Category Archives: Off Broadway
‘The Hard Problem’ by Tom Stoppard at Lincoln Center Theater, Reviewing a Profound Work
Chris O’Shea, Adelaide Clemens in ‘The Hard Problem,’ by Tom Stoppard, directed by Jack O’Brien, Lincoln Center Theater (Paul Kolnik)
The Hard Problem by Tom Stoppard initially premiered at London’s National Theatre in 2015. Since then, Stoppard tweaked the play. Director Jack O’Brien has given it another rendering for its New York presentation at the Lincoln Center Theater’s Mitzi E. Newhouse. The production intrigues, heavy with scientific and philosophical intent. When the epiphany arrives at the conclusion, heartfelt emotions stir us. Then we marvel at how Stoppard threaded the interplay of scenes and characterizations into a lovely fabric of hope and the culmination of faith’s efficacy.
As with all Stoppard’s plays, The Hard Problem deals with questions. These include questions about existence, faith, fate vs. coincidence, goodness vs. evil and divinity. He shores up these questions against the backdrop of current scientific debates about the brain vs. consciousness which encompasses what characters refer to as “The Hard Problem.” Indeed, neuroscientists suggest the brain creates consciousness. On the other hand some believe that existence may be characterized by the reverse, that consciousness creates humanity. This latter theory borders on intelligent design, that a greater consciousness formulated the universe and all that it encompasses in its beautifully coherent, complex and infinite display..
Of course much of science opposes the notion of Intelligent Design. And Stoppard presents the thesis antitheses continuum not only in the central questions of the play, but in his extrapolation of themes which playfully present various characters’ “take” on “the hard problem.”
As a result we are led to consider the possibilities of our existence through Stoppard’s sly, humorous perspective. For example one concept posited is that a human being is just a mechanism, a machine whose every cell function can be recorded via empirical data. Thus, after millennia, the evolution of the carbon life forms that currently exist, results from self-dealing and self-interest. Evolution and the idea of machine body survival relies on evolutionary instinct and egocentric action to preserve oneself and one’s species.
Adelaide Clemens (foreground) with Eshan Bajpay (left) and Robert Petkoff, in’The Hard Problem,’ by Tom Stoppard, directed by Jack O’Brien, Linclon Center Theater (Paul Kolnik)
The response to the computer model of existence can easily be breached by the aspect of consciousness. For example where does feeling and emotion come from, our thoughts brewing in the “mind”? Those do not show up on any brain scan or measurement. Science has no answer for what “the mind” and “consciousness” are. It cannot be measured on brain scans when folks in a coma or death states show no brain activity. Yet, if they have come back from that state (and many have) with incredible stories to tell about what happened “over there,” neuroscientists cannot adequately answer with proof. (For a further discussion of this check out the author Eben Alexander.) Looped into these arguments are discussions of ethics and morality, the desire to be good versus the impulse to trod on others to advance In consciousness, where do the impulses toward “ethics” and “morality” generate from when they do appear in human behavior? Do any of us act with altruism? Or is self-benefit the sum total of our “machine” behaviors?
The questions are heady. But Stoppard humorously frames them with events which illustrate the arguments as the characters’ behaviors and actions set them in motion.
As the play opens graduate student Hilary (Adelaide Clemens), and her maths tutor, Spike (Chris O’Shea), debate the impulses of egoism versus altruism, as a preamble to her receiving math help. Hilary has applied for a research slot with The Krohl Institute for Brain Science. Spike reviews the maths on the model she plans to submit in her application. After they have sex, Spike notes that Hilary prays. As a scientist and atheist, he remains shocked that she believes in God. Quips fly back and forth with a brief debate of His existence.
Robert Petkoff (foreground) and Adelaide Clemens in ‘The Hard Problem,’ written by Tom Stoppard, directed by Jack O’Brien, Lincoln Center Theater (Paul Kolnik)
Then Hilary raises “the hard problem” of consciousness. Unable to counter argue adequately, Spike diverts the conversation to helping her with her math. However, they continue to quip about morality, goodness, parenting, mother-love as Spike responds to her presentments with scientific Darwinian explanations for each. She leaves Spike with two comments which slide over him, but we remember for future reference. One thing she prays to God for is forgiveness and her prayers help her. Also, she affirms that to get this plum research position at The Krohl Institute, she needs a miracle.
In these initial scenes reside the conflicts and themes of The Hard Problem. As the intriguing events develop, we note how the characters highlight aspects of Spike and Hilary’s arguments. And as situations spool throughout the play, Stoppard demonstrates the callow, self-serving ethics of the scientific set, loosed from morality, ethics and concerns about divinity or consciousness. Indeed, as they unleash themselves upon the culture, we understand the value of their scientific perspective not “looking for” proof or adequate explication of consciousness. For the utility of humans as machine-like forgoes any measure of dealing with them in a way which is “consciously” kind, decent, moral, ethical, etc.
On the other hand, Hilary and those who believe in being good and evolving toward altruistic behavior, act with noble intentions and equanimity toward others. Of course some of the characters appear to manifest both altruistic and egoistic behaviors in a strange schizoid pattern. An acute example of this is in Stoppard’s characterization of Jerry Krohl, the owner of Krohl Capital and the chief founder of non-profit Krohl Institute for Brain Science.
(L to R) Jon Tenney and Katie Beth Hall in ‘The Hard Problem,’ by Tom Stoppard, directed by Jack O’Brien at Lincoln Center Theater, Mitzi E. Newhouse (Paul Kolnik)
Those in agreement with the machine aspect of existence are Amal (Eshan Bajpay), a mathematician, who adheres to Spike’s scientific perspective as does Urusla (Tara Summers). Each shows more than a share of egoism and a lack of fulfillment within. Leo (Robert Petkoff), who selects Hilary for the research position, Bo (Karoline XL), Julia (Nina Grollman) and Cathy (Katie Beth Hall), manifest finer behaviors. Jerry Krohl (Jon Tenney), compartmentalizes both perspectives related to the situation. He remains the perfect example of a moral relativist. When it “is required” for him to be cruel and self-serving to make money, he is. When the occasion requires he be loving, he is. Of course Stoppard reveals by the end of the play why Jerry Krohl has spent oodles of money on his non-profit in addition to the tax deductions his tax accountants most probably set up for him.
Throughout the play, Stoppard develops how Hilary’s perspective and her beliefs eventually lead her to develop as a person who evolves productively toward the moral, social good. We discover why she prays for forgiveness each night. And her ending up for a season to do research at The Krohl Institute for Brain Science leads to a revelation that exceeds coincidence. In a beautiful and satisfying culmination, Stoppard validates Hilary’s assertions about consciousness. Indeed, these manifest in a realm of divine goodness that Hilary seeks. In summation the miraculous finds sway in her life to bring comfort and peace.
That she receives what she prays for appears indeed miraculous against the backdrop of the machine perspectives of science that dismiss a deep understanding of the mind and consciousness. This is no spoiler alert. You will just have to see the production to engage with Stoppards’s humor amidst the profound, the philosophical, the divine.
(L to R): Karoline Xu and Adelaide Clemens in ‘The Hard Problem,’ written by Tom Stoppard, directed by Jack O’Brien, Lincoln Center Theater (Paul Kolnik)
In portraying Hilary, Adelaide Clemens reveals an iron vulnerability and truthful innocence. She smacks down Spike’s manipulations with assurance. She portrays Stoppard’s characterization of Hilary’s strength of will, her openness to the universe, her belief without religious dogma spilling out obtrusively. Clemens’ Hilary is becoming what she intends to be, an empathetic, good individual. We root for Clemens’ Hilary throughout the production. When the blessings come to Hilary, we celebrate with her and are deeply moved.
The ensemble adroitly shepherded by director Jack O’Brien work admirably as Hilary’s foils. O’Shea’s Spike and Bajpay’s Amal remain as the ballast for the arguments and actions presented.
Tenney’s Krohl intrigues with his perfect admixture of kindness with his daughter and cruelty with his underlings. He epitomizes the dark money forces as the ultimate operator of Krohl Capital whose billions come at the expense of others. As a symbol he represents most of the uber wealthy in our culture and reveals how they function. They compartmentalize morality, ethics, love, family. Finely tuning their rapacious greed and harmful, sweeping policies that impair and destroy the lives of many, they turn a blind eye to the results of their behaviors. Like fascism everywhere, they negotiate their own vacuous logic and get others to “buy in.”
Ironically, the scientific culture absent morality, ethics, goodness, absent the nod of assent toward the greater search for a comprehension of “mind,” and “consciousness” can be used as the very “irrational rationale” which justifies harmful sweeping policies set in motion by the uber wealthy and in the processes they employ to accumulate wealth. The perspective of the “machine” view of humanity nullifies the search for the divine in our lives and the acknowledgement that we can be self-less and evolving toward altruism. Instead, that perspective gives a green light for abuse and every attenuating impulse that foments human rights violations.
Stoppard, once again posits this conundrum of consciousness vs. the machine-body model in a pleasing way. The questions his characters raise manifest “the hard problem,” and exemplify, though some have suggested this is too “talky.” However, Stoppard offsets this by revealing the moral implications of the debate while we watch the characters follow their own journeys. Ultimately, we “get” where the dominoes fall for all for the principals, and we rally for those whose humanity and reliance on the “ethereal” compels us. As Stoppard uplifts us away from mechanical, how can we not empathize with Hilary and embrace her noble impulses. Hers is an affirmation of the soul’s flight toward the divine.
The play is one of Stoppard’s most lucid (I know many may disagree with me on this) and most uplifting. Especially in its final culmination, the power of Hilary’s revelation allows us to soar with her on the wings of joy. Our feelings release into the substance of what we seek with her. And it suits for the season.
Kudos to David Rockwell (Sets), Catherine Zuber (Costumes), Japhy Weideman (Lighting), Marc Salzberg (Sound), Bob James (Original Music).
The Hard Problem runs with no intermission at Lincoln Center Theater Mitzi E. Newhouse Theater, until 6 January. Especially if you appreciate Stoppard, do not miss this revelatory new work. You can purchase tickets at their website.
Tulis McCall in ‘At Your Service,’ Directed by Austin Pendleton
Tulis McCall at Pangea, ‘At Your Service: Advice From a Woman Who Knows Better,’ directed by Austin Pendleton (Betsyann Faiella)
Whenever Tulis McCall performs I make it a point to stop by and catch her show if I can. I primarily do this for the laughs and the uplift. Watching her top off her crowd work with original riffs and exquisite pacing and delivery, I receive a healing. I completely identify with her wisdom about sex, male machismo, the mirror, hating the “shocking” physicality of aging, and the irresponsibility and obliviousness of youth concerning aging. Her humor about the terrifying impact of being referred to as a “woman of a certain age” stings with truthful riot.
There should be more Tulis McCalls around. Indeed, let’s get real: Boomer women outnumber most generational female groups. And of course, the more hysteria (as in LMAO) we have to assist us with the aging process, the easier the medicinal truth goes down.
Tulis’ latest edition from the consciousness-raising joke-sphere is entitled At Your Service: Advice From a Woman Who Knows Better. It shone, as do all of her performances. On Monday, 3 December, Tulis came out with a drink in her hand and advised all of us to join her. And so we did. Pangea’s back-room features a Cabaret/Dinner Club. It serves a nifty menu and most everything alcoholic your heart may desire. So there we sat and laughed with Tulis about ourselves as once more she “let it rip!”
Tulis’ humor strikes with sublime prickliness. About getting older she quipped and questioned. What happened? Like all of us, first she did a few things here – and then she made some statements there. Then came a few other things over there. Then, all of a sudden, ARGH! She’s facing a number once deemed an impossibility!
Time and age don’t work in tandem. Mental oblivion and time work in tandem. And when something, some pressure, some stress, some blip crosses our path, the revelation of age comes upon us like a tree trunk crashing on our heads. We can never return to our youth. This reality, enough to send folks off a cliff or into a bottle of Wellbutrin, becomes the hammer in Tulis’ toolkit of life-bending hilarity. Better to watch a Tulis performance. The only side effect you’ll sustain is laughter, which is good for your well-being. Especially if you are a thirty-something with “the darkness” of aging approaching.
Austin Pendleton, noted actor, director, playwright, and teacher, directed the show. Under his guidance Tulis’ moments of annoyance at life’s regrets prickled with authenticity. Her emotions of hating what she sees in the mirror seemed more pronounced. And her steely deadpan delivery appeared measured, cool.
The bits throughout were great. Some stood out for me. She shared a story from her teenage years about taking a break from life, and the vitality of doing this often. A shattering moment occurred when she was a teenager. She left school one day with one of the “cool” ones, a teen whose enviable insouciance made her popular and well-liked. When they went to a hamburger joint and ordered, the teen shocked Tulis by ordering “fries and a Coke.” She took a break from the routine, the regular, the sacrosanct marriage of meat and potatoes. In going to the irregular, she refreshed herself. The amazed Tulis didn’t know the possibilities of such a “transgression” until her adventure with the cool girl. Then and there she learned the importance of stepping outside the routine and beyond the box.
Indeed, the idea enthralls. Take a break from running around. What can be gained from the accumulation of anything, including educational degrees (how many lawyers have found this out when they discover they hate their jobs?). Take a break from ambition if you can. Don’t go out and buy something when stressed. And those activities on to-do lists should be thrown out, she quipped, especially if one has yet to do them. They will always be present and turn up on another list. This entire segment wowed us because of its wisdom and the stupidity of us not “breaking away.”
Her sound advice resonates in New York City where everyone’s a climber. The fact remains that the just-around-the-corner prize may be snatched away at any moment by an irrefutable fact that no one easily acknowledges: Immortality isn’t the inevitability we think it is.
Tulis McCall at Pangea, ‘At Your Service: Advice From a Woman Who Knows Better,’ directed by Austin Pendleton (Betsyann Faiella)
This became funnier when she asked the lifted hands of those who knew they would die. Of course all hands went up. When she asked how many of us believed it, really? Well, there wasn’t an overwhelming response. For those who fear truth, Tulis has a knack of helping one wrap one’s mind around the ridiculousness of one’s own self-deceptions.
Death is a fascist despot. There is no countermanding him. Thus one must confront one’s own conceptualizations of this despot with courage. So when Tulis cha-chinged this on her subject list to riff about, her funny approach brought miles of laughter. Twerking a blip in pacing, and timing, Tulis walked Death into our consciousness. Then she personified him/her/it with drink in hand, pulling up a a beach chair and sitting next to her. It may be my faulty memory, but Death should come calling with champagne or a martini. However, perhaps it was because I reached the end of my drink that I thought Tulis imagined him with one, too.
In any case that witty personification slays the fear and terror of death’s association. Maybe it’s because I am chilled by the horrors of Death characterized as skulls, gruesome Scream masks, and animated skeletons. So imagining Death in a beach chair suited me fine. And what I loved even more was that Tulis gave Death marching orders. Not ready to go, yet!!! Neither am I. And neither is anyone else, I imagine. The next time fears of Death poke their heads around the corner and try to dominate, I will throw a beach ball at them and picture Tulis’ absurdist personification of Death sipping a gin and tonic.
For a humorous wit and wag, Tulis is no joke, serious about her comedy as all fine comedians should be. She’s won awards including the 2016 Best Standup Award for Are You Serious? – A Woman of a Certain Age Inquires and the 2015 Best Storytelling Script Award from United Solo.
There are only three times the word “awesome” can be used, she told us. Having multiple orgasms is one. She discussed how young people refer to “women of a certain age” as “dear,” like an epithet. She has the perfect solution for correcting the gun problems in our country. I absolutely doubled over with belly laughs as she “took us to the visuals.” Her riffs about mirrors add up to a time in the funhouse. Her observations about our lives being a numbers game ring with wisdom. Indeed, she has become my expert about how to do a Walkabout in our culture as “a woman of a certain age.” This includes an addendum about how we didn’t get there, though everyone else thinks we’re past it.
Tulis McCall’s show at Pangea directed by Austin Pendleton ended the same evening it began, after about an hour and one-half. She will be performing at various venues. Watch out for notifications. In this time of raging White House infirmities, take a Tulis McCall break. You’ll be happy you did.
‘Clueless, The Musical,’ Presented by The New Group
center L-R: Zurin Villanueva, Dove Cameron and cast in “Clueless, The Musical,” a world premiere Off-Broadway production, from The New Group, at The Pershing Square Signature Center. (Monique Carboni)
Clueless, The Musical is a “blast from the past.” The opening projections flash photographs of people we associate with the 1990s (Bill Clinton, the Baldwins, etc.). A voice-over and vocals by Cher (Dove Cameron), her maid and others sing the song (Beautiful Life) from Ace of Base’s The Sign. The sweet, gorgeous teenage Cher, sums up her privilege, happiness and the fun of her “Beautiful Life,” with enthusiasm and hopefulness. Heckerling wrote and directed the beloved film Clueless, the basis for this Off-Broadway musical presented by The New Group and directed by Kristin Hanggi. Heckerling also contributed with lyrics.
The production in its world premiere is splendid! Especially if you love the film Clueless, you must see Clueless, The Musical. Truly, the music, dancing and spot-on singing by the principals adds to the exuberance, excitement and energy of the original story and characters.
The film Clueless was a smash comedy hit which still stands today because of the superb acting, tight screenplay and Heckerling’s clever, tongue-in-cheek direction. At the time of the film we enjoyed ranking on the Beverly Hills lifestyles of the rich and not so famous kids. Gritty New Yorkers riffed about their asinine assumptions, expectations and privileged boorishness. Clueless’s protagonist Cher (Alicia Silverstone was wonderful in the part), is an airhead, but her saving grace is her loving, generous nature and her ability to admit fault and reform.
Sounds familiar? The plot is an update of Jane Austin’s Sense and Sensibility. Heckerling performed a yeowoman’s effort in morphing times and settings and nailing with humor and irony Austin’s characters and their romances. In her adaptation, the modern events she selects to illuminate the growth of the characters are grand. The same applies for the musical.
L-R: Dove Cameron, Zurin Villanueva in “Clueless, The Musical,” a world premiere Off-Broadway production, from The New Group, at The Pershing Square Signature Center. (Monique Carboni)
Taking her successful film Clueless and transposing it into a musical, using 1990s music hits and adapting the lyrics to sync with the characters and situations, may seem a risky venture. Why? Many of us are up to our eyeballs in presumptuous rich folks, whose sense of privilege is nauseating. However, those who know Clueless appreciate the arc of Cher’s development, her foibles, her ridiculousness and her sparkling intelligence. As a character ripe for development and shaping, Heckerling has crafted a modern teen with whom women can identify and like, and men can find appealing.
Furthermore, Cher’s goodness is the antithesis of the privileged, ungenerous social set currently in political power in this nation, you know, those who would put children in cages at the border. Cher probably would be working with Miss Geist to do fund raisers to collect donations for the ACLU to help asylum seekers. Indeed, in seeing the safer, purer time of the 1990s, Clueless, The Musical is a relief, especially since our eyes have been opened and we are reeling from Trumpism in a divided country. This production is just what we need to ESCAPE from the present turmoil and chaos, sit back and have some much deserved fun being entertained without thinking about anything politically earth-shattering.
Center L-R: Gilbert L. Bailey II, Danielle Marie Gonzalez and cast in “Clueless, The Musical,” a world premiere Off-Broadway production, from The New Group, at The Pershing Square Signature Center. (Monique Carboni)
The production jets us back in time when the culture was carefree, the economy was hopping and Bill Clinton was the light-hearted, saxophone-playing president on The Late Show. Newt Gingrich and Monica Lewinsky are nowhere in sight. The setting is a time before Y2K, the Dot.com meltdown and horrors of 9/11. A funny joke from the 1990s? “What is Forrest Gump’s password?” Answer: 1Forrest1.
From the outset Cher assures us in song that her situation is beautiful. We understand that though she is from the upper class, she has suffered the loss of her mom. Well, to liposuction. (This gets a laugh.) Continually, Cher tries to get her Dad (Chris Hoch portrays all the adult males in her life, including her DMV Instructor, and speech teacher Mr. Hall) to eat right so she won’t lose another parent. Also, part of the family is her X-step brother Josh (David Thomas Brown). During Cher’s song, we become acquainted with the important people in her life, her schoolmates, best friend Dionne (Zurin Villanueva), her Dad and Josh. We also meet the various school cliques and learn that Cher is a member of the cool, happening crowd.
L-R: Talya Groves, Tessa Grady, Ephie Aardema, Dove Cameron, Zurin Villanueva in “Clueless, The Musical,” a world premiere Off-Broadway production, from The New Group, at The Pershing Square Signature Center. (Monique Carboni)
If you love the film Clueless, you will enjoy Clueless, The Musical. Essentially, the scenes and conflicts are similar with the same funny characters: the vacant Tai (Ephie Aardema), the snooty Amber (Danielle Marie Gonzalez) who we despise because she is like THOSE folks who are arrogant, privileged and presumptuous. Travis (Will Connolly), Miss Geist (Megan Sikora), Elton (Brett Thiele) Mr. Hall (Chris Hoch), Christian (Justin Mortelliti) round out the cast. A word about the ensemble. They are fantastic. Dove Cameron’s voice, movement and portrayal of Cher shines with adorableness and ingenuousness.
Cher’s friends Dionne and Tai are deftly rendered by Zurin Villanueva and Ephie Aardema, both of whom have fine voices. Tai is the new girl who Cher and Dionne take under their wing. They give her pointers like keeping away from the “grassy knoll” where the stoners like Travis (whom Tai likes), hang out.
The situations rock on. And the events follow in sequence humorously like in the film. Some of these include Cher negotiating an upswing in her grades, the party scene when Tai becomes interested in Elton, Cher’s mugging in the parking lot, the school dance when Josh watches over Cher and Christian, and the hysterical scene when Dionne mistakenly ends up on the Freeway. There is even Cher’s Driving Test.
The Driving Test is a turning point. After Cher fails she is insulted by Tai. But then she has a moment of realization. She must stop being “clueless,” must work toward the social good and turn herself around to be less narcissistic. At the bottom of her attempting to be match maker for Tai, she eventually acknowledges she yearns to make her own match. Finally, her match-making “prowess” pays off. By the time the students celebrate the wedding of Mr. Hall and Ms Geist she’s caught someone. Thankfully, happy endings do occur.
L-R (center): Dave Thomas Brown, Dove Cameron and cast in “Clueless, The Musical,” a world premiere Off-Broadway production, from The New Group, at The Pershing Square Signature Center. (Monique Carboni)
Each of these events are heightened with the music the energetic dance numbers and Heckerling’s dialogue interspersed with the songs to elucidate the action and feelings of the characters. Many 1990s music groups are featured as well as solo artists: Jill Souble (“Supermodel”), Acqua (“Valley Girls”), Deee’Lite (“Groove is in The Heart”), Natalie Imbruglia (“Torn”), En Vogue (“My Lovin'”), Spin Doctors (“Little Miss Cant’ Be Wrong”), Joan Osbourne (“One of Us”), N’SYNC (“Bye, Bye, Bye”) and more. The dialogue overlaps with the songs as some are reprised.
One noted change which clearly is an update occurs as Heckerling deepens the character of Christian. Indeed, Christian confides in Cher about being gay. He intimates it in one song and then confirms it in another song and they become friends. Justin Mortelliti does a fine job with his acting, singing and dancing in these scenes. Likewise, the songs which infer Cher’s and Josh’s growing feelings for each other engage us. The music heightens the ebullient atmosphere. The dancing, vibrant costumes and complementary scenic design cohere to make Clueless, The Musical a delight.
Mention must be made to the following musicians in the orchestra: Matthew Smedal, Charles Santoro, Marc Malsegna, David Lina-Burg, Amanda Ruzza, Adam Wolfe. And Kudos to Kelly Devine for choreography, Beowulf Boritt for scenic design, Amy Clark for costume design, Jason Lyons for lighting design, Gareth Owen for sound design, Darrel Maloney for projection design and Matthew Smedal for music direction. Music supervision, arrangement and orchestration is by Ethan Popp.
Clueless, The Musical presented by The New Group runs with one intermission at The Pershing Square Signature Center, 42nd Street between Ninth and Tenth Avenues. The production closes on 12 January 2019. You may pick up tickets at their website.
‘Wild Goose Dreams,’ at The Public Theater
Peter Kim, Michelle Krusiec in ‘Wild Goose Dreams,’ by Hansol Jung, directed by Leigh Silverman, Public Theatre (Joan Marcus)
Wild Goose Dreams by Hansol Jung, the captivating and uniquely relevant production currently at the Public Theatre, promises no hackneyed storytelling. Its settings of South Korea, North Korea, social media platforms, and individual consciousness meld irreverently and ingeniously. Directed by Leigh Silverman, Jung’s characterizations and plot receive the clever staging and conceptualizations they deserve. Coupled with sensitive performances by lead actors Peter Kim, Francis Jue, and Michelle Krusiec, this innovative work is vibrant and exciting.
Intriguingly, the production accomplishes this while striking into hot themes about virtual dependency. Traveling through disparate settings, we avidly follow the characters, empathizing with their loves, aspirations, and dashed dreams and hopes.
Michelle Krusiec, Francis Jue in ‘Wild Goose Dreams’ by Hansol Jung, directed by Leigh Silverman at the Public Theatre (Joan Marcus)
The production’s dramatization of the ever-presence of virtual reality in our lives becomes one of the annoying yet graceful saving impulses that ping the characters throughout. For Guk Minsung, virtual reality becomes a way, however ineffective, to try to acquaint himself with his daughter, separated from him by time and distance. For Yoo Nanhee it remains the way through which she attempts to deal with her guilt after leaving family, boyfriend, and friends to escape from North Korea to South Korea. And for Minsung and Nanhee it is the medium through which they, like countless others, attempt to ameliorate gnawing loneliness and the pain of grappling with their own inner struggles, regrets, and self-flagellating failures.
The rhythmic propulsion of the internet intrudes on our consciousness like an addiction. Jung and Silverman convey this with the ensemble’s kraks, “beeps,” and 111001s, evoking in rhythmic poetry the allure of connecting with others across social media. The effect achieved is astounding and grindingly inescapable. As a thematic metaphor the humor and “randomness” conveyed simultaneously made me laugh and threatened like a monster.
Michelle Krusiec and Peter Kim in ‘Wild Goose Dreams’ by Hansol Jung, directed by Leigh Silverman (Joan Marcus)
But before this sensory assault, the Father (a wonderful, emotionally varied portrayal by Francis Jue) recalls an ancient process of communication: oral bedtime storytelling. The fable he relates to Nanhee tells of an angel who flies to earth with fellow angels. Her flight robe stolen by a woodcutter, she is forced to remain earthbound. Despite the woodcutter’s love, his care for her, their marriage, children, and growing old together, when the angel finds her buried robe, she flies away. The Father reinforces the theme: If one has a choice between family and flying away, fly!
The myth becomes Nanhee’s haunting reality. And the theme of selecting flight over family threads throughout the entire play. Not only is it acute for Nanhee, whose physical flight from North Korea floods her soul with guilt, fear, nightmares, and regrets. This flight from family also abides as a central theme in the life of Minsung, who remains in South Korea. Separated from his wife and daughter, he financially supports them, living “small” while they create a better life in America against a time he can join them.
Yoo Nanhee, whose Father told her the story as a child, becomes plagued by it. The nightmare myth worsens in her imagination even after her “successful” integration into South Korean culture. Should she return to family? Has her flight put family in danger? To stem the tide of anxiety when a conversation with her Father provokes her sense of failure in her new life, she goes online. A “love” platform invites her to seek a man, so the next time she speaks to her Father she won’t lie to him anymore about being married with sons.
Peter Kim and ensemble of ‘Wild Goose Dreams’ by Hansol Jung, directed by Leigh Silverman (Joan Marcus)
Likewise, Minsung goes online because he is lonely for his wife and daughter. He cannot fly to them or “fly from them” to a new life until he finds someone to fly with.
Continually intruding on this couple is the allure of virtuality, where one can connect with family and friends, especially if one is estranged from them. Also, the chance at meeting someone on a dating platform enthralls and addicts. Both take the plunge. The effusion of noises signifying the devices humming to retrieve information we need and our comments and responses to what we read or search for online puts us on overload.
Nevertheless, Minsung and Nanhee meet online. From that they move even more quickly to have sex, converse, know a bit of each other, then separate. This attempt at bonding becomes as ephemeral as digital 10110s. But the impact they have on one another remains unmistakable. The reality of their live, physical meet-up, coupling, and conversation becomes irrevocable. Jung’s argument for supporting the virtual as a meld with live exchange titillates.
Ironically, their head-on, live, intimate interaction also exacerbates their personal struggles and issues. With their power of dynamic confrontation, living interactions have a way of forcing growth. Eventually, both enter a crossroads. Though they meet only one more time, the exchange motivates each to act almost in a parallel reversal. One indeed returns to family. The other flies away. These decisions lead to fascinating, unexpected results.
Peter Kim, Michelle Krusiec in ‘Wild Goose Dreams’ by Hansol Jung, directed by Leigh Silverman, Public Theatre (Joan Marcus)
This brief description cannot intimate the profound themes of Jung’s drama, which is both humorous and tragic. Nor will I define the fantastic dreamscape of Nanhee’s imagination, wonderfully evoked by Silverman’s interpretation of Jung’s story using surreal characters. I will state that Jung effectively employs clever, striking symbols and metaphors that the production chillingly brings to life. The match symbol is particularly revelatory and poetic. You will just have to get to the Public Theatre to witness for yourself the surprise, the production’s danger, beauty, pathos, and uplifting poignancy.
Peter Kim’s performance as Guk Minsung builds, turns surprisingly, and blossoms with his versatility. He remains touching and heartfelt at the conclusion. Michelle Krusiec’s Yoo Nanhee reveals a subtle range of emotion. She moves from shock to anger, numbness, and cool indifference. Indeed, her aloofness masks the turmoil underneath. And the dominant, sinister, mythic Father portrayed with precision by Francis Jue charges and gives grist to the other portrayals.
I particularly enjoyed the adroit costumes, lighting, and scenic and sound design, which cohered with the themes, characterizations, and story development. Special kudos are due Clint Ramos (Scenic Design), Linda Cho (Costume Design), Keith Parham (Lighting Design), Palmer Hefferan (Sound Design), Paul Castles (Composer), Jongbin Jung (Korean Music Composer), Charity Wicks (Music Supervisor), Lillis Meeh (Special Effects Designer), and Yasmine Lee (Movement Director). Finally, I liked the water effects and the recreations of club settings. The projections used to convey these coupled with the lighting provided colorful interest.
And to the ensemble, who effectively evoke the technological platforms and digital thrumming that have sorrowfully yet vitally become our lifeblood, more kudos. The ensemble includes Dan Domingues, Lulu Fall, Kendyl Ito, Jaygee Macpugay, Joel Perez, Jamar Williams, and Katrina Yaukey.
Wild Goose Dreams is at The Public Theatre, until 16 December. Tickets are available online.
‘Thom Pain (Based on Nothing),’ Starring Michael C. Hall, an Existential Crisis With Humor
Michael C. Hall in ‘Thom Pain (Based on Nothing),’ by Will Eno, directed by Oliver Butler (Joan Marcus)
Playwright Will Eno’s one-man show Thom Pain (based on nothing) flies any way you like it. Surely, this depends upon that day’s audience’s intellect and responses. Indeed, one focus of the production entails the shared consciousness between Thom Pain and his listeners. Layered, multi-dimensional, this ethereal communication blossoms in the world created between the audience and Michael C. Hall as Thom. Reflecting upon this daunting effort comes a startling idea. This consciousness creation captivates beyond knowing every performance is different because it is live.
The portrayal of Thom Pain in the hands of Hall shepherded by Oliver Butler makes this production live theater on steroids. Hall’s very present performance magnifies each moment. The impact is powerful. Indeed, Hall’s Pain with subtle humor plows into the sardonic and tragic-comic furrows of our own humanity. He does this through contradictory impulses. On the one hand, as Thom he attempts to suppress his feelings and “manage them.” On the other hand he feels compelled to express/expurgate what makes him and all of us human: feelings of hurt. We understand the tense conflict between the compulsion to reveal and the desire to suppress. Daily, we accomplish this with friends, acquaintances, and ourselves, whether we admit it or not.
Michael C. Hall in ‘Thom Pain (Based on Nothing),’ by Will Eno, directed by Oliver Butler (Joan Marcus)
By extension these apparent contradictions in Thom create the tautness we feel when he pauses or pointedly addresses us by the royal “you.” Hence, we identify with his inner conflict to express and repress. Also, the tension helps to create immediacy. For Thom tells us whatever he wishes with urgent authenticity. And his suppressed pain guides his childhood revelations. Is he conscious of his suppressed pain? Certainly, it evidences in his demeanor, hesitations, attempts at humor, and need to talk to us.
Directed with a stark relevance and clever re-imagining, Oliver Butler spins out Eno’s irreverent, perplexing, Beckett-like piece. Thom’s ramblings move into places that settle on topics with uncertain happenstance, like the flight and landing of a wary sparrow. And then Eno, Hall, and Butler spiral the piece in a completely different direction. This is a superlative plot twist, as if a sparrow startled itself unexpectedly, then rapidly skedaddled.
Notably, Thom often redirects back to us. He puts us “on the line” for examination and a silent or vocal refrain as he confesses his observations about his life. At one point during this audience-participatory moment, an individual did respond orally when Hall’s Thom asked for a volunteer. The individual commented about a time he volunteered to go on stage during a Spalding Gray production. Hall responded as one would imagine Thom Pain as Hall would respond (not the other way around). The audience chortled and guffawed.
Michael C. Hall in ‘Thom Pain (Based on Nothing),’ by Will Eno, directed by Oliver Butler (Joan Marcus)
That exact moment with that particular audience and that gentleman remains the quintessential element of theater. It was classic, alive, and immediate. And it will never be duplicated, not even if all the same individuals returned to try to repeat it. Great theater should be about the unrecapturable, spontaneous life evoked by actors. That life spiritually refreshes. It’s priceless and breathtaking.
Likewise, Hall’s performance enlivens, refreshes, rejuvenates throughout. Ironically, the content, the playwright states, is based on “nothing.” So process rather than content activates the audience. But, sans the content conveyed by the consciousness between Hall and his audience, no “life” would be possible. Hall’s Thom and Eno’s words and Butler’s direction find their perfect union in receptive ready minds.
Such production artistry occurs when the key players open themselves to the universe. Whatever Hall’s Thom appears to seek from us at each moment carries us all to the next string of moments in the show. This immediacy, made possible through Hall’s many superlative talents, strikes humor and wariness into the audience’s hearts.
For his part when Hall ventures into the audience and/or asks for a volunteer, we turn on high alert. Hall’s relaxed graceful performance as Thom, never moves to result. He breathes with the rhythms of Eno’s Everyman clown stuck in a consciousness of others. Subsequently, his attempt at movement continually displaces him back to his key hurtful childhood incident. And it sends him to other highpoints in his life from which he attempts to make particular sense. Ironically, these efforts turn into a weird null. But he, Thom, Michael C. Hall so captivates, we stay with him curious about where he goes.
Michael C. Hall in ‘Thom Pain (Based on Nothing),’ by Will Eno, directed by Oliver Butler (Joan Marcus)
The ironic parenthetical in the title “based on nothing,” implies that Thom Pain’s musings before the audience lead no where and come from “not much,” in his perspective. Not so! The very profound themes of existence, consciousness, life purpose, memory caught up among the ordinary, off-handed remarks lead us to questioning joy. With the incredible acting instrument that Hall employs, we become enthralled from beginning when darkness engulfs the entire theater, to ending, when Hall asks the audience the ultimate question. And I of course in my mind as other audience members did made a choice. We answered or ruminated without answering or sat shocked or took on a myriad of audience mental responses to his question.
By the outburst of applause afterward, Eno, Hall and Butler hit their target. Strangely, I felt not only uplifted but cleansed of the last year and one half of angst-ridden and confounding “breaking news” stresses. What a pleasure to communicate mentally, silently with Hall as Thom Pain.
Any day, give me the existential crisis of attempting to make sense of the uncertainty of consciousness, of shifting memory, felt emotional loss, pain and the clown struggle of existence. At least my mind wasn’t being assaulted with the president’s narcissistic pronouncements in a time, place and space which daily confounds him and menaces a majority of the citizenry. After seeing Thom Pain, I am reminded to laugh. If our body politic is at a critical mass of mess, so? My answer to the last question of the play suffices with my laughter!
Hall’s performance will be up for nominations as will Butler’s direction, most probably. The actor’s sincerity and the moment to moment life he breathes through Eno’s words washes over one like a beautiful, clear river. Just wow!
Thom Pain (Based on Nothing) slides through your viewing appreciation without an intermission at The Pershing Square Signature Center in NYC. The production has been extended through 9 December.
‘American Son,’ on Broadway, Starring Kelly Washington, Steven Pasquale
Steven Pasquale, Kerry Washington, ‘American Son,’ directed by Kenny Leon, written by Christopher Demos-Brown (Peter Cunningham)
American Son written by Christopher Demos-Brown is a much needed polemic about what happens to young black males in our nation. If you can help it, don’t be a young, black male. Or if you are, try to stay off the streets between the ages of 13-35. Then, your chances of being shot or incarcerated should be greatly reduced.
To what extent does law enforcement abuse figure in to the above? The percentages speak for themselves. Indeed, this is especially so if one considers that law enforcement regulations and gun laws vary from state to state. However, do not take my word or this production’s thematic pronouncements at face value. Read the crime blotters in cities and suburbs. Sadly, the facts/statistics mount up. And this “in-your-face,” “no-holds-barred” drama powerfully directed by Kenny Leon, presents a typical case so we cannot blink or turn away. Nor can we pretend American Son lays out a mostly fictional reality. If only that were true.
The title generalizes to all our American sons. It does this in the hope that we empathize and understand especially if we are white. Eventually, our nation may become color blind, and there will be no need for the paranoia of white supremacy, Neo-Nazis, and the KKK. Then we will have achieved a miracle of decency and humanity. Surely, then law enforcement will not be partisan to favor white males over women and darker hued men and women of all races in the apprehension of suspects. Perhaps then we will be able to uplift the United States as a country which stands for equal opportunity and justice for everyone. Until then, our presentments express nobility, but our actions express venality and injustice.
Having taught in a multi-cultural district for decades, I’ve known of tensions between law enforcement and various cultures. I can think of one incident when a male student as talented and erudite as Jamal (Kendra’s son in American Son), discussed his experience of police brutality. I saw the remnants of the beating on his handsome face and was sick for the trauma he went through. Thankfully, since then he has prospered in his life and has his own family.
That was over twenty years ago. Overall, the situation has worsened. The rhetoric has escalated, and groups which work to ameliorate the tensions between law enforcement and various cultures have faltered. Often conservative, right-wing, partisan think tanks hold up memes of such groups as fodder for their smear campaigns. They promote antipathy to accelerate their political agendas against gun control and in support of oligarchic nationalism. Also, they seek to divide the populace and incite incidents throwing law enforcement in the middle of the fray.
(L to R): Kerry Washington, Steven Pasquale, Jeremy Jordan, ‘American Son,’ written by Christopher Demos-Brown, directed by Kenny Leon (Peter Cunningham)
And what of law enforcement representatives of multi-cultural groups? Indeed, circumstances squeeze them to an “either-or” choice between a rock and a hard place. Few issues have a thesis-antithesis result or solution but remain extremely complex. Thus, the lack of will and incomplete measures to solve problems remain beyond the grasp of well meaning individuals.
All of these issues and many more Demos-Brown presents in this soul-crushing drama that reminds us we live in a nation whose values allegedly proclaim equality for all. But whose recent government practices establish equality for the rich, privileged and predominately white conservatives. Living in the South, even if the city is Miami, the setting of American Son, if a son is not a white, young male, but a black male, then black mothers’ anxiety living in that culture increases. Sadly, their fears for their son when encountering police often is warranted.
African American parents understand that their son’s age and skin-color provide a tragic liability for harm. Darkly hued skin colors arrest faster than white skin colors. Driving while black used to be a twisted joke. You know, when a black male drives through a white neighborhood, he is there to commit a crime. The situation has been exacerbated and the joke has morphed. Now, if one is riding while black, walking while black, smiling while black, hanging out while black, existing while black, one becomes a police suspect.
The question remains. To what extent have members of law enforcement across the nation lost their moral compass about civil rights? And how has the “use of force” taken on sinister tones toward people of color in the aftermath of protests concerning Michael Brown, Travyon Martin, Sandra Bland, and many others?
As Kendra (Kerry Washington is magnificent throughout), Jamal’s mom suggests, if you’re not black you will not understand the fear of a mother for a child who is missing. And she vehemently asserts this truth to Jeremy Jordan’s Officer Paul Larkin who tries to ameliorate her vocal volume and push back as to his whereabouts. Larkin, the white police officer manning the midnight shift in the law enforcement building where Kendra waits for news of Jamal, appears to be a fine person.
Ironically, we and he think she’s abrasive and “over-the-top.” Of course we do not understand as black parents might understand. However, by the end of the play, our perception changes. Only then do we reflect upon Kendra’s intuition. And we realize that indeed, her frantic, frenzied, fearful ranting and insistent “aggression” against the officers and husband, Scott (Steven Pasquale), speak to a deeper purpose.
Kerry Washington, Steven Pasquale, ‘American Son,’ (Peter Cunningham)
Kendra, as mother tiger stands up to Larkin’s very fine person presentation. Unrelenting, she finally pushes him to give her snippets of information until Scott (also in law enforcement but not a cop), her estranged husband arrives. Interestingly, with Kendra out of the room for a moment, the characters reveal additional information about themselves and the situation. When the two white men speak together, the dynamic shifts.
Demos-Brown to his credit includes this scene to advance the plot development and relay themes. Easily we note how between the interactions between Larkin, white Scott and black Kendra reveal stereotyping, presumptions and damaging social folkways that perpetuate social ills. Such folkways promote male-female stereotypes and black-white stereotypes. And the fears and close-mindedness generated by them become obstacles to authentic, heart-felt dialogue among all of the stakeholders.
As Scott, Kendra’s soon to be X husband, Steven Pasquale’s powerful performance remains level with Washington’s. Tragically, he partially “gets” how his son’s not coming home implies danger. However, as a white male, we note he wears the cloak of privilege. Sadly, as hard as he has tried to place the cloak upon Jamal’s shoulders, his son’s skin color isn’t light enough.
Nevertheless, when Scott repeatedly asserts Jamal will be fine, we and Kendra believe him. Indeed, how comforted we are as he makes assurances. But Kendra’s son and Scott’s son though the same, hail from different backgrounds. On the streets, Jamal’s DNA is Kendra’s. On the sports field, in school, and at the prestigious college he will be attending, Jamal’s privileged DNA belongs to Scott’s background. Kendra calls Scott on such issues. Scott remains in a cloud about it not quite accepting the import of her message. How can he? His background and very DNA establish his cultural supremacy regardless of his heart. Blessed and damned by his identity, he loves Jamal and this love becomes its own liability. The play’s conclusion clarifies the complex truth of being a child of this bi-racial couple.
With precision Demos-Brown reveals the mammoth difficulties in color-blind marriages. This becomes a very vital theme of this amazing and thoughtful play. For however “color-blind,” loving and empathetic he remains, Scott thinks and carries the white male perspective which he has projected on his son’s lifestyle and accomplishments. Of course, Kendra speaks from a black female perspective with great wisdom. However this fact remains. They must work overtime to conjoin their views, attitudes and the chasms of identity or the contentions and blind spots will continue as they raise Jamal.
This paramount theme strikes with fury throughout the production especially after Scott appears and he and Kendra argue about their perspectives and relationship to their son. Scott blames her not Jamal as the reason he walks out on the family. Bravely, Kendra shines her authentic and “no-nonsense,” self. Thus, when she indicts him and the others for their various individual callousness, her retorts sting. And when she indicts Lieutenant John Stokes (the excellent Eugene Lee), as an “Uncle Tom” who should know better, but only soft-pedals a cover-up, we cringe. Yet we do recognize that circumstances have forced the Lieutenant to wear that mantle, regardless of his inner feelings.
(L to R): Kerry Washington, Steven Pasquale, Eugene Lee, ‘American Son,’ written by Christopher Demos-Brown, directed by Kenny Leon (Peter Cunningham)
Though she does apologize to obtain the Lieutenant’s help with Jamal, her words have struck home. To what extent do blacks rise to the level of gatekeepers, merely put there to keep “their own folks in line?” Meanwhile, do they ever achieve the top positions and call the shots? Or must they remain lackeys to cover up the mess their colleagues may create? To what extent do they compromise themselves and add to the racial stereotyping? This is another theme that Demos-Brown includes in this multi-messaged, profoundly insightful play about race, gender, mores surrounding each, social stereotypes, the inadequacy of law enforcement training and much more.
All the while, Jamal never shows up or answers his phone heightening the tension for the parents. When Scott has a physical altercation with Lieutenant Stokes, we wonder the extent to which prejudice has pushed him over the edge. And likewise for Lieutenant Stokes to arrest Scott, how far does his own prejudice take him? The white-black conflict between Stokes and Scott fascinates. So does the conflict between Kendra and Scott as they argue about how they raised Jamal. Then comes the information that pushes everyone toward a new development and possible resolution.
Kerry Washington, Steven Pasquale, Eugene Lee, and Jeremy Jordan hit the bulls-eye with their portrayals. Each creates intensity. This combines to transfer the tension up the line to explode at the conclusion. Leon’s taut and clear-eyed direction channels their energy in a tumultuous build. All play for the stakes which crescendo up and into a mountain of emotions with which we simultaneously engage in, recoil, sorrow over.
Inevitably, I intuited what happened to Jamal before the conclusion because of my own background and extensive reading. Demos-Brown and the cast work assiduously to get us to do the impossible: identify with Kendra’s plight as a black mother in an environment of predators and passive-aggressives. Empathizing with her, one knows what can and might happen. Thus, for me, the ending came less as a shock. However, emotion doesn’t figure in so much as rationality at the play’s conclusion. When is enough enough? The nightmare of racism, genderism, oppression, injustice, inequity of power must decrease adhering to constitutional law not increase. The play is an incredible cry from the heart of love, and it reverberates with a terrible, engrossing, and tragic echo of our time.
American Son must been seen for the stellar, relentless, crackling performances, the tension, the adroit direction, the symbolism of the set (including the rain storm), and the lucid and well constructed play by Demos Brown.
American Son features scenic design by Derek McLane, costume design by Dede Ayite, lighting design by Peter Kaczorowski, and sound design by Peter Fitzgerald.
It runs with no intermission at the Booth Theatre (222 West 45th street) until 27th of January. For tickets go to the website.
Mike Birbiglia’s ‘The New One’ at The Cort Theatre
Mike Birbiglia in ‘The New One,’ directed by Seth Barrish (Joan Marcus)
Looking around the audience waiting for Mike Birbiglia’s The New One to begin, I recognize his huge following. We need laughter more than ever and Birbiglia suits up with his homely, hysterical riffs with grace and aplomb.
The prolific monologist appears to be everywhere at once. The award-winner (Kurt Vonnegut Humor Award 2017, Stand-up Comedian awards 2016, 2009, 2003) revels in standup and theatrical solo shows. His winning productions have included My Girlfriend’s Boyfriend (Lucille Lortel, 2011) and Mike Birbiglia: Thank God for Jokes (2016). Not only does he tour his solo shows nationally and internationally, he finds the time to write, direct, and act. For example, his film Don’t Think Twice (2016) debuted at festivals and received award nominations.
He’s also released eight comedy albums and four comedy specials. And did I mention he acts in television (Orange is the New Black) and film?
Mike Birbiglia in ‘The New One,’ directed by Seth Barrish (Joan Marcus)
The New One began Off Broadway at the Cherry Lane and extended before landing at the Cort Theatre on Broadway. With zany but well-modulated humor, Birbiglia’s jokes crash into us nonstop. Directed by Seth Barrish, his marvelous genius delivers a well-written, beautifully acted, perfectly paced performance.
Birbiglia endears us to him the moment he walks his relaxed self onstage. This every-guy American just wants to have fun and enjoy himself. And he makes us believe that he gets off entertaining us and explaining the most startling, shocking, and frightening developments in his life. The connection he establishes with the audience is well honed, measured, soft-spoken, admirable. When we sigh about the doctor discovering his cancer or his description of painful procedures, he comments, “I know.” The give-and-take stimulated by his responses to our guffaws, chortles, groans, and awwwws bonds us in a weird, crazy identification that we all (males, females, transgenders, old, young) participate in. God! I hope Birbiglia takes decades to fade away. We need his humor to grow old to. He gets us, and we get him. It’s love, and love should be forever, or ’til death do us part!
Mike Birbiglia in ‘The New One,’ directed by Seth Barrish at the Cort Theatre (Joan Marcus)
This consummate comedian gives us his intimate and singular takes on singledom, husband-dom, fatherdom. With the last comes the title of his show. He establishes eventually and finally that he is the father of “The New One.” Of course, this also refers to his changing identity.
Beginning with a symbol that expands to cover elements of his life in his 20s, 30s, and the current year, he zeroes in on his first couch. What Birbiglia does with a simple piece of furniture sent us into gales of laughter. The amazing thing about his aphorisms is that they not only make sense, but we note them and forget they make sense in our own lives. But this is where Birbiglia takes things that one considers insignificant and reveals their mammoth importance for us. Thus, when he codifies his numerous reasons why he loves his couch and generalizes why its better than his bed, we admit: Christ! He’s right!
I just adored how Birbiglia makes the couch one of the centerpieces of his story. From there he lifts off into other subjects, like the wooing of his wife. We enjoy his lovely, humorous observations about their relationship. Happily they can live and love forever after. We believe this for them more than for any other couple on the planet. The two of them have reached a soul union. Birbiglia’s buildup sings with humor.
What follows is the inevitable. Shouldn’t couples who adore one another have a child together? Who better than they to bring their love to their “own” boy or girl. What? In their decision-making about not having a child vs. having a child, Birbiglia shows his nimble-mindedness. The hysterical back-and-forth reflects the beauty and angst and abject uncertainty of a new human being coming onto the planet. This crescendos into one of the high points of the evening. What an ending for a beginning. We identify; half the audience has been there, done that. The guy sitting next to me was awwing throughout these riffs.
Mike Birbiglia in ‘The True One,’ directed by Seth Barrish (Joan Marcus)
Birbiglia tells us how his wife believed a baby would be great for him. Only a Birbiglia could set up this story of how he never, ever, ever wanted kids. Just by looking at his brother’s misery, he knows kids are not for him. Ironically, as he covers the hysterical threads insuring he cannot have children for a myriad of reasons, we know with one mind as an audience Birbiglia nails it. We laugh passionately in agreement! Yes!
Anyone in their right mind, whatever gender or sexual orientation, would never have children and duplicate themselves. Having kids is nuts, wacko, especially now given the state of the planet. And I will add, because Birbiglia does not specify, especially with the current political crisis.
And when the event happens, in true Birbiglia form, what he has foreshadowed comes to pass. Then reversals and twists occur. As with any set of parents raising a newborn, comes the roller-coaster ride that runs off the rails. You’ll just have to see the show to discover whether he and his wife land on their feet or spiral out into the darkness without a prayer.
Birbiglia masters relating his feelings with candor and authenticity. We become his intimates and he can tell us whatever he devises. We so want to listen! And best of all he makes a circularity of the randomness of his life, which actually appears fairly ordered, after all. In any case, I laughed and teared up and the gentleman next to me awwwed up until the standing ovation. What a fabulous, LOL, fun evening. No one wanted to leave. We could have stayed for another hour. But the poor guy had to go home to his baby daughter and wife. We’d kept him long enough.
Do not miss The New One, Mike Birbiglia’s shimmering laugh riot. Cheer yourself for the holidays and especially after Thanksgiving when you need the most laughs. The New One runs at Broadway’s Cort Theatre until 20 January. Visit the website for tickets.
‘The Other Josh Cohen,’ David Rossmer & Steve Rosen, Off Broadway Review
Kate Wetherhead (as Neil Diamond) and company of ‘The Other Josh Cohen,’ directed by Hunter Foster (Cailtin McNaney)
Actually, there are more than a few Josh Cohens in The Other Josh Cohen. We discover this at the midpoint of the humorous, witty, superlatively clever production currently making its home at the Westside Theatre. With a versatile cast portraying many roles and Hunter Foster consummately directing, the show smashes audience funny bones with brio, and thankfully, what a pleasurable way to go!
Indeed, you will leave the theater grinning at the wacky plot which rings all too true. Rossmer and Rosen’s artful, humorous book, score and pop/rock songs push out irony after irony. Plot twist after twist haphazardly propel Josh forward in an unpredictable, crazy cue line of falling dominoes, and all the dominoes fall on him. The pleasing, satisfying result trails an unexpected romp following a single Jewish guy’s baleful time leading up to his dreaded Valentine’s Day blues and beyond. If we have been there, we enjoy laughing at the perspective of his plight. If we have been too desperate lining up partners and dates to avoid being there, all the more humorous.
Fearlessly, enthusiastically directed by Hunter Foster the show sparkles with good will and cheerfulness, a perfect treat for the holidays and even for every day. The show reminds us not to despair because of our own sorry humanity. Surely, no one, not even the privileged and the physically gorgeous can escape depression and unhappiness. However, as Josh Cohen proves, one will overcome such feelings by turning to the lighter side of life. Keep laughing! When you can laugh at yourself, eventually fate turns and circumstances improve. And if one builds on the former treasure-filled losses, fulfillment comes.
(L to R): Steve Rosen, David Rossmer, ‘The Other Josh Cohen,’ directed by Hunter Foster (Caitlin McNaney)
How Josh Cohen gets to this more heavenly state begins in a fateful, hysterical journey after a robber breaks in and steals the stuff in his apartment. Everything in Josh’s life worth having and enjoying gets stolen. Josh (Steve Rosen), and his alter ego narrator (David Rossmer), who always can be counted on to tell the truth, flashback to this singular time when Murphy’s Law abides in Josh Cohen’s life, and everything that can go wrong does go wrong in the worst possible way.
To top it off the crux of Josh Cohen’s angst explodes nearly throwing him into a godless state. When he desperately searches for a date for Valentine’s Day, he ends up with dust and ashes. However, Josh’s alter ego and Josh shepherd us through this trolley wreck with songs, and also they cling to hope with the only things the robber left: the Neil Diamond CD #III, a musical cat calendar and the empty case of a porn video (The title of the video is hysterical).
What more does one need when fortune’s ill wind smacks with crippling blows? Once again the musical’s theme arises out of every classic novel, play, short story, film. When you are down and out and have “nothing left to lose,” freedom reigns! And this freedom of being open to whatever the universe offers drops another delicious and unexpected event in Josh Cohen’s life. The other Josh Cohen!
Though Josh’s tragedies don’t quite rise to the level of Shakespearean comedies, we can identify. For all have feared sloshing in the mire of the “A” and “L” words (aloneness, loneliness). Somehow these feelings come full throttle in youth and we feel them with all the terror and hurt of abandonment, and we are there with Josh, pulling for him lifting up Josh’s smile-through-the-clouds pain.
(L to R): Hannah, Elless, Steve Rosen, Elizabeth Nestlerode, Kate Wetherhead in ‘The Other Josh Cohen,’ directed by Hunter Foster (Caitlin McNaney)
Certainly, lonely, single, young guys will enjoy Josh’s various griefs, annoyances, emptinesses, lows and highs. So will lonely, single, old guys. Josh indicates he feels the heart-breaking gnaw of being without a partner most acutely on Valentine’s Day. Yet, through our identification we have no problem laughing at him when every date possibility blows up in his face. Truly, Josh becomes his own worst enemy. Is he intentionally so lame he wants to flame out? Does he want to feel sorry for himself having gotten used to spending lonely hours binge eating candy and ice cream in the aftermath of his Valentine’s Day emotional massacre?
Turns out, no! Josh’s circumstances switch when he receives a wonderful letter. And since no spoiler alert follows, you must see this truly happy-go-lucky production to find out how wrong becomes right in Josh’s life. Sometimes tragedy can be comedy in disguise, and that might actually lead to love!
I particularly enjoyed the versatility and tremendous talent displayed by the actors. Indeed, they sing, play a host of instruments, cavort and express the joy that makes this musical fly. Kudos to Kate Wetherhead, Louis Tucci, Hannah Elless, Luke Darnell and Elizabeth Nestlerode. Though all the songs sparked vitality, I particularly enjoyed “Neil Life,” “Samuel Cohen’s Family Tree,” “Hang On,” and “Change a Thing.”
I love Neil Diamond. I am happy to see that filmmakers and playwrights feature the spiritual grace and hopefulness of his songs in their work. Just great.
Foster manages to stage this musical with an economy that boggles the imagination, and he makes these characters transcend time, place and space with shimmering brilliance. Surely, without the anointed collaboration of Steve Rosen (Book Music, Lyrics, real Josh Cohen) and David Rossmer (Book, Music, Lyrics, Orchestrations, Narrator Josh Cohen), this musical would not soar. Finally, nods go to Dan Lipton (Music Supervisor/Orhestrations), Larry Lelli (Music Coordinator), Carolyn Mraz (Scenic Design), Nicole V. Moody (Costume Design), Jeff Croiter (Lighting Design), Bart Fasbender (Sound Design), J. Jared Janas (Wig & Hair Design).
The Other Josh Cohen runs with no intermission at the Westside Theatre (407 West 43rd) until 24 February. You can purchase tickets at their website.
The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui, Starring Raul Esparza
Raúl Esparza in ‘The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui,’ by Bertolt Brecht, directed by John Doyle for CSC (Joan Marcus)
Bertolt Brecht’s The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui, directed by John Doyle and currently at Classic Stage, presents the quintessential diagram of how authoritarianism may evolve and devour all in its path. Brecht’s ironic verse shows that the road most despots take escalates demagoguery through fear, intimidation, public acceptance of blatant criminality, and government acquiescence via malfeasance.
Using George Tabori’s translation, Doyle explores with startling clarity how the political tactics of scapegoating, smear campaigns, and bullying terror can anesthetize the public into submission. Doyle’s clear-eyed rendering and Raúl Esparza’s performance mesmerize and appall with Brechtian truths. Huge plaudits go to Esparza’s authentic, brilliantly charged Chicago gangster, Arturo Ui. Everyone who sees this triumph by Doyle and cast will be galvanized. Whether to insure that every citizen’s vote counts or to speak out and redress civil rights abuses, this work encourages the audience to actively participate and strengthen their democracy against invidious government rule by thuggery.
Seminally, Doyle’s production reveals that the core of social and cultural depravity lies in the will of the people. The director conveys this through expert shepherding of the actors. And thematically he threads it throughout the sets, staging, and costumes. As the production underscores, the people hold the power. And they must “resist.” Their participation in upholding the moral and social good remains paramount.
(L to R): Christopher Gurr, Raúl Esparza in ‘The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui,’ by Bertolt Brecht, directed by John Doyle for CSC (Joan Marcus)
Surely, Arturo Ui’s (a satirical caricature of Hitler) rise could have been prevented. The production signals the obvious turning points where the people faltered and allowed malfeasance to spread its rot, even in such a benign business as the cauliflower trade. When individuals in power cave to amorality, they promote a climate where calumny promoted by the media, political malfeasance, and chicanery infect the society and gain a foothold. With the avid assistance of sycophants, toadies, and other compromised, morally vacant human beings, a Hitler, an Arturo Ui, a Vladimir Putin, a Donald Trump gains power. Otherwise, the culture and its supporting tentacles (media, charitable institutions, businesses, non-profits, etc.), would take a stand. Grounded in principles of honor, they would repudiate political, dictatorial criminality with civil rights measures.
Elizabeth A. Davis, ‘The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui’ by Bertolt Brecht, directed by John Doyle for CSC (Joan Marcus)
Brecht’s play and Doyle’s iteration of it reveal what happens if oppressors ascend to the top of the political pyramid, compromising the “incorruptible” (in the play Dogsborough represents German Chancellor Hindenberg) and gaining control. Unless people are willing to fight hard and sometimes die to push back against such treason to the nation-state, removal of the despot becomes impossible. In Doyle’s precisely executed Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui we see the interplay among corporations, criminals, and political parties. Often, they meld into one. When each collapses from inner decay, ethics dissolves for the body politic. Right becomes wrong, up becomes down, left becomes right. Then the autocrat, whether it be an Ui, a Hitler, or a Trump defines what “ethical,” “legal” and “legitimate” mean.
Ever the self-dealer, Ui pounces when news leaks that the honorable Dogsborough (the excellent Christopher Gurr) can be compromised. Because Dogsborough allows himself to be tricked, he disintegrates everything moral and noble within. When he vouches for the Cauliflower Trust in a loan deal gone sour, Ui capitalizes. And he makes “the deal” into a stepping stone to seize power.
Ui’s scandalous story of lies and smears about Dogsborough caves in a once viable business network. Through a reign of terror and murder, which the courts overlook and a corrupted law enforcement upholds, Ui takes over the Trust. Eventually, the town of Cicero succumbs to his regime as he moves to seize all in his path. Parallel to Ui’s rants, Brecht/Doyle describes how Hitler invades Austria. Both legitimize their actions as a common good. How can folks take these despots at their word? Indeed, how?
(L to R): Raúl Esparza in ‘The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui,’ by Bertolt Brecht, directed by John Doyle for CSC (Joan Marcus)
From the costumes to the sets Doyle emphasizes the play’s themes. Brecht aligns each juncture of Ui’s takeover with the historic rise of Hitler. First, Hitler attacks German democratic institutions. Opportunistically, he co-opts German Chancellor Hindenburg the year before the old man died. Hindenburg allowed Hitler to seize the government after political infighting insured that Hitler’s Nazi attack dog Ernest Roehm would be ousted/killed. By the end of the play, Hitler annexes Austria with Austrians’ help. In Brecht’s parallel, Cicero’s terrified citizens (like Austria’s) overwhelmingly align with Ui. Gangsterdom emboldened by the whitewash of citizen support casts the usurpation as legitimate.
Arturo Ui’s rise to power from Chicago mobster to elected political “hero” parallels Hitler’s takeover of Germany without the full majority of the German people’s support. Interestingly, we recollect that Trump lost the popular vote. Sadly, almost one-third of the nation neglected to participate in the voting process. Indeed, Trump’s was a minority win. So was Hitler’s! So is Ui’s. Nevertheless, it is this win which opens the floodgates for world domination as the despots ignite mayhem, murder, terror, and genocide.
Kudos to Doyle and the ensemble whose staging clarifies a difficult verse play full of ironic Shakespearean allusions. Doyle’s set encompasses a large wire fence reminiscent of a prison setting, or a detention camp. Interestingly, this fence provides the wire “curtain” or barrier walling in from out, the playing area. Actors also use the area behind the fence for announcements and as a visible holding pen before their entrances. From behind this fence-like curtain, they narrate the prelude of Brecht’s play. A gate in the middle allows ingress and egress. And the central action/paradigm occurs in the inner sanctum (playing area), adjacent to it.
(L to R): Omozé Idehenre, Christopher Gurr, ‘The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui,’ Bertolt Brecht, CSC (Joan Marcus)
Sadly, the more powerful the recognition of the analogies that Doyle sets up to our own period of challenged civil liberties in the U.S., the more horrifically ludicrous Arturo Ui and his willing henchmen appear. Indeed, Ui’s and his goons’ caged-in, bound-up souls turn maniacal by Ui’s concluding speech.
The actors perform their roles with precision. Esparza’s weak-minded, Trumpian, whining criminal with mannerisms like Hitler’s brings humor and reality to a role often played as a caricature. His Ui is inimically real and dimensional. His superbly rendered arias justify corruption as legal, enthrall, and hypnotize. His speech about faith and loyalty magnificently, humorously, and hypocritically shows the demagogue’s urges to devour the minds and souls of his followers. Ui imagines himself the savior of the people, calling for them to believe him for he is trustworthy.
Where have we heard this before? Doyle underscores this point when at the conclusion we hear chants of “Lock her up,” and see Ui wearing a long red tie. The parallel sickens because it hits so close to home. And then come the last lines to the effect that, yes, the world powers overthrew Hitler, but this brings no assurances. For the “bitch that bore him is in heat again.” As we consider all the dictators and warlords around the globe who glory in terror, murder, and oppression, Brecht’s truths solidify. Did the populace uphold and understand the vital purpose of the social contract to a healthy government? Do we?
George Abud in ‘The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui,’ by Bertolt Brecht, directed by John Doyle for CSC (Joan Marcus)
In a moral, self-sustaining world of plenty, those in power would rebuff Ui in the fictional Cicero. But in an economic depression when resources become scarce, ethics collapse with individuals’ desperation. Economic deprivations create despots who promise to return the society to safety, “greatness,” and prosperity. With the effects of climate change daily narrowing the resources (viable land, food, water) humans rely on to live and prosper, the rise of the thug dictator class threatens more than ever.
This production and the play remain a guiding watchtower for our times, for all times. By revealing what has happened, they guide us as to what citizens must not do. Notably, they must not resort to resignation and disengagement. They must speak out, demand redress, and vilify corruption, even to the point of sacrifice and death. Laissez-faire approaches perpetrate oppression for all, for despots expect no reaction to their appalling behavior. But legitimized bullying cannot abide when citizens resist it. Save for the social contract between citizens and government officials, which strengthens the bonds between our rights and responsibilities and enforcement of government accountability, we are lost.
The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui directed and designed by John Doyle runs at CSC until 22 December. The cast includes George Abud, Eddie Cooper, Elizabeth A. Davis, Thom Sesma, Omozé Idehenre, Mahira Kakkar, and Christopher Gurr. Kudos go to Ann Hould-Ward (Costume Design), Jane Cox and Tess James (Lighting Design), and Matt Stine (Sound Design). For tickets visit CSC’s website.
Glenn Close Shines in an Authentically Realized Production of ‘Mother of The Maid’
(L to R): Glenn Close, Grace Van Patten in ‘Mother of The Maid,’ directed by Matthew Penn, written by Jane Anderson (Joan Marcus)
Joan of Arc lived for about 19 years on this earth. However brief her life, Joan enthralled artists. In every century, they have made her the subject of works of literature, painting, sculpture, film, plays, even operas. She was a darling of the Catholic Church, which canonized her in 1920. And the French declared her one of the country’s nine secondary patron saints. If we view her inimitable character, dramatic adventures, visions, and brutal death, Joan of Arc remains “larger than life.” Indeed, her mysterious divinity inspires us. But it is her humanity that infuses Jane Anderson’s Mother of the Maid directed by Matthew Penn, currently at the Public Theater.
What does a mother (the ineffable Glenn Close) do with a forthright, determined, headstrong daughter? (Grace Van Patten’s Joan is solid throughout.) She pushes back. Until one retreats or the other relents and acquiesces, sturm und drang will characterize their relationship. Anderson sustains the pressure and strain between Isabelle and Joan throughout this intense drama spinning the human relationship between mother and daughter that created an icon and established Isabelle d’Arc as a woman of power in her own right.
Joan’s reckoning with destiny, touches off a veritable cataclysm of agony for Isabelle. Only after death does their conflict pivot and become rerouted in another direction. When Isabelle recovers from her daughter’s and her husband Jacques’ death, she gains her own identity, burnished by the flames of Joan’s immolation. It is then that she charges into history and writes her own exalted epilogue. With persistence and the strength that she demonstrated throughout her life, Isabelle memorializes her great love for her amazing Joannie and acquires justice at the hands of the Catholic Church.
Anderson reveals the mother/daughter conflict at the outset of the play. And Matthew Penn shepherds Glenn Close as Isabelle and Grace Van Patten as the maid of Orleans with directorial precision and energy. Anderson’s logic, economy, and adroitly crafted portrayals, elucidate the women’s disparate natures. Close and Van Patten are perfectly suited for their emotional jousting matches. As Isabelle attempts to interpret Joan’s behavior, we understand the dynamic between the divinely called Joan, and the earthly-minded Isabelle. Indeed, Anderson capitalizes upon our knowledge of Joan of Arc’s canonization by the Catholic Church. At the very least we find humorous, Isabelle’s doubts about Joan’s “wild” determination to “lead an army and drive the English out of France.”
The playwright ingeniously lays bare how Joan must persuade her parents to support her on the divine mission. Following the scripture’s admonition to “honor thy father and mother,” Joan allows them to beat her. She does not run away, nor resist their recriminations, but she affirms her identity as a servant of God. Joan assures them she will remain steadfast unto death, even if they kill her to forestall her crazy plans. Ironically, her parents give her a worse time accepting her divine unction than the “captain up at the castle,” who will escort her to the Dauphin (heir apparent). Because she becomes persuaded that Joan lives in God’s will, Isabelle finally acknowledges the beatings have no impact. Indeed, she may suffer God’s wrath if she tries to prevent Joan from living in her obedience to God’s plans.
Grace Van Patten, Andrew Hovelson in ‘Mother of The Maid,’ directed by Matthew Penn, written by Jane Anderson (Joan Marcus)
This turning point defines the family’s enlightenment and support of Joan’s Godly purpose. Furthermore, Isabelle makes it clear to Joan that she recognizes and admires her piety and determination as an outgrowth of Isabelle’s fervent relationship to God. When Isabelle and Jacques give their permission, with humility, they acknowledge she is in God’s grace.
Anderson’s characterization and Penn’s measured direction of Close’s and Van Patten’s moment-to-moment acting keep us on the edge of our seats. Together they make the reality of her parents’ s acceptance of Joan’s mission miraculous. Anderson’s detailed revelations of her conflict with her parents actually heighten Joan of Arc’s humanity. And it is this that encourages us to understand that the potential for courage and strength is rooted in every human being. However, Joan’s affirmation and belief that her mission is divinely guided separates the rest of us from her. How her divinity is tested against her humanity, then, Anderson sets up in the second half of the play.
Joan’s greatness spins off at this juncture of having to deal with mom and dad. After she leaves her home and confronts the passion of God’s plans for France, her earthly persona gradually dissolves. Through various interactions with her mom both progress along an emotional and spiritual journey. We and Isabelle watch in awe how Joan becomes the Maid of Orleans. Yet, Jacques and Isabelle fear and doubt Joan’s every step. Reluctantly, after her successful battles against the British, they join her to celebrate the Dauphin’s coronation as Charles VII, King of France. Afterward, the situation worsens as the King’s enemies threaten. Jacques’ and Isabelle’s fears escalate, unabated by circumstances, faith or the King’s recognition of Joan’s favor with God.
We discover in the first segment that the actions her parents take to stop her, ironically strengthen Joan’s will. Eventually, her persistence and faith and their final spiritual illumination bring them to agreement, but only momentarily. We see the importance of Joan’s family to her character, and how their doubts and misgivings buffet her. Her father distrusts the soldiers, her cause, the church, the King, the English. And Joan must counter his arguments with reason and faith. Likewise, she and her mother develop as they abrade each other’s wits and souls. From these scourges, Joan’s mind and spirit become tempered to confront her enemy accusers. Brilliant, strengthened, resolved by faith, her answers to their entrapping questions during her trial astound them. As a result in historical archives, her trial and her death sentence appear unjustly ludicrous and political in the face of her innocence and agile mental acumen.
Dermot Crowley, Glenn Close in ‘Mother of The Maid,’ written by Jane Anderson, directed by Matthew Penn (Joan Marcus)
To the very end, Joan chooses to carve out her own path with passionate enthusiasm. Though sometimes misery caves in her energy, she always remains in defiance of her mother’s doubts This courage to overcome her parents’ fears helps her overcome her own. As Anderson draws her, we glean how parental forces, primarily Isabelle’s, shape this illiterate teenage girl’s extraordinary character.
Surmounting each plateau of the suspenseful emotional/spiritual journey, Isabelle shifts between the joy of seeing her daughter’s success and the pain of fearing her injury and torture by the British. When Joan is captured Isabelle embarks on her own path to greatness and individuality. Walking for miles over the rough country through the darkness, the difficult terrain and the fear of encounters with enemy soldiers, Isabelle finally arrives at Joan’s prison. And she insists with the guards that she be allowed to minister to her daughter. Though happy to receive her mother, Joan is unhappy to hear her protestations and argues with her, once more. For the last time Joan calls off her mother’s adjurations to recant and save herself from the fires.
This will be the last time the earthly Isabelle strives against the divinely inspired Joan who chooses death over hypocrisy. For her there is no turning. Close and Van Patten engage us in the arguments so that we empathize with both and even cheer on Close’s Isabelle in our hearts. However, we know the outcome and cheer on Joan for remaining courageous in the face of the coming brutality. Ultimately, this tension between immerses them in the feelings of love, sorrow, fear.
The rendering of the prickly mother-and-daughter relationship is the crux of the production. Anderson’s characterizations inspire us to see underneath the icon that the Catholic Church has deified. Yet, in the playwright’s reveal of these simple yet profound human souls, we learn of another miracle: that of human love ranged against the ineffable love and belief in God which cannot be quantified nor understood. Joan’s conscience is her own. Her mother can empathize and attempt to understand, but Joan must walk this walk of faith alone. And if Joan is to succeed, her mother, her father, her brother may sharpen her determination, but must ultimately get out of her way and let her go into the flames.
What parent cannot identify with the heartbreak of saying goodbye to their child and hello to the unrecognizable adult burgeoning before them? It is a bitter reckoning, more so when the parents must relent and let their beloved child whom they put their hopes in, fulfill these hopes in death. That Isabelle did not argue her daughter’s insanity before the authorities speaks to Anderson’s adroit characterization. For at this point, Close’s Isabelle though desperate, turns to God for His help, knowing it may be to no avail. It is apparent to us that she doubts and believes Joan will die. We intuit that Isabelle senses that Joan, fatally Christ-like, will be martyred for France. Whether divinely willed or not, Isabelle is out of it. This is between God and Joan. And France.
(L to R): Glenn Close, Grace Van Patten, ‘Mother of The Maid,’ written by Jane Anderson, directed by Matthew Penn (Joan Marcus)
The scenes ground the miraculous past, present, and future trenchantly in logic. Eagerly, we throw ourselves into this soul journey with Isabelle. And we hope against hope that God and St. Catherine will see Joanie through, knowing the opposite will occur. Anderson’s delicious infusion of Joan’s divinity with reality and the elevation of Isabelle and Jacques from their mundane existence is inspired! Shepherded by the sterling direction of Matthew Penn, Close and Van Patten enthrall us as they fiercely breathe life into a legend we find hard to fathom. Yet because of Anderson’s craft and superb rationale, we are closer to that legend because we see Joan from Isabelle’s perspective. She is her daughter, regardless of how divine.
Isabelle evolves as a mother mentored by Joan’s calling. Indeed, at the court ,and visiting Joan in prison, she becomes her handmaiden. While Close inhabits this “mother for all time,” Van Patten wears Joan’s anointing and humanity credibly. Through their profound, enlightened and thought-provoking portrayals, we understand the complexity of their relationship and the powerful impact of their love for one another. Isabelle demonstrates great faith, courage, and humility in navigating the pretensions of the royal court. And we become immersed in her torment as she assists Joan through the sham trial and pronouncement of the fearful death sentence. The second act is particularly chilling and suspenseful, driven by Isabelle’s urgency.
(L to R): Kate Jennings Grant, Olivia Gilliatt, Glenn Close in ‘Mother of The Maid’ The Public Theater (Joan Marcus)
Close’s quicksilver acting leaves one experiencing a torrent of emotions. She portrays the affirmative, down-to-earth, fiercely maternal Isabelle as if by second nature. With methodical calculation and matter-of-fact counter-arguments, Van Patten’s Joan extinguishes mom’s reality to justify what becomes unknowable except by faith. Her parents come to know that the tragedy of Joan’s calling is not of her choosing. Thus, they distrust and doubt her for it, not able to understand her dense faith. How the ensemble and the director establish this arc of realization, doubt, torment, sorrow, and exaltation is breathtaking.
As Close works through Isabelle’s evolution toward believing in her daughter, we experience Joan’s affirmation of all she believes in her successes at the court. These are snatched away when she falls from grace into the malevolent hands of political enemies. Both Van Patten and Close are acutely present throughout. With nuanced emotions, each of Isabelle’s intentions sharpens with clarity as the women strike like flint against one another.
By the conclusion, it is because of Close’s investment in truth that we experience Isabelle’s painful resolution, affirmation, and final ascendance into autonomy and empowerment. With Joan’s death, Isabelle comes into her own. The flames that destroyed her daughter’s body kindle a renewed and even greater courage and love in Isabell. It is a love which allows her to rage against the very God who gloriously martyred her daughter with an ignominious and unjust end. Thus, with passion Isabelle will shake the very heavens until Joan achieves through an eternal justice, a public vindication and glorification.
Mother of the Maid should not be missed. It must be seen for Glenn Close’s electrifying performance and for Grace Van Patten’s humanly realized Joan. As for the adroit staging and direction and the superb ensemble (Dermot Crowley, Andrew Hovelson, Kate Jennings Grant, Daniel Pearce, Olivia Gilliatt), all contribute to make this a must-see.
The set design (John Lee Beatty), costume design (Jane Greenwood), lighting design (Lap Chi Chu), sound design & original music (Alexander Sovronsky), and sound design (Joanna Lynne Staub) aptly enhance the development of the action with stylized grace.
Mother of the Maid runs until 23 December. For tickets visit the Public Theater website.
CAROLE DI TOSTI 