Michael Sommers — Theater Critic

As the story heads into its seemingly inevitable conclusion, the playwright and director, backed by their designers, summon up the spiritual gods of sumo in an attempt to ratchet earthly matters into a higher power of significance. Yet despite the crash course in mythology and sumo wrestling that began the play—or perhaps because such an information overload is hard to recall, let alone appreciate, more than two hours later—the climactic scene proves to be something of a fizzle.

Packing a nice surprise towards its conclusion, the play is crisply staged by Jack Serio, the director, within purposefully stark environs designed by the dots team that enable Stacey Derosier’s lovely lighting design to bridge continents and to overwhelm individuals in emotional shadows. Background sounds designed by Christopher Darbassie contribute to the production’s easy naturalness. Hunter’s conversational dialogue and Serio’s staging both invest Grangeville with a sense of forward movement even as much of its story recounts the characters’ past.

A Knock on the Roof is strong stuff. The well-written monologue’s repetitive motifs of packing and running propel both Mariam’s harried narrative and Ibraheem’s urgent performance. In depicting a seemingly frail young woman in baggy mom jeans and white running shoes who turns obsessive in her pursuit of safety, Ibraheem creates the voices of Mariam as well as her several loved ones. Possessing a rich, alto voice matching her dark-eyed looks, Ibraheem speaks with a Middle Eastern accent that may be challenging for some members of the audience to comprehend, likely depending on where they are seated at New York Theatre Workshop. (During certain passages of the performance, I was losing every fourth or fifth word.)

Although the actors mesh wonderfully as an ensemble, two artists offer exceptional performances. Anchoring the play as the school’s conciliatory though increasingly harried principal, Bill Irwin employs his eloquently craggy face and elastic body to melt down or freeze up in subliminal comical reactions to circumstances. So poignant in the pivotal role of Suzanne, a sweet, ardent social activist and mom, Jessica Hecht initially is very funny when blithely dealing out woke terms and then later, well, she breaks your heart. Both of these actors and the play and probably other elements of the production are likely to figure prominently in various theater awards come this spring. Certainly they bring great distinction to the current Broadway season.

While the psychology beneath the story may not be entirely sound, Trip Cullman, the director, effectively illuminates the poignant and ironic qualities that appear throughout Headland’s text. These beautifully sung carols, festive traditions and longstanding jokes (for instance, the lamb roasting in the oven always is pronounced by the Dahls as “lam-buh”) observed since childhood contrast against the grown-up siblings’ personal miseries today. Expect no satisfying resolution for these people, who for the most part remain stuck in the deep grooves of their upbringing.

Not a particularly subtle family drama, The Blood Quilt is overstuffed with content and its resolution seems a tad far-fetched in timing, frankly, but the playwright’s fine gift for natural conversation keeps things rolling along agreeably. If The Blood Quilt is not among Hall’s better plays, at least it is a pleasant work that provides good roles for actors. Observed at a preview last weekend, the production staged by Lileana Blain-Cruz had not completely flowered. The performances were all right, quite capable even, but that crucial emotional fusion that transforms actors into an ensemble, particularly when they’re depicting a family, had yet to happen. A climactic scene involving a ritual appeared more chaotic than meaningful.

Let’s be relatively brief because it’s mean to keep beating a dead duck like Tammy Faye, poor thing. A surprisingly flat-liner musical involving tunes from Elton John scarcely composing in top form and a sorrowful cartoony story about American TV evangelist Tammy Faye Bakker, the production that opened Thursday at the Palace Theatre does not promise to become a longtime Broadway attraction.

Lately there’s been audience complaint – if chat boards can be believed – how some recent Broadway musicals blast out hellishly loud, banging music. Maybe Happy Ending is surely the balm for any such feelings, since its sometimes jazz-inflected score is orchestrated gently for mostly strings, keyboard and woodwinds with exceptional grace by the composer.

Gatz is a once-in-a-lifetime event that will scarcely appeal to every taste, but it is likely to be an extraordinary experience for ardent lovers of novelist F. Scott Fitzgerald and The Great Gatsby, and for imaginative theatergoers willing and able to appreciate the atmospheric magic generated by this remarkable production.

The episodic play mostly follows a direct path as Harry and a small group of substance abusers experience their rocky eight-week journey towards sobriety. Harry addresses the audience directly at times to annotate the characters and their actions. Every so often between scenes, voiceover segments by recovered alcoholics share their stories, some humorous, others not.

Composed mostly in relatively terse exchanges that contrast against the reflective monologues, In the Amazon Warehouse Parking Lot achieves its power by evoking a miserable existence and observing the ways strangers are able to endure it by bonding in familial relationships. How these survivors are variously queer, trans or whatever in nature seems nearly beside the point of depicting the kindly, hardy humanity they share in the awful face of catastrophe.

Everybody knows he’s a fine actor, but who knew that Adam Driver could be so gosh-darned charming? Driver’s delightful performance as a showbiz superstar melting down in an existential crisis rockets Hold on to Me Darling into hot-ticket status at the Lucille Lortel Theatre, where its production opened on Wednesday. Already the show is said to be practically a sell-out for the remainder of its two-month run at the 299-seat Off Broadway house.

Opening on Thursday in the 99-seat Shiva space at the Public Theater, Deep History initially registers more like an absorbing illustrated lecture than a dramatic performance, as Finnigan reflects upon the ways humanity has somehow survived ice ages, volcanoes, plagues and other natural catastrophes. Finnigan vows to be “optimistic and constructive and forward looking” about how to successfully face up to dangerous climate change. “Survival is possible,” he asserts, scrawling that phrase in magic marker on a sheet of brown paper pinned to a board. Finnigan later adds another note, “Not everyone will make it.”

Inventively directed and choreographed by Connor Gallagher, the show benefits considerably from sharp performances and fine production values. Lit in rainbow shades by Brian Tovar, some adorable animated projections by Aaron Rhyne and a turntable are employed by the dots design collective for the cute, fluent scenery. Crisply costumed by Sarah Cubbage, a confident 10-member ensemble of quick-changing performers capably support the excellent featured players.

Vintage recordings of Black opera divas singing glorious arias are played before the show, during intermission and afterward. They are lovely to hear, of course, but is the music meant to be satirical of the grandiloquent white theater that the playwright denounces? That’s just one more mystery lurking amid many murky intents and motives in the ambitious and ultimately frustrating Six Characters.

A ribald cartoon more hysterical than historical, Oh, Mary! sheds unexpected light upon the assassination of Abraham Lincoln and represents the latest generation of gender bent comical entertainment known as camp. Elder viewers reared on the comparatively subtle writing and performance style of Charles Busch are likely to find Escola’s slapdash artistry crude, but there’s no denying he snags laughs.

Several artists rose above last week’s bumpy performance. Sandra Oh is urgent in spirit, dry in manner as Elizabeth, the midwife whose acrid presence sparks conflict. Haley Wong creates a feral Sally who resolutely defies pity. Mary McCann coolly depicts a gentlewoman revealed to be not so genteel. Nadine Malouf smolders as the mean girl among a crowd that includes Ann Harada as a sufferer of hot flashes, Hannah Cabell as a soul twenty years mute who miraculously speaks, and ever-earthy Dale Soules as an octogenarian of staunch disposition.

Although What Became of Us represents smart, even elegant playwriting, a certain emotional coolness arises from the formal nature of the drama’s structure and its repetitive language. This abstract quality is instilled further by the strategically minimal environs and staging of director Jennifer Chang’s apt production. Moving around a virtually empty space designed by Tanya Orellana and delicately lighted by designer Reza Behjat, the performers never look directly at each other until nearly the story’s final moments.

The single flaw to Roundabout’s nice revival is some questionable pacing by Kenny Leon, the director, whose recent Broadway staging of Purlie Victorious was marred by its headlong speed. Here, the lyrical opening passages of Home intended to evoke the long ago rural South are nearly lost in the breakneck speed they are spoken. Other poetic sections tend to rush by, too, suggesting that Leon doesn’t trust the audience to appreciate their beauty. Leon otherwise gives his well-acted production sufficient atmosphere. A longtime collaborator with Leon, the great Allen Lee Hughes expertly designs sunlight and moonlight and passages of time. Simple, painterly settings designed by Arnulfo Maldonado always keep a patch of those homeland fields in view even when Cephus strays far away. Perhaps just as crucial to the production’s impact is how the designer uses simple fabric borders to reduce the expansive size of the proscenium frame of the Todd Haimes Theatre so the actors can commune more closely with the audience.

The relentless misery of the director's gloomy interpretation of the musical scarcely allows for any contrasting moments of joy or sweetness as Tony and Maria discover each other and fall in love. The show's most striking moments are those involving conflict, as when an embracing Tony and Maria literally are torn away from each other by the opposing gangs. Something should be said about the performances, but there's little to mention except that everybody, lead players and ensemble members, render their character's music, motions, and emotions capably enough. The shows that van Hove directs usually are cool in temperature, and this one is no exception. No hot young stars blaze forth in the production's damp firmament here.

One gets the impression that Thorne invents such dreary business simply so his version of A Christmas Carol is somewhat different than the countless other stage adaptations before it. A high moral tone that infuses the play as several characters chide Scrooge for his behavior stiffens the drama considerably.

If some of The Inheritance is surprisingly glib, it nevertheless remains a mostly well-written and observant work that successfully studies contrasts in generational attitudes-and socio-political awareness-even as it features several deeply poignant sequences. The concluding scene of the first play, which cannot be described here but is the finest episode in the entire production, is genuinely moving through the breathtaking simplicity of its evocation of a lost generation.

A choice gallery of thoughtful songs given a classy staging and headlined by a charismatic star, the exhilarating American Utopia will please David Byrne fans and probably win him plenty of new ones.

Although the musical is mostly a yawn for adults (and probably smarter kids), sub-par visuals make it even a less attractive event. The production looks so cheap visually that let's be kind and not name the designers. Industrial scaffolding can only go so far to create places effectively, while the cheesy effects for the story's monsters and miracles are heralded by blasts of white lights meant to bedazzle viewers into not seeing the stagecraft. There is not an inch of magic anywhere on the stage, unfortunately.

Like its Broadway predecessor of 2014, which detailed Johnson's first year in office and subsequent election as President in his own right, The Great Society is again directed by Bill Rauch, employs a relatively large ensemble of 19 actors to portray more than 50 statesmen and personalities of the era, and covers a vast amount of American history within a nearly three hour-long production. Probably much too much history, as it turns out. Opening on Tuesday at the Vivian Beaumont Theater, The Great Society eventually congeals into a ponderous drama in spite of the efforts of some excellent actors who do their damnedest to inject life and excitement into a series of woeful events.