Kristin Salaky - Page 5

I suppose if Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill ever took a crack at writing theatre for young Weimar audiences, their effort might have had a strong likeness to Stephin Merritt and David Greenspan's creepily enchanting fantasy, Coraline, receiving a production from MCC that's far too interesting for viewers to be overly concerned with the occasional bumps.

One of the many reasons I've been a fan of the Opening Doors Theatre Company since their debut production of Bring Back Birdie two-and-a-half years ago is the consistent ability of their directors and choreographers to have as many as a dozen actors singing and dancing on the small cabaret stage of The Duplex (already occupied by a piano) without ever looking crowded. But that's not a concern with their newest venture, the hilarious and tuneful Cy Coleman/Michael Stewart 1977 musical, I Love My Wife.

'Oh, I get it. That one's Blanche and that one's Stella.' 'No, wait that one's Blanche and that one's... Maggie The cat? 'Hold on... I think they're both Blanche.' These are some of the random thoughts that whizzed through my head while trying to see through the clutter of Zakiyyah Alexander's 10 Things to Do Before I Die, a game effort but a frustratingly unfocused piece receiving a well-acted premiere production via Second Stage Theatre Uptown.

Let me put it this way... If Spring Awakening was the kind of show that made you feel good about the future of the American musical, I'd say there's a fine chance you'll enjoy Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson: The Concert Version. On the other hand, if you couldn't for the life of you stand one moment of Spring Awakening, or at the very least was of the humble opinion that it was far from the ground-breaking musical theatre revolution so many proclaimed it to be, I'd say there's a very good chance you will looooooooooooooove Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson: The Concert Version.

It's a funny thing with musicals about women with psychiatric disorders; they seem to be more accessible when focused on the way loved ones try and achieve some kind of normalcy while dealing with the problem, rather than being about the disorder itself. Back in the autumn of '05, Off-Broadway's Transport Group premiered nor'mal:, Yvonne Adrian, Cheryl Stein and Tom Kochan exceptional musical about a family's attempt to stay functional while dealing with the teenage daughter's anorexia. Just a few weeks earlier the New York Musical Theatre Festival featured Feeling Electric, composer Tom Kitt and bookwriter/lyricist Brian Yorky's hard driving tale of a suburban mom being treated for clinical depression.

Two possibilities crossed my mind when I counted 85 selections on the song list for For Lovers Only (Love Songs... Nothing But Love Songs); either I was about to see a musical revue of Götterdämmerung-like proportions or there were going to be a lot of medleys.

Don't tell anybody in Topeka, but Sherie Rene Scott is currently in her 27th year of rumspringa. But then, since she's only half Mennonite ('Amish Light' she calls it), I suppose different rules apply.

Forgive me if it has become too old a cliché, and perhaps even an unintentional racial stereotype, to point out the enrapturing musicality of language the late August Wilson displayed in his landmark decade-by-decade cycle of plays about African-American experiences in the 20th Century. That trait is especially evident in pieces set in the earlier decades (i.e. Gem of the Ocean, Ma Rainey's Black Bottom) and seems to decrease as the years go on, demonstrating an assimilation into the established (Eurocentric) culture of the country.

A Union Square Park bench, frequently occupied by the brilliant stage and screen director Tom O'Horgan, will be dedicated in his honor this coming Sunday, May 3rd at 1pm on the occasion of what would have been his 85th birthday. The first director ever to have four productions running simultaneous on Broadway (Hair, Jesus Christ Superstar, Lenny and Inner City) passed away in January of this year.

Perhaps shows would get better reviews if they all offered critics free champagne before the performance and unlimited trips to the chocolate waterfall at intermission, but even without the edge-removing libations and shots of sugar buzz, Cirque du Soleil's Kooza, now drawing gasps and cheers under the big tent at Randall's Island, is both a soothing kaleidoscope of color and movement and a flat-out, adrenaline-surging rush.

Ah, the music of the mid-to-late 1980s. Now that was my era. The Roches, The Dead Milkmen, Loudon Wainwright III. Lining up for hours to catch Michelle Shocked at The Bottom Line. Elegant evenings of Mel Torme at Michael's Pub and Jack Jones at The Supper Club. Man, I loved that 80s music.

'Sometimes life just is preposterous, you know,' screams a frustrated character trying to get another to believe his corner of the jigsaw puzzle of interlocking plots in Craig Lucas' eclectically styled comedy/drama, The Singing Forest; a play that takes us from 21st Century New York to 1930s Vienna to 1940s London via urban romantic comedy, Holocaust drama, dysfunctional family angst, mistaken identity farce and a dash of that Lucas theatrical fantasy. Far funnier and more happily enjoyable than you'd expect, especially considering the horrifying imagine the play's title represents, The Singing Forest manages to examine issues of self-deceit and the limits of both forgiveness and accepting blame for one's actions.

As is frequently noted by lovers of strong book musicals, part of the brilliance of Sherman Edwards (score) and Peter Stone's (book) 1776, their 1969 Broadway tuner about the efforts of John Adams to convince the continental congress to vote for independency from Great Britain, is that the audience walks into the theatre knowing full well how it's going to end, and yet the authors (and history) keep you on The Edge of your seat wondering how the devil it's going to happen. With a unanimous vote necessary ('So that no colony be torn from its mother country without its own consent.') and Pennsylvania's John Dickinson leading the arguments for property-owners whose personal economy is protected by loyalty to the crown and South Carolina's Edward Rutledge keeping the deep south unified in favor of individual states rights that protect their practice of slavery, June of '76 concludes with half the congress against independence.

There's a moment in Show Boat where a woman sings that her true love, 'just plain Bill,' is 'an ordinary man' who 'isn't half as handsome as dozens of men' and is, on the whole, kinda stupid. This is considered by many to be one of the most romantic love songs of the 20th Century. In Neil LaBute's somewhat revised (like this review) Off-Broadway to Broadway transfer of reasons to be pretty, the main character, reacting to his buddy's ravings about how hot another woman is, says that his girlfriend of four years may be 'regular' looking, but he wouldn't trade her for a million bucks. This will not be considered one of the most romantic sentiments of the 21st Century.

'Acting is reacting,' says many a teacher of the craft, and if they're right then Christopher Durang has handed his leading lady, Laura Benanti, a career's worth of reasons to react in his surreal cavalcade, Why Torture Is Wrong And The People Who Love Them. A meta-theatrical farce disguised as a satire of America's war on terrorism (with a brief lesson about taking control of your life and a somewhat romantic conclusion for those who require such things) Why... is top-shelf Durang lunacy and Benanti, making a rare non-musical appearance, proves herself a wonderful everywoman foil.

I'm assuming that whatever Tina Howe is trying to get across in Chasing Manet, her disappointing new play receiving a well-acted mounting by Primary Stages, is contained in a lengthy speech Jane Alexander delivers early in the first act.

You know you're in for a good one when there's a huge laugh before the first person on stage can even let out the third syllable of the show. But by the time the actors start growling to customers, 'There's no intermission!' and 'The show's eight hours long!' The Toxic Avenger has firmly established itself as one of the funniest musicals in town.

While it would be just loverly to have Melissa Errico's crystalline soprano back on Broadway, the Tony-nominee for Amour has been keeping busy doing remarkable work as the founder of Bowery Babes. Check out this terrific New York Observer feature on her hand-on support group for mommies.

Legendary playwright Robert Patrick shares some thoughts and remembrances of the late Jack Wrangler...

While the new musical by James Hindman (book) and Ellen Weiss (score) appears to be a promising work in progress, Transport Group's premiere production of Being Audrey, helmed by the company's Artistic Director Jack Cummings III, is loaded with bright, shiny charms that display their material in a dazzling little jewel box.