Louis Armstrong was a sublime performer. This play is a great recreation of his music with terrific dancing, but it’s more vaudeville show than drama. It shifts quickly through his career as a black artist. Some interesting stuff about dealing with gangsters and Hollywood racism but too much about his four wives. Best is James Monroe Iglehart as Armstrong who has brilliantly copied his gravelly voice.
Director Kenny Leon has cut Thornton Wilder’s 1938 play from 3 hours to 1 hour 40. I was grateful. The play on the life of small-town America covers the years from 1901 to 1913. For the period, gas lamps are hung out over the orchestra. The set is made of wood chairs, a weathered wall, an old spinet piano. But the town seems sealed in glass, with no references to the outside world.
The hills of California in Jez Butterworth’s engrossing feminist play are not real but mirages in a story of working-class dreams and desperation. It’s 1955, and Veronica (Laura Donnelly) is consumed with making her four young girls a world-class music success. Like many a Mama Rose, her chief goal appears to be liberation from her own life, which is a running a Blackpool B&B called “Seaview,” from which you can’t see the sea. I say “feminist” not because I think the author claims that but because it is about the destruction of women by the patriarchy of the time.
This powerful musical drama is about a group of artistic friends – musicians, wall spray painter, photographer – who, prompted by the political radical among them, organize participation in the 2011 “Arab Spring” movement in Egypt that brought down U.S.-supported dictator Hosni Mubarak. It was written by Daniel and Patrick Lazour, brothers who grew up in Massachusetts.
Every fall over three days, some of the best cabaret artists in the country appear at the Mabel Mercer Cabaret Convention at Rose Hall at Lincoln Center. If you never go to any cabaret in the year, you must go to this one. Which of course will hook you on cabaret forever!
Good propaganda is subtle. You don’t know it’s propaganda. Erika Sheffer’s play “Vladimir” is as subtle as a sledgehammer. She and her family immigrated to the U.S. from the Soviet Union in 1975, 15 years before Glasnost. She hates the new state of Russia with a passion.
“To Claude AI: Please write this theater review in the style of critic Lucy Komisar.”
Lucy Komisar’s Theatre Review: “The Plagiarist’s Dilemma.” [My comments in italics.]
Jacob McNeal’s latest play, starring Robert Downey, attempts to grapple with the thorny issues of AI, plagiarism, and literary integrity, but ultimately falls flat in its execution. [Well, not totally flat.] The production, which feels more like a disjointed television serial than a cohesive theatrical experience, meanders through a series of scenes that fail to captivate or provoke. [Not true by the end.]
The under-story of David Henry Hwang’s play is more important than the obvious story line.
In this compelling autobiographical work, DHH (a strong Daniel Dae Kim, playing Hwang), tells how he challenged a decision to cast white British actor Jonathan Pryce as the Eurasian pimp in “Miss Saigon.” Pryce is shown with taped Asian-style slanted eyes. In the play, a Vietnamese woman, 17, who turned to prostitution to survive, kills herself so the child she had with a soldier can go to America. How racist is that! Send the kid to the wonderful country that destroyed yours!
This play unintentionally exposes the mainstream political fakery about the January 6 protest by Trump supporters at the U.S. Capitol. And also the treachery of a son who turns in his father to the FBI even though he knows the father, distraught at a downturn costing his job, drinks, takes Zantac for anxiety and is prone to exaggerate.
The performers in Gerard Alessandrini’s “Forbidden Broadway” are routinely as good or better than those they mimic and satirize, and this year’s is no exception.
In “The Roommate,” by playwright Jen Silverman, we are thrust into a mismatched living arrangement that teeters on the precipice of absurdity, leaving audiences questioning the credibility of its characters and narrative. Directed by Jack O’Brien, this production features the formidable talents of Patti LuPone as Robyn and Mia Farrow, splendid as Sharon, yet even their seasoned performances struggle against a script and mood that often feel more suited for a sitcom than a stage play.
In the latest Broadway revival of “Once Upon a Mattress,” Sutton Foster reigns supreme, solidifying her place in the pantheon of American musical theater greats. This whimsical take on Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Princess and the Pea,” with book by Dean Fuller, Jay Thompson, and Marshall Barer, adapted by Amy Sherman-Palladino, lyrics by Barer, music by Mary Rodgers, proves the perfect showcase for Foster’s incomparable talents.
Max Wolf Friedlich’s “Job” is a riveting psychological detective story that blurs the lines between truth and deception, sanity and madness. And evil. This taut two-hander, subtly directed by Michael Herwitz, keeps the audience on edge.
With a book by Kristoffer Dias and music and lyrics by singer Alicia Keys, this is presented as Keys’ own story. At least that her “songs and experiences growing up in NY inspire a story made for Broadway.” It turns out “inspire” can be interpreted many ways.
Ali (Maleah Joi Moon) plays Alicia Keys. She is black. Moon’s voice is strong and rich in the show’s jazz, soul and rock. Her mother, Jersey (a fine Shoshana Bean), is white. Davis, her father (a realistic Brandon Victor Dixon), is black. Ali and Jersey live in the huge artists’ cooperative on West 42nd Street near the Hudson River in the neighborhood called Hell’s Kitchen. Davis has nothing to do with the family.
“The Outsiders” by Adam Rapp and Justin Levine is based on a novel written for teenagers by a teenager (she was 16) and tells of kids full of angst. The youths are poor, some suffering from addiction, and they resent kids of their age with money. Some still have dreams of getting out to a better life. So this is about class. And turns out the rich kids don’t feel all that better off.
David Adjmi’s new play “Stereophonic” strips away the glitter and glamour of 1970s rock to reveal a gritty, often unsettling portrait of creativity, ambition, and toxic relationships. Set in a California recording studio, this engrossing and entertaining behind-the-scenes drama exposes the misogyny and exploitation lurking beneath the counterculture’s rebellious facade.
“Water for Elephants,” book by Rick Elice, music and lyrics by Pigpen Theatre Company, transports audiences to the rough glamour of a Depression-era traveling circus. Based on Sara Gruen’s novel, this musical adaptation is a charming, if somewhat hokey spectacle that relies on stunning choreography and circus acts.
Rebecca Frecknall’s production of “Cabaret” is a raw dive into the seedy underbelly of 1930s Berlin. From the moment you enter the theater, transformed into the infamous Kit Kat Club with its murky red walls and intimate table seatings, you’re transported to a world on the brink of catastrophe.
F. Scott Fitzgerald’s classic novel is lavishly presented in a musical that captures the glitz and darkness of the Roaring Twenties. The audience enters a world of excess, where everything sparkles – including costumes that shimmer with gold and glitter. The play was pulled out of the book smartly by script writer Kait Herrigan, with music by Jason Howland and lyrics by Nathan Tysen. The director who moves the plot almost cinematically is Marc Bruni.
William F. Brown’s rewrite of the classic “Wizard of Oz” screens the story through the lens of black culture. The best thing about that is the music is jazz, with a bit of R&B. (Music and lyrics by Charlie Smalls.) The old story is for kids. This one is for jazz lovers! “The Wiz” was first staged in 1975, and both Brown and Smalls have since died. But Schele Williams here makes his Broadway debut as a director, assuring long life for the old classic!
“Suffs” is in the category of the iconic “Les Miz.” A revolutionary story put to music to allow the writer to slip in truths about the forces that oppress a country’s heroes, who are, in this case, heroines. In a country that hasn’t been told the truth. Acclaim to Shaina Taub, who created the book, music and lyrics. It’s now a major part of American musical history.
I first heard Libby York in Key West. A classic jazzy cabaret chanteuse. So, of course I wanted to see her at at the Mezzrow Club on West 10th Street in Greenwich Village. She was appearing there with Roni Ben Hur on guitar and Obasi Akoto on bass.
Avignon – When I first visited Spain decades ago, I loved flamenco, which had derived from folk dances of the gypsy culture of Andalusia. They were dances ordinary folks, peasants could do. For centuries, the elites, who despised gypsies, looked down on flamenco as vulgar and performed in seedy places. There’s a curious similarity to what Argentine elites thought of tango.
Avignon – Tango is so iconic that sometimes productions say they are doing tango when it appears not quite so. At least what those of us not aware of changes in the dance believe. “Los Guardiola” is a case. This is today’s tango. Because tango has gone beyond the classic steps to infuse modern dance. And drama. And I liked it!
Avignon – In this graceful, inventive piece by choreographer Wang Junjian, Beijing’s Tuyi Dance Theater presents a plane journey—landing, preparation, and takeoff.
The tarmac is “under the clouds” and the dancers sometimes imitate planes, moving at angles, falling and rising as if they were flying.
