Theater Reviews

Susan Granger’s review of “Jodi Stevens: A Broad’s Way” at B.J. Ryan’s Magnolia Room

There’s a new cabaret venue in Fairfield County: B.J. Ryan’s cozy, intimate Magnolia Room on 57 Main Street in Norwalk.

On April 20, luminous Jodi Stevens SOLD OUT for her one-woman show “A Broad’s Way.” A compelling performer, she radiates intelligence, depth and absolute authenticity – plus a charming storytelling ability.

Opening with “Let’s Raise the Roof” from Off-Broadway’s “The Wild Party,” Jodi set the festive mood for the evening. Some family reminisces followed with “When I Was a Boy” and “More Than You Know,” which was sweet, sensitive and, ultimately sublime.

Continuing, between numbers, Jodi mused about her chosen profession: “the messy business of show.” While earning her BFA from Penn State University, her theater professor sat her down with The New York Times Theatre Directory. Despite his cautionary warning, she headed for Manhattan, where she landed an agent and scored coveted roles in the original company of “Urban Cowboy” and “Jekyll & Hyde.”

Seamlessly transitioning between a Veronica Lake-type ‘film noir’ seductress and the bawdy, horn-toting Mazeppa, belting “You Gotta Have a Gimmick” from “Gypsy,” Jodi manages to be a femme fatale and funny at the same time…her inventive Marlene Dietrich imitation is to die for.

Particularly in her phrasing, Jodi draws on her solid acting experience, presenting a cool, confident and convivial stage presence.

Her challenging song choices include “I Concentrate on You,” “Orange-Colored Sky” and “No Moon At All,” blended with “That Old Devil Moon,” concluding with David Friedman’s upbeat “Live It Up.”

Look for Jodi Stevens to return to B.J. Ryan’s Magnolia Room again soon in this no-frills show with the support of Jerold Goldstein on the piano.

Susan Granger’s review of “Three Tall Women” (Golden Theater)

 

Glenda Jackson is back on Broadway – more forceful and ferocious than ever!

Joe Mantello’s new production of Edward Albee’s intensely personal drama, which won the Pulitzer Prize back in 1994, features not only 81 year-old Ms. Jackson but she’s matched by two formidable co-stars: 62 year-old Laurie Metcalf and 32 year-old Alison Pill.

Ms. Jackson plays “A”, a querulously ailing, exasperating version of playwright Albee’s adoptive mother, while Metcalf and Pill are her young, idealistic lawyer and jaded, stoical caregiver, respectively, in the first scene and younger, mirrored versions of “A” in the second. Theirs is no intermission.

Outspokenly prejudiced and racist, “A” is demanding and imperious, sneering at anyone who dares to oppose her often forgetful, outrageous edicts and convinced that everyone is conspiring to rob her of whatever money she still has left.

Perched on an elegantly upholstered armchair or reclining in the cream-colored bedroom, accented by French antiques and muted green accessories, she clutches tenuously to what remains of her authority and pride while reflecting on the experiences and caprices that shaped her life.

Referring to her rich husband as a ‘penguin,’ self-centered “A” mocks his short stature and glass eye, the result of a golfing mishap. Although she admittedly didn’t like sex much, she indulged in an adulterous affair with a groom at their stables.

And one of her most memorable reminiscences involves how her naked husband presented her with a ‘wide’ diamond bracelet, dangling it on his eager erection.

Left out of the Playbill is a complicated fourth character, “A’s” homosexual son, played silently by Joseph Medeiros. When he brings flowers to her bedside, it’s one of the play’s most poignant moments.

The production is enhanced by Miriam Buether’s stunning set, Ann Roth’s stylish costumes, Paul Gallo’s effective lighting and Fitz Patton’s subtle sound.

Propelled by Glenda Jackson, this trio of actresses bestow on Manhattan theatergoers the most exciting revival in many years.

FYI: If you wonder where Glenda Jackson has been since her last Broadway appearance, she’s spent the past 23 years in Britain’s House of Commons, elected on the Labour Party ticket, only recently returning to the London stage in the title role in a gender-blind production of “King Lear” at the Old Vic.

“Three Tall Women” is scheduled to play at the Golden Theater through June 24.

Susan Granger’s review of “Mean Girls” (August Wilson Theatre)

 

I must confess that Tina Fey’s slyly caustic dialogue in the “Mean Girls” movie made it one of my coming-of-age comedy favorites – and much of it still remains.

Problem is: the 2004 movie was better than this expanded, big-budget musical adaptation, featuring forgettable songs by composer Jeff Richmond (Fey’s husband) and Neil Benjamin’ barely serviceable lyrics, enlivened by Casey Nicklaw’s direction and choreography and augmented by Scott Pask’s scenic design, backed by Fin Ross & Adam Young’s video wallpaper, representing a nastily annotated “Burn Book.”

Set at suburban Chicago’s North Shore High, it revolves the introduction of naïve Cady Heron (Erika Henningsen) to snarky subversion and social climbing. Raised by biologists in Kenya, Cady is more comfortable with animals on the savanna than people, as evidenced in her first song, “It Roars.”

But then her parents decide to return to the United States – to which Cady chirps, “Maybe I can meet an obese person.”

Despite defiant “Cautionary” warnings from a welcoming committee formed by Goth/artsy Janis (Barrett Wilbert Weed) and her overtly gay buddy (Grey Henson), guileless Cady is invited by the Queen Bee, nasty, self-absorbed Regina George (Taylor Louderman), flanked by insecure Gretchen (Ashley Park) and dimwitted Karen (Kate Rockwell),  to taka a coveted seat at her table in the cafeteria.

They’re known as the “Plastics,” adhering to a strict dress code that includes, “On Wednesdays, we wear pink.” And the song “Where Do You Belong?” skewers the clique-riddled, group stereotyping that incites most adolescent angst.

Complications arise when Cady not only falls for Aaron (Kyle Selig), who happens to be Regina’s ex, but also begins to mimic the Plastics’ bitchy behavior, leaving her charming authenticity far behind.

Like the oft-bantered term “fetch,” it’s self-consciously playful, pandering to the lowest common denominator and becoming increasingly vapid and tedious, despite Tina Fey’s perceptive, social media updates.

Given the sky-high Broadway ticket prices, unless you’re toting determined teenage fans, I’d advise picking another show over “Mean Girls.”

Susan Granger’s review of “Admissions” (Mitzi Newhouse Theater/Lincoln Center: Off-Broadway)

 

Satire reigns supreme in Joshua Harmon’s provocative new play, tackling the timely topics of racial representation and white privilege, while skewering liberal hypocrisy.

At Hillcrest, a progressive New Hampshire prep school, the head of admissions, Sherri Rosen-Mason (Jessica Hecht), has proudly increased the student body’s diversity quotient from 6% to 18% – and soon it may climb even higher.

While she’s encouraged to fervently pursue this concept of inclusion by her husband, Bill Mason (Andrew Garman), who serves as headmaster, they both recognize the need to continue to fast-track enrollment of white legacy students.

Complications arise when their son Charlie (Ben Edelman) and his inseparable best-friend Perry, the bi-racial son of Sherri’s best-friend Ginnie Peters (Sally Murphy), both apply to Yale, primarily because both boys love the movie “Mystic Pizza.”

Not surprisingly, Perry gets accepted, while Charlie’s application is deferred, despite the fact that Charlie’s SAT scores exceeded Perry’s and he took three A.P. courses when Perry only took two.

Furious Charlie is understandably bitter that Perry benefits from racial quotas while he’s summarily sidelined as just another ‘entitled white man.’ It’s full-blown Ivy League irony – with a nod to Jews who, historically, were excluded by the Old Guard.

Eventually, of course, Charlie re-thinks his ire, noting, “If there are going to be new voices at the table, someone has to stand up and offer someone else his seat.”

Jessica Hecht delivers a bravura performance, subtly shading much of the speechifying dialogue, ably supported by Ann McDonough as her hapless Development staffer Roberta, who confesses, “I don’t see color. I don’t look at race. Maybe that’s my problem.”

Director Daniel Aukin adroitly slices and skewers, putting his well-chosen cast through their paces, as playwright Joshua Harmon (“Bad Jews,” “Significant Other”) places the essential dilemma right in the laps of Lincoln Center audience members.

Currently playing at the Mitzi E. Newhouse Theater, “Admissions” has been extended through May 6, 2018.

 

Susan Granger’s review of “Escape to Margaritaville” (Marquis Theater on Broadway)

 

It’s difficult for me to be objective about Jimmy Buffett, because I consider his wistful, seductively sybaritic Margaritaville concept to be the most imaginative and inventive since George Lucas’ STAR WARS.

Admittedly, if you’ve never heard Buffett’s music or considered the laid-back debauchery of Margaritaville, you might – at first – be a bit confused by this jukebox musical. Particularly when devoted fans (known as Parrotheads) are boozing on $16 (frozen) margaritas even before the curtain goes up.

The escapist plot, patched together from Buffett’s tuneful pantheon, revolves around Rachel (Alison Luff), an uptight, workaholic environmental scientist, who embarks on a bachelorette week with her soon-to-be-married BFF Tammy (Lisa Howard), getting away from her fat-shaming fiancé (Ian Michael Stuart).

Traveling from Cincinnati to an informal Caribbean island resort called Margaritaville, they’re met by guitar-strumming Tully Mars (Paul Alexander Nolan), the beach-bum Casanova/entertainment director, and Brick (Eric Petersen), the sweetly dense bartender.

After Rachel informs him she’s eager to get soil samples from the local volcano, Tully tells her: “Work is a dirty word around here. If you say it again, we’ll have to wash your mouth out with tequila.” That’s a song cue for Rachel to poignantly declare, “It’s My Job.”

Along with romance and the inevitable “lost shaker of salt,” the breezy, beach bar festivities include Marley (Rema Webb), the wry manager; Jamal (Andre Ward), the hapless handyman; and D.J. (Don Sparks), as a rascally reprobate pilot.

Superbly cast and cleverly staged by Christopher Ashley, Greg Garcia and Mike O’Malley’s sit-com storyline is slyly cobbled together, using disparate Jimmy Buffett classics like “Cheeseburger in Paradise,” “It’s Always Five O’Clock Somewhere,” “Son of a Son of a Sailor,” “Come Monday,” “Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes” and “Why Don’t We Get Drunk,” etc.

Walt Spangler’s palm-fronded sets are splashy, as are Paul Tazewell’s costumes, and musical supervisor Christopher Jahnke’s steel-drums resonate from the on-stage orchestra. But what’s with the singing/tap-dancing insurance salespeople zombies? They made no sense whatever.

Personal note: I’m still sad that Buffett’s 1997 musical “Don’t Stop the Carnival,” based on Herman Wouk’s novel, never made it to the Great White Way.

Bottom line: if you’re a Parrothead, it’s the most fun you’ll have on Broadway this season!

Susan Granger’s review of “Pete Rex” (59E59 Theatre – Off-Broadway)

 

Opening with a video projection of a primitive homo sapiens battling a dinosaur, this inventive play explores man’s inner feelings, showing how our species hasn’t progressed much over the eons.

Surrounded by empty beer cans, thirtysomething slacker Pete (Greg Carere) lives in his own man-cave in West Kensington, PA, watching football marathons of “Madden 07” on his Xbox and eating Little Debbie Zebra Cakes. He’s depressed because his girl-friend Julie (Rose Sowa) is moving to New York City, and he’s simply not ready to grow up and join her.

Suddenly, Julie bursts in, informing Pete and his soon-to-be-devoured buddy Bo (Simon Winheld) that dinosaurs have invaded their town. At first, they don’t believe her but, when her assertion is confirmed on TV, Pete, who once wanted to be a paleontologist, claims to be an expert, referring to Dr. Adam Grant and “Jurassic Park.”

The authentic presence of these giant, primal reptiles is established by eerie shadows created by lighting designer Remy M. Leelike and thumping generated by sound designer Megan Culley.

The next thing you know, Julie and Pete have found an enormous egg and are incubating it under the couch. When it hatches, it turns out to be a caustic, anthropomorphic Tyrannosaurus Rex who – in a distinctly British accent – calls himself Nero (Simon Winheld) and enjoys playing prehistoric Trivial Pursuit before he consumes his next meal.

“I am a huge fan,” Pete gushes, “You’re like the coolest thing that ever lived.”

Eventually, it becomes obvious that Nero is a sophomoric projection of a toy T-Rex that angst-riddled Pete once considered his protector against the evil forces of the adult world.

“We’re together again, just like old times,“ Nero tells him.

Written by Alexander V. Thompson and directed by Brad Raimondo, it’s an existential, absurdist comedy, a Dreamscape Theatre NYC premiere that provides plenty of surprises, becoming an intriguing, if immature diversion.

“Pete Rex” plays at 59E59 Theater through March 3.

Susan Granger’s review of “Party Face” (City Center Stage II – Off-Broadway)

 

Oscar-winning actress Hayley Mills (“The Parent Trap,” “Pollyanna”) stars in Isobel Mahon’s Irish comedy about a festivity that’s full of surprises.

Set in the newly remodeled kitchen of a flat in Dublin, Mollie Mae (Gina Costigan) is hosting her first cocktail party after spending three weeks in a psychiatric hospital.  Mollie’s husband left her six weeks earlier after 16 years of marriage, causing her to suffer a nervous breakdown in the cereal aisle of a supermarket.

Melancholy, morose Mollie’s guests include her elegant mother, Carmel (Hayley Mills), her acerbic sister Maeve (Brenda Meaney), her obsessive-compulsive psych ward roommate Bernie (Klea Blackhurst) and her slyly nasty neighbor Chloe (Allison Jean White).

Shallow, status-conscious Carmel arrives first, clad in pink silk capri pants and high heels, taking a quick look around and immediately undermining Mollie, noting: “Lovely flowers…in my day, you never saw a lily outside of a funeral parlor, but, sure, that’s progress…”

While critical, controlling Connie holds center-stage throughout most of the forced gaiety that includes a conga line, the guest mix and mingle, trading barbs about men, marriage, mental health…and an unusual topiary.

Now almost 72 years old, beguiling Ms. Mills deserves a better vehicle than this trifling two-act, occasionally clever cluster of clichéd canapes, directed by Amanda Bearse, designed by Jeff Ridenour, lit by Joyce Liao and costumed by Lara de Bruijn.

“Party Face” plays at Stage II, New York City Center, 131 West 55^th Street, until April 8.

Susan Granger’s review of “Mushroom Cure” (Off-Broadway at Theater 80 St. Marks)

 

Inspired by a scientific study showing that hallucinogenic mushrooms may cure obsessive-compulsive disorders, performer/writer Adam Strauss decided to devote himself to a program of what he calls “vigilante psychopharmacology.”

Riffing somewhat endlessly on the difference between an IPod and an IRiver, he obviously finds making a choice of players more difficult than most consumers. Even deciding what side of the street to walk on often presents a debilitating conundrum.

Women present even more of a problem. When he falls for Grace, a visiting student from Kansas, whom he encounters while working as a show barker in Times Square, he invites her to watch him perform at a comedy club. As a romantic relationship develops, she becomes involved in his clinical condition – which eventually leads her to question whether they have a future together.

Over the course of 90 minutes, Strauss reveals perhaps more than anyone ever wanted to know about obtaining drugs, including psychedelic cacti which requires circuitous preparation before ingesting, and dealing with an unorthodox community of chemists, including Slo, who works at a sloth’s pace.

As a result, Strauss’s more banal ramblings caused a couple of audience members to nod off.

Having achieved widespread accolades at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, this unique show made its debut at the New York International Fringe Festival, where it won the Overall Excellence Award for Solo Performances.  In the summer of 2016, it played at The Cherry Lane Theater, followed by an 11-week run at San Francisco’s Marsh Theater.

It’s astutely directed by Jonathan Libman, who is currently writing and directing for Amy Schumer’s ensemble company The Collective.

And on Sunday, Dec. 16, there was a fascinating talkback with Adam Strauss and Ingmar Gorman, one of the foremost experts on psychedelic-assisted psychotherapy for PTSD. They discussed the promises and pitfalls of using these drugs for conditions like depression, OCD and PTSD, referring to clinical trials, including the FDA trials for MDMA-assisted psychotherapy for PTSD that Gorman is currently leading in New York.

“Mushroom Cure” runs through January 7, 2018. Shows are Wednesday thru Saturday at 7:30 pm with added performances on Dec. 26 at 7:30 pm, Dec. 29 & 30 at 10 pm, and January 7^th at 5 pm.

Tickets are $35 and available from Ovation Tix at 212-352-3101 or www.TheMushroomCure.com

Susan Granger’s review of “Believe in Magic: Jason Bishop” (New Victory Theater)

Looking for enchantment? Jason Bishop delivers an astonishing introduction to magic – and while his show perfect for children – with booster seats distributed by ushers – adults will also be enthralled.

Back by popular demand after a sold-out run last year, this internationally touring magician immediately develops a firm connection with his audience, engaging eager young volunteers, handling them with gentle professionality.

Bishop’s illusions include swords and levitations, most involving his graceful assistant, Kim Hess. At the beginning of the show, Kim gamely climbs into one of Bishop’s many ‘boxes’ and, seemingly, evades piercing by sabers. Later, she twirls glowing batons and, eventually, levitates, along with Bishop.

During a brief interlude of cards and coin tricks (viewed on a large screen via Go-Pro video), Bishop confides that he was raised by foster families in rural Pennsylvania. He taught himself magic from books in the public library, quickly becoming the youngest person ever to win the Magician’s Alliance of Eastern States Stage Award.

After the intermission, Bishop briefly interacts with the audience in the mezzanine and introduces his adorable Yorkshire terrier, named Gizmo, wearing a red holiday sweater. Amazingly, Gizmo appears and disappears as Bishop teleports him from place to place.

There’s an intriguing, interactive game, devised with a program insert showing holiday icons, including Santa, a Dreidel, a Menorah, a gingerbread man, and a Kinara.

Shrieks of delight continue as a mass of shredded wet paper causes snow to fall on the audience, and Bishop – with the help of a hefty security guard – manages to make a million dollars disappear into thin air– poof! –before those $100 ‘bills’ (augmented by photos of Gizmo) descend from the ceiling.

Kudos to illusion designer Jim Steinmeyer, technical director Ellen Schmoyer, and lighting designers Herrick Goldman and Susan Nicholson.

For wondrous, family-friendly entertainment during this holiday season, catch Jason Bishop at the New Victory Theater on 42^nd Street – through December 30^th. For tickets, call 646-223-3010 or visit http://www.newvictory.org.

Susan Granger’s review of “Derren Brown: Secret” (Atlantic Theater Co./Linda Gross Theater)

 

For several months, British magician Derren Brown, who sells out 1,700-seat Palace Theater in London’s West End and has been awarded two Olivier Awards and one BAFTA (the British equivalent of an Oscar), has been performing, at the 200-seat Linda Gross Theater, part of Manhattan’s Atlantic Theater Company.

Brown’s particular brand of magic is called mentalism, or mind-reading, and his shows are centered on the audience, not on him. What he creates are illusions and he throws Frisbees into the audience to choose volunteers.

Derren Brown doesn’t want any information regarding the specifics of his show to be shared, which makes ‘reviewing’ daunting. But good critics never reveal ‘whodunit’ or the twist at the end of the movie, right?

Having said that, Brown’s show begins with a series of questions whose answers are determined by subtle physical cues. And he doesn’t always get them all right, which only serves to up his ‘likeability’ quotient.

“We are all trapped inside our own minds,” Brown tells the audience, adding that the stories we tell ourselves are precisely what limit our perceptions. These tales, which impose logic on confusion, serve to simplify the complexities of real life.

“It’s all fiction,” he concludes.

The one ‘secret’ Brown, a former Roman Catholic schoolboy, does reveal is that he’s gay, an admission which sets the tone for a climate of confessions from members of the audience.

Brown shares writing credit with Andy Nyman and Andrew O’Connor, his co-directors, who indulge in subtle details. Like: listen carefully to the choice of songs that play before the show and during intermission; the music eventually becomes relevant.

Obviously, Derren Brown’s future is headed for Broadway, so catch him now – while you still can.