This at Playwrights Horizons

Despite cleverness that occasionally overshoots its mark, Melissa James Gibson's play This deftly maneuvers between striking themes which are rarely portrayed with the complexity in which they occur in real life. From Playwrights Horizons press notes, here's an idea of the story:

Jane is not okay. She’s a promising poet without a muse, a single mother without lessons to pass along. Her dating life’s a shambles, and her helpful friends are only helping make things more complicated. This bright, witty, un-romantic comedy captures the uncertain steps of a circle of friends backing their way into middle age.

That summary only skims the surface of this sad, smart, very funny play. Grief, loneliness, the intricacies of old friendships, career, dating, intimacy, aging, sex, parenting - many playwrights would find a significant enough challenge in intertwining just a few of these, but Gibson's characters exist amidst the whole mess, just as most normal people's lives are a daily negotiation of conflicting desires and realities and urges and responsibilities. Not only does Gibson thoughtfully explore these personal venn diagrams, she also manages to raise questions about race, gender, ethics and politics in personal ways that further the story. All of this rolled into an hour and fifty minutes makes for engaging, provocative theater. Though there are occasional missteps in the overuse of devices and flowery language that feel like road signs interrupting the natural flow of the storytelling, overall This packs a pretty powerful punch.

Playwrights Horizons has once again assembled an excellent cast, with Glenn Fitzgerald giving a standout performance as the droll and brazenly sensitive Alan, bittersweet sufferer of an ability to recall any conversation he's ever heard. Louis Cancelmi is also fantastic as Jean-Pierre, an alluringly no-nonsense Doctor Without Borders, who also happens to be French and smokin' hot. Design elements are uniformly strong, with Louisa Thompson's set conveying the subject matter's messy compromise and beauty.

(photo above by Joan Marcus. Eisa Davis, Darren Pettie, Glenn Fitzgerald, Julianne Nicholson and Louis Cancelmi are pictured)

Review: The Drunken City

In the opening moments of The Drunken City, three brides-to-be march out from house left, giggle to each other, and then, screaming gleefully, thrust their three sparkling engagement rings forward for all the audience to see. The rest of the play, like this opening moment, is both refreshingly joyful and maybe just a teensy bit annoying.

The story: Three gals from the suburbs head into the city to drink pink martinis and celebrate one's impending marriage. What glorious bridge-and-tunnel fun! Until the gals get way too drunk, some too-drunk men enter the picture, and suddenly the bride-to-be is making out with a black dude...

--- wait a second. I didn't mean to say "a black dude." I should have said "a stranger," or "a ridiculously hot stranger," since Mike Colter plays said dude. His race is so totally not the point, but my theatergoing instinct says that if the actor is black, it must be because his blackness is integral to the plot. And hey, let's be honest, my own innate racism is playing a role here, too. (What do you find yourself expecting when a non-caucasian actor walks onstage? Discuss.) But hey, white people aren't always talking about what it's like to be white, and I don't think everybody else is constantly talking about the color of their skin. So how fucking awesome is it that this is a play about love and relationships and New York City, and some of the people are white and some are not? I mean, thank god. In fact, as with many of Adam Bock's plays, The Drunken City uses a truly color-blind cast, featuring actors who are asian, hispanic, and african-american without their casting being due to a necessity in the script. To see this group of friends onstage who happen to be different ethnicities is refreshing to say the least, and reflects both the world I know and the world I hope to see. Enormous kudos to Adam Bock and to Playwrights Horizons awesome casting department for this. Anyway.

... When the bride-to-be heads off to god knows where with her hot, drunk man off the street, everyone (understandably) freaks. Through the fish-eye lens of their inebriation, we see that each character is a whole lotta lost, and pretty messy sober or not. The message is ultimately sweetly romantic and hopeful, and maybe secretly what all New Yorkers need to hear: everybody is secretly terrified, it's less scary when you get honest, and it's yes, you will find love. It's a little too sweet at times, and the running theme of utter intoxication wears thin after the first 45 minutes or so. But ultimately, it really is a delightful play.

Now here's the bad news. And I felt a lot worse about saying it before she got really good reviews, so maybe I just didn't get it, but... I did NOT go for Cassie Beck in the lead role. I just wasn't feeling it. I didn't believe her, I felt like she was acting and trying and full of effort and awkwardness and just. not. good. It pulled me right out of the play many times, and was just not an enjoyable performance, for me.

BUT! The rest of the cast is terrific, especially Sue Jean Kim, who is one of the *best* actresses you've probably never heard of. The girl is funny, smart, beautiful, and ought to be working constantly. And Alfredo Narciso is a revelation (at least to me), and gives a hilarious and moving performance that will blow you away. See this play for them, they are the bomb.

By the way, Playwrights Horizons has a ton of cool materials online. You can watch scenes from the play, hear a podcast from Adam Bock about drunkeness, and more. It's fun, check it out.

You likey playwrights horizons?

Cause they like you, and they want you to see Sarah Treem's play A Feminine Ending, which starts previews this week. They like you so much that they're offering you a discount code. I'm seeing it very soon, and will write about it sometime next week. In the meantime, here's the info:

Order by Oct 17 and tickets are $35 for performances Oct 4-15 and $40 for performances Oct. 16 – Nov. 11. Reg. price $50. Use code FEBL.

HOW TO ORDER:
* Online at www.playwrightshorizons.org
* By phone with Ticket Central at 212-279-4200 (Noon-8pm daily)
* In person at the Box Office: (Noon-8pm daily)

Crazy Mary in previews

Crazy Mary was a bit of a mess when I saw it on Saturday night. After just a week of previews, a review isn't really appropriate - especially since I like A.R. Gurney and Jim Simpson so much, and really want this show to be good. So instead of a review, here are a few ponderings on how I hope it improves over the course of previews.

I hope that Sigourney Weaver finds the center of her character, and stops waffling around in search of specific choices. I'm a big fan of hers, and believe she can do much better than what I saw.

I hope that Gurney is able to make some revisions that indicate an understanding of the humanity in Michael Esper's character. Give us some real reasons why he does the stuff he does, or better yet, cut some of the most nutzo stuff. Despite talented Esper's best efforts, right now he seems crazier than Crazy Mary.

I also hope Gurney makes some cuts to the script, which dilutes its genuine funnyness and sensitivity with cliche and sitcom-style jokes.

I hope they're able to find some wigs for Kristine Nielsen that don't look like they're cutting a horizontal line across her forehead. Aside from the unfortunate forehead bisection, Nielsen's performance is pretty darn magical and very worth seeing.

Looking forward to revisiting Crazy Mary after opening.

The rollerskating dream sequence is pretty kick-ass, though.

I had a peculiar sensation while watching Essential Self-Defense at Playwrights Horizons this weekend. With the start of every new scene, I could almost feel playwright Adam Rapp hurling an economy-size pot of spaghetti against a wall and watching it slide down the surface. Some interesting patterns, shapes, and flavors emerge from the muck from time to time, but mostly it's all about watching the waste accumulate in a big, savory pile on the floor.

All the ingredients in this show sound tasty - hard rock karaoke, punk librarians, mysterious abductions of middle schoolers, Paul Sparks... what could go wrong? Hidden beneath several layers of camp, pseudo-irony, and hedwig-like bizarreness, Essential Self-Defense is really a sweet love story about two socially paralyzed misfits. This story itself should be charming - Paul Sparks and Heather Goldenhersh take shaky, uncertain steps towards wooing in an angry and threatening world. Unfortunately, the play is frequently hijacked by ear-splitting "karaoke" (original) songs, an endless stream of pointlessly zany characters (a blood-stained butcher, a swearing, a librarian in combat boots, a guileless russian poet, etc etc), and a lot of general weirdness for weirdness' sake. And without spoiling too much, let me just say NO MORE UNNECESSARY NUDITY! For pete's sake. We don't always need to see someone's peepee to understand their vulnerability.

On the other hand, the play has some interesting stuff to say. The world these characters live in is bizarre, but their sense of something ominous approaching feels somehow accurate in it's representation of the oppresive fear we live with today. The rabid wolf is howling outside the window. Children are disappearing. Something nasty really is coming for us. Rapp's grotesque imagination is at it's best when he's riffing on these fears.

Whatever good intentions Rapp has, they're almost entirely obfuscated by the layers of craziness he's piled on, and things aren't helped by Carolyn Cantor's over-the-top staging. The production lives somewhere between The Rocky Horror Picture Show and a Blues' Clues acid trip. I actually think this could be an interesting piece if it was directed in a way that made the characters seem like humans instead of robots, and if they got rid of most (if not all) of the songs.

If you're the type that can stomach a lot of extraneous weirdness, you might really dig this play. For me, it was a huge turnoff. But hey, it's previews, maybe they'll make some good cuts and adjustments and find the focus. In another world, I think I would love it as a 90-minute two-hander. In fact, word on the street is that Adam Rapp has been tied up working on his show at The Flea, so the show might go through some transformations in the coming days and weeks.

Playwrights gets hip with Essential Self-Defence discounts

Playwrights Horizons is tossing it's hat into the competitor's ring for hippest Off-Broadway not-for-profit. In promotion for their new Adam Rapp play, Essential Self-Defense, they're throwing a kegger for theater dorks (sold out, sorry), and smartly embracing the blogosphere as a marketing tool by offering a special discount to MY readers (and Rocco's, and Jaime's, and... well it's an honor to be recognized at all). Discounts in decending order of age group, natch.

See Essential Self-Defense for $40 by clicking here and entering code EDBL. You can also use the code at the box office via phone or in person. Order by 3/28 for performances 3/15 through 4/15.

OR if you're young and spry like me, you can pick up a $20 ticket for whippersnappers under 30. One hour before curtain, bring ID.

OR if you're really young, you can get $15 student tix starting one hour before showtime.

Rapp's play Red Light Winter was one of the most beautiful, emotional, maddening theatrical experiences of recent memory. This one is about a man who takes a job as an attack dummy in a women's self-defense class, in a midwestern town named Bloggs, of all things! Playwrights Horizons describes it as "a grim fairy tale with generous helpings of rock n’ roll karaoke." Stay tuned for my review of Essential Self-Defense sometime next week.

Review: Frank's Home

Frank Lloyd Wright is widely regarded as America's most famous architect. The houses he designed are open, clean, aesthetic works of genius, but surprisingly unlivable. Though they were beautiful, it almost seems like Wright designed the houses with intentional disregard for the people whose lives would occur inside of them. Ironically, the same is true of Richard Nelson's play, Frank's Home. The piece is beautiful, but it's difficult to discern the human heart beating within it.

Frank's Home tells the story of just two days in the life of the architect, who is famous for his tumultuous personal life as well as his professional accomplishments. The story begins shortly after the completion of Wright's Imperial Hotel in Tokyo. Wright is living in California, where his personal relationships are on a collision course. His two children, played by Maggie Siff and Jay Whittaker, are torn between love for their Wright and a heaping portion of resentment for the father who has been in and out of their lives, saddling them with as much scorn as affection throughout their youth and adulthood. Mary Beth Fisher plays Miriam Noel, Wright's drug-and-drink-addled second wife. Fisher is deliciously nervy and sharp-edged, making Miriam part Little Edie and part vicious viper, intoxicated by attention and terrifying when she doesn't get it.

Though the play is quite "talky," full of conversation about past events with little actual action, it's worth the price of a ticket to see Peter Weller sink his sharp teeth into this tour-de-force role. Weller uses his physicality and impressive-to-say-the-least command of the text to fully embody Frank Lloyd Wright, and it's actually difficult to keep in mind that this is, in fact, a performance and not the man himself. If Peter Weller and Bill Nighy did a play together, I'm pretty sure the theater would actually explode.

The rest of the performances are more varied in effectiveness. I've never seen Maggie Siff before, and she comes off in this as rather arrogant. Nelson's writing of her as part overbearing mother and part childlike daughter of the genius doesn't help, but it would have been nice to feel for her more, which might have been achieved with a more sympathetic, less agitated performance. Harris Yulin, on the other hand, is captivating in the role of Wright's longtime friend Louis, a man of few words but immense empathy and forgiveness. Someone should revive The Three Sisters and cast Harris Yulin as the aging Chebutikin.

I wouldn't reccommend Frank's Home to any occasional theatergoer. The text is simply so dry that it doesn't make for great storytelling, the way I think good theater should. However, there are some spot-on performances there, and missing Peter Weller's return to the stage would be a shame for any regular theatergoer to miss.

Frank's Home plays at Playwrights Horizons through February 18th.

Floyd and Clea update: Ticket Discount!

Playwrights Horizons has been kind enough to offer a "Blog Discount" to Moxie's fabulous theater-going readers. If you read Moxie's review and are interested in seeing it, here's the info.

Order by December 5, and all seats are $45.00 (reg $65) for performances November 10 – December 17 with code FCAL. Additional performances Monday, November 20.

Thanksgiving Weekend Special! All seats $40.00 (reg $65) for performances Friday, Nov. 24 – Sunday, Nov. 26 with code FCAL. Limit 4 tickets per order. Subject to availability.

Order online at www.playwrightshorizons.org, or call Ticket Central at (212) 279-4200 (noon - 8 p.m. daily), or use code at the Ticket Central Box Office 416 West 42nd Street (noon – 8 p.m. daily).

Performances Tuesday – Friday 8pm, Saturday 2:30 & 8pm, Sunday 2:30 & 7:30pm

Review: Floyd and Clea Under the Western Sky

Moxie attended good ole' pay-what-you-can night at Playwrights Horizons, and enjoyed the first preview of Floyd and Clea Under the Western Sky. Here's the Playwrights Horizons blurb:

It’s a freewheeling musical journey from Montana to Austin (with a side trip to Hollywood) when a burnt out former country & western star joins forces with a 20 year-old free-spirit with an electrifying voice. Their meeting and unlikely friendship, and the musical partnership that arises from it form a tale of sweet heartbreak, a parable about finding the strength, against all odds, to keep on keepin’ on.

Well, "freewheeling musical journey" makes it sound a bit too much like Dixie Chicks: The Musical. David Cale's quiet, heartfelt musical (is it a musical? really?) is more melancholy than boot-stompin', for the most part. It begins with Floyd, a country music performer (real country, nothing like what you'd see on the CMA's) having a breakdown, one which results in him living out of his clunker of a car and waiting to die of alcohol poisoning. The journey begins in that very grim place, and chronicles his slow climb out of desparation, with encouragement and companionship from a spunky and determined teenager.

David Cale has written and composed (with Jonathan Kreisberg) what might turn out to be a quiet masterpiece. The music is solid, and accurately portrays the real country-western music world, an admirable risk when a more musical theater style would have increased the show's marketability. The fact that he performs it with such gentleness and humility makes it an accomplishment that other musical and theatrical artists ought to celebrate. Not once does Cale dip into the well of arrogance as a performer or a writer. Instead, his character is painfully shy, shrugging and hiding behind huge glasses, opening up to Clea and the audience one hesitating, painful stitch at a time. His ultimate flourishing recovery is beautifully simple and based in reality, making the play soar beyond the realm of the expected troubled-man-makes-good story.

Mary Faber (Avenue Q's recent Kate Monster) at first smacks of musical-theater characterization, popping around the stage and playing Clea's perkiness to the hilt. This, combined with a few of the weaker songs, makes act one border on tedious, at points. However, as Clea's eyes are opened to life's complications and sadness, Faber becomes increasingly entrancing, channeling a young Sissy Spacek mixed with pre-Grey's-Anatomy-hatefulness Ellen Pompeo (speaking of which, check out Ellen Pompeo's episode of Punk'd... bitch is crazy, no lie). Faber's performance will surely deepen as previews continue, and Moxie thinks that by opening night, Floyd and Clea will be a force to reckon with.

As always, when Moxie reviews shows that are in previews, especially very early previews such as this, the show is still very much a work in progress. Please keep in mind that most shows change, shift, and oftentimes vastly improve over the course of previews, up through opening night, when most "real" reviews are written.

Floyd & Clea Under the Western Sky runs through Dec. 17th at Playwrights Horizons.