Seminar

Talk is anything but cheap in Seminar, Theresa Rebeck’s new play currently in performances at the Golden Theater. Starring Alan Rickman as an acid-tongued literary professor teaching a class of aspiring novelists, Seminar explores the power of words – both spoken in haste and written with thought and care. With the marvelously malevolent Rickman and a solid supporting ensemble, Seminar is a surprisingly funny and moving show.

Four young writers have each paid $5,000 to attend a fiction seminar led by the once-famous writer Leonard. Kate, who attended college at Bennington, is a well-off, upper middle class woman. Douglas is the nephew of a famous writer and apparently very well-connected in the literary world. Martin is clumsy, both physically and emotionally and the bluntly sexual Izzy is also bluntly opportunistic. We are introduced to the quartet as they discuss the difficulty of navigating the professional literary world while they attempt to create their own work.

When Leonard arrives and the class begins, the words truly begin to fly. Formerly a novelist, Leonard is now an editor who frequently writes magazine articles on war-torn lands. He speaks at length about his own experiences before glancing at any of the work by the students. Apparently able to judge a manuscript six years in the making by reading only to the semicolon (a word he pronounces with deliciously disdainful scorn), Leonard promptly pronounces Kate’s story “a soul-sucking waste of words” – among other things. His relationship with each of the students, as well as their relationships with each other, drive the external conflict of the play, but it is the internal conflicts that truly propel the plot of the show forward, depicted by this company of skillful, talented actors.

Lily Rabe, who was outstanding as Portia in last season’s The Merchant of Venice, plays Kate, gives depth and complexity to a character who, on paper, might seem dull and stereotypical. Preppy, pretty and ambitious, Kate is the host of the seminar meetings and the first to present her work to Leonard. She is crushed when he harshly criticizes her work but refuses to go down without a fight. To some, Kate may appear to be a stereotype; (the running gag of binging on junk food when she is upset gets old quickly) but Rabe’s heartfelt performance gives much more to the character. Her carefully hidden attraction to Martin, an old friend from high school, and her heartbreak when Martin begins a relationship with another woman, are two of the more moving aspects of such an academic show.

As Martin, Hamish Linklater creates a compelling and conflicted man. Seemingly ambitious but paralyzed by fear, Martin is at a standstill when we meet him. He is about to be evicted from his apartment because he spent all of his rent money to take Leonard’s course but he refuses to present any work to the teacher or his classmates. He admires one of his classmates from afar but refuses to tell her how he feels. It is when he learns a secret about Leonard’s past that he becomes bold; whether that is to his aid or detriment is yet to be determined.
Making is Broadway debut as Douglas, Jerry O’Connell gives a solid, entertaining performance. Snobbish and pretentious, he is somehow still likeable. And as the vivacious, beautiful Izzy, Hettienne Park is bluntly sexual and talented. Both characters begin to feel disposable as the play progresses, but O’Connell and Park’s dedication to the characters elevates them above what they might have been.

But this is Rickman’s show, as anyone who has seen the poster of him looking outward ominously might know. Known worldwide for his role as the contemptuous Professor Snape in the Harry Potter franchise, Rickman is clearly the ideal choice for playing an embittered academic. Rickman’s ability to pronounce a single word with such scorn almost stops the show numerous times, and his monologue on the life of a writer (inspired by reading a truly good piece of writing by one of his students) does for a moment. Rickman manages to depict the hope, ambition, fear, anger, sadness and loss after a failed career, in one speech. In the hands of a less-skilled actor, the script might be delivered loudly, bordering on hysteria, filled with shouting and screaming. But Rickman speaks quietly and calmly, even matter-of-factly at times, giving the words even more power than they already held.

The creation of art is a difficult thing to explain, let alone depict in a brisk 100-minute script. Rebeck moves the plot along quickly, efficiently packing lines with zingy one-liners exchanged between the overly articulate characters. But Seminar, which explores the darker side of the mentor relationship, and the potential danger of failed artists living vicariously through aspiring young ones, goes beyond the story of the creation and explores the life after the creation – which clearly can be a frightening thing, indeed.

Private Lives

It is clear from Kim Cattrall’s entrance onstage in Private Lives that the audience is in for a smart, sensual treat. Striding onto a balcony clad in nothing but a fluffy white bath towel, tan, toned and smiling, we are assured that, without a doubt, that this is going to be one sexy comedy.

Directed by Richard Eyres, Noel Coward’s 1929 comedy of manners introduces us to Amanda and Elyot, a divorced couple who reunite while honeymooning in France with their respective new spouses. The two couples find they have adjoining balconies at their hotel and the ex-husband and wife quickly discover that sparks still fly between them. They promptly abandon their new spouses, flee to Paris together, and all sorts of mayhem ensues.

An amusing look at 1930s sophistication, Private Lives is an ornately worded and staged show, and with Kim Cattrall and Paul Gross starring as Amanda and Elyot, that sophistication is personified onstage with grace and humor. Cattrall, known for her role as the sexually adventurous Samantha Jones on the HBO series Sex and the City, reveals herself to be a skilled and capable comedic actress onstage. Handling Amanda’s British accent with ease, she brings an amusing vulnerability to Amanda’s hyperbole and occasional hysteria. The expression on her face when she first recognizes Elyot on the balcony is hilarious, and the antics she engages in to cause him to notice her are priceless.

Handsome and debonair, Paul Gross as Elyot is a wonderful match onstage for Cattrall. His cool ease onstage – and his classic tuxedo costume – reminds one of Cary Grant’s film roles from the 1950s and 60s. He speaks Coward’s rapid-fire dialogue with ease, and he and Cattrall share a palpable sexual chemistry. From their first onstage kiss to the sparring they share in the second and third acts, it is easy to see why the two were so drawn to each other – and why they divorced before reuniting. When the duo dance together in Act Two, they move with a comfortable and sexual ease that is enviable. The “cosmic thingummies”, to borrow Amanda’s term, between them are easy to understand when watching them together.

Amanda and Elyot’s rejected spouses are played by Simon Paisley Day as Victor and Anna Madeley as Sybil. As Victor, Day is deliciously entertaining as a stuffed-shirt, upright British man – in other words, the opposite of Elyot. Watching him and Cattrall, one can see that Amanda really did try to love him. Madeley does not fare quite so well as Sybil, the innocent, blushing English rose that Elyot weds only a few months after meeting her. Her performance, while highly amusing, borders on shrill and hysterical, and it is only in the last moments of the show that we see how funny the actress can be. Caroline Lena Olsson rounds off the cast as a housekeeper of infinite discretion.

Sadly, the sets onstage do not depict the grace and ease that the cast personifies. Designed by Rob Howell, they do not do the play justice. The balconies of the first scene are lush and lovely, but the Parisian flat where Amanda and Elyot hole up together is jarring and unsettling. Designed in art moderne style, with high ceilings and ovals everywhere you glance, it looks – inexplicably – like a fish bowl and does not seem to symbolize anything from the script.

It is clear that Coward, who penned the song “I Am No Good at Love,” does not have a high opinion of marriage. Private Lives is highly amusing, but there are a few moments in the show that border on disturbing rather than entertaining. Instead, he seems to believe that all relationships are dysfunctional in one way or another and perhaps we need to simply seek the person we are the least dysfunctional with. Perhaps that was what he intended to say with this play. After all, that very same message was echoed on Sex and the City in Season Two.

Stick Fly

Spending a long weekend with family can be described as many ways. Frightening, inspiring, boring, exciting and predictable are just a few choice words to characterize such a situation. Stick Fly, the engrossing family drama by Lydia R. Diamond about a family reunion in Martha’s Vineyard, fits all those descriptions and more.

The two sons of the LeVay clan, a moneyed African-American family, have each brought their newest significant others to their vacation home meet their parents. The older son, Harold (nicknamed Flip), is an Atlanta-based cosmetic surgeon and ladies’ man who attempts to hide the fact that his newest girlfriend is Caucasian for as long as possible. The younger son Kent is an aspiring fiction writer whose latest book is about to be published and is introducing his fiance Taylor, to the family. The patriarch of the family is Joe, a successful doctor who spends much of the weekend excusing the absence of his wife. The family is tended to by Cheryl, the daughter of their regular housekeeper.

Lengthy conversations are a given when such an articulate and educated family is gathered together and the LeVays are no exception. Directed by Kenny Leon, Diamond’s effectively paced script plants several potential dramas and conflicts to take root as the evening progresses: Kimber is not Italian, as Flip first described her; she is a WASP (or, as Flip says, “melanin-challenged.”) Taylor and Flip were once romantically involved. No one knows why Mrs. LeVay hasn’t shown up yet. And Cheryl is about to learn a secret about her family that will inevitably change her future.

Taylor is the clearly outlined protagonist of Stick Fly and when played by Tracie Thoms one can’t help but sympathize with her as she struggles to ingratiate herself into the moneyed, confident, overachieving LeVays. (The house’s casually opulent sets are artistically designed by David Gallo.) Abandoned as a baby by her wealthy, famous father, Taylor grew up with her mother and without money and is clearly uncomfortable being waited upon by Cheryl. The clash between her insecure offers to help herself and Cheryl’s surly determination are truly entertaining to watch.

The plot of Stick Fly progresses steadily, and while it is easy to see the Big Secret in Act Two coming, one still appreciates Diamond’s even pacing and character development as well as the excellent ensemble of actors portraying them.

As Taylor, Thoms gives an admirable and compelling performance. It is easy to see that her fast-talking intellect overshadows deep insecurities that escalate as the weekend progresses. As she engages in debates with the family about race, class and society, her emotions escalate to dangerous levels. While discussing racial inequality in the classroom (as well as outside of it), Taylor lashes out at Kimber in a lengthy monologue that quickly borders on hysteria. Impressively performed by Thoms, it is truly uncomfortable to witness and I found myself looking away from the stage a few times because I felt so sorry for the characters I was watching.

Taylor’s fiance Kent, played with a heroic sensitivity by Dule Hill, is an unfortunately underwritten role. His main function in the show seems to be appearing devoted and loving, no matter how Taylor acts around his family. Other than being mocked by his father and teased by his brother, Hill is left with little to do onstage.
Mekhi Phifer plays Flip in a cool, collected performance. For the majority of the show he appears to be detached from his family’s dramatics and hysterics and simply wants everyone to get along. When his facade finally cracks in Act Two, is rewarding to witness Phifer take the character to a deeper level.

Rosie Benton is admirably self-assured as Kimber, remaining calm and collected in circumstances that would disturb many other women. Her classically expensive clothing and carefully modulated voice reveal her wealthy background, but her remarks during conversation can be credited to her education. That she means well is without a doubt, but the character’s sincerity can be questioned.

Ruben Santiago-Hudson comfortably plays Joe, providing some brilliantly timed moments of levity during more heated moments of dialogue. When he and Taylor converse privately, they share a sincere rapport pleasurable and comforting to witness.

The standout of the cast, however, is Condola Rashad, who plays Cheryl with a commanding presence and an authentic vulnerability. Her enormous eyes, which are clearly visible even many rows back in the audience, beautifully convey anger, fear and sadness, and she expertly delivers the character’s sporadically surly bits of talkback with great humor.

While many of the ideas Stick Fly addresses are neither new nor shocking, it is appealing to see a different set of characters on Broadway that we have not seen before. At one point, Cheryl explodes, shouting at the family, “[You are] the most self-involved bullshit people! … You don‘t think ‘bout nothin‘ but yourselves and your damn socio-economic bantering … and relationship dysfunction and shit!” The truth of that statement can’t be denied. But at least the “socio-economic bantering and relationship dysfunction” is stated so articulately by such a good-looking and talented cast.

On A Clear Day You Can See Forever

You might be able to see forever on a clear day, but you won’t want to in this poorly conceived musical revival/re-imaging currently in performances at the St. James Theater.

First seen on Broadway in 1965, On a Clear Day You Can See Forever, with songs by Burton Lane and a book and lyrics by Alan Jay Lerner, has been since known for its lovely songs and equally convoluted plot. The original plot concerned Daisy, a young woman with ESP who could make flowers grow on command. She visits psychiatrist Dr. Mark Bruckner for help in quitting smoking. When under hypnosis, she reveals a past life as Melinda Wells, a royal woman from the 18th century. Mark promptly falls for Melinda while Daisy falls for Mark, and an unusual love triangle ensues.

Re-imaged by director Michael Mayer with help of playwright Peter Parnell, Daisy is now David, a gay florist’s assistant who meets Dr. Bruckner when attending his roommate’s psychiatry class. Incredibly susceptible to hypnosis, David seeks Mark’s help in quitting his cigarette habit because his boyfriend is allergic to smoke. When under hypnosis, Melinda appears, this time a 1940’s jazz singer (beautifully played by Jessie Mueller in a stunning breakout performance).

Mark falls for Melinda, who lures him out the grief he feels for his lost wife. David falls for Mark, David’s boyfriend Warren (Drew Gehling, woefully underused) wants David to move in with him, and Mark’s colleague Sharone pines for him from a distance. It’s a complicated plot to say the least, but it never gels completely and the characters do not register as fully formed people. As a result, they do not inspire the audience’s sympathy or support.

In his second starring role on Broadway, Harry Connick Jr. is unfortunately miscast as Mark. Connick plays Mark’s grief for his lost wife in a quiet, understated performance, and all of the onstage charm and charisma that earned him a Tony Award nomination in The Pajama Game is lost in the process. His swoon-inducing croon is still put to use in a few songs but it never reaches the level he is known – and probably was cast – for. “Come Back To Me,” Mark’s passionate psychic plea to David to return to his office, could be an incredibly powerful love song but Connick’s rendition, in which he duets with Gehling while leaping around his office furniture, is disappointingly flat and unemotional.

As David, the charming David Turner gives a spirited performance in an underwritten role. He is about to turn 30, is reluctant to commit to his boyfriend and is scared to branch out professionally and open his own flower shop. His character is an interesting contrast to Melinda, who possesses all of the confidence and charisma that David lacks. Turner is an agreeable presence onstage, possesses a powerful voice and belts his songs with heart, but that is actually a detriment to his second-act attempt at a showstopper, “What Did I Have That I Don’t Have?” The song loses all meaning when sung by a man about his past life as a woman, and Turner’s efforts only enhance the silliness.

The duo role of Daisy and Melinda was a terrific starring part and a great vehicle for an actress, but splitting it between two different people makes it much less interesting. One of the few creative and amusing moments the trio inspires occurs when Mark and Melinda dance a lovely duet together, and David (still under hypnosis) joins in. Thankfully, Mueller’s performance as Melinda is a powerful, star-making part. In her Broadway debut, Mueller plays the spunky, spirited Melinda capably and brings a fantastic vivacity to the songs. Several numbers from Royal Wedding were added to the show, and Mueller’s jazzy rendition of “Ev’ry Night at Seven” is the definitive highlight of the show.

As Warren, David’s patiently devoted boyfriend, Gehling is underused. I found him to be a much more interesting character than David, (though that’s not saying much), and his few solo moments of singing were a pleasure to hear. Sarah Stiles chews the scenery hungrily as David’s roommate, giving an endearing but shrill and a bit too cutesy, performance. And Erin O’Malley fills the flat, flat shoes of David’s devoted colleague.

Unfortunately, no matter how talented the cast is, they are forced to wear the much-too-bright costumes by Catherine Zuber and perform on the equally garish sets by Christine Jones. (The bright, swirling colors were meant to channel the aesthetics of the 1970s, but instead they merely inspire headaches.)

Perhaps the bright hues were meant to detract from the gaping plot holes of this reincarnated show. The bottom line is that the new plot twist, with Mark falling in love with Melinda in David’s body, simply does not work. He is taken by Melinda’s vivacious spirit but also by her voice. But if she was a past life of David’s, Bruckner would hear David’s voice, not Melinda’s, singing. And the fact that Mark’s behavior is incredibly unethical, not to mention unprofessional, is only briefly touched upon in a scolding by his colleagues.

It’s understandable why one would want to re-imagine On A Clear Day You Can See Forever. The idea of love crossing space and time is undeniably dramatic and appealing and the songs are tunefully hummable. Unfortunately, this production does not do the songs, or the ideas, justice.

Lysistrata Jones

Frothy fun abounds at the Walter Kerr Theater where Lysistrata Jones has made a triumphant transfer to Broadway. This silly, surprisingly heartfelt update of Aristophanes’ comedy about the battle of the sexes is this season’s surprise answer to a good time at the theater.

Loosely – let me stress that – based on the ancient drama, Lysistrata Jones takes place at a 20th century college where the title character, disgusted by the apathy of the school’s basketball team, convinces her fellow cheerleader girlfriends to withhold sex from their boyfriends until they win a game.

‘“No more giving it up, til you give up giving it up,” they inform their respective lovers. (The pop-style music and lyrics are by Lewis Flinn.) The boys, needless to say, are less than enthused and refuse to abide by the agreement. On the contrary, they are more determined to lose than before. A battle of the sexes promptly ensues, and it is more than a little sexy itself.

Lysistrata Jones has transferred uptown from the gym at Judson Memorial Church, where it was performed in the summer. Many were concerned that moving to a larger space would result in the loss of its small-space charm, but set designer Allen Moyer and director-choreographer Dan Knechtges have expanded the show’s charm and appeal to capably fill the much larger Walter Kerr Theater.

Narrated by an earthy goddess, Hetaira (the fabulous Liz Mikel), the show follows Lysistrata (an appealing and talented Patti Murin), a young woman disgusted by the apathy she witnesses all around her. Inspired by reading the SparkNotes for “Lysistrata,” she decides that refusing sex to the basketball team will then inspire them to win a game. While this may appear to be petty or even degrading to women, Murin’s heartfelt frustration with apathy and longing to see people make “passionate choices” at least momentarily override any lingering squeamishness about the choices the females do make. Murin nails the deadpan delivery of Lysistrata’s ditzy lines while smoothly transforming her into a deeper, more developed character.

As Mick, Lysistrata’s boyfriend, Josh Segarra moves beyond the stereotypical basketball hunk, depicting his character’s more sensitive, poetry-loving side with heart. Robin, the feminist poetry-slamming librarian’s assistant is played with great humor by Lindsay Nicole Chambers, who is also an extremely capable dancer. Jason Tam is a great surprise as Xander, a political blogger who is drawn out of his shell to share his incredible dance skills by Lysistrata. Tam and Murin share a sweet chemistry as their friendship progresses and their duet, “Hold On,” is so endearing that the clichés in the lyrics can be overlooked.

While the cast is certainly talented and likeable, the real highlight of Lysistrata Jones for me was the dancing. Knechtges’s choreography smoothly blends cheerleading step and basketball moves, resulting in athletic, appealing numbers that still further the plot and enhance the character development in ways that Valley-Girl language might not.

With a book by Douglas Carter Beane, who somehow transformed Xanadu from a movie flop to a Broadway hit four years ago, Lysistrata Jones has a great time making fun of itself. Several references are made to the idea that Aristophanes’ story is still being read and performed in the twentieth century, and numerous technological jokes are made as well (so much fun is poked at the iPhone I couldn’t help but wonder if they had purchased advertising space in the Playbill).

There are few surprises in the plot of Lysistrata Jones. The ending is predictable – I myself spotted it a mile away – and while the characters are more than entertaining, they do not linger with you after the curtain falls. But I left the theater feeling no guilt about the calories you may have consumed while watching this sweet and frothy treat. I probably burned them all off laughing, anyway.