What happens to the partner of a 50-year marriage living without the other? What if the husband dies and the wife survives? What if the wife dies? What would each do? How would each cope? How would their children, in this case grown daughters, react?
The first half of Jaclyn Backhaus‘ feminist satire “Wives” is hilariously funny. The mordant wit doesn‘t last till the end, but the first parts are so good, it‘s very much worth seeing. The idea is to focus on the wives of some famous men. You haven‘t seen anything like it.
Dozens of patrons, as many as 75, artistic director Ross Williams said, perched on stools and benches and gathered in the pit as actors performed excerpts from four of Shakespeare‘s plays: “The Comedy of Errors,” “Romeo and Juliet,” “As You Like It” and “Henry IV, part 2.”
In 1978, Harold Pinter wrote a play inspired by his seven-year affair in the 1960s with Joan Bakewell, a BBC presenter. He was married at the time to actress Vivien Merchant and left her in 1975 after 20 years and one son. He married author Antonia Fraser in 1980.
Why does an accomplished French theater and film actress want to act in an American web series? Nathalie Schmidt stars in “I Do,” a story set in Brooklyn about Zoe and her screwball attempts to catch a husband. Each episode will be about another prospective guy.
Galen Ryan Kane gives a shattering performance as Bigger Thomas, the anti-hero victim of Nambi Kelley‘s bravura take on Richard Wright‘s 1940 novel of the desperation of inner-city black men.
KT Sullivan is a smash as a comic Elaine Stritch in Noël Coward‘s “Why do the wrong people travel?”
It certainly was red, all over, except perhaps for the life-size naturally gray elephant on a riser to the right. Red must mean demimonde. The women are in bustiers and mostly bare bottoms. It‘s garish Montmartre. Or, forget Paris, it‘s old Las Vegas.
Jonathan Cake is terrific as Caius Martius, the Roman general who is a master of war and an abject failure at politics. The one demands a tough hierarchical leader in a system where everyone below must follow commands.
A café performance of “Midsummer Night‘s Dream” is quite a delightful way to spend any mid-summer eve. And the actors of this production, who double passing out tapas and wine to patrons, are as good as any you‘ll see on the boards. In fact, most of them have been there.
A bit of summer fluff, slightly hokey, but with a good underlying message, this play by Joe Iconis, Lance Rubin, and Jason Sweettooth Williams, is about an “older woman,” Annie (Annie Golden) who can no longer get roles in theater and is scooped up by a bounty hunting firm on the track of a drug trafficker hiding out in the jungles of Ecuador.
Stories about men pretending to be women walk a fine line between skewering sexism and practicing it. “Tootsie” falls on both sides of that divide.
And this one, book by Robert Horn based on the 1982 film, is somewhat outdated. Real gender-bending stuff makes it unbelievably tame. And those stereotypes just don’t go away. But it gets a good breezy production by director Scott Ellis, including a Fosse-style chorus line. And there is a cacophony of funny new topical one-liners.
In the 1920s, an original, a young black woman with a fanatical devotion to the quintessential American sport, fought racism and sexism to become the first woman to play in professional baseball as a regular on a big-league team. She played in the Negro Leagues.
This is the best juke box musical since “Motown” and “Jersey Boys.” In fact, it‘s about a Motown group that also started in Detroit and had the famous manager Berry Gordy. As one local explains, in Detroit, “you either sang or you join a gang. If you can‘t do neither, better learn to run.”
Director Daniel Fish puts the iconic American musical “Oklahoma” in a country setting with a modern sensibility. And it sizzles.
It’s the Oklahoma territory in the early 1900s. A very feminist take on men and women is established by a strong cohort, Aunt Eller, her niece Laurey (Rebecca Naomi Jones) and Ado Annie (Ali Stroker).
“Hadestown,” written and composed by Anaïs Mitchell and directed by Rachel Chavkin, is a very radical play. It takes the audience to Hell, which is peopled by oppressed workers who have been indoctrinated to fear those who are poorer. Though that is probably not how it is described in the reviews you have read in mainstream media. It won the Tony for best musical play. But you probably have no idea what it is about. I call it the censorship of cultural ideas.
It opens with sensual and noisy sex in the bed, the bodies turning and pushing against each other, the familiar noises with great realistic direction by Arin Arbus. And then not quite what you might expect. Frankie falls out of bed. And the post sex conversation; he compliments her breasts. She is not pleased. Is this how a love affair begins?
It could be the corruption of a convention where Bernie Sanders is set against a corporate Biden. State signs are set behind banks of seats. The music is of the 40s. Flags on the wall have 48 stars. Author Danny Rocco and director Shannon Fillion create an ambience that makes you think you are there.
Part Commedia dell‘arte, part pageant, part ballet, with a touch of music hall comedy, “Masquerade” is a visual feast. Presented by the Vakhtangov State Academic Theatre of Russia in Moscow, it is directed by Rimas Tuminas of Lithuania. Though the major actors are all prominent in Russia, Tuminas is the unseen star of the show.
A large banner on the brick house says “Stacey Abrams 2020.” It‘s next spring. Abrams, who last year lost a close race for governor of Georgia amid reports of voter suppression, had talked then about running for president. The relevance of the sign is that Abrams is a black woman, and this version of Shakespeare‘s play about love and trust – or mistrust — sets it not in Messina, Italy, but in modern-day Atlanta, with a black cast speaking in familiar accents.
Wildly funny and clever, this play by Taylor Mac, directed by George C. Wolfe is one a serious theater-goer cannot miss. It‘s a terrific campy surreal take on murderous war from the point of view of the workers who have to clean up the mess, the bloody bodies of Shakespeare‘s “Titus Andronicus.”
This “Lear” with Glenda Jackson as the king is sometimes brilliant, sometimes annoying. Jackson is a brilliant actress, her voice and demeanor might be male, but she didn‘t persuade me she was a king. Or perhaps she was on the edge of madness very early in the plot, after her daughters‘ duplicity. As the play went on, I wasn‘t sure if she would shrivel or explode.
You are hit by the overwhelming sadness of everyone involved in Hillary Clinton‘s 2008 New Hampshire primary campaign against Barack Obama. Playwright Lucas Hnath and director Joe Mantello create a landscape of utter sleaze and despair. It‘s January. Even the hotel sitting room seems chill and desolate. There‘s one chair and the floor.
This is a feminist theatrical. A very political play. If you don‘t want to go to a lecture about what is wrong with how the US government treats women and minorities, it‘s more interesting to go to a play. Such as “What the Constitution Means to Me,” Heidi Schreck’s take on how the Constitution is honored in the breach, “rigged” as the copy she carries says. Adult audiences in New York and other liberal enclaves nod their heads, and it‘s a good teaching moment for kids. Higher marks for politics than for drama.
“The Sun” is a popular newspaper for the undereducated British masses. It was a broadsheet started in 1964, then reinvented as a tabloid five years later by the Australian Robert Murdoch and Larry Lamb, a North Englander he named as editor. They were outsiders to the London Fleet Street crowd and felt it.
