Off Broadway
Shakespeare in the Park’s “Hamlet” Modernly Harmonizes

A quartet of mourners harmonizes gloriously, singing about a time to break down and a time to build. It’s a telling reformation, signaling that we are not in 16th-Century Denmark anymore, but somewhere down in Southern Georgia. The shift feels right. No surprise here as we watch director Kenny Leon (Broadway’s Topdog/Underdog), after his revelatory Much Ado About Nothing, also at the Public’s Delacorte, sink his vantage point into a re-angled “murder most foul” with a strong, confident strut, embodied most beautifully by his intense Hamlet, Ato Blankson-Wood (Broadway’s Slave Play), and the revealing entrance of the well-cast Warner Miller (Broadway’s The Piano Lesson) as his Horatio.
The framework is big and loud, with a slanted-door funeral followed within a blink of a month-long eye by a marriage, a pseudo-royal one that doesn’t disappoint, thanks to some great costuming by Jessica Jahn (Public’s Coal Country). It’s reminiscent of his previous Shakespeare in the Park outing, thanks to the work of set designer Beowulf Boritt (Broadway’s POTUS), with lighting by Allen Lee Hughes (Broadway’s Ohio State Murders) and sound design by Justin Ellington (2ST/Broadway’s Clyde’s). His off-balanced sinking Southern mansion and his collision course pool of water sit suggestively on that beautiful wide stage, giving off an energy of hurricane proportions or a party gone wrong. It’s a captivating visual, but oddly enough, it is merely a backdrop that has pretty much nothing to do with what happens before it. It gives you a sense of place for this classic tragedy of a princely son caught inside himself as he struggles with revenge and honor, but why there is a big SUV dead-ended in a pond is a question never answered. It is ignored, as I guess we should too, but the contemporary reassignment is key to the production, and even though not pushed hard into our laps, the slightly edited essence of what is being staged here, in“our country is a prison” rather than in Denmark’s, is a slanted angle worthy of our attention. Even if the surrounding isn’t reflected in the play before it.

The cast strides strong on that overly complicated stage, almost begging for a more simple backdrop so we can focus on the formula being played with. Each actor finds the space and deliverance to unpack their role in this timeless play. John Douglas Thompson (Broadway’s Jitney) as Claudius and Lorraine Toussaint (Taper’s Stuff Happens) as his newly married Queen, Gertrude, find their royal weight in every scene they inhabit, unpacking Shakespearean language almost effortlessly for our engagement. Blankson-Wood as Kenny Leon’s star Hamlet finds his footing in the fantastical swings of thought and mood, although I never really found myself lost inside his emotional head. It’s all there, happening before us, delivering the difficult and numerous soliloquies with verve and a focused force, but in a way, we aren’t invited in. His indecision hangs heavy over his heart and soul, diving into the text and truth with a strong force and fervor, but the tearful rage in his eyes for some reason held me one step removed. And not completely enthralled.
Everything is broken around him, that is clear, but it is also unfocused in its clumsy and distracting showing of an American world sinking into the earth. So much is unused and not referred to, as is this Hamlet, that suggests something strong and dedicated, but rarely emotionally connects. That is except for that magical possession, instead of visitation, of Hamlet’s body by his father’s ghost, lip-syncing for his life to the voice of Samuel L. Jackson against a backdrop of mostly captivating convulsion projections, courtesy of designer Jeff Sugg (Public/Broadway’s Sweat). It’s a thrilling added layer of introspection that flies out into the night air, finding a unique slice of drama in the tried and true. Just like the ghostly walk of Ophelia, captivatingly portrayed by Solea Pfeiffer‘s understudy, Safiya Harris (Ars Nova’s Death of Hayden Waverly), down deep into her grave in front of her grieving brother. Talk about a great exit.

That punch to the gut, felt so strongly by the impressive Nick Rehberger (Broadway’s The Glass Menagerie) as Ophelia’s heartbroken and angry brother, Laertes, is when this Hamlet feels its emotional power. Unpacking a connection that feels honest, clear, and not so obviously embodied. Daniel Pearce (Public’s Mother of the Maid) also brings clever sharpness as this ridiculous father, Polonius. His performance shines strong and decidedly funny, opposite in humor to his son, but equally expert in the delivery.
Those two moments are the highlights of this generally fine rendering of this epic piece of Shakespearean storytelling. The songs, courtesy of Jason Michael Webb (Broadway’s MJ) expand and are interpreted gorgeously, elevating the space above the chaotic structuring. The themes of the play; unexplained madness, melancholy, grief, and the confusion that comes with it, hang well in the night air, but somehow never fully enter the heart completely.
This is the final Shakespeare in the Park production before the Delacorte Theatre undergoes a massive 18-month renovation, and this basically fine production reveals itself to be underwhelming even as it attempts to say so much. There is nothing rotten in this rendered state of Denmark/Georgia, but there isn’t enough invention to stay bound to my brain long after I made my way out of the park. Nothing like when I saw The Public‘s Fat Ham on Broadway. Now that modern reformist approach stuck strong long after the curtain came down. Some sharpening skills might be needed to make a classic Hamlet resonate as emotionally clear as that stellar reorganizing.

For more go to frontmezzjunkies.com
Off Broadway
Ruth Stage’s “Lone Star” Guzzles Down Edgeless Revelations and Trauma at Theatre Row NYC

By Dennis W
Hey, grab yourself a six-pack and head out to Angel’s Bar (at NYC’s Theatre Row) where Ray, Roy, Cletis, and Elizabeth will meet you in the backyard. It’s just a place to hang out, where tired old lawn furniture and a few milk crates hiding in the scrub go before they retire to the junk pile. It’s the early 1970s, and there isn’t much to do in the backwater town of Maynard, Texas, as a matter of fact, the town almost disappeared not too long ago.
The main players, Roy and Ray, in Ruth Stage’s Lone Starwritten by James McLure (Original Adaption by Ruth Stage) seem to be the brothers. They exist here, living out a dark comedy about a psychological casualty of war who comes home. It begins with a substantial monologue and mini-concert by Roy’s wife, Elizabeth, played by Ana Isabelle (Off-Broadway’s I Like It Like That). She is trying to save her marriage to her high school sweetheart, a former soldier who came home from Vietnam two years ago and suffers from PTSD (which was not even acknowledged by the military until the 1980s). Isabelle gives an adequate performance but it feels very odd that she is alone on stage talking about how her husband’s condition has and is affecting her, him, their life together, their family, and their strained marriage. What’s odd is that when she’s finished she leaves, not to be seen again, until just before the final curtain.
Ray, the somewhat dimwitted brother, played by Dan Amboyer (Netflix’s ‘Uncoupled‘) arrives first in the backyard of Angel’s Bar. Amboyer seems to have captured the “not so bright” tone of the younger brother who isn’t as dumb as you might expect. He’s actually pretty smart in handling some surprises that are about to unfold. Ray is followed out in the backyard by his alpha male brother, Roy with tattooed arms, a shirt with cut-off sleeves, and a bandanna, played by Matt de Rogatis (Off-Broadway’s Cat on a Hot Tin Roof). The two “good old boys”, Ray and Roy (their names tell you a lot about them and their family as Ray points out), gear up for a night of beers and man talk. Tonight’s conversation begins with the questions; where was Roy and what he was doing these past two days after disappearing without a word – not that he hasn’t done that before. There’s a lot of hollering as the two boys talk about the good old days, Vietnam, Roy’s pink 1959 Thunderbird, sexual exploits, and love of country. The actors have good chemistry and you can see their combative sibling relationship living and breathing before us. It’s strong and honest, as they reminisce about growing up and raising hell together with Roy taking the lead, but all this talk doesn’t seem to take us anywhere new. Most of it is a rehash of what we found out during Elizabeth’s opening monologue.
Finally, there is some tension: Ray’s high school friend, Cletis, who Roy hates with a passion arrives. He’s the antithesis of Ray and Roy, and as played by Ryan McCartan (Roundabout’s Scotland, PA), Cletis is exactly what you might expect. He’s the perfect nerd with high-water pants, a buttoned-up shirt, loafers, and, of course, a pocket protector filled with pens. He comes in with what should be catastrophic news for Roy, but Ray has his own bombshell to toss into the mix. You would expect fireworks, especially from a veteran who is suffering from PTSD, but what you actually end up getting is ‘good old Roy’ who puts his arm around his brother’s shoulders and heads on home. You get quiet defeat. But, who knows how long that will last.
Director Joe Rosario (Off-Broadway’s Cat on a Hot Tim Roof) only has a small space to work with on that stage as designed by Matthew Imhoff. The set fills much of the space giving the effect of a rundown bar with the back door of Angel’s opening to a small porch leading to a narrow yard with ample clutter. Rosario’s direction is a bit linear but works within the space available.
Lone Star loses its way as it propels forward, with slow brother Ray not really as out of touch as he seems, macho Roy dealing with the trauma of PTSD, long-suffering Elizabeth, and the nerd Cletis, who’s managing his father’s appliance store and is better off than the brothers. In many ways, the evening that we are privy to, out back behind Angel’s chugging Lone Stars, seems to be just like yesterday and probably just like tomorrow, even with all of its Lone Star revelations.
For more go to frontmezzjunkies.com
Cabaret
Have You Begun Dreaming of It Yet? (PART I)

What else – White Christmas, of course!
December is jampacked with great entertainment, so I hope you’re caught up on your shopping, because there are lots of treats for you this month. Here’s a stockingful of events that you shouldn’t miss.
If you’re looking for probably the most glamorous gift of the season, drop by Doyle Galleries to at least look at The Ellin and Irving Berlin Sapphire and Diamond Ring. Bidding is estimated to begin at $200,000 at the December 14th auction.
Jason Henderson kicked off the month reprising his highly acclaimed latest venture, Getting to Noël You at Don’t Tell Mama on the 4th. If you missed this evening, don’t worry – he’s back by popular demand—same time, same location—on January 24th and February 11th. It’s quite a curious and fast-paced ride he takes us on, and it’s one not to be missed.
The York Theatre has delivered a mitzvah–just in time for Christmas. Billed as a Musical Comedy of Biblical Proportions, The Jerusalem Syndrome certainly lived up to expectations. You must see it to discover the meaning of the title, which is fact, not fiction.
While this has been in development for several years, the skilled midwifery of the York brought forth a little bundle of joy that had the audience laughing at its humor and touched by its message. Sensitive to the current Middle East conflict, the York bravely went ahead with the project, which affords everyone a chance to marvel and understand the miracle that is Israel.
It’s running through the end of the year—visit the York website https://yorktheatre.org for more info.
Urban Stages has announced its “2023 Winter Rhythms” series, the award-winning music festival at Urban Stages Theater (259 West 30th Street – between 7th & 8th Avenues).
It began with a gala on December 6 entitled “Nights at the Algonquin: A Celebration of The Oak Room Supper Club,” featuring many legendary cabaret performers including Natalie Douglas, Boots Maleson, Steve Ross, and Daryl Sherman. Hosted by Michael Colby (author of The Algonquin Kid), the evening began with a champagne and wine reception followed by the show at 7:30 with a post-show gathering to follow.
On Sunday, December 10 at 3pm “Created at the Algonquin: Songs from Musicals Written at The Algonquin,” featuring performances by Craig Bierko, Shana Farr, Jenn Gambatese, Anita Gillette, Jon Peterson, Steve Ross and others. The program will be directed by Sara Louise Lazarus with Michael Lavine directing the music.
As part of the festivities, Shana Farr will reprise her glorious Barbara Cook tribute on the 16th. Ice Cream,. Anyone?
Everyone’s favorite is Karen Mason, whose show Christmas! Christmas! Christmas! is one night only at Birdland at 7 pm on the 11th.
Stay tuned for Part II for Christmas romance, tradition, and good will!
Off Broadway
T2C Talks to Patrick Olson About Emergence

Patrick Olson, is a musician-scientist and now a performer with his own show Emergence, Off-Broadway at The Pershing Square Signature Center through January 7, 2024.
T2C talked to this prolific artist to learn more about what seems more like a movement and a unique experience.
See t2C’s review here.
Emergence: Things Are Not As They Seem: Signature Center, 480 West 42nd Street through January 7th. Tickets and information: emergenceshow.com
Video by Magda Katz
Off Broadway
Off Broadway Girl Talk Madwomen of the West

Right now at the Actors Temple Theatre, 339 West 47th Street is the New York premier of Sandra Tsing Loh’s Madwomen of the West. The show in a way reminded me of the 1996 play Love, Loss, and What I Wore, where celebrities joined on stage. Here you have Caroline Aaron, Brooke Adams, Marilu Henner, and Melanie Mayron, all actors who have performed on film, TV and stage. They are like long lost friends, they are so familiar.
The four have gathered together for Claudia’s (Mayron) birthday. It is being thrown at the Brentwood home of Jules (Adams) and Marilyn (Aaron) has decorated. Enter the long lost Zoey (Henner) and what you think you know about these friends, isn’t what it seems. As a matter of fact, this birthday brunch is about to turn into the brunch from hell. These Baby Boomers, are also feminists admiring Hilary Clinton and Gloria Steinem, though not always on the same side. They break the 4th wall, as they banter back and forth to themselves and to us, the audience. They confront, encourage, justify and talk about transgender, health, the horror of Trump and those “pussy hats”, sex and so much more. Think “girl-talk” to the max.
They sit on couches, as a backdrop of palm trees, and a lone piñata take center stage, thanks to set designer Christian Fleming. The play has no money, so the production is bare bones…. so they say. Everything about this show is tongue and check and is well directed by Thomas Caruso.
Each actor here shines and in an out of the way aside, each has pieces of their real selves written into the roles they play. Not having seen Aaron on stage before, I was impressed by her vocal quality and humor. Adams brings sophistication and Mayron adds that knowing, we are all in the same messed up boat. Henner will make you want that body and her sex appeal.
These women knocked down doors for the women to come, but I was surprised that the one issue they missed out on was that women are still not equal in this country. It takes 1, count it 1 state to approve this and yet plays about feminism leave this vital information out.
The show ends with “The Bitch is Back.” they sing in glee. I guess it is ok when we call ourselves that.
Madwomen of the West: The Actors Temple Theatre, 339 West 47th Street through December 31.
Off Broadway
“Stereophonic” at Playwrights Horizons Sings Solidly

It’s July 1976, in a recording studio in Sausalito, CA and we are being invited into a space that only a select few get to visit, let alone witness. This is art in the making, pure and simple, with ego and love, getting mixed and faded in through the process most musically. In Playwrights Horizons‘s magnificent new play, Stereophonic, written most delicately by David Adjmi (The Blind King Parts I and II), a band on the cusp of greatness has assembled, and they are tasked, casually and with great intent, to something magnificent and meaningful, a lasting piece of musical art, to follow up their last album that has become, over the timeframe, a breakout hit.

Andrew R. Butler, Sarah Pidgeon, Chris Stack, and Juliana Canfield in Playwrights Horizons’s Stereophonic. Photo by Chelice Parry.
The play is exceptionally well framed and constructed; both musical and meandering, in the best of all possible ways, yet somewhere inside Adjmi’s engaging Stereophonicand its three-hour running time, a deeper level of contextual art formulation is unpacked quite beautifully. It saunters forward, with a complicated level of exhaustion, angst, and inspiration, unearthing something that almost defies expectations and compartmentalization. It’s a 1970s rock saga, clearly modeled on the legendary Fleetwood Mac and their dynamic backstage friction, that leans into and plays with the problematic relationships within this unnamed band as they try to create magic behind a glass wall, while also trying to fulfill their emotional needs in the confines of the studio and real life.
It’s all emotional breakups and reconciliations, with a layer of bored and sleep-deprived banter; around a broken coffee machine and the annoying reverberations of (not only) the drum. It’s electric and conflictual, playing havoc on every one of these characters’ insecure hearts, while offering up no grand solutions or final product. Stereophonic is all about the tiny details and the little frustrations that grow and become emotional cannonballs bent on destruction, leveled and defused out of an undercurrent of love and need for creation. It is incandescent in its artful construction, displaying and writing about a realm few of us can understand. It’s the agony and ecstasy that lives and sings inside the magnificent creative process of musicians, arts, singers, and writers, who hear aspects that most of us can’t understand, let alone hear or comprehend. And we have been invited in, to bear witness to its creation, in all its meticulously dull and exhausting detail. Giving light to the darkness of the process, and how art can both create and destroy those involved in its coming to life.
The unnamed Stereophonic band before us seemingly has a hit album that is climbing the charts as they start recording, and their record label is becoming more and more generous as they become more and more famous. All the actors find their fantastically unique space within that iconic construct, with the two couples taking center stage, along with nods to those around them. It’s a compelling narrative, with their body language giving off the boredom and exhaustion that comes with all the late-night partying and endless recording and re-recording. Dominated by an American guitarist and singer, the aggressive Peter, played strongly by Tom Pecinka (TFANA’s He Brought Her Heart Back..), and his insecure songwriting girlfriend, Diana, beautifully portrayed by Sarah Pidgeon (Hulu’s “Tiny Beautiful Things“), they act out a dynamic that is as raw and rocky as one would imagine when two artists collide, both with faltering egos and needs. The cling to one another in desperate need, while also mistreating and hurting one another endlessly. It’s electric and disturbing, while being entirely believable and dynamic.
Staying firmly on the control side of the glass, we are also given a peek inside those who live in the background; the young sound engineer Grover, meticulously unpacked by Eli Gelb (RTC’s Skintight), and his hilariously well-constructed assistant, Charlie, wonderfully played by Andrew R. Butler (Ars Nova’s Rags Parkland Sings…). Their drive and infatuation with the band and their creative power play strong and true, especially at the beginning, but as the mystique of the band’s unity begins to unravel and explode into chaos and compulsion, their determined connection to the musicians shifts from worship to irritation as the weeks turn into months and years. Or does it, in the end?
The creative energy and compounded exhaustion that live inside every brilliantly performed song cause Stereophonic to sing, most magnetically and is clearly as real and authentic as one could hope for, drenched in authentic swagger, courtesy of the costuming by Enver Chakartash (Broadway’s A Doll’s House). Even as the clock ticks forward, for them and for us, the pitfalls of collaboration and the art of creation mingle and mix like only musicians can, hurting one another while also elevating their craft in order to create that piece of art that makes all of us sit back in wonderment. They riff and talk rough to one another, accessing imagery of the hotness of Donald Sutherland and the bonding of artists, regardless of gender. The music in the background soars, thanks to the beautiful songwriting work done by Arcade Fire’s Butler, but it’s more in the magical interpersonal dynamics that elevate this experience into something special, powerful, and utterly unique. Aggressiveness and control hit hard against love, creation, and connection, playing with loyalties and solo careers in a way that unlocks chaotic relationship complications that echo far beyond the room. Sudden fame does wonders to the energy within, and in Stereophonic, we are gifted with the fly-on-the-wall syndrome, watching magic develop out of thin air and focused minds, even when clouded by love, pain, and that big bag of white powder.
For more go to frontmezzjunkies.com
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