THE QUESTION I'M ASKED most often by my press-night guests (right after "Where should we eat?") is "How often do you go to the theater anyway?" My answer is usually "It depends." Except in late April, when I say, "A lot."
Blame the Tony Awards deadline. If you want your show to be considered for this year's awards, it has to open by a certain date: in 2018, that date was April 26. So, as you might imagine, a relatively large number of productions opened in late April. And even if you're invited to post-opening press nights, as I am, it's still a challenge to the average human being's social calendar and stamina. And to objectivity, because the reviews have already appeared.
This was one such theater blitz. In this case, four of the five shows I saw over a four-day period had received enviably positive reviews. Of course, the one that didn't was up first.
'SUMMER: THE DONNA SUMMER MUSICAL,' WEDNESDAY, APRIL 25, 2018, 7 P.M. The disco era is not a period from my youth that I particularly cherish, so Donna Summer and her tunes were not at the top of my list of things I wish "they" would do a Broadway show about. To seasoned New York theatergoers, jukebox musicals are a hard sell, so I was surprised by the number of friends and colleagues who really wanted to accompany me. At least until The New York Times review came out.
The review called the show "a blight" and "dramaturgy by song hook" and devoted a paragraph to dissing jukebox musicals as a concept. (This quotation will soon be added to the Press Nights glossary.) But he did acknowledge the cast's "exciting vocalism," and a number of other critics seemed to agree that if "Summer" didn't hold up as an actual piece of Broadway theater, it was a pretty good concert. So my friend BB, who was a disco prince in the Pines back in the day, and I are stil psyched about seeing it.
We arrive at the Lunt-Fontanne Theater on West 46th, after a mad dash from bacon-cheeseburgers and Malbec at Joe Allen's, about 6:56 p.m. for a 7 o'clock curtain. At first I'm flattered that the publicity representative from Boneau Bryan-Brown seems to recognize me and know my name, but it could have been because we were the very last people to pick up our tickets.
The show is splashy, flashy and staged within an inch of its life. I'm not learning a lot about Summer (1948-2012) from the book, but the musical numbers are uniformly good -- and some are transporting. I'm surprised to hear "White Boys," because I'd forgotten she was in the cast of "Hair." I dreamily drink in "MacArthur Park," rock out a little to "On the Radio" and "Bad Girls," feel an empowerment charge during "She Works Hard for the Money" and can't decide which of the last two numbers I like best: "Hot Stuff" or "Last Dance."
The poor man to my right (who, based on his graying hair, was indeed around for Summer's heyday) can barely control himself during the entire 1 hour and 40 minutes. (No intermission.) He sort of dances in his seat, appearing to be making a vain attempt to hold himself back -- like a 4-year-old at "SpongeBob." Or in a bathroom line.
The book should be better. It's by majorly talented people. But as the lights come up and we edge our way to the aisle to leave, both BB and I are smiling big. So are most of the other people around us. Maybe I'll buy a Donna Summer album on iTunes.
MY FAIR LADY, THURSDAY, APRIL 26, 2018, 7 P.M. I love going to Lincoln Center. And the Vivian Beaumont, which occupies its northwest corner, is one of those oddities -- a Broadway theater that is nowhere near the Broadway theater district. But it does have 500 seats or more (upwards of 1,000, in fact), so it qualifies.
My friend and semi-cousin AS asked for "My Fair Lady" months ago. (She's a classicist. She gets all my Chekhov and most of my Shakespeare invitations too.) Good move this time. Jesse Green's New York Times review on last Thursday called this revival "plush and thrilling," a remarkable evocation of George Bernard Shaw's original feminist message and, the clincher, "better than it ever was."
This is one of the first truly beautiful sidewalk-cafe spring days we've had in New York, so AS and I have wine and appetizers at Bar Boulud across the street, people-watch a little, then happily stride across Lincoln Center's grand travertine plaza to the Beaumont. The nice young publicist holding the little ticket envelopes greets me by name (and this time we're not the last to arrive). In a big city, it's nice to be part of a small community.
I open the little white envelope with our tickets and am not thrilled. Row O? Really? (One's seats are perhaps an indication of how highly one is or is not esteemed by the show's PR firm.) But the Beaumont is a thrust theater with extreme stadium seating, which makes a difference. As Act I begins -- a scene outside the Covent Garden opera house in 1913 London -- it's clear we're going to have a glorious view of Michael Yeargan's sets, which are stunning. Not only because of how they look but because of how gracefully they move, as if they were star pupils at a fancy finishing school.
It is a brazen statement to say that a 62-year-old musical seems new. I was intensely skeptical. But honest to God, after seeing several stage productions of "My Fair Lady" (Broadway, regional, other) and having watched the movie version with Rex Harrison and Audrey Hepburn at least a dozen times, this does feel -- forgive the terms -- reinvented, freshly reimagined, all that stuff.
As Act I ends, with Eliza's lovestruck suitor Freddy (Jordan Donica) trilling "On the Street Where You Live," I'm thinking, "There is not a single bad number in this show." By the end of Act II, I realize there are. But even in that, the weaker of the two acts, we are treated to "Get Me to the Church on Time," "I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face" and a couple of gorgeous reprises.
And what a cast! Our Eliza is Lauren Ambrose, who finally gets her chance to redefine herself (from a surly funeral-home ingénue on HBO's "Six Feet Under" to a big-time Broadway leading lady). Her would-be teacher, Henry Higgins, is Harry Hadden-Paton, a glamorous Brit making his New York stage debut (but American Anglophiles know him from "Downton Abbey" and "The Crown"). Hadden-Paton made me think, briefly and blasphemously, that maybe Rex Harrison shouldn't have been allowed to talk-sing his lyrics.
I didn't recognize Norbert Leo Butz at first as Eliza's outrageous father, Alfred P. Doolittle. But I did recognize his brilliance from the first notes (and steps) of "With a Little Bit of Luck." And my friends, there is Diana Rigg in the tiny but ultimately crucial role of Mrs. Higgins, Henry's clear-eyed upper-class mother. Long live Mrs. Peel!
'TRAVESTIES,' FRIDAY, APRI 27, 2018, 8 P.M.
The first time I saw "Travesties," in 1975, I went with my BFF and her mom. At the very end, BFF and I looked at each other and said, "Well, that was fun, but I guess we're young and stupid. Maybe if we knew Oscar Wilde's work better, we would have gotten more of this." Since then, I have seen half a dozen versions of Wilde's "The Importance of Being Earnest" (which is a major inspiration here) and have become a terribly sophisticated Tom Stoppard fan, so tonight should be very different. Hmmm.
My guest tonight, BP, is a fellow Stoppardian. (I think she said "The Real Thing" was her favorite of his plays.) Still, she's concerned that she hasn't done enough research to appreciate the show fully. We discuss this over drinks and appetizers at the Hilton lobby bar across the street. (You may have noticed by now my preference for drinking and eating as close to the theater entrance as possible.)
The American Airlines Theater is a lot prettier than it sounds. Inside, its Italian Renaissance beginnings as the Selwyn (built in 1918) are still there. I am ready for "Travesties" again.
It takes place in Switzerland during the Great War (known to those of us who followed as World War I), but of course in Switzerland there is only peace and intellectual curiosity and reflection. Our central character is Henry Carr (Tom Hollander) who interacts with notables like Lenin (Dan Butler), who is living in exile, and the author James Joyce (Peter McDonald). Everyone seems to spend a lot of time at the library.
Once it becomes clear that the dramatis personae of "Travesties" include female characters named Cecily (Sara Topham) and Gwendolen (Scarlett Strallen), then it stands to reason that the play must turn into a variation on Oscar Wilde's "The Importance of Being Earnest."
I am entertained. I am happy to see all the pretty people in pretty costumes on pretty sets. The show's energy is contagious. The dialogue is intoxicating. "Cecily does not approve of garrulity in the reference section." But alas, even in my old age, I am still missing half the clever lines. So here is what I tell myself:
Did you ever see Robin Williams go off on a comic riff in the middle of a talk-show appearance? Did you understand every character he turned into for a few seconds in a three-minute set? Did you hear every line clearly and get every joke? Probably not.
But you didn't kick yourself, because that was the nature of Williams's comedy, and we didn't feel like artistic failures, because his work wasn't classified as high culture. The goofy ride was at least 50 percent of the fun. And I suggest that we all enjoy Stoppard's play in the same way.
Come to think of it, that's sort of what Ben Brantley said in his New York Times review of the show, which he called "ridiculously entertaining." His advice: "Let it rain and soak it in."
'HARRY POTTER AND THE CURSED CHILD, PART 1,' SATURDAY, APRIL 28, 2018, 2 P.M. Here we are at the Lyric Theater. With my friend SS, who says he has just read the entire Harry Potter canon in the last few weeks in preparation for this. The Lyric Theater has a new entrance on 43rd Street and a new facade that is Potter-mania from head to toe (rooftop to sidewalk).This is a major press night (or in this case, press afternoon), apparently. At 1:45, the publicity person from BBB is holding a stack of white envelopes that could choke a --- Dementor. There's even a line of people waiting to get their press tickets (which I somehow don't notice and go straight to the front). Yes, the nice man greets me by name, but he probably should have slapped my wrist. There's my friend GR, who served with me on the Drama Desk Awards nominating committee a few years ago. Inside, SS and I are seated right behind NH, a friend from The Times, and her three companions.
Apparently the producers or the theater owners or some other investors are expecting "Harry Potter" to have a long, lucrative run at the Lyric. The wallpaper in the lobby and the auditorium is a Hogwarts design, the carpet is emblazoned with large capital H's, and the Potter theme is everywhere. It's all very glamorous.
The reviews for "Harry Potter" have been just as enthusiastic as those for "My Fair Lady." Press Nights hereby adds its praises.
Going in, the only thing I know is that this story is about the next generation and takes place almost 20 years after we last saw our favorite characters. Harry (Jamie Parker) married Ginny Weasley (Poppy Milller), and they have children, including a son, Albus (Sam Clemmett), who is off to Hogwarts and appears to be suffering from famous-man's-son syndrome. Ron Weasley (Paul Thornley) and Hermione Granger (Noma Dumezweni) are an old married couple now and are seeing off their daughter Rose (Susan Heyward) at the station.
The first thing I love about this show? The gasps! Audible, horrified-delighted gasps from the audience as a whole! (All I can say is that the first one has something to do with the sorting-hat ceremony.)
The second thing I love about this show? The cape-swhooshing (as a distinguished Facebook friend of mine calls it). Very dramatic. And while neither part of "Harry Potter and the Cursed Child" can be called a musical (nobody ever bursts into song, thank goodness), there is an outstanding score. And you can call what those cape-swooshers are doing "movement" till the cows (or the dragons) come home, but that is choreography.
At intermission, I get lost. The newly renovated Lyric comprises two old theaters and seats almost 2,000. I find myself wandering on the dress-circle level for no good reason but am soon reunited with SS and our sippie cups.