Tag: Play

Raquel has a rough life.  In Birthday in the Bronx, her character name is Rocky.  She’s a bruiser of a field hockey player having collected broken bones and bloody scars.  Two noxious sportscasters comment about the atrocious playing conditions.  “I understand funding is tight” but the field is all muddy.  Earlier in the day, girls from a “better school” looked like goddesses.

Rocky’s talent is noticed and she receives an offer to play at a rich school near Boston.  That school is so white.  How white is it?  The hockey stick is even white.  The first student we meet is named Pretty White Girl.  In her opening lines she blurts “audits and yachts” followed by “inheritance offshore” and “tennis camp au pair escrow.”  The language is exaggerated gobbledygook but somehow the laughs do not land.

Even the teacher spouts gibberish meant to satirize the one percent.  She squawks “board of directors heirloom tomatoes” and “Downsize?  Ha!  Investor relations.”  Parts of Paul Hufker’s new play contain quirky satire.  In a world of woke, this story attempts to vilify the non-woke.

Teeth, another pretty white girl, cannot have Rocky’s birthday party at her house because mom said no.  Noam Chomsky might pop by.  Rocky doesn’t want anything for her big day except for her bones to heal.  The pretty white girls play nasty games like peeing in her bed.  The cake?  Rocky wants Fudgey the whale.  Lips insists on a real bakery cake “like the time when Arthur Miller came to my house.”  In a hyper-satirized environment, that joke might land.

Unfortunately for Rocky, home life does not seem significantly better.  Her positive exterior covers lots of brokenness.  Everyone seems to treat her badly regardless of race or relation.  The sting of what might be an edgy and purposefully uncomfortable comedy instead comes across as a disjointed Mean Girls.

The two men in the radio booth take a walk to Kayville Train Town where they let us know, in no uncertain terms, that they are racist.  Wife Nancy is going to make “pink border wall” for dinner.  The recipe?  “Cook green card, real low and slow… where are your papers until you gotta stab it with a fork!”  If anyone does get in over the border wall, “just kill em an grill em.”  That could be sickly funny.  That could also be inky dark.  In this production directed by Michaela Escarcega, the scene falls flat.

A lamb motif dominates this play.  Rocky finds one in a garbage can.  A sports announcer reads advertisements for the meat.  Rocky’s dream sequences feature a Bronx legislator who is represented as a lamb.  To be honest, I needed to consult the script to figure that detail out.  Another funny line appears:  “We don’t speak Spanish and we don’t speak rich, but we’re willing to learn rich.”

Is Rocky internalizing her own guilt about wanting to escape her roots and claw her way, sticks flying, to the greenfield pastures of the one percent?  Along the way encountering giant swaths of racism in the form of white America?  Her childhood roots cloud that potentially ripe target.  Everyone just seems so mean.  Birthday in the Bronx feels more like a tale of psychological abuse.  Her teammates taunt her shouting “rice and beans bitch” which says it all.

Sigrid Wise gamely portrays all the pretty white girls and, therefore, the group scene doesn’t have the impact as it does on the page.  Suzelle Palacios does a nice job traversing the many moods of Rocky.  She earns the necessary sympathy.  The finest moment of this production is the high strung closing speech delivered by Evans Formica, one of the heinous white men.

Sports metaphors, evil carnivores, societal injustice, sorority hazing, dysfunctional families, violence, racism and other assorted topics create a very crowded and confusing story.  Birthday in the Bronx has some ideas and demonstrated wit as read on the page.  This production is far too jumbled and unfocused, however, to make any sense out of this play.

www.thetank.org

In the early 17th Century, Venice was an international hub of commerce, finance and legalized prostitution.  Brocade takes place in this hedonistic world.  Prostitution was legal as an undesirable but preferred alternative to the rampant homosexuality at the time.  City leaders believed the sight of women’s breasts would convert the men.  In the red light district, whores were allowed and even encouraged to bare their bosoms.  This action took place at the now infamous Ponte delle Tette (“Bridge of Tits”).

In his new play, Robert E. DiNardo uses this promising period to amuse and titillate (pun unavoidable).  Countess Felicita Bonini (Carla Lewis) runs an orphanage which has a cupboard on the outside.  A new novice (Sarah Kebede-Fiedler) is told to check it every half hour so the babies don’t die there.  This location is where the prostitutes drop off their unwanted offspring.  Yes, this is a comedy.

Orazio (Bennett Saltzman) grew up in this orphanage and took a keen interest in sewing.  His abilities had to be improved over time.  He cut himself so often that the nuns began calling him “little stigmata.”  Older now, Orazio works with the Countess’ sister Bianca making dresses for the whores.  The clientele is huge and his work is considered the best.

As you may surmise, Orazio is far from closeted in this Venice and openly wears his creations.  When he was young he wore the nun’s habits in order to break them in.  The plot machinations get underway when an eighty-five year old matriarch from the royal society asks him to design her a dress.  Should he walk away from the enormous market and design for the cheapskate rich folk?

He considers these alternatives while in bed with his lover, Mustat, an older man.  In the play’s finest acting scene, the two discuss the drama after an obvious interlude.  Mustat is a black man from Africa who was brought to Venice.  His backstory is beautifully detailed making this character the richest and most complex.  Jacob Silburn is excellent in the role of this intelligent and accomplished survivor.

Bianca desperately wants to work on the royal outfit.  She “deserves a little thrill” as she is now an elderly virgin.  Her sister runs the highly regarded convent.  She turned its misfortunes around.  The Franciscan friar in charge previously was burned at the stake.  Twelve nuns gave birth within one year thanks to the randy priest.  Apparently that was too much intrigue for a city with over 11,000 whores!

Enter Agostino Amadi, the stud.  Or, rather, the used-to-be stud who has aged considerably since his widely known exploits with females all over Europe.  He now has secretive business dealings with the powerful of Venice.  He even had a fling with our convent innkeeper back in the day.  With a nosy novice skulking through the nunnery, you have all the makings for a delightful screwball comedy.

Under the direction of Shela Xoregos, the play suffers from bad pacing and some performances which do not reach broadly enough.  The entire scenario is hilarious and the story’s twists and turns are very enjoyable.  It seems impossible to be bored with an enticing combination of gays, whores, nuns and a gigolo.  If truth be told, boredom sets in frequently.

The opening of the second act is a noticeable example of a funny scene which isn’t staged fast enough.  There are two separate conversations happening.  Pauses between them sap all momentum.  In addition, one character has witty asides and makes comments to the audience.  Everything falls flat despite the good set-up.

As the has-been Agostino, Gene Santarelli comes very close to creating the buffoon.  It’s a performance laced with an excess of twinkletoe-isms so believing he was the virile stud is a tad difficult.  Therefore, when he dons a dress, it’s less humorous than it could be.  He was amusing overall, though, and the performance style of hammy thespian was a solid choice.  Ethelyn Friend was also quite enjoyable as the virginal Bianca and her myriad of facial expressions were fun to watch.

The play felt too long but, admittedly, this endurance test was made more difficult than necessary.  The laughs were there in the script.  The story was a good one.  I loved the upward and downward juxtaposition of women’s roles.  Brocade considers how one might think in order to manage their life at this particular time.

Unfortunately, the audience was in a coma for the majority of the performance.  I might be able to recommend the play Brocade but definitely not this production.

Brocade will be performed at the Theater for the New City until February 16, 2020.

www.theaterforthenewcity.com

The time is soon.  The atmosphere is dystopian.  Two young ladies, obviously a romantic couple, are huddled on the couch in their sloppy shack.  Canned goods and other junk are strewn all over the floor.  Nothing visual suggests things are Really Really Gorgeous.  A television announcer claims otherwise.

She is emotional about the incredible sunset today.  America has been underwater for five years and 114 days.  Before she gets to the news, a moment of silence.  “We lost Portland, Maine.  Think about that.”  Then she reels of a list of lost American cities and states.  Finally, she adds, “The Pacific Time Zone.  Think about that.”  But, she implores, look at the new world which has been created.  A world which is “really, really, really.  Beautiful.”

The announcer lives in complete contradiction to the environment Mar and Pen are enduring.  There is a reluctance to open the door and go outside.  They are sick and tired of eating rations of Spaghetti-O’s.  Whirlpools are sucking more people in to their deaths.  In Nick Mecikalski’s vividly imagined play, climate change is really, really real.  And really, really bad.

This announcer has big news.  The President of the United States wants to hear from her citizens.  A contest is planned where two winners will be chosen.  “Singing, dancing, poetry, music, sports, singing, dancing – any talent you can dream of” should be submitted by midnight.  Both ladies are writers and plan to enter the contest.  The grand prize?  An invitation to live in America’s new capital city, Cleveland, Ohio.

Streets are dry and the SKY IS HIGH in Cleveland.  They even have restaurants there like Applebee’s!  What a dream it will be to win a spot to change your life.  How bad is it in America now?  The women are watching an episode of American Idol.  A singer is cut down for being awful.  The announcer promises another try, advising, “just fix your lungs, okay?”  Horrendous looking algae sucking then occurs.  The women hate this part.  It’s disgusting but supposed to be good for you.

This play sets itself up quickly and firmly to create a comedic take on a future world ruined by rising waters.  It is indeed hilarious to read about the Army Corps of Engineers designing a sea wall for New York City while many in Washington and in the media deny climate change is real.  (That’s not in the play but in our news.)  It is indeed hilarious to read that Texas and Florida have submitted proposals for federal grants to combat rising sea levels without referring to the cause.  In this bizarre time, Mr. Mecikalski wants to make us laugh.  We need it.

Our outrage over the imbecilic denial of scientists’ learned reasoning, however, makes us mad.  This playwright has not simply created a comedy no matter how much we snicker at the exaggerated – and believable – antics in his wild story.  There is a potent criticism of our society’s embrace of celebrity and failure of government which drives the plot.  As written, the play could be even better but it is never uninteresting.

The announcer is portrayed by Giselle LeBleu Gant as a recognizable loud-mouthed Oprah Winfrey.  The mania of her speech and her self-absorption are skewered mercilessly in a delicious performance.  This Oprah even gets to use the F-word.  She hilariously proclaims her “burden of infinite wisdom.”  Like our real-life version, she wields tremendous power and uses it like all domineering puppeteers do.  The announcer rants, “Can you SEE this with your EYES, you MYOPIC IDIOTS!!”  Ms. Gant is perfection in the role.

In a three character play which includes a contest on page one, there is no surprise when the winner is chosen.  How else would you be able to get past the walls which now surround Cleveland to keep the undesirables out?  The plot, however, cleverly swirls as the government and the media begin the spin cycle.  Mr. Mecikalski has a dim view of America.  Or, better said, he views Americans as dim-witted.  With that approach, he has conceived a play to make us laugh at ourselves and our basest instincts of self-survival and self-promotion.

Sophie Becker and Amber Jaunai are effective in the roles of Pen and Mar.  Their chemistry is evident.  Both are devious in their own way.  The character of Mar could probably use a little more edge considering the road she will travel.  Pen’s road, on the other hand, is a farcical dream.

Kudos to Alice Tavener who designed the memorable costumes.  What will we be wearing post-apocalyptic flood?  If our billionaire manages to survive the flood, I’m sure we will read about that in O magazine.  Nick Mecikalski’s new play has some dry patches and is not perfect.  This playwright, though, has a really, really gorgeous imagination and his ideas have been nicely staged by Director Miranda Haymon.  Recommended for fans of topical fun.

Really Really Gorgeous is running at The Tank through February 9, 2020.

www.thetanknyc.org

“I’m sick of reading the newspaper.  I’m tired of problems.”  How many times have we heard those thoughts in recent years?  In 1939, Robert Ardrey wrote those lines in his stimulating play, Thunder Rock.  Hitler and Mussolini are in power.  It is a time of dictators and police states.  “What’s next?” his characters wonder.  “How is everything going to come out?”  We ask those same questions today.

Thunder Rock is a fictional remote lighthouse in Lake Michigan located fifty miles from landfall.  David Charleston (a very fine Jed Peterson) lives a solitary existence there.  Once per month, his personal friend Streeter (Jamahl Garrison-Lowe) pilots the plane which brings an Inspector (Kelly Dean Cooper) and supplies.  On this late afternoon day in August during the last summer before the Second World War, a radio is included in the delivery.

“Why would I want to be in touch?” asks Charleston.  He’s an ex-journalist who covered the Spanish Civil War.  This lighthouse gig is an escape from civilization.  Streeter has come to tell his friend that he is moving headfirst into taking a better job in China.  He’ll be flying planes for them in the war against Japan.  He wants Charleston to join him and be a gunner.  “Why get involved?” he remarks.  In one of a long list of memorable lines, Mr. Ardrey writes, “society’s got no worse enemy than a cynic.”

Charleston has decided to create a more hopeful world in his head.  There is a plaque in the lighthouse noting a nearby shipwreck from 1849.  This lighthouse was dedicated to the sailing ship Land O’ Lakes. All hands were lost including sixty immigrants.  Charleston ‘s retreat from humanity is a committed one.  “I want a decent world to live in even if I have to make it up.”

The first act of this play is interesting and establishes the structure of the next two acts.  The acting is unfortunately uneven in the early going but that is easily remedied by a beautifully cast ensemble when the second act explodes wide open.  When this play takes off, it soars with huge themes as big as the fate of mankind itself.

This fascinating meditation makes us consider progress and remission, forward-thinking and retreat.  How does 1849 look to someone in 1939?  I loved the additional layer of considering this work from the perspective of our current surreal and seismically unstable world in 2020.

As usual, the small theatrical space at the Metropolitan Playhouse has been nicely designed (sets, lighting, costumes and sound) to evoke the lighthouse and these people.  Simple directorial decisions by the company’s Artistic Director Alex Roe firmly establish remoteness, both physically and mentally.  This production is immensely enjoyable and thought provoking.

In addition to Mr. Peterson’s central performance, there are many wonderful characterizations brought to life on this stage.  David Murray Jaffe could hardly be more ideal in his portrait of Captain Joshua Stuart.  The device Mr. Ardrey uses to conjure his dialogue with Charleston seems as if it might have been wholly original at the time it was written.

As the Kurtz family, Howard Pinhasik, Susanna Frazer and Hannah Sharafian nail their complicated immigrant story with heart, realism and, ultimately, hope.  Teresa Kelsey doesn’t simply portray Miss Kirby.  Instead, she completely embodies the woman’s individual existence while simultaneously representing her gender in the middle of great societal changes in 1939.  As Cassidy, Thomas Vorsteg reminds us that Charleston’s plight is not unique.

Thunder Rock considers how soon or how long it will take for the human race to cease the cycle of wars and hardships.  The cry for leadership is still strong eighty years later after this play’s first production.  In his pointed ruminations on that topic, Robert Ardrey warns us all to look inward to find the answers as we do not know from who or when they will materialize.  Sooner is better than later which is preferable to never.  A speck of optimism is, therefore, better than none at all.

Thunder Rock is being performed at the Metropolitan Playhouse through February 9. 2020.

www.metropolitanplayhouse.org

Bonus Fact:  Thunder Rock was a 1947 Radio Play

CBS Radio was trying to figure out how to compete with the two top rated shows at the time, Fibber & Molly and Bob Hope, on Tuesday evenings.  They landed on a sixty minute dramatic series.  Thunder Rock was one of the works chosen to be rewritten and condensed for broadcast.  For radio buffs and the curious, here is a link to a site where you can go back in time when television was in its infancy.  As rewritten, the story looks back eight years to 1939 from the later perspective of David Charleston.

ThunderRockonStudioOne

The setting is a winter day in a small Ohio town.  The time is the present.  In Scott Organ’s new play, a question lingers.  Where did the time go?  17 Minutes reflects on an America that has tragically accepted a new normal.  There has been a school shooting.  Again.  Another larger question?  Who is to blame?

Virgil Morris (Brian Rojas), a plain clothes detective, is interviewing Sheriff’s Deputy Andy Rubens (Larry Mitchell).  How much do you know?  Andy is not sure what has happened since “you guys whisked me away so fast.”  This earnest protector has been working at this school for years.  A diligent lawman, he locks his gun in a safe every evening.  He only has one key.  His gun is regularly cleaned.  Every single day he checks the clip to make sure it is functioning.

On this particular day, he is standing outside by a door when he hears three bursts from an automatic rifle.  Then he hears three more bursts.  The time is 8:11 and students are in the building.  He radios in the emergency.  “There’s a shooter,” he says, and “I’m going in the south doors.”  Andy never goes through the door.  “The SWAT guys pulled me out of there before I got the chance.”

This interview is tense and concerning.  Andy does not yet know there are fatalities.  A serviceman who served in Iraq, he is well-trained for combat.  From the time of the call to the eye contact made with the SWAT team, seventeen minutes have passed.  What happened during that time?  Andy was assessing the situation.  Meanwhile, America’s new normal was in progress.

In a series of seven scenes which take place over a two month period, we observe the impact of these seventeen minutes.  The blur that Andy experienced.  His wife Samantha (DeAnna Lenhart) worries about him, their life and their future.  Harassing phone calls.  The threat of losing a job and a pension.  What happened during those seventeen minutes?

Andy meets with his partner Mary (Shannon Patterson).  She was also at the school that day.  Andy couldn’t tell where the shots were coming from.  Was it like Las Vegas?  From the roof?  What did Mary do, he asks.  She ran toward the sounds.  She disarmed the child and became a reluctant hero.  In other words, she did the job a school paid her to do.

17 Minutes gets behind the scenes of these stories to consider the aftermath of horrific events.  What does the father of the shooter respond when asked, “Why do you still live here?”  Michael Giese plays the role no one can imagine having to endure.  “Is there anything in this life I could have done differently?  That day?  And the answer is, of course, yes.”

The play’s finest scene takes place while a memorial is being held.  Cecilia (Lee Brock) is pissed and wrecked.  She asks the questions we all do.  Her proximity and personal trauma, however, is much more raw than the rest of us.  Who is to blame?  The school system?  The shooter? The parents?  The government? The founding fathers?  Andy?

Seth Barrish’s direction is nicely paced to allow the contemplative nature of this play emerge.  The poignancy feels real.  How do we all come to terms with these commonplace American occurrences?  “How could there be meaning in one child gunning down dozens of kids?”

Scott Organ’s 17 Minutes is well-staged and performed.  Larry Mitchell effectively plays Andy as an everyman and a nobody.  We are asked to put ourselves in his shoes.  They are uncomfortable.  Ms. Patterson and Ms. Brock shine in their portrayals of Andy’s partner and Cecilia, a mom.  There is a fortress of strength in these women that is admirable.  Behind the gates, there is also heartbreaking reality and exhausting resignation.  That’s completely recognizable as our America today.  17 Minutes is a fine addition to our national dialogue about our country’s abject failure of courage.

17 Minutes is running at The Barrow Group until February 15, 2020.

www.barrowgroup.org

Lisa (Anna Stefanic) opens the door to her home and switches on the light.  A naked man is sprawled out on the floor with food.  He “bellows a pained roar.”  She shrieks, fumbles her groceries and quickly douses the offending brightness.  When she turns the light back on, a paper shopping bag has been placed on the man’s head.  “God damn it, Davey” she says.  The damnation of that moment will carry through the very funny Soul Survivor.

Why is Lisa’s brother Dave naked?  “My clothes were fire ants.”  He is obviously strung out on something.  His sister may be used to taking care of him but this time survival is going to be much more challenging.  “They’re coming tonight.  Coming for us,” Dave warns ominously.  Turns out brother Dave (TJ Vinsavich) has sold his own and also Lisa‘s soul to the devil.  Ding dong, the doorbell rings.  “Hi, we’re here to take your souls.”

From the start, playwright Dante Piro takes the form of a modern but eccentric Charon ferrying his victims across the river Styx.  This journey, however, is anything but gloomy.  Soul Survivor is a broad comedy which piles on one ludicrous scene after another.  Amazingly, the boat never capsizes despite the increasing burden of topping the previous segment.  The plot is soundly structured but the goofy shenanigans played for laughs are the reason to climb on board this raucous trip to hell.

Liriel and Sable are the Soul Collectors who ring the doorbell before busting in to collect what is due.  These ladies are fairly new at their job and not completely effective.  The plot dynamics continue.  Dave cannot find his sister’s soul.  Where did he put it?  How was he able to sell her soul anyway?  She made him a mix CD when they were younger.  Lisa put her heart and soul into creating “Davie’s Rockin’ B-Day Jamz.”  There’s a lot of Fugees in that mix.  “Fugees rule.”  Lisa’s been wandering around soulless ever since.

Meanwhile, Kyle from hell is checking in on the soul collectors who are taking too much time completing their mission.  Lisa is working hard to distract them.  The demons are introduced to the wonder that is vodka.  “Wowza” is the reaction.  There’s nothing like that down in hell.  They only drink “pus, acid, bees if you’re lucky.”  The dialogue is quick and sharp but also silly and ridiculous.  That’s the formula for laughs here.

Will Lisa and Dave be escorted to hell or can they find a loophole in the signed contract?  Thank goodness Lisa’s earnestly nice boyfriend Owen (Mark Weatherup Jr.) comes into the picture to help.  “I’m a paralegal, babe.  This is the only time I’m cool.”  Chandler Matkins makes a spirited entrance as Teddy who suspects the demons from hell are incompetent.

The laughter never flags but if you look closely, themes bubble under the surface.  The importance of familial bonds.  The incompetence of big bumbling bureaucracies.  How your life choices will be weighed when you are gone.  Why scissors are useful but potentially dangerous weapons.

Energetically directed by Molly Brown, this inspired buffoonery consistently delivers on its humorous premise.  The cast is uniformly excellent.  If your soul is going to be condemned, the journey to Hades will be a helluva lot more fun with soul collectors Aleigha K. Spinks and, especially, Samantha Nugent as your guides.

Need a recipe to shake off some of the winter blues?  The cold?  Take a trip to hell via Soul Survivor.  It’s notoriously warm there, and full of piss and vinegar.  Laughs are guaranteed.

Soul Survivor is running at The Players Theatre in Greenwich Village until February 2, 2020.

www.theplayerstheatre.com

www.hiraeththeatre.com