as they jaunt away to Hawaii.
Kerrigan, Howland and Tysen are faithful to the key events in the novel down to no one going to Gatsby’s funeral except Nick which Bruni simply stages with black curtains, the casket and bier and red roses. Howland and Tysen fill out Wilson’s mania as he assassinates Gatsby, after Tom sets him up (“God Sees Everything”). As Gatsby sings the reprise “For Her” and Nick imagines how it happens, Wilson joins in and asks God’s forgiveness for using his hands to met out justice and take responsibility for the execution. Of course, Wilson’s ask is ridiculous as his justice is misplaced. Duped by Tom to do violence and pay for it with his own life, Wilson is a pathetic figure. Reflecting on these events, and Daisy and Tom’s nonchalance about Gatsby and the Wilsons, Carraway disdains Daisy and Tom as representative of the careless rich who destroy people and things leaving the Nick Carraways of the world to clean up the mess.
Comedic elements are found in this adaptation which sometime diffuse the impact of the story, as does attention to the secondary characters who are given greater focus. It is also problematic that Nick’s perspective doesn’t cohere throughout the musical, but leaves off in a few scenes, one between Jordan and Daisy.
Some of the comedy is refreshing as in the scene Nick and Jordan share at Nick’s cottage while Daisy and Gatsby meet for the first time in five years. Their relationship is expanded beyond the novel when Jordan and Nick’s intimacy gives way to his proposal of marriage which she is on the verge of accepting, though in Act I she is against marriage. Her characterization is more in keeping with today’s women than women of the early 20th century. Nick’s characterization is largely faithful to the novel. Noah J. Ricketts does a fine job of rendering Nick the unreliable narrator who thinks highly of himself, but doesn’t completely stand up to Tom and Daisy. Instead, he turns tail and runs back to the Midwest away from the” “evil” East, an irony. The only way he can reconcile his self-loathing about his behavior is to attempt to expiate his guilt by memorializing Gatsby.
The Jordan/Nick scenes are humorous and flirtatious. Their number “Better Hold Tight” is a diversion more for its own sake. However, we are not surprised that Nick throws over Jordan who doesn’t show up to Gatsby’s funeral either. She is one of the bad drivers, the careless rich who sicken and disgust him, for they dupes the fools who would seek the dream “boats running against the current” (“Finale: Roaring On”), to only to stumble because their dreams are behind them in the past.
Kerrigan, Howland and Tysen take even greater liberties with the secondary characters for the sake of dramatic purposes. Kerrigan, et. al. strengthen and coalesce the ideas symbolizing George Wilson (Paul Whitty), George’s wife Myrtle (Sara Chase), and Meyer Wolfsheim (Eric Anderson), by giving each of them solo numbers which define their personalities, desires and attitudes. These add to the themes, though they refocus the thrust of Nick’s story of how Gatsby is a romantic hero. The mystery surrounding Gatsby’s identity which is slowly revealed in the novel, is lost in this musical with attention going elsewhere.
As a representative of the criminal class that feeds the dreams of the lower class, breaking the law to do so, thug Wolfsheim joins the company singing “New Money,” which old wealth (Tom), regards as garish and meretricious. Anderson’s Wolfsheim (“who made Gatsby”), also sings and joins the company dancing in the excellent number “Shady.” As Wolfsheim sings, Bruni stages vignettes with each of the character couples being corrupted in their adultery or “sinful” affairs (Jordan and Nick, Gatsby and Daisy, Tom and the Wilsons). According to Wolfsheim, “I’m okay with keeping secrets. I’m okay with being naughty. I approve of indiscretions, if you know how to hide a body.”
Eric Anderson and cast of The Great Gatsby (Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)
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‘Mother Play,’ Stellar Performances by Celia Keenan-Bolger, Jessica Lange, Jim Parsons
One of the keys to understanding Mother Play, A Play in Five Evictions by Paula Vogel is in the narration. Currently running in its premiere at 2NDSTAGE, directed by Tina Landau, Vogel’s play has some elements of her own life, but is not naturalistic. It is stylized, quirky, humorous, imaginative and figurative, like most of her plays. In a nod to Tennessee Williams’ The Glass Menagerie, in the notes, she suggests it is a memory play.
Presumably, the play focuses on a representative mother, Phyllis, portrayed with impeccable sensitivity, raw emotion and nuanced undercurrents of bitterness, humor and irony by the exceptional Jessica Lange. However, the play is actually about a mother-daughter relationship that moves toward reconciliation. As such, the narrator/daughter (the always superb Celia Kennan-Bolger), directs us to her understanding of the last forty years of her life in her relationship with her mother, via the unreliable narrator’s viewpoint.
Should we believe everything the narrator says happened? Or does Martha’s perception of her mother cling to highlights of the events most hurtful and damaging to her? We must ultimately decide or remain uncertain until the play’s conclusion. It’s a delicious conundrum that emphasizes Vogel’s themes of the necessity of developing a deeper understanding of relationships, emotional pain, working through hurt and so much more.
Martha’s genius gains our confidence, empathy and identification with her confessional re-enactment flashbacks as she remembers events. She takes us through the highs and lows of five evictions her family experiences together, after their father dumped them for greener pastures. A key figure in the family dynamic is her two-years older brother Carl, Martha’s brilliant, sweet and kind protector, portrayed with clarity, humor and depth by Jim Parsons.
At the top of the play, which is in the present, Martha is in her early 50s. She tells us that by the time she was 11, their family had moved seven times because their father had a “habit of not paying rent.” Thus, they learned to pack and unpack in a day. She comments with irony that there is a season for packing and a season for unpacking, referencing the Biblical verse (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8), and the Byrd’s song, “Turn, Turn, Turn.”
To destabilize and uproot children from their friends and school mates so many times is a calculation Vogel’s Martha never makes. But it speaks volumes about how the brother and sister rely on each other emotionally, because they are social isolates by necessity because the continued movement which their father, whom we only hear about, didn’t even take into consideration.
As Martha opens a box of the only things her deceased brother had left in their apartment, she takes out a bunny rabbit and a letter Carl had written to her. With the letter, Parson’s Carl materializes and Martha joins him as they step into a series of flashbacks which chronicle events that lead to the five times they were evicted by landlords or they evicted themselves from each other’s lives, only to return, eventually.
Cleverly grounding this family’s living arrangements to present her salient themes about “forever pain,” the impossibility of “mothering,” sacrifice, regret and love, Vogel uses two devices. The first is their furniture which they take with them and rearrange each time they pick up and take off for various reasons. Secondly, there are the roaches, which are magical and symbolic, not only of the poverty and want their father stuck them with, but of the emotional terror and fear of living precariously on the edge of society, sanity and Phyllis’ desire for normalcy.
The roaches, at key moments manifest, swarm, go creepy crawly and loom monstrously in their lives. Since Phyllis signs leases to cheaper basement apartments, promising they will take out the garbage, they are forced to live with these vermin, an indignity of representative squalor from which they never seem to be freed, despite upwardly mobile Phyllis’ attempts to rise to apartments on higher floors.
The first flashback occurs when Martha is twelve, Carl is fourteen, and Phyllis is thirty-seven, in their first apartment away from their father after the divorce. Carl and Martha arrange the furniture and when they are finished, they swivel around Phyllis, reclining in an easy chair in Landau’s deft, humorous introduction of the women the play is allegedly about. Far from “taking it easy,” Lange’s Phyllis demonstrates she is “on edge” and seeks to quell her nerves at this first move without her husband. She immediately importunes her children for the following: her cigarette lighter (a gift from “the only one she loved”), a glass for the gin which she carries in a bottle in her large handbag, and ice, ready made in a tray in a box. After pouring herself a drink and puffing on her cigarette, she begins to relax and says, “Maybe mother will be able to get through this.”
Ironically, the “this” has profound, layered meaning not only for the moment, but for what is ahead for Phyllis, including single parenting, a possible nervous breakdown, poverty, responsibility as a mother, her job and more.
Phyllis pulls out their dinner in a McDonald’s bag from her bottomless black purse, which is empty of money because their father wiped out all the accounts. She speaks of their future-Martha cooking, cleaning and getting dinner, and Carl continuing his excellence of a near perfect score on the PSATs in verbal skills. Phyllis predicts Carl will be the first one in the family to get into college via a scholarship. Martha will take typing and get a job like her mother, so that if a man leaves her like her father discarded her mother, she will be able to support herself.
Though Carl quips flamboyantly about affording rent at the Algonquin, Martha sours at having to share a bedroom with her mother who snores. The favored one, Carl gets his own room. With their new beginning as latch key kids, who have to make their own lunches and deal with their own problems, toward the end of the segment, Carl humorously asks Martha if their childhood has ended.
Being a breadwinner and sole parent is a circumstance Phyllis bitterly resents. Culturally, moms still stayed at home, cooked, cleaned, did the laundry, took care of all the needs of the children, attended to them before and after school, and bowed to their husbands, who had the freedom to do what they pleased, expecting dinner at whatever hour they returned to a wife thrilled to see them. It is this “achievement” that Phyllis wishes for Martha, whom she hopes will marry someone unlike Mr. Herman, in other words a bland man who is unappealing to women and just wants a loyal wife like Martha will be because Phyllis has raised her to be the good woman.
Though Phyllis proudly proclaims this new apartment is a step in the right direction, Phyllis cannot “move on” to annihilate memories of her husband’s past physical and financial abuse, his scurrilous behavior, his machismo insisting all is his way. Filled with regret, Phyllis lapses into negative ruminations about their father who doesn’t provide child support or come to visit. Her cryptic remarks, sarcasm and “treatment” of Martha and Carl, who she openly praises and admires, while being “hard” on Martha, so she won’t marry a fraud, is sometimes humorous, but mostly unjust. In the telling Martha has our sympathy against this cruel, anti-nurturing mother.
Ultimately, we learn that each time they move for a reason that triggers them, each time they pack and unpack and arrange the furniture to settle in, they are still stuck in the same place emotionally because Phyllis can’t forget, forgive or release her anger. And though she adjusts as best she can, she relies emotionally on Carl and Martha, who she eventually evicts when she discovers they live a lifestyle that disgusts her and shatters her dreams for them.
Sprinkled throughout the five evictions and events leading up to them is Vogel’s humor and irony which saves the play from falling into droll repetitiveness because emotionally Phyllis’ needle is stuck in the same groove. Her emotionalism worsens as key revelations spill out about who she is as a woman, who once was adored by the same man who left her for “whores.” Throughout the sometimes humorous, sometimes tragic and upsetting events, Carl and Martha continue to serve and wait on Phyllis until they reach their tipping point. Overcoming these painful events with their mother because they have each other, Carl continues to guide and counsel Martha as a loving brother. This becomes all the more poignant when he leaves the family for various reasons, the last one being the most devastating for Martha and Phyllis.
Landau’s direction and vision for this family whose dysfunction is driven by internal soul damage shared and spread around is acutely realized. The following creatives enhance her vision: David Zinn’s scenic design of movable furniture, Shawn Duan’s projection design of interminable roach swarms, Jen Schriever’s ethereal, atmospheric lighting design (when Carl appears and disappears in Martha’s imagination), and Jill BC Du Boff’s sound design (I heard every word).
Landau’s staging and shepherding of the actors yields tremendous performances. Lange’s is a tour de force, encouraged by Parsons and Keenan-Bloger, whose development through the years pinging the ages from Martha’s 12 years-old and Carl’s 14-years old through to Martha’s fifties is stunning. Parson moderates his maturity and calmness as a contrast to the dire events that occur in the play’s last scenes. The disco scene is amazingly hopeful until Phyllis breaks emotionally and spews fearful, hurtful words.
Always, Keenan-Bolger’s Martha remains ironic, rational, questioning, matter-of-fact. Lange’s fragility and vulnerability underlying her outbursts prompt the stoic response from Parsons and Keenan-Bolger, whose Carl and Martha often take the role of the adults in the room. After a while, Martha has so blinded us to her portrait of Phyllis, we believe her hook, line and sinker that Phyllis is a b*&ch.
Phyllis’ deterioration into heartbreaking loneliness as her children remain estranged from her is attempted by Vogel in a scene that may have been shortened or should have been realized differently, or should have included different tasks by Lange’s Phyllis. Phyllis attempts to moderate her drinking alone in the evening at a time when women get drunk as evening alcoholics. She prepares her drink when she arrives at her set time (looking at her watch), as if using alcohol like a prescription medicine. The playing of cards, getting dinner, trying to make it tastier, spitting it out and trashing it, then having her timed drink, then eventually looking into a crystal ball might have been shortened.
But this is Martha’s imagined view of what her mother does alone. It doesn’t work as fluidly as the other scenes do. Perhaps this is because none of Martha’s interior dialogue is externalized.We only see her outer actions in silence. Martha doesn’t imagine Phyllis’ interior dialogue because that might require an empathy for her mother which she doesn’t have. It is an interesting disjointed scene, perhaps for a very good reason that exposes Martha’s shortcomings about her mother, particularly in understanding and empathizing with her.
However, Keenan-Bolger and Lange bring the play home with the poignant, affirming ending. For the first time, as Martha speaks to an ethereal Carl sitting in a chair reading in a dimly lit section of the stage, she gives herself a break from internalizing her anger. She allows herself to see what was perhaps there all along in her mother’s opinion of her. She does this after she casts all the anger from the past aside. What penetrates is Martha’s new realization of a Phyllis she never understood before. It is a long awaited for moment of feeling that opens a flood of love between them. Vogel leaves the final scene open for audience interpretation as it should be. Either way, the misshapen puzzle pieces fit into redemption and forgiveness.
Mother Play, a Play in Five Evictions is a must-see. It runs with no intermission for one hour and forty-five minutes. The Hayes Theater is on 210 West 44th Street between Broadway and 8th Avenue. https://2st.com/shows/mother-play
‘Cabaret’ Revival is an Expressionistic, Hypnotic, Smashing Must-See
Rebecca Frecknall’s darkly spirited and remarkable revival of the amazing John Kander and Fred Ebb musical Cabaret, haunts as it moves with frenzy toward increasingly frightening revelations filled with understated, metaphoric violence. With book by Joe Masteroff, Julia Cheng’s choreography, and Tom Scutt’s breathtaking scenic, theater and costume design, this latest iteration of Cabaret, which is based on the 1951 play I Am a Camera by John Van Druten, which in turn was based on the 1939 novel Goodbye to Berlin by Christopher Isherwood, is complex, riveting and unforgettable. With Jennifer Whyte as music supervisor and conductor (sensational music throughout), this revival is one for the ages in greatness, for its performances, its technical grace, its energy, its profound conceptualization and brave stylistic choices.
For Cabaret purists expecting benign, “prettified” variations on past revivals (this is the fifth), director Rebecca Frecknall’s vision will probably jars or disgust. Congratulations. It’s one point of the musical. This is especially so, if one doesn’t want to accept the musical’s messages about how one is seduced into embracing ideologies which promote dictatorships that become killing machines. As in Germany then, today, there are those who would twist the law for their own lucrative agendas. These threaten to establish a leader who is above the law and accountable to no one. Welcome to dictatorship 101, if Trump is voted in.
In light of this salient horror in our increasingly fragile democracy, Frecknall’s brilliant production indicates how such a situation may occur here, as it did in Weimar Germany to bring a genocidal killer to power, while the citizenry watched, then gradually embracing the movement’s martial power, cheered him on.To establish these unlovely, and terrifying themes, Frecknall’s creatives display efforts that are non pareil. Tom Scutt is extraordinarily gifted in his theater design and companion costuming. The August Wilson Theater has been astoundingly transformed into a happening, libertine Berlin jazz joint and cabaret, representative of those found at the twilight of the Weimar Republic in Germany, before the Nazis shuttered them for their filthy, hedonistic decadence.
The entrance to Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club reminds one of a hidden speakeasy as it leads into an eerily lit hallway of abundant, green, shiny fringe that walls off an alley of garbage bins and opens into the heady and enjoyable “Prologue.” You have arrived at the Kit Kat Club, a nesting doll arrangement of outer and inner lounges and bars serving drinks.
If one has arranged to be a part of the immersive seventy-five minute “Prologue,” one is offered a schnapps, the favored drink of Herr Schultz (Steven Skybell in a bravura performance). With schnapps in hand, one follows the crowd up and down a series of stairways into a rosy-pinkish-reddish, maroonish spacious, two-room sectioned lounge. In one section musicians (violin, piano, bass, accordion, clarinet, saxophone), in Kit Kat club costumes and make-up of the era play jazz, and vibrant melodies (Did I hear a polka?), on a raised small stage. Other Prologue dancers gyrate beyond the fringed maroon-toned curtains in the long bar lounge, where one may order drinks.
The Kit Kat Club has a variation of its own “Mayfair cocktail” (in honor of Sally Bowles who hails from Mayfair), and it is delicious. Jordan Fein is responsible for this immersive and delightfully surprising program of drinks and entertainment designed to massage you toward expectation, like a fly enticed forward into the web with promises of wild fun and surgery pleasures.
After one makes one’s way back upstairs into a smaller bar-lounge area, one may order dinner (charcuterie or a vegetable equivalent), and a bottle of champagne or wine, etc., and there is also dessert. After you order, you make your way into the Kit Kat Club theatrical space, the center of the web of intrigue. There, you find your seats at lamp lit tables close to the revolving circular stage, or at rows of seating behind the tables, on either side, where you may also order drinks. This is a surround sound event. The audience seating is on all sides, with the orchestra situated in two mezzanines on opposite sides. Additional seating is arranged in the balcony for another exquisite view of the revolving stage platform with risers that appear and disappear, chiefly transporting and featuring the powerful symbolism of the phenomenal, unparalleled Eddie Redmayne as Emcee.
Tom Scutt’s gobsmacking design is wondrous and memorable, and allows for the attractive waiters, which are NOT actors, to move up the slim paths between tables, bringing menu choices you may order (large Bavarian pretzel and a bag of spicy chips). There’s an accompanying selection of drinks at Manhattan prices, which far outstrip the value of Marks in 1929-1930 Berlin. Risque dancers mingle and mix in the audience and cast glances as they gyrate in stylistic modern dance moves, and flit up to the stage gesturing, voguing and vamping to enliven the audience.
This is not your mama’s cabaret. It reflects a cultural environment of excess and wantonness, borne out of desperation and the desire to please, to get someone to use the phone on the table to arrange a later rendezvous which will add a few more marks to a skinny wallet. Frecknall’s creative team are audience directed, striking the right ambience and mood to encourage satisfaction for a fun, boozy time of oblivion, only to be startled by an “ugly” reality.
There is a somnolent lull as the last orders are fulfilled, then patrons are awakened as the lights dim, cymbals crash and the Emcee (the breathtaking Eddie Redmayne), appears dressed in an unlikely outfit for a Master of Ceremonies: wide, knee-length leather shorts, an unremarkable tank top that looks like underwear, and a green party hat on top of red, red, red hair, which is its own costume. The Emcee crouches, hunching down his height to sing, making macabre hand gestures in long, black, thin gloves. He gains your curious trust as he leads you to the center of the web and keeps you there until the final bow and piercing realization that you’ve witnessed much of the prelude to what is going on in fragile democracies today.
Redmayne’s performance is mesmerizing, not because he is sinister, unemotional, or automatonish like other Emcees, who have gone before him. Nor is his flamboyance pushing it to the edge with star quality gay evocations. Redmayne’s sexuality is overshadowed by his stark determination and intention to be the consummate host and director of the audience’s will, which they should just give over to him obediently, like the Nazis gradually captured the will of the German people who stayed. (the fate of Fraulein Schneider, scene stealer Bebe Neuwirth, in “What Would You do”). With astounding presence, Redmayne personifies a quixotic, soul deformed character. He is internally debilitated and lost as are the Kit Kats and headliner, Sally Bowles (Gayle Rankin). Those who are most lost and broken find political movements and cults appealing and join them.
Indeed, in Frecknall’s production underneath the excess and the raucous dance numbers and “shouting,” it is clear why the soul broken, Kit Kats and Sally Bowles eventually embrace the glamor of Nazi strength and power, despite the terrifying violence behind it. This is reflected in the costume design in Act II, when the entire cast (except those who reject the Nazis), dons light brown suits reflective of fascism’s brown shirts until Hitler gained complete control and went over to the colors black and grey.
Wearing the same light brown suits, unified in belief and purpose, the Kit Kats signify they have put aside their individuality, uniqueness and inferiority, displayed in all its tawdriness and extremities in Act I, as they go around in circles on the stage singing and dancing to earn their keep. The costuming of Act II reveals they are united as part of something bigger than themselves that makes them feel empowered and confident. Sally Bowles craves such empowerment in Act I. She sings to Cliff that she was always “a loser,” and that “maybe this time I’ll win,” after agreeing to hook up with writer Clifford Bradshaw (Ato Blankson Wood). Gayle Rankin sings with soulful heart in a style appropriately different from her frenetic, zany cabaret persona.
Frechnall’s vision of the brown suits shows that the Kit Kats, Sally and the Emcee have embraced Nazi ideology and behavior. It is why the Kit Kats sing aggressively at the conclusion, losers singing for low wages in a seedy jazz joint no more. Triumphant at the “Finale,” the Emcee conducts his brown suit troop band as he sings, “the girls are beautiful.” Their beauty signifies they fit in to the “Master Race ideal. Marching as he directs them, we realize they support the fascists accepting the violent aggression against anyone who would disagree, and call that ideal “ugly” and horrible.
In Act I, all of the players we meet inside and outside the Kit Kat Club are crippled souls who are unaware, purposeless, misdirected and scrounging for their livelihood. The exceptions are Clifford Bradshaw (Ato Blankson-wood), Fraulein Schneider (Bebe Neuwirth provides the phenomenal contrast of one who is fairly whole), and Herr Schultz (the incredible Skybell is her counterpart in spiritual beauty and kindness). Clifford, a bisexual writer who comes to Berlin to finish his novel stays at Fraulein Schneider’s boarding house. Fellow traveler, Ernst Ludwig (Henry Gottfried is a friendly, sweet Nazi), introduces Cliff to racy, wild Berlin, the Kit Kat Club and Sally Bowles (“Don’t Tell Mama”). He also provides Cliff with German pupils (budding Nazis), so he can make money tutoring English.
Clifford lets Sally stay with him when her former boyfriend and club owner dumps her (“Mein Herr,” “Perfectly Marvelous”). It is a time when love is in the air. The magnificent Bebe Neuwirth as Frau Schneider is gently wooed by superb Steven Skybell’s Herr Schultz, with a sensual, delicious pineapple (“It Couldn’t Please me More”). The loving, heartfelt union they effect is a joy and pleasure to behold. These incredible on-point actors’ authenticity is a stark contrast to the twisted, grotesque, clown world of the Kit Kat Club. Likewise, Clifford develops a sexual relationship with Sally which encourages both of them for a time until events shift.
The only ones who don’t establish bonds of love are the Kit Kat performers and the Emcee, however, they are open to establishing a greater bond with a political evil spirit that is whipping through the Weimer Republic and ends up at the door of the Emcee, who uncharacteristically appears and without gestures, contortions and antic party costume, stands straight and tall, clothed in a robe. I was amazed at Redmayne’s height after his crouching, slouching postures.
Standing, no longer in the persona of the Emcee, he sings as himself-the anonymous person who portrays the Emcee-whose name we never learn. He’s obviously a representative of the “everyperson.” What he sings is more frightening than what he sings in his role as Emcee at the Kit Kat Club. But I must take a moment to elucidate Frechnall’s striking “before” and “after” and difference between the songs in Act I and Act II regarding their ambience and the behavior of the Kit Kats, Sally and the Emcee. The changes are significant and give rise to understanding why and how the “everyperson” in the Weimar Republic did nothing to stop the Nazi rise to power.
Initially, when the Kit Kats and Emcee appear for their opening song of “welcome” and “introduction to Berlin,” they perform individualistically and are their own “characters,” with stylized moves, costumes and presentations thanks to Julia Cheng’s choreography and Scutt’s costume design. Whether one describes the cabaret scenes as expressionistic or Brechtian, they are weirdly entrancing, strangely removed and objectified. They are masked with Guy Common’s make-up and Sam Cox’s excellent wigs & hair design, covering up the soul infirmities of these individuals who are scrambling for chump change in this seedy club, that can’t afford a more beautiful, divine “decadence”.
Their costumes are not “polished” or “uniform.” The Emcee is not in a tux and tails and top hat. Altogether, their appearance is one level above rag tag, thrown together with party hats. Sally’s “fur” is hardly that; it’s a dyed light turquoise-mint green, massive fluff piece. To state this club and its owner are scrambling is an understatement. But inside it is warm, and the drinks, dancing and atmosphere says “leave your troubles outside.” All the better to anesthetize you out of your money. The irony and conceit is fabulous. Eventually, the troubles in the form of Nazism will arrive and intensify, as asserted at the “Finale.”
Redmayne’s Emcee is the epitome of the Kit Kats’ leader. His gestures, his hands in black gloves are claw-like, opening and closing, pointing. His body is hunched and at times twisted. The disposition the Emcee displays in “Wilkommen” and “Welcome to Berlin” is not only Brechtian it is vampyric and beckoning. In his delivery of the opening songs and “Two Ladies,” some of the marvelous gestures reminded me of Max Schreck’s vampire Count Orlok in F.W. Murnau’s expressionistic film, Nosferatu (1922).
The crippled interior of the Emcee disappears and transforms to strength and power as he embraces fascism when he sings “Tomorrow Belongs to Me,” alone, without make-up, dressed in an unadorned robe singing of Nazi possibilities. “But gather together to greet the storm, tomorrow belongs to me.” Then in the second stanza, “But somewhere a glory awaits unseen, tomorrow belongs to me.” As he sings the Kit Kats place figures representing the tall, straight, martial Emcee on the circular stage as he finishes the song, foretelling of the Nazi’s rise to power, which has seduced him, “But soon says a whisper, arise, arise, tomorrow belongs to me.”
It’s an incredibly profound number, for we note the philosophical and interior change the Emcee goes through physically. Straight and tall he is empowered; he embraces the “positive future” the Nazis will bring to Germany. The sweetness and lyrical harmonies of the song, and Redmayne’s powerful voice and changed mien are terrifying. In the Emcee’s embrace of Nazism, we understand how the desire to identify with a movement’s promised glory can slowly take over one’s intellect and being, beyond rationality.
It is after the Emcee’s adoption of Nazi pride (“Tomorrow Belongs to Me,”), that Frecknall ties in another reason why fascism became acceptable to many citizens in the Weimar Republic in the superb Kander and Ebb song, “Money.” The Emcee arises from the trap below in a striking black outfit whose see through fabric overlays a skeleton pattern underneath. With the chest and hips embossed with metallic beading and a black fascist-looking helmet, the Emcee sings of the economics of politics between the rich and poor. Because “money answers all things,” the rich are obstacle-overcoming winners. Thus, “Money makes the world go around of that we can be sure. (—-) on being poor.”
The Emcee is an iconic figure symbolizing death, dark power and militarization which brought Germany out of its impoverishing depression as Hitler built munitions factories, employed men and built his war machine. In this scene, the simple words and “jingle” of a tune take on darker meaning. All the characters we meet are strapped in by poverty with the exception of widower and love interest Herr Schultz who owns a fruit market. But poverty breeds misery and jealousy.
At a party to celebrate Schneider’s and Schultz’s wedding, Kost (Natascia Diaz), gossips to Ludwig that Schultz is a Jew with money. Of course, Ludwig warns Frau Schneider not to marry Herr Schultz. The scenes following reveal the growing antisemitism (a brick is thrown through his shop window). Herr Schultz dismisses this as “children,” but Schneider fears Ludwig’s warning. Frechnall configures the scene stylistically with power, referencing and foreshadowing the “Night of the Broken Glass,” when every Jewish business was vandalized and shop windows broken. Herr Schultz holds on to the fantasy that he will be all right; he is a German, after all (an irony). But he moves on the opposite side of the plaza to avoid Frau Schneider.
Neuwirth and Skybell’s performances express the human tragedy of two individuals who love, but for fear’s sake break up and move on. We note that in this event alone, the Nazis have won, and love and truth have lost. This is a society and culture whose tomorrows belong to the Nazis, as Kost, Ludwig and the company sing while Cliff decides to break off his friendship with Ernst Ludwig. The writer and thinker sees the ugliness where the others ignore and dismiss it based on information from the past.
But Act II reveals, “the handwriting is on the wall. It is already too late as the Kit Kats’ “Kick Line” led by the Emcee morphs into a militaristic regimented number as they march off as if at a Nazi Rally. With the discrimination increasing (If You Could See Her”), Cliff confronts Sally about leaving. He refers to the danger of blindness and disinterest in political events, trying to get her to “wake up.” When she says the Nazis have nothing to do with them, Cliff says, “If you’re not against all this-you’re for it. Or you might as well be.” This theme that hits the bullseye for us today, is immutable.
Thus, it is no surprise that Sally has made up her mind to return to the Kit Kat Club and leave Cliff. When the Emcee characterizes her relationship with Cliff, singing the beautiful ballad to Sally with sincerity (“I Don’t Care Much” (“go or stay”), she is moved. It is then she dons the brown suit and with the other Kit Kats and Emcee embraces the Nazi’s “tomorrow.”
Rankin’s parting “Cabaret” is sung as a hellion’s frustration at the choice she’s made (the abortion and leaving Cliff), and the questionable options ahead of her. More than ever because life “isn’t a cabaret,” she will make it one with all the fury in her being and end up like Elsie (who partied hard and left a smiling corpse), perhaps, not with a smile on her face. However, Redmayne’s Emcee has a smile on his face as he directs the militaristic “Finale,” all suggestive, risque Kit Kat behavior disappeared. Dressed in the brown suits, the Kit Kats follow regimented movements. All have embraced the Nazis in a stark horrifying sameness. They’ve sacrificed their gorgeous, crippling individuality for the Nazi nationalism and the greater “good.” They’ve accepted fascism which victimizes, ridicules and scape goats the weak.
Those of the Kit Kat Club follow fascism’s hope. That hope, however, bellicose, is easier to accept than the reality of living which frustrates in a never ending wheel of misfortune going around in circles, going nowhere except into more suffering. For such individuals, embracing destruction and death found in the brutal Nazi ideology brings renewal. Older Germans like Herr Schultz and Frau Schneider accept and make excuses or allow fear to control.
Frecknall’s vision and tone are extremely dark and sardonic, heightening the original book of Cabaret and layering it for us today in a disastrous, repellent warning. Its macabre stylization is perfect as are Redmayne, Neuwirth, Skybell, the heroic Blankson-Wood and Rankin’s devastating Sally Bowles.
Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club. August Wilson Theater, West 52nd Street. Running time: 2 hours 45 minutes. 75 minute optional prologue. https://kitkat.club/cabaret-broadway/
CAROLE DI TOSTI 