TheaterReviewsFromMySeat

The prolific playwright Tom Stoppard has said Leopoldstadt will be his final play.  He is now in his eighties having been a success since 1966’s Rosencranz and Guildenstern are Dead, an absurdist riff on two minor Shakespeare characters from Hamlet.  This new play is a very personal work as all four of his grandparents died in a Nazi concentration camps.

Mr. Stoppard has set his play at intervals between 1899 and 1955.  At the onset, a large extended family is gathered for the holidays.  A tree is being decorated.  This family traces its lineage to Leopoldstadt where years earlier they fled the Russian pogroms.  Now settled comfortably in Vienna, they are prosperous and well-educated.

The story first follows this family through ordinary events such as relationships, children and business.  The time period moves on to the impact of World War I through the Anschluss in 1938 when Germany annexed Austria.  World War II follows.  For a predominately Jewish family, the plot is not new and much of this history is known.  The viewer, however, will face this broad historical outline in a very intimate setting.

The story naturally evolves from the depiction of family dynamics to the horrors which descend upon them.  The audience is asked to bear witness and peer into a house and its people as they try to make sense of the unfolding chaos.  What does one do?  Are there options?  Were warning signs heeded early enough?

There are obvious comparisons to be made between this period and our own.  The vilification of certain peoples by the self-proclaimed betters.  The throngs of Austrians who welcomed Hitler into their midst with celebratory reverence.  That is certainly imagery we similarly witness today in undisguised fascist-like pro-Christian rallies.  There is a lot to take in here and the play is exceptionally effective.

As with many Stoppard works, there are many lines which are memorable.  In a scene set in 1924 one character comments that “the rational is at the mercy of the irrational”.  Hard to not see the direct parallel there unless you choose to be intentionally blind or, more aggressively, a stoker of racial and religious hate and fear.

Since the play concludes in 1955 some characters will survive.  A three person scene devastates in presenting morally complicated analyses and conflicting points of view.  There is no doubt about what happened or that it was horrific.  For the survivors there is only what’s next.

What is next?  That question felt important to me when leaving this occasionally overlong one act play.  (Uninterrupted sitting for 2:10 in the very uncomfortable seats of the Longacre Theatre is not ideal.)  The first and last scenes did seem excessive in length.  I will admit, however, that Mr. Stoppard deftly introduced an enormous cast, brought them to life and made us confront the demonic tendencies of the human race.

Leopoldstadt does what excellent theatrical dramas are supposed to do.  It shines a light.  Questions are asked.  We can absorb the material and its impact on ourselves while imaging what that impact is for others.  It educates and outrages us.  And, honestly, it exhausted and haunted me.  And scared me too.

Leopoldstadt is currently running on Broadway at the Longacre Theatre .

www.leopoldstadtplay.com

The screamingly hilarious POTUS is subtitled “Or, Behind Every Great Dumbass Are Seven Women Trying to Keep Him Alive.”  This feminist farcical rant bamboozles the patriarchal pigs who rise to power.  Clearly the misogynistic buffoon numbered 45 was one inspiration for Selina Fillinger’s Broadway debut.

There are certainly whispers of other shockingly incompetent men who have occupied the White House.  Thankfully the President is a major character but not one on stage.  This comedy focuses on the women behind the scenes who keep him on track or at least from self-implosion.  All of them are presented as smarter than him.  There’s a nice underpinning theme which questions why the more intelligent lurk in the background.

The first word spoken in the play is “cunt”.   First thing in the morning the President was making a speech.  He incorrectly thought the First Lady was not in the room.  He explained her absence to the assembled dignitaries and reporters that his wife was having a “cunty morning”.  Julie White is the Chief of Staff and her day begins with crisis control.  She is knock down funny as she manages the escalating dramas of the day.

Suzy Nakamura is the beleaguered Press Secretary required to face the onslaught and spin the spin.  Vanessa Williams is the tough as nails, thick skinned First Lady.  I saw the false sincerity of Nancy Reagan, the political savvy of Barbara Bush and the unctuous fakeness of Elizabeth Dole.  Ms. Williams is fantastic in the part and avoiding her path is advisable.

Lilli Cooper winningly plays the newly divorced journalist from Time Magazine who recently had kids and is juggling career survival as a mom who must pump her breasts all day long.  Rachel Dratch is the President’s Press Secretary.  She is described as a “menopausal toddler”.  She speaks five languages and fears for her job security.  This role requires massive amounts of inane physical comedy and Ms. Dratch beautifully underplays the over-the-top hijinks.  As a result, she steals scenes left and right.  Hard to do in this crowd of skilled actresses.

As the President’s criminal, imprisoned, very butch sister, Lea Delaria shows up for a little pardon action.  She cannot predict the actions which will unfold on this particular day but she will relish in the proceedings.  And make us laugh hard.

Finally, and spectacularly, Julianne Hough arrives as an unknown “woke powderpuff” vomiting blue slushies in the bathroom.  I will not spoil the surprise and let you find out why she has shown up.  It is not a far-fetched scenario given the morals of the men who frequently inhabit the office.  Ms. Hough is insanely good as Bernadette.  I would have added her name to the Tony nominations for Ms. White and Ms. Dratch.  She’s that terrific.

The wildly uneven Director Susan Stroman shoots a bullseye here.  The audience laughed gleefully through the ever increasing madness.  Beowulf Boritt’s turntable set is joyfully unhinged as one White House room after another is revealed and re-revealed.  This play is simply great fun and the cast is excellent across the board.

The liberal leaning audience ate up the many zingers such as “trickle down economics are the worst!”  Jokes fly frequently and also hit at truths.  “The only reason we invited Bahrain is to show we give a shit about small Arab countries”.  This play is not political per se unless you believe that women are treated as equals in America.  Roe vs. Wade, anyone?

POTUS: Or, Behind Every Great Dumbass Are Seven Women Trying to Keep Him Alive is running at the Shubert Theatre on Broadway through August 14, 2022.

www.potusbway.com

Overheard at intermission:  “this may be the worst production of Shakespeare I’ve ever seen”.  Director Sam Gold can now confidently claim the crown of worst interpreter of the Bard in, at least, recent memory.  This version of Macbeth is utterly incomprehensible.

I often do not open my Playbill before a show.  In the case of Macbeth, I know the story and have seen many variations and adaptations.  Still running since 2011, the unique Sleep No More contained a killer rendition of “out damned spot” without language only movement.  This show was the polar opposite and the scene was dull.

Many directors approach these old classics and set them in various times with different settings.  I’ve seen dozens and dozens.  The Red Bull Theater’s marvelously macabre Macbeth comes to mind.  That was a riveting reinterpretation.  In order for any play to work, there has to be clear storytelling.  Broadway level requires even more.

After a needed post-theater beverage, I opened the Playbill which contained a pamphlet.  “A Note on the Production” on page one attempted to explain why there was minimal scenery, no major scene changes and actors playing multiple roles “like the theater of Shakespeare’s time”.

The middle two pages show pictures of the actors and list the roles they play.  A synopsis on the backside tells the whole story as if we are at the opera and the language is foreign.  Clearly they know the show is a confusing mess.  It is also an abomination of misguided vision at very high ticket prices.  If you know Macbeth fairly well, you will still be mystified as to what is going on.

Is there anything to recommend?  Daniel Craig is fine as Macbeth.  His performance in Othello downtown years ago was excellent.  Ruth Negga displays Lady Macbeth’s stature but with little depth of manipulation.  The Tony nomination for her is simply odd.  Both actors are overshadowed by the lack of focus in the staging and the storytelling.

Sam Gold’s King Lear a number of years ago was awful too.  Glenda Jackson was the victim then.  He did a wildly controversial The Glass Menagerie with Sally Field that many hated.  I actually like that one for its moments of risk taking excellence despite its bizarro staging.  I will think hard before seeing another show he directs.  The money will likely be better spent elsewhere.

That’s enough to say on this one.  A hard pass for all, including fans of these accomplished stars.

Macbeth is running on Broadway at the Longacre Theatre through July 10, 2022.

www.macbethbroadway.com

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Imagine a world where politicians stand up and lie to your face.  Oh, that’s not really too hard, I know.  Thunder, lightning and heavy rains set an ominous tone.  The power flicks on and off.  Imagine a place where the infrastructure is dated and faulty.  The Minutes is firmly placed in today’s America.  Playwright Tracy Letts demands that we look into the mirror.  It is beyond cracked.

The town council in Big Cherry meets weekly.  Mr. Peel (Noah Reid; Schitt’s Creek) missed the previous meeting due to his mother’s funeral.  Apparently something transpired and Mr. Carp (Ian Barford, Linda Vista) is no longer on the council.  The elected officials arrive with their socially awkward occasionally cringeworthy banter and their personal agendas.  No one will tell Mr. Peel what happened last week.

The meeting begins.  Ms. Johnson (Jessie Mueller; Beautiful, Waitress) is the clerk.  She takes attendance forgetting to leave out Mr. Carp’s name in the roll call.  The elephant is in the room but only Mr. Peel seems focused on it.  Next item on the agenda is the reading of the minutes from the previous week.  That should provide some clarity but the minutes from two weeks ago are read instead.  Why?  What is being hidden?

From this premise, Mr. Letts hilariously bludgeons an enormously wide ranging series of targets.  On a basic level, the inanity of meetings and Robert’s Rules of Order are taken to task for their ability to empower subterfuge.  Is that a motion or a comment?  You don’t have the floor.  Let’s praise how the town’s football team did last week (yes, written in the minutes).

The committee members themselves are recognizable.  There’s the octogenarian (Austin Pendleton, priceless) who is focused on the now departed councilmember’s much better parking space.  At one point he utters, “I assure you I have no idea what is happening”.  Also present is the wealthy white woman of privilege (Blair Brown; Copenhagen) who has been on the council more than thirty years.  She’s so baked in her conservative past that I suspect the term white privilege is unbeknownst to her.

Other assorted members include a potentially corrupt Sheriff (Jeff Still; To Kill a Mockingbird), a sycophantic imbecile (Cliff Chamberlain, Superior Donuts), a spastically ditzy keeper of the rules (Sally Murphy, a tad overwrought).  Two councilmen (K. Todd Freeman, Danny McCarthy) have self-dealing business before the committee.  All of this foolery is comedy meant to mercilessly mock our government (at every level).

This being America, however, the objects of Mr. Letts’ jibes are as big as the founding of our nation.  Lies perpetrated to tell a preferred story rather than the truth.  In this play – and sadly – in our society truth is a inconvenience which must be aggressively thwarted.

The dialogue contains chestnuts like “righteous indignation is a cheap perfume”.  The play cloaks itself in realism, adds in delicious dollops of farce and does not hesitate to luxuriate in mystical symbolism.  I could tell after it ended not everyone digested those missing minutes as powerfully intense as I did.

Here are things The Minutes stirred in my mind.  Book banning.  The denial of critical race theory.  Christian embracement of machine guns.  Preferred religions.  The big election lie.  Political bribery masking as campaign funds.  The dead wood of no term limits.  The founding of America.  Violence as the soul of a nation.  Violence as a soul of a species.  Just to name a few.

The ending of this play left me to consider that Mr. Letts has a darker worldview that I do.  He posits that our generational lifecycles – now firmly baked into our psyches for hundreds if not thousands of years – are inevitably marbleized or even metastasized.  I, potentially idiotically, hold out hope.  The thinker in me, however, supposes this playwright is probably right.

One more thing.  Fittingly Mr. Letts portrays the truth-hiding Mayor in this well directed (Anna D. Shapiro) production filled to the brim with accomplished actors.

The Minutes from Chicago’s Steppenwolf Theatre is playing on Broadway at Studio 54 through July 24, 2022.

www.theminutesbroadway.com