Category Archives: Theater

Let’s Get Kinky ~ Review of ‘Kinky Boots’

The most fun-filled factory in production right now is Price & Son at the Al Hirschfeld Theatre, and it’s not just fabulous shoes that are being made, but a transformative musical theater experience. That’s where ‘Kinky Boots’ is saucily strutting the boards, and, fueled by two powerhouse performances, it’s the best musical I’ve seen in a decade. (And I’ll qualify that by saying that I have yet to see ‘The Book of Mormon’ and ‘Once’.)

To be honest, I’m a little jaded. Anyone who grew up in the 80’s has some sort of affinity with Cyndi Lauper, the woman behind the music here. It’s her first time writing the music and lyrics for a Broadway show, but she handles it with her trademark perky aplomb, and an insinuating score that references her 80’s disco roots, while standing on its own melodic structure. Ms. Lauper has been lucky enough to be coupled with one of Broadway’s legends, Harvey Fierstein, who wrote the book of the musical. Anyone who knows me knows that I’ve been a fan of the brilliant Mr. Fierstein ever since I first heard his unmistakably gravelly voice many moons ago (and interviewed him for a story on his children’s book, ‘The Sissy Duckling’.) Rounding out the talented trio behind the show is director and choreographer Jerry Mitchell, who makes inventive use of every square foot of factory, with multi-leveled set pieces and some portable conveyor belts for the exhilarating Act One closer ‘Everybody Say Yeah’.

Ms. Lauper’s music and Mr. Fierstein’s book give ‘Kinky Boots’ its driving power and emotional heft, but it’s the performances of Billy Porter and Stark Sands that put the show into the stratosphere of musical theater magnificence. They join the pantheon of Broadway duos like Roxie Hart and Velma Kelly (‘Chicago’) or Max Bialystock and Leo Bloom (‘The Producers’) or even Glinda and Elphaba (‘Wicked’) – teams that depend on one another for strength and survival- story-wise, and performance-wise. It is especially vital here, because at its heart, this is a show about two unlikely friends coming together and seeing that they’re not all that different. Charlie Price and Lola may well be the dynamic duo of this decade, and Sands and Porter are not to be missed.

As the heir to the struggling Price & Son shoe factory, Sands is perfectly cast as Charlie, a young man unsure of where his future lies, whether he should jump into the unknown future of ambition as impelled by his girlfriend Nicola, or make a choice to honor his legacy and fight for his past to be his future. Sands is given the difficult, and less-showy, role of straight-man to Lola. As such he is the anchor of the factory and the show, and comes through with the necessary blend of earnestness, hesitancy, and, ultimately, evolution. His big moment – the rousing, self-indicting ‘Soul of a Man’ – is an epiphany, and his performance, one of careful and complex transformation, is surpassed only by his counterpart, Billy Porter.

As Lola (Simon), Porter simply shines. He is a force of nature, a revelation in a world where that term is used far too often for far too less. He defines it here, with a Tony-winning performance that is sweeping in ferociousness and fiery in intensity. Porter manages to go from hilarious to sorrowful in a matter of moments, portraying the varying degrees of rage, drive, hope, humility, glamour, and giddiness needed to convey the inner-workings and outer-fabulousness that comprise the ‘Land of Lola’. A larger-than-life drag queen will always be a role that runs the danger of veering into campy caricature, but Porter never loses his way, guiding Lola through her journey with every bit of grace and dignity and honor that Charlie finds so difficult to find.

It is the study of the friendship between men, but also the story of what it takes to be a man, and what makes a man great. It’s a story of forgiveness, love, and how much of each other’s lives we miss by shutting ourselves off from openness and acceptance. The simplest scene in the show (spoiler alert) is when Lola performs for her father, at last in a nursing home. She sings an 11th-hour show-stopper that will have drag queens gagging with giddiness for years, and in it both exonerates herself from feeling unloved while refusing to take anything less.

That acceptance – of a parent to a child, a friend to a friend, and a stranger to a stranger- forms the emotional core of the show, and, strangely enough, it wasn’t just the tear-jerker moments (‘Not My Father’s Son’ and ‘Soul of a Man’) that moved me, but the fantastic finale of the ‘We-Are-Family’-esque ‘Raise You Up/Just Be’ that elicited the thrills of just how powerful musical theater can be.

It comes to glorious life when the previously-close-minded Don belts out, “You change the world when you change your mind” while donning some kinky boots of his own. If you let that seemingly-simple sentiment sink in, it’s miraculous, life-affirming, and dazzling. Just like ‘Kinky Boots’.

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On Broadway, With My Mother

This weekend marks the resurrection of a former tradition, and I’m taking my Mom to New York to see ‘Kinky Boots’ and ‘Pippin’. (Okay, she’s providing the hotel and train tix – because Broadway musicals are expensive!) I’m looking forward to it, as it’s been a while since I had some one-on-one time with my Mom. I’m also psyched about these shows, as ‘Kinky Boots’ just won the Tony Award for Best Musical and ‘Pippin’ just won for Best Revival of a Musical. (I picked these a few weeks ago on a hunch. I wish I’d played the lottery instead.)

Last week in Boston I purchased the ‘Kinky Boots’ soundtrack for the ride home, and whether it was the way music on a Sunday morning ride sounds more moving, or my malleable mood, I listened from beginning to end and teared up in more than a few spots from the melody and words. ‘Soul of a Man’ and ‘Not My Father’s Son’ alone should wring emotion from the driest emotional wells. (It turns out I have a reserve after all.)

I know less about ‘Pippin’, but it’s gotten very good reviews, and visually it looks stunning. Give me a circus theme and I’m generally a happy boy. The fact that the music was written by the same gentleman who wrote ‘Wicked’ also bodes well (Stephen Schwartz).

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An Upstairs Anniversary

One of the tragically unreported events in our country’s history was a 1973 arson fire in a gay bar in New Orleans that killed 32 people. It is, to date, the largest single attack this country has seen against the LGBT community, snuffing out 32 lives that could have been any one of us. This year marks the 40th anniversary of that tragic event, and Wayne Self has written a musical theater piece, ‘Upstairs‘, named after the bar that was so murderously burned down, in an effort to remind us what came before, what life might have been, and what hope, love and loss sound like. In addition to being an important piece of LGBT history, it’s also a compelling perspective on the human condition. Tickets for the show are on sale now, so if you’re going to be in the New Orleans area from June 20-24, or just want to support this excellent work, please visit this link for the latest on the show, and how it came to be.

 

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Mother’s Day Gift

In the spring of 1997 I took my Mom to see three of the Tony-nominated musicals that year – ‘Steel Pier’, ‘Jekyll & Hyde’ and ‘Titanic’. It was a tradition for at least two or three years to take in a Broadway show together. (For the record, I enjoyed them all – and ‘Steel Pier’ marked the Broadway debut of Kristin Chenoweth and her scene-stealing coloratura.) In many respects, I have my Mom to thank for my love of musical theater. From ‘Peter Pan’ to ‘Into the Woods’ to ‘Jerome Robbins’ Broadway’, some of my most prominent childhood memories involve seeing shows with her.

This year, I’m resurrecting the ritual by taking her to see ‘Kinky Boots’ and ‘Pippin’ next month. And for anyone raising an eyebrow at me attending a show entitled ‘Kinky Boots’ with my mother, let me assure you it will be all right: I’ve seen more full-frontal male nudity on the Broadway stage with my Mom than just about anyone else, no lie. (From ‘Six Degrees of Separation to ‘Love! Valour! Compassion!’ and an Oscar Wilde play or two…)

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Helping Out Upstairs

One of the double-edged swords of all the progress the gay community has made over the last few years is the fact that those young people coming of age now don’t remember how hard it used to be. As a thirty-something gay man, I feel in many ways on the cusp of that – I remember what it was like in the 80’s and 90’s, and I know how easier it is in many ways today. While this is the way it should be, we must not forget from whence we came, and all our rich, tumultuous, and often-unlearned history.

A bit of our history that I had not known until recently was a 1973 arson fire that killed 32 people in a gay bar. It went ignored by the media, and unknown to many, like myself, until Wayne Self brought it back to over-due prominence in his upcoming musical ‘Upstairs‘. Events like this need to be remembered. We cannot forget, because such hatred will flare up in other ways.

Director Zach McCallum sums up the story as such:

Upstairs tells the long-forgotten story of a tragic arson fire in a gay bar in New Orleans in 1973. Thirty-two people, many of them members of the then-fledgling New Orleans Metropolitan Community Church, which had been meeting at the Up Stairs Lounge, were killed, in what remains to this day the single deadliest crime against an LGBT population in US history. At the time, the story was almost completely ignored by the news media. Though a suspect was identified, no arrest was ever made.

Wayne’s play is an elegant, haunting tale of damnation and salvation, telling the stories of several of the victims of the fire. The characters  include Buddy (based on the real Buddy Rasmussen), a bartender who led 35 people to safety, and Buddy’s partner Adam. Mitch, the associate pastor of the NOLA MCC, and his partner Horace. Drag performer Marcy and her dresser Reginald. And Agneau, a tormented and self-hating gay man. It is a morality play with a twist, told with sensitivity and dark humor, with a catchy and modern jazz and blues influenced score.

The production is up against a large goal, and timeframe: they need to raise $10,000 in order to move forward. They’ve got a good start (about halfway there at the time of this writing), but it must be raised by February 17, so the pressure is on. Please consider helping out with a donation at THIS LINK. (Your donation will only be collected if they reach their goal.) Another way to help is to attend one of the shows (which is what I would do if I were a hair closer to California…) Tickets can be found HERE.

 

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The Perfect Year

Ring out the old, Ring in the new
A midnight wish to share with you
Your lips are warm, my head is light
Were we alive before tonight?
I don’t need a crowded ballroom,
Everything I want is here,
If you’re with me,
Next year will be…
The Perfect Year…

It just may be my favorite scene out of any musical, and it always makes me cry. The cynical story of Norma Desmond and ‘Sunset Boulevard‘ is not high on anyone’s warm and fuzzy list, but in this brief snippet we have a glimpse at what makes her lovable in the face of all her delusional arrogance and haughty defiance. This is just a fragile person, hopelessly and unrequitedly in love with someone else who doesn’t love her back, at least not in that way – not in that all-encompassing romantic way that we all deserve to be loved. The world had already left her behind, but that doesn’t stop the heart from wanting, from loving. It never fails to move me.

It’s New Year’s Eve and hopes are high
Dance one year in, kiss one good-bye,
Another chance, another start
So many dreams to tease the heart,
We don’t need a crowded ballroom,
Everything we want is here,
And face to face,
We will embrace
The Perfect Year…
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Glitter & Be Gay

Before this world ends, a bit of the bright and bubbly, in the form of one brilliant Kristin Chenoweth in her blazing version of ‘Glitter and Be Gay’ from ‘Candide’. Though it was her turn in ‘Steel Pier’ on Broadway that made me an instant fan, it was this performance that truly galvanized my love for her. In these dark days, a little sparkle is needed more than ever. (Bonus Diva Points for Patti LuPone’s entrance – and exit.)

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Mid-Day Hump Day Treat

It’s not about aptitude it’s the way you’re viewed…
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Please, It’s All About Popular

If other places can re-print an article on ‘Wicked’ by Gregory Maguire, then surely I can get away with re-posting my review of the show from when it premiered on Broadway almost a decade ago. I’m taking Andy to see it tonight at Proctor’s, so it seems a fitting moment. (Besides, I’m too busy finalizing my outfit for the Beaujolais Nouveau Wine Festival to really focus on anything else.) So, without further ado, here it is (and it’s interesting to note how very wrong I was about the show not doing so well once its original cast departed).

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“Popular – it’s all about popular. It’s not about aptitude, it’s the way you’re viewed, so it’s very shrewd to be very, very popular, like me!” So sings Galinda, the ‘good witch’ of’Wicked’, in the new musical that opened this past year. The show too is proving popular, from good word-of-mouth to sold-out audiences. (The past few weeks have found it filled to capacity.) All this despite mixed reviews is further proof that what is popular may be more important than what is actually worthy of artistic merit. In this case, it’s not as bad as mean-spirited critics would have you believe, nor as wonderful as ‘Wicked’ fans would like you to think.

For lovers of the movie and those unfamiliar with Gregory Maguire’s original spellbinding book, the musical is likely to enchant and delight ~ for those who enjoyed the darker edge of the book, it may prove disappointing. The musical’s team ~ mainly Stephen Schwartz, who wrote the music and lyrics, and Winnie Holzman, who wrote the book of the musical ~ turned the dark genius of Maguire’s literary masterpiece into something, well, popular, in the best and worst sense. One gets the feeling that the show is trying to be everything to everyone ~ keeping the movie-lovers happy while placating those captivated by Maguire’s book, and such artistic compromise is exceedingly difficult to pull off successfully. In this instance, the creators only partially succeed.
The main draw of the show is rightfully found in its two leads, Idina Menzel as Elphaba – the green one, and Kristin Chenoweth as Galinda – the ‘good one’. (The first ‘A’ in Galinda becomes silent, as is amusingly explained in the musical.) For her opening entrance, Galinda descends from above, in a mechanical bubble of course, and greets the audience with her now-classic line, “It’s good to see me, isn’t it?” It certainly is, and remains so throughout the evening. Ms. Chenoweth gives the defining performance of the show, running the gamut from perky and giddy to heartbroken and stoically resigned. It would have been enough to convey the goodness and light of Galinda’s seemingly superficial nature, but Chenoweth digs deeper to craft a multi-layered portrayal, from heights of happiness to plummeting pathos. Her Galinda is not all good, but you love her for her human shortcomings.

Idina Menzel is the green one, or Elphaba as she is known here. Ms. Menzel contrasts beautifully with Chenoweth, and gives an equally compelling, if less showy, performance. She is a powerful belter ~ remembered rightly for her showcase performance as Maureen in the original cast of Rent. Here she must erase the horror recalled from Margaret Hamilton’s chilling turn in the movie and forge the character into a creature of empathy. Her Elphaba is a grower, not a shower, and the blossoming of her journey is something to behold. It may forever alter your perception of the Wicked Witch of the West. Both lead ladies elevate the show, and during the all-too-rare moments when the material matches the talent, ‘Wicked’ truly soars. The budding, complex friendship between adversaries Galinda and Elphaba is what keeps it all together, and it is this emotional bond that carries the weightier moments of the production.

Visually it is compelling ~ a mechanical theme echoes from the gears and cogs that frame the stage and battle with encroaching vines, to the Dragon Clock and time motif that run throughout. A giant witch’s hat materializes early on, portending events to come, and the aforementioned entrance of Galinda is an indelible sight. However, such visuals and ideas resound with more impact than does most of the music, and this is usually a death knell for a musical. Save for the lilting ‘Popular’ and the majestic ‘Defying Gravity’ (which takes off literally and figuratively thanks to Menzel’s powerhouse vocals), there are few songs that remain memorable. ‘What Is This Feeling?’ offers moments of exhilaration while ‘Dancing Through Life’ and ‘One Short Day’ are merely serviceable. Closing duet ‘For Good’ mostly succeeds through the emotional delivery of Menzel and Chenowith. And it is this crux that is the bane and saving grace of the show: without these two charismatic performers, the show itself may not fly.

Broadway’s past ~ where shows relied on well-known musical stars (Ethel Merman for example) ~ seems to be the Broadway’s present and future too, as movie stars grace the Great White Way with amped-up head mikes and passable singing voices. There is danger in it though, for what happens when the star departs, as all stars eventually do? Strong shows that depend largely on ensemble casts like ‘Rent’ and ‘Chicago’ will endure, but others may not prove so stalwart. When the music is decent the show can survive; when it’s not things get tricky. ‘Wicked’ is at its best when Menzel and Chenoweth command the stage. In their absence the production falls a little flat.

Still, ‘Wicked’ does offer something for those searching for deeper meaning. “Are people born wicked, or is wickedness thrust upon us?” Galinda asks early in the show. But while the sinister nature of evil is questioned, it is never dwelt on or deeply explored. Instead, the musical raises the question of whether those who are popular can do more good through their power, than those who openly oppose the system, but lack the clout because of their convictions or beliefs. Is Galinda perhaps more insidious and intelligent because she recognizes the power of popularity and the platform that results? Or has she been cowed and molded into a public figure without true morals and standards? Is Elphaba somehow better for her unyielding stance, or foolish because it ends up with her banishment? Who, indeed, is the most wicked?

The musical is at its best when is posits these queries through the luscious vocals and impeccable performances of Chenoweth and Menzel. Without them, ‘Wicked’ may prove to be a bumpy ride that never quite takes flight. For the moment, they’re here ~ each giving a luminous portrayal of two strikingly different women making their way in the world ~ go now to see them soar.

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Good Golly, Miss Dolly!

Though its likely to result in instant revocation of my gay card, I have a confession to make: I’ve never seen ‘Hello, Dolly!’ Not in its many incarnations with Carol Channing over the years, not in the film version with Barbra Streisand, not in any local production or revival. It’s a pretty big deal according to some folks on FaceBook. Fortunately, thanks to the musical theatrical gods of Cohoes Music Hall, that was rectified last night, and in gloriously fine fashion.‏

Under the elegant yet riotous direction of Jim Charles, this Dolly is a deft and classy version of the venerable work, and the perfect introduction for Dolly virgins like myself. Mr. Charles knows his golden-touched way around a classical musical, giving the show the giddy, airy flight it needs while grounding it with subtle moments of regret and wistful reminiscence. Central to its success is the winning performance of Monica M. Wemitt as masterful meddler Dolly Levi.

Ms. Wemitt is a sly, comedic goddess, with a voice as rich and smooth as butter, and the regal deportment to carry off every colorfully brazen costume without missing a step. Not having seen any other version of the show, I can’t imagine anyone else doing this role justice – not even the great Carol Channing (whose prime performances were before my time). Ms. Wemitt moves from meddlesome to moving, manipulative to magic-making, and wins over every audience member as if she were singing only to them. Her moments with a meal at Harmonia Gardens rank with the most hilarious in musical comedy, and she manages to accomplish this without singing a single note (which would have proven impossible with all those feather-light dumplings anyway).

Matching her talent with equally-impressive vocal chops is Peyton Thomas Tucker as Cornelius Hackl. Though it’s a bit of a one-note character, Mr. Tucker adds the right nuances at the right moments, and reveals a gorgeous dulcet tone that still somehow carries to the highest rafters of the house.

With its athletic troupe of dancers that seem to defy both gravity and physics executing the choreography of Michele Tibbitts, the always-expert orchestra, this time led by Nolan Bonvouloir, and the eye-popping costumes of Jimm Halliday (Hello, Millinery!), the show dazzles and soars, ultimately bringing the audience to its feet.

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You Can’t Do This On Television

Given that at this moment I’m watching a total of two TV shows (two more than usual, and they are, quite psychotically, Mad Men and the Real Housewives of New Jersey), a play about the invention of television would seem to be the last thing to captivate me. Yet that is exactly what the current production of ‘The Farnsworth Invention’ manages to do at the Albany Civic Theater.

Masterfully directed by Aaron Holbritter and written with the deft, quick-worded brilliance of The Social Network’s Aaron Sorkin, it ostensibly sets out to document the creation of television, but manages to display layers of human drive, greed, hope, and innocence along the way. This is a mannered, thoughtfully-paced, and intricately-nuanced production, but its complexities play out in charmingly entertaining fashion, as much a testament to the talents of the director as to the strength of the cast.

At its center is the fictional interaction between media mogul David Sarnoff (Isaac Newberry) and Philo Farnsworth (Tom Templeton) as they compete to be the first to bring television to the world. Their relationship propels the show forward, and Newberry and Templeton ground the evening with an ever-evolving emotional arc between two very different men who came from similarly-barren pasts. As moving as they are, it is the ensemble as a whole that works together to flesh out the unexpectedly gripping drama as it unfolds. The supporting cast works wonders, creating around 60 characters between them, and somehow making every one distinct. Stand-outs include Ken Goldfarb and Joey Hunziker, who each get a few luminescent moments to shine.

There are a number of passages that soar, such as the exuberant explosion of the cast’s joy upon seeing the first glimpse of a moving picture on the small screen, or the comical juxtaposition of both witness teams in the lawsuit, and all of it serves to underscore the riveting dynamics between Newberry and Templeton.

In the hands of a less-skilled director or a less-restrained cast, the Farnsworth familial portion of the play might have verged on cloying – here, under the guidance of Holbritter, and the desperate yet contained grief conveyed by Templeton and Kyrie Ellison, it is an effective moment that sets up the final act. (One of the only minor complaints that can be made is the fault of Sorkin, who has yet to prove he can write a compelling, three-dimensional woman – whether that’s really his own flaw, or a product of the time period in which this subject took place is a debate that can rage elsewhere). That said, this production is one of the most subtle yet powerful stagings I’ve had the privilege of seeing in quite some time, and credit goes mainly to the cast and the director.

Ironically, or intentionally tellingly, what they manage to do – and what can only be done in live theater – is something that you can’t capture on television – that moment between actor and audience, when you inhabit the exact same time and space, breathe the same air, live in the same world – and feel as if you are actually there, sharing their heartbreak and happiness, striving and yearning along with them, aching in their grief.

It’s easy to root for the good guys, to be given a clear sense of who’s right and wrong and follow that simple path – but so much more rewarding and challenging, so deliciously tense, to be presented with complicated, fully-human characters complete with flaws, ambitions, hopes, and failings. We are given such a glorious dilemma here, and Newberry, as the first and final narrator, exemplifies this gorgeous ambivalence, shining light upon this human connection that brings us all together – not unlike television once did.

‘The Farnsworth Invention’ is playing at the Albany Civic Theater until May 20, 2012. To reserve seats, call 518-462-1297.
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The Very Model of a Major Good Time

There’s something thrilling about seeing a show you’ve never seen before. Yet even if you have the faintest familiarity with a production, when that red curtain rises it erases everything that came before – including 100 plus years of history and acclaim – and it’s as if it’s happening for the very first time. You can never recapture that moment, not with the grandest revision or the wildest reimagining, so I’m thankful that my first brush withThe Pirates of Penzance came at the hands of the Cohoes Music Hall.

I knew nothing of the show, other than the fact that it was created by the legendary team of Arthur Sullivan and W. S. Gilbert, and I’d had no more than a fleeting bit of pop culture exposure courtesy of the ‘Major General’s Song’. Beyond that I was pirate virgin, waiting for my pirate booty to be plucked and plundered with a snappy bit of song and dance. I’m happy to report that my Pirates of Penzance cherry was perfectly popped in the current production running in Cohoes until February 19.

A light-hearted frolic, wispy as the clouds of the opening set, Pirates is directed with a deftly-nuanced touch byC-R Productions own Jim Charles. Far from the darker fare peddled by modern day movies or real-life news, the pirates here wink and cajole, winning over the audience before the rest of the participants, a tribute as much to the stellar ensemble as to the original brilliant score, which soars and floats gloriously amid the February doldrums.

An operetta demands a blithe hand, and this romp is a broad, and at times earnestly moving, bit of escapism. Completely engaging as an effortlessly-amusing good time, it finds the pirates on the comical rather than fearsome side of things. The Pirate King is more Johnny Depp than Captain Hook, played with charismatic scene-stealing debauchery by Jesse Coleman. Mr. Coleman commands and pilots the proceedings with swashbuckling fierceness, moving convincingly between compassion, empathy, anger, and haplessness with delicious abandon. Anchored by the dulcet tones of John Farchione as Frederic and the glittering coloratura of Kellie Cundiff as Mabel, the production sails grandly towards its happy ending, pausing only at the show-stopping rendition of the Major General’s Song, sung flawlessly by Jerry Christakos, who brings the added depth of heart necessary to set the second act on fire.

Whenever ‘Pirates’ broad humor threatens to be too much, it suddenly offers forth a bit of wit and cleverness to keep it in check, standing up to the test of time, if not improving upon the original material. While the first act builds and builds, the second lands running, with an enchanting other-worldly set, and the non-stop entertainment that doesn’t give out until it’s over.

If it’s a witty frolic and some good old-fashioned entertainment you’re on the hunt for this winter, I highly recommend this pirate’s life for you.

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On the Rag – Theater Review

Having had the fortune of seeing the original Broadway production of ‘Ragtime’, I feared that it would be no mean feat for the Schenectady Light Opera Company to pull it off. The original staging had the killer combination of Brian Stokes Mitchell, Marin Mazzie, and Audra MacDonald to dazzle and delight, along with a supporting cast of what seemed like hundreds. Add to that a sky-high set that managed to depict everything from a stately Victorian house to the immigrant tenements of New York City to the entire industrial revolution, and ‘Ragtime’ would seem to defy a small local theater treatment. Yet the Schenectady Light Opera Company manages to find the heart of this musical, and keep it beating through every syncopated step.

Under the masterful direction of Joseph Fava (who doubles brilliantly, and integrally, as the costume designer) this ‘Ragtime’ eschews a fancy set and scenery, focusing rightly on the main players and the music, and against all odds, it works. As someone who was raised, for better or worse, on the enormous levitating mansion of Norma Desmond in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s ‘Sunset Boulevard’, I have always guiltily appreciated a lavish set for a night of theater, but when a musical has the strength of an ensemble like the one currently at work in Schenectady, one doesn’t miss the crashing helicopters or falling chandeliers of big-budget spectacle. The score, the songs, and the performers are enough, and despite the relatively small group of musicians off to the side, they manage to make the music soar – filling the former-church space with majesty and might.

Though it is an ensemble piece, ‘Ragtime’ depends largely on the capabilities of its three main leads. The first, Mother, is a trickily thankless role that slowly evolves into something more, culminating with the 11th hour bit of brilliance that is ‘Back to Before’. Joan Horgan deftly portrays Mother’s initial complacence, her defiant growth, and almost imperceptible yet complete transformation before our very eyes.

As Coalhouse Walker, Jr., Jahmere Holland must carry the brunt of the show’s political message, along with its emotional core. Where his voice doesn’t quite rise to the needed heft of some of the anthems, his charisma more than carries him through (along with some impressively fancy footwork).

It is Nick Abounader, as Tateh, who steals the show and gives it its immigrant-and-an-American-dream heart. From the touching scenes with his daughter to the rage at an unforgiving and unwelcoming foreign country, Abounader manages to go from fury to anguish to tenderness in the span of a few minutes, all with a convincing accent. In a voice that blends steely strength and remarkable sensitivity, he handles Tateh’s physical and emotional arc with conviction and commitment.

Providing comic relief and historical touchstones are the cheeky Amanda Jo Marshall as Evelyn Nesbit, Dave Dixon as Harry Houdini, and Debbie May in a feisty turn as Emma Goldman. Excellent vocal work is also displayed by Steven Leifer as Father and Robert L. Hegeman as Younger Brother, while Thomas Dalton Bambury gives racism a love-to-hate-him face in the form of the bigoted Willie Conklin.

Yet for all its individual achievements, it is the ensemble that will always make for a successful staging of ‘Ragtime’, and that strength is largely an attribute of its director. Fava manages to keep an insanely intricate and large cast moving individually and en masse with equal parts of expertise, accuracy, and effortless grace. Even at its most trite, ‘Ragtime’ reminds us of where this country once was, and in doing so can’t help but echo where some of it still is.

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‘Next Fall’ at the Speakeasy Stage – Theater Review

A far cry from the last feel-good production I saw put on by the SpeakEasy Stage Company (that would be the rollicking good-time of ‘The Drowsy Chaperone’), ‘Next Fall’ is a very serious play that resonates with several particularly-timely subjects – yet it is just as expertly-done, and haunts in a more provocative manner. At its heart, it is a play about the difficult reconciliation between religion and homosexuality, and it also touches on family relations, the question of faith, and the simple (or not so simple) meaning of love. If it sounds like a lot, it is – but somehow the ensemble cast reins it in with impeccably-rendered performances.

Nominated for a Tony for Best Play in 2010, ‘Next Fall’ by Geoffrey Nauffts is compellingly of-the-moment, especially given these religiously-fanatic times. A Bible makes it way around to each of the characters – sometimes instilling comfort, sometimes inciting anger, sometimes invoking sadness – and it becomes its own central character, embodying the idea of religion, and all notions of good and bad. Any sort of judgment one way or another is wisely avoided, and the lingering ambivalence over the real role of religion and faith in the characters’ lives remains powerfully unresolved.

Directed by Scott Emriston, the production keeps its pace, owing in part to several ingenious set design shifts (Scenic Designer Janie Howland) and quick costume changes (Costume Design by Carlos Aguilar). Most effective may be the lighting (courtesy of Lighting Designer Karen Perlow), which somehow manages to differentiate between a cold hospital waiting room and a warm personal apartment, seemingly at the flip of a switch.

There are a few minor quibbles. A quick drug-addiction scene comes out of nowhere and ends up in the same place, and at times it does feel like there are too many things going on when a closer, more detailed examination of the bigger issues at hand might have proved better, but the strength of the ensemble pulls it all together. Not one of the actors uses broad strokes to fill their character, and their subtle, natural nuances keep things grounded on a credible level. There’s not a weak-link in the bunch. Taken as a whole, they add up to a powerful night of theater.

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Get A Load of These Cats – Theater Review

Have we been wrong about Cats all this time? That’s the question and challenge posed by the brilliant production currently prowling the Cohoes Music Hall. The reviews are glowing, the cast is perfection, and this incarnation defies all the jokes that have ever been made about the show. This is the Cats of the original hype, but without the inflated disappointment. It has caused more than a few of the jaded to rethink their thoughts on the material, and it stands up remarkably well 30 years after its premiere.

The first time I actually saw the show was when it was touring in the mid 80’s – we caught a performance in Toronto I believe – the most memorable part of the whole thing being the set, and my Dad’s uproarious imitation of the cats after it was all over, raising his hand like a paw and cracking me and my brother up. He was, to say the least, not impressed, but I didn’t hate it with the gleeful animosity that most people did. In fact, I felt none of the disdain that so many theater snobs seemed to take such joy in expelling. It wasn’t the second-longest running show on Broadway for no reason – there are some decent songs (courtesy of Andrew Lloyd Webber) and some incredible choreography. However, with all the hype of its premiere I think most people went into it expecting some sort of miracle transcendental moment – and this isn’t that kind of show. The power of Cats lies in its performance – in the energetic trooping of its hoofers and a power ballad or two. There is a weak storyline of journeying to the Heaviside Layer, and as much anthropomorphic meaning as you wish can be read into the evening’s festivities, but above all this is about song and dance.

Under the expert direction and choreography of Jacob Brent (who performed in both the Broadway and London productions of the original show), that song and dance is given a gorgeous whirl that majestically captures the graceful movements of the dancers while perfectly melding them into feline form. Along with the always-excellent musical direction of Joshua Zecher-Ross, whose musicians, though few in number, completely fill the space with the necessary bombast for the rigorous dance routines, while subtly pulling out the most delicate harmonies in the quieter moments, the structure and bones of this animal are stalwartly intact. From there it growls, prances, and claws its way into the pantheon of fine performances that the Cohoes Music Hall has seen over as many years as a cat has lives. (This is the start of their ninth season.)

There are several stand-outs in a show rich with remarkable performers, most notably Tony Rivera strutting his stuff and chewing the home-turf scenery as Rum Tum Tugger (he is the very definition of charisma), Chaz Wolcott as the magical Mr. Mistoffeles (he is the embodiment of elegant electricity), John Farchione as Gus/Growltiger and Lucy Horton as Jellylorum/Griddlebone (together the essence of comedic genius). Ruthie Stephens gets the big number, ‘Memory’, and acquits herself admirably as Grizabella.

The rest of the cast is across-the-board superb, with nary a weak paw in the place. Sean Hingel as Munkustrap anchors the show with a convincingly-cat-like regal bearing, while Kelly Briggs as Old Deuteronomy adds the proper imperial note (even holding the stage focus for a cat-nap during intermission). In the end, though, it’s the company as a whole that makes the magic that carries the night – the thrilling Jellicle Ball episode unfolds with one amazing dance sequence after another, unfurling like some indefatigable wind-up toy brought to thrilling human form.

The folks at Cohoes Music Hall have a way of revitalizing new and old shows with integrity and exuberance, both of which elevate this production of Cats into a theatrical experience rich and worthy of exaltation. Go see it now, because this one won’t be around forever.

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