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WHAT A BIZARRE THEATER SEASON IN NEW YORK!

Mon, 15 Nov 2010 19:52:10 -0500

From week to week—from the heights of shows like A BRIEF ENCOUNTER to the depths of shows like THE PITMEN PAINTERS—it’s never been clear to me whether we’re entering new glory days or witnessing the decline of creativity on stage—which, I suppose, is frequently the case with this “fabulous invalid” of a thing called theater (though I guess that phrase was originally intended to refer to Broadway and I’m applying it here to all theater on the island of Manhattan).

And as one with no interest in sports and sports rankings, I’ll nevertheless lay out my recent experiences in a sports-like way, using my own “Thumbs Up/Down” ranking scheme.

For me, the season began on an ambiguous note with the Roundabout Theatre’s production of MRS. WARREN’S PROFESSION and the Patrick Stewart-starrer, David Mamet’s A LIFE IN THE THEATER. In both cases, despite excellent performances, the plays fell flat. I think the problem is that these are just not great plays. So, despite some wonderful monologues in MRS. WARREN’S PROFESSION and evidence of a clear affection for the stage in A LIFE IN THE THEATER, I give both productions “Thumbs Sideways.”

BRIEF ENCOUNTER. “Thrilling and wildly theatrical!” That would be my recommended pull-quote if I were a theater critic. I don’t want to say too much in order not to spoil the many surprises on stage at Studio 54, but I will say it provided my best evening at the theater so far this season. (And the perfect show to see with a loved one.) “Thumbs Up.”

BLOODY BLOODY ANDREW JACKSON. This one started off very powerfully, and I kept thinking that the combination of this show and BRIEF ENCOUNTER would surely make this the greatest season in years. But then things ground to a near halt in the final third and the show went flat. On balance, still an enjoyable show—very funny, clever, rock-filled, eye-opening—but a few steps short of being great. “Thumbs Up (With Reservations)”

THE LANGUAGE ARCHIVE by Julia Cho. A wonderful play. Fascinating for anyone interested in linguistics in general, and dying languages (not to mention relationships) in particular. All I can say is, “Mir Neglishia.” (You’ll have to see the play to know what I mean.) Highly recommended for anyone interested in intelligent, thought-provoking theater. And, of course, Jayne Houdyshell—reason enough to see any play. “Thumbs Up.”

WINGS. A man in the audience actually shouted back at this play at one point. The couple next to us left (in the middle of a one-act play barely 80 minutes long). I guess people really don’t like this play. Jan Maxwell is certainly trying very hard (though she did seem very pissed off at our audience after the man shouted out—and gritted her teeth through the curtain calls.) I would never shout back at a play (unless asked to do so) and I would certainly never walk out of a play in the middle of its one and only act, but I have to say I didn’t like it either. It was a brilliant depiction of what it must feel like to be in the middle of a stroke (and afterwards). And that’s no mean accomplishment. But it wasn’t much of a play. Very hard to sit through. Boring, really. And I think Jan Maxwell was probably miscast, since Constance Cummings played the character as a much older woman in the original version. “Thumbs Down.”

LA BETE. Great performances by all 3 stars in the cast. Fun, compelling, intriguing, surprising—it’s all these things, and it rhymes. But enough already. It quickly grew tiresome. “Thumbs Sideways.”

THE PITMEN PAINTERS. I learned something about a small chapter in art history, and it was certainly earnest, but this play plodded along, unrolling its plot points and other points in an uninteresting linear fashion. In the end, there wasn’t much of a story here—very little conflict. “Thumbs Down.”

SHINE! The Horatio Alger Musical. A delightfully-old-fashioned musical presented during the New York Musical Theatre Festival. (Full disclosure—the author of the book, Richard Seff, played Earl Mumford in my “best-short-play-award-winning” play, THE DAKOTA.) It has a wonderful score and an enjoyable and uplifting story. The young man who played the main role was terrific—and could well grow up to be a Broadway star. Some have (all right, I have) compared it to Oliver and Annie. Any producers out there looking for a big, family musical? “Thumbs Up.”

MATTHEW BOURNE’S SWAN LAKE. This made a brief return to New York at the City Center. (I missed it the first time around.) A brilliant and mesmerizing piece! It even survived the endless chattering of the two ladies sitting behind us. (Word of advice: if you speak pointedly—almost to the point of having what some might describe as a meltdown—to people like this during intermission, they may hurl insults at you, but they DO shut up during the second act.) “Thumbs Up.”

THE SCOTTSBORO BOYS. I love Kander and Ebb (and Susan Stroman). I heard great things about this show. I was SO looking forward to it (which may have been the problem). And it turned out to be the biggest disappointment of the season so far. It wasn’t bad, exactly. Some strong numbers, good (and great) performances, interesting story, and very powerful ending that almost justified what came before—but it was all a little repetitive, a little boring, a little off. Maybe I should give it a second chance. “Thumbs Sideways.”

EDWARD ALBEE’S ME, MYSELF, AND I. (Playwrights Horizons). I saw the original production of this play at the McCarter Theater in Princeton a couple of years ago. Albee is one of my two favorite playwrights. (Tennessee Williams is the other.) I think some of my writing may even be a little Albee-esque—at least I aspire to that. So, I’m happy to report that this play shows him still going strong, but I don’t think it’s everyone’s cup of tea. (Though that may not be a criticism—some people don’t even drink tea.) It’s an absurdist play. Perhaps a more accessible version of a Beckett play (which shouldn’t be surprising, since Albee loves Beckett and has had his plays on the same bills as Beckett’s). It’s very funny. Its self-referentiality and play on and with words are delightful—if you like that sort of thing (which I do). Elizabeth Ashley is wonderful in her very strange role. (Tyne Daly played the role successfully at the McCarter. Elizabeth Ashley is even better.) Brian Murray—one of the theater’s treasures—is also very good, although he doesn’t have a whole lot to do here. But in the end, I think it’s very hard to pull off absurdist works. Maybe I’ve just come to want a little more reality—or maybe three-dimensionality—in plays. Still, it’s a must-see play for theater lovers. “Thumbs Up (With Reservations).”

A FREE MAN OF COLOR. I think critics are the sons and daughters of Satan, just waiting for an opportunity to pull someone down rather than celebrate the good things that one can always find in any play or production. But then I see a play like this and understand the desire to destroy. It’s just SO easy to mock bad plays. It provides the writer an opportunity to be creative—who can resist such a thing? But, I’ll resist that urge and just say that this was definitely the worst play of the season so far. A third of the thin audience left during the intermission. Let’s leave it at that. (No, let’s mention that it has beautiful costumes and that Geoffrey Wright is always worth observing—and that John Guare has created some wonderful other plays.) “Thumbs Down.”

COLLECTION and A KIND OF ALASKA. Two plays by Harold Pinter at the Classic Stage Company. Excellent. Eliminated the bad taste left in my mouth by A FREE MAN OF COLOR. I don’t always love Pinter’s work, but these are excellent plays. The first one is a typical piece of Pinterism—an odd situation, where something is a little off, but it’s not quite clear what it is, and it’s never clarified in the end, so you have to fill in the blanks yourself. Maybe this works better here than in some other cases, because it’s a one-act. It’s also extremely well performed and produced. The second play has an amazing performance by Lisa Emery playing a woman who has been asleep for almost 30 years (a la Awakenings). I hope to track Ms. Emery down and see everything she ever does after this. “Thumbs Up.”

AFTER THE REVOLUTION. (Playwrights Horizons). An excellent play about an intergenerational conflict among lefties on the upper west side of Manhattan. It’s good to remember a time when “liberal” wasn’t a dirty word and most of my college classmates (and I) aspired to be far left of the “liberals.” I don’t think Sarah Palin would like—or get—this play, but it’s intelligent and moving. Excellent performances—especially by Lois Smith and Peter Friedman. I was thrilled to discover on the way out of the theater that the play was based on a real family’s dilemma and that I was sharing the elevator with the real-life sister of the character played by Lois Smith. “Thumbs Up.”

THAT HOPEY CHANGEY THING. (By Richard Nelson—at the Public Theater) An interesting experiment, but little more. A play just about as current as physically possible. It took place on election night this year, even though the run of the play was from a week before until two weeks after the election. It presents a family discussing the election whose returns are in progress—even though they can’t know the outcome and, depending on which night the audience sees it, we either do or do not know the outcome. Sounds intriguing, right? But the real surprise was that it presented very convincing, three-dimensional characters. With a little more work, this play might not need this gimmick. In fact, the political discussion was the least interesting aspect of it. Sadly, though, the play didn’t really go anywhere, and felt simply contrived—and unfinished. “Thumbs Sideways.”

SCORECARD:

Thumbs Up:
Brief Encounter
The Language Archive
Shine! (New York Musical Theatre Festival)
Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake
Collection + A Kind of Alaska
After the Revolution

Thumbs Up (with reservations)
Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson
Edward Albee’s Me, Myself, and I

Thumbs Down:
Wings
The Pitmen Painters
A Free Man of Color

Thumbs Sideways:
Mrs. Warren’s Profession
A Life in the Theater
La Bete
The Scottsboro Boys
That Hopey Changey Thing

Going to the Theater in Other Languages

Sun, 21 Mar 2010 18:19:46 -0400

My favorite activity is going to the theater. (I guess that's why I'm a playwright--it just took me many years to realize that one could lead to the other.) So, naturally, when I travel, I look for opportunities to do the same. But this can be problematic when you're travelling in countries where you don't know the language. (Does this include England? Well, it did when I saw Lionel Bart's musical MAGGIE MAY - his next musical after OLIVER! - in London many years ago. All the characters spoke with a thick Liverpoolian--or, more correctly, Liverpudlian--accent. To this day, I have no idea what was going on in that show. Nor did my brother, who accompanied me.)

I recently travelled to Madrid on vacation and was excited to discover that it's is a thriving theater town, with as many theaters as New York (despite a much smaller population). I could choose from about 35 different shows at what were more or less the equivalent of Broadway theaters. Plays and musicals like Tom Stoppard's Rock 'n Roll, Chicago, God of Carnage, Agatha Christie's The Mousetrap, Calderon's The House of Bernardo Alba, a musical called 40, and so on. The only problem being that they were all in Spanish and my Spanish is less than elementary. In the end, I settled on three English-proof shows:
(1) Spamalot. I'd seen it in NY, so I figured I'd know what was going on. And I more or less did. Except that I tended to laugh out loud at the physical comedy while my fellow theatergoers responded more enthusiastically to the verbal jokes that went right over my head.
(2) Zarzuela. This is an art form unique to Spain--a cross between opera, musical comedy, and flamenco dancing. I saw Dona Francisquita. Luckily, there was an English synopsis in the playbill. Otherwise, I didn't know exactly what was going on but enjoyed the spectacle--except for the occasional scene where 60 people stood around singing and swaying. Kind of like a performance of the Ladies Light Opera Society (or whatever it was called) on I Love Lucy.
(3) Flamenco. I went to what I guess would be considered a modern neo-Flamenco show called Cambio de Tercio. Not much of a language barrier here--though there were some lyrics. Otherwise just the universal language of dance and percussion.

All of which reminds me of two other excursions into theater in other languages. In the Summer of Woodstock, I travelled around Europe with my roommate, and we saw two shows in Paris. One was a comedy called Quarante Carats--which was in fact simultaneously playing on Broadway back home as Forty Carats starring Julie Harris (later made into a movie with Liv Ullmann, Gene Kelly, and Edward Albert). Fortunately my French was pretty good at the time, so I was able to follow most of it and thoroughly enjoyed it. The other was the musical HAIR--yes, while the original was playing on Broadway, I had to settle for the French-version in Paris (Laissez, laissez entrez le soleil - Let the Sunshine in!) Full nudity, too - but in French. And no one seemed to note that HAIR is the French verb "to hate." A show about love called hate. It was great, at any rate.

Jane Austen and Vibrators

Sat, 31 Oct 2009 13:12:51 -0400

I’ve spent much of this week immersed in nineteenth century women, so to speak. A business trip to Denver provided me with a rare opportunity to read a novel in one fell swoop. (Ordinarily I read novels during my commute to work--unfortunately, my commute is less than ten minutes long [two subway stops], and so it takes me quite some time to finish each book.) Based on a recommendation from Debbie Atherton (River Writers of Manhattan and friend from Yale), I decided to read Jane Austen’s PERSUASION, her last novel (published posthumously in 1818). Although it’s not the kind of book normally thought of as a page-turner, I couldn’t put it down. I knew that the protagonists Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth would eventually wind up together, but I was eager to find out how that would happen. The psychology of the characters was the most interesting aspect of the book. Each one’s self-doubts, hopes, fears, calculations and miscalculations were fascinating and provided much of the drama. Many scholars apparently consider this Austen’s most mature book--and its maturity is an indication of what the world lost when she died.

I suppose you could say the novel is in some respects gushingly romantic--and maybe I was no better than an addicted Harlequin Romance reader--but it contains enough cynicism, skepticism, and humor to make it something greater than or different from a romance. Whatever the case, I’ve rarely been as thrilled as I was at the moment when the lovers’ shared interest is finally made explicit and all the obstacles thrown in their path melt away. How do I explain my reaction? Was I reacting as a gay man? Are straight men also drawn to the work of Jane Austen?

Good questions, but back to the nineteenth century. The world has certainly evolved in some ways since then. I hope it’s no longer the case that a woman of 28 is seen as barely marriageable and that the thought of a life outside of marriage is beyond tragic. Our heroine is not pathetic in this sense--you know that she would do just fine on her own--but she is clearly the exception in her world and seen by some as quite odd, or sad. We’ve also moved beyond the issue of social rank (in Austen’s case meaning primarily the hierarchy of good versus lesser families--and to some extent wealth), though even in New York in the 21st century I know that some women (and men) factor rank (now meaning primarily occupation, education, wealth, and earning potential) into their consideration of possible mates. (Then again, the contemporary equivalent of social rank--the Social Register--has little to no significance anymore. For example, did you know I was in the Social Register? [Long story.] Do you think more or less of me now? Do you care? Probably not. And I hope not. But am I trying to impress you by mentioning it? Probably. Yes, I’m that pathetic. Another indication of our ambivalence toward social rank today.)

Flash forward 50 or 60 years to the age of Sarah Ruhl’s new play, IN THE NEXT ROOM OR THE VIBRATOR PLAY (at the Lyceum Theatre, presented by Lincoln Center) -- the dawn of the age of electricity. In this fascinating (but less than fully satisfying) play, women apparently are baffled by the treatments they receive from doctors who stimulate them with a new medical invention, the vibrator. These women have never experienced orgasms before. With their tightly corseted and multi-buttoned dresses, they seem to have little familiarity with their own bodies. The men are even less familiar with anatomy. We hear one anecdote (apparently really attributable to John Ruskin) about a man who is horrified and disgusted to discover that his bride has pubic hair, because all of his experience up until then has been based on sculptures, which had no such thing.

Women react differently to this newly discovered phenomenon (the orgasm). In the process of observing this world, we discover how cut off from each other--and themselves--men and women once were. There is an interesting discussion with a male artist who can’t abide making love to women whose souls aren’t visible in their eyes and prefers (in theory) the companionship of prostitutes if there can’t be anything more than pure physicality between the sexes (though it doesn’t sound as if there’s even much of that in this milieu). In the final scene (SPOILER ALERT), the doctor-husband is stripped naked by his now-orgasmic (is that a word?) wife, and we see them attempt to launch a more intimate relationship, in every sense of the term.

Taken together, this novel and this play paint an unflattering picture of the life of women in that century. In Jane Austen’s world we have women whose only real option for either social intercourse or self-definition is marriage (something which requires a great deal of calculation--and luck); meanwhile, on this side of the pond a few decades later, we see women who are almost completely cut off from their own physicality. Would any woman opt for either situation rather than what they confront today? Then again, if we looked at Italy during these same periods, we might see a very different picture of female sexuality.

Recent Theatergoing

Tue, 20 Oct 2009 21:19:17 -0400

I’ve been to a lot of plays recently. Here are some of my reactions and impressions:

SUPERIOR DONUTS. (Broadway) Tracey Lett’s first outing on Broadway since August: Osage County. A smaller play than August, but nevertheless similarly filled with extremely well-drawn characters in quirky situations. Great performances by virtually everyone in the cast. A poorly choreographed long fight sequence near the climax of the play was the only weak element of the evening. (This was the first preview, so perhaps the fight has been perfected since then.) In the end, the whole thing didn’t amount to all that much, but I thoroughly enjoyed the play.

LET ME DOWN EASY. (Second Stage) Anna Devere Smith’s one-woman show about death and health care. I was late in discovering the incredible Anna Devere Smith--not until she appeared in Nurse Jackie on Showtime (as the very odd hospital administrator). In this play, as in her other solo pieces, she plays all the characters, which are based on real people she has interviewed at length. Some are famous; most are obscure. Her mimetic talent is extraordinary. The individual monologues run the gamut from hilarious to heart-wrenching. A perfect way to weigh-in vicariously on the health care reform debate.

THE ROYAL FAMILY. by George S. Kaufman and Edna Ferber. (Manhattan Theatre Club) Looking around the theater during both of the evening’s intermissions, I kept telling myself that this is my idea of heaven--attending a brilliantly acted, well-constructed play presented in a beautiful theater. My demands are simple. The cast is great. The play is a comic classic about--what else, my favorite topic--the theater. If you’re built like me, you have to see this. It’s not a choice; it’s an addiction.

TWO UNRELATED PLAYS BY DAVID MAMET. Although this is the year of Mamet (with two productions now on Broadway--after having 2 different productions on Broadway last year), this off-Broadway effort (at the wonderful Atlantic Theater Company) is fairly underwhelming. Probably the shortest evening in New York at the moment - 70 minutes. The first play (a 10-minute effort) is completely forgettable. A bit of wordplay between two characters that goes nowhere and isn’t that interesting along the way. The second one, Keep Your Pantheon, is much better, though still not great. In the spirit of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (without the music), it’s bawdy, slap-sticky Roman fare that works well much of the time. Brian Murray is great, as always. His performance alone probably makes the evening worth seeing. On the other hand, the whole thing is probably too broad for most people’s taste, and it’s uneven.

AFTER MISS JULIE. (Broadway) A re-telling of Strindberg’s Miss Julie starring Sienna Miller. I saw this twice. (I went a second time because my older daughter is a fan of Sienna Miller.) I was impressed the first time and even more impressed the second time. Fantastic performances by all three members of the cast. Sienna is gorgeous to look at, and for the first half, you think she’s getting by on her looks, easily acting the haughty, self-involved Miss Julie. But then she breaks out and does a breathtaking job as this seriously deranged woman. (My daughter says she always plays beautiful deranged women--but what do I know?) This play is meticulous in its presentation of the details. There are some stretches where nothing is spoken, but simple actions (cleaning up, cooking on a stove) are mesmerizing. (Marin Ireland gets much credit for that.)

WISHFUL DRINKING. (Studio 54 - Roundabout) by and starring Carrie Fisher. Funny, funny, funny. What a wonderful woman! Who wouldn’t want to spend an evening with this whip-smart woman and the tales of her bizarre life in and out of Hollywood? I know two guys who walked out at intermission and I just don’t get it--do we belong to the same species? My only complaint is that she doesn’t go quite deep enough in exposing the pain of her addictions and mental problems--it’s all kept on the very droll surface. But give the woman a break--she’s been through hell. (And regarding the complaint that she trashes her family--everyone trashed gave their permission and supported her efforts.)

BRIGHTON BEACH MEMOIRS by Neil Simon. (Broadway). I’m not a big Neil Simon fan. I loved some of his early works--but I was very young then. The later ones I mostly stayed away from--including this one. But now that I’ve finally seen a production, I have to admit that it’s a very, very good play. Wonderfully acted here by Laurie Metcalf et al. Especially young Noah Robbins--remember that name. A star is born.

THE LADY WITH ALL THE ANSWERS starring Judith Ivey. (Cherry Lane Theatre) A one-woman show about Ann Landers. A bit thin as a theatrical conceit, but Judith Ivey pulls it off extremely well. She’s a great actress. I could watch her read the phone book. If you have any interest in this quasi-historical figure, this show is for you. Lots of fun (and some audience interaction). If neither Ann Landers nor Judith Ivey interest you, you can skip this.

WEST SIDE STORY. (The Palace) Finally got to see this very hot revival. New York theatergoers have nitpicked this one to death. Some hate it; some love it. I lean more toward the latter camp. You can’t go too far wrong with this material, and I don’t think this production goes very far wrong at all. My nits are minor. A few excellent performances (including Karen Olivo). The leads have beautiful voices. And that amazing Jerome Robbins choreography is still stunning. One scenic moment gave me chills--the lowering of the scenery with the highway running over the site of the rumble.

THE UNDERSTUDY by Theresa Rebeck (Roundabout - off-Broadway). Very, very inside theater story. Must-see for actors--and anyone working in theater. Others may find it a bit boring. It does wander and become repetitive. Justin Kirk (from Weeds) is great. Julie White--who is mostly great--gets a bit tiresome after a while, especially since she wanders out and around the audience (playing a stage manager) too much. Enough with the whining from the back of the theater already!

FINIAN’S RAINBOW (Broadway). The first production I’ve ever seen of this classic musical. Great, great score. That’s reason enough to see it. It’s an odd, quirky, very old-fashioned musical. Pretty strong cast. Cheyenne Jackson is hunky. Kate Baldwin sounds good but is a bit bland. I don’t know if I would recommend it to a wide audience or not. But I might go back to see it again. And again--that score! Can’t get it out of my head.

OLEANNA by David Mamet. Starring Julia Stiles and Bill Pullman. Just saw this tonight. Wow!Very intense. You will definitely have a reaction. I was fascinated and very angered by much of this tale. It’s infuriating! It makes me want to hit people. I think that means it works. (I wish I could write like this.)

False Advertising?

Wed, 23 Sep 2009 21:08:22 -0400

How much thought goes into coming up with the title for a book? Obviously that varies wildly from case to case. To give one self-serving example, the title of my doctoral dissertation was: Hegel's Aesthetics and the Explosion of the Arts: A Hegelian Account of the Arts in the Twentieth Century. It took some time—and the consideration of several variations—to come up with this title. In the end, I felt it worked fairly well, because it gave a sense of the content of the thesis and, with the use of “Explosion,” had a more interesting ring to it than many other dissertation titles. A few years later, when approached by a publisher who wanted to publish it as a book, I took the opportunity to make some revisions to the content as well as the title, settling on: A Hegelian Account of Contemporary Art. Gone was the notion of an explosion, with its confusing but intended double meaning. Gone also were thirteen words, relative brevity being a desired commodity in the world of book titles. Yet still the title seemed a fairly accurate indication of what the reader would find inside.

Which brings me to the point of today’s sermon. Many titles are the result of much consideration and calculation. However, when thoughts of marketing seep into the process—an unfortunate but almost unavoidable thing these days—the result can sometimes be deceiving, or at least misleading. Case in point: Mayflower, by Nathaniel Philbrick (2006). I had the qualified pleasure of reading this book recently (or more accurately—having it read to me via an audiobook played during a long drive from Manhattan to Ann Arbor, Michigan and back). Having just been in Provincetown, MA, where I took a walking tour that was filled with references and tributes to the Mayflower and its travelers (whose first stop in the New World was in fact Provincetown), I thought I would enjoy hearing about the famous transatlantic trip and the pilgrims’ adventures setting up a new colony in America.

The book certainly delivered on my expectation. However, these topics were quickly exhausted during the first 40% of the book and then we were on to something related, but quite different—the so-called King Philip’s War of 1675-1676, a war between the natives and the colonists that resulted in a major shift in population and power in the New World. This is clearly an important and compelling historical event. However, not only is it not really about the Mayflower (which, by the way, had long since returned to Europe and eventually been scrapped), the whole tone of the book shifts dramatically as we enter a long, detail-filled account of every battle and strategic decision. A fine example of military history writing, perhaps, but not what I was expecting or particularly interested in at the moment.

A more accurate title would have been something like, “The Adventures of the Pilgrims en Route to and in the New World from 1609 to 1676.” Or maybe “The Mayflower and Then What Happened.” Terrible titles, I admit, but not misleading. So, was this a marketing decision to take advantage of people’s interest in the Mayflower coupled with the realization that most people are not interested in reading about King Philip’s War?

How about fiction? Does the writer have an obligation not to be misleading in the choice of title? I wouldn’t have thought so until I read (yes, this book was read, not listened to) the novel World’s Fair by E.L. Doctorow (1985). Having just read The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson (not a novel) about the Chicago World’s Fair (Columbian Exposition) of 1893, I was curious to learn more about my own city’s world’s fair (not the one I visited in 1964-65, but the one my parents visited in 1939-40). To my astonishment, the fair wasn’t even mentioned until page 193 (out of 288) and then didn’t become a narrative topic until the final 10% or so of the book. I should also mention that I didn’t think it was a particularly good novel. It seemed more like a “book for young adults” than a novel—another question of expectations.

My point? I don’t know. Buyer beware? Don’t judge a book by its title? We’re entitled to something less misleading?

Books to Drive by

Sun, 6 Sep 2009 12:06:06 -0400

With a couple of long distance solo drives ahead of me this summer, someone suggested that I try listening to audiobooks. A good idea, I thought, so I checked out the selection at Barnes and Noble, but discovered that it was somewhat limited (i.e., mostly bestsellers). Nevertheless, I found a book that I had heard about and was interested in but probably wasn’t going to get around to reading - The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson (subtitled “Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair That Changed America”). Having lived in Chicago and being a fan of World’s Fairs (having attended two so far), I found the topic interesting.

The experiment proved to be a huge success. The 10-hour drive to and from Ann Arbor, Michigan flew by as I practically raced back to the car after each break to hear the next installment. The story itself was fascinating. I was particularly interested in the story of the fair--its development, architecture, crises, etc.--but the intertwined story of a serial killer who lived near the fairgrounds was also compelling.

For my next trip, I put together a collection of several titles. I successfully completed Mayflower by Nathaniel Philbrick (“A Story of Courage, Community, and War”) and once again the time flew by, although the book was somewhat disappointing (as I’ll explain in a separate entry). To mix things up, I also brought along a 14-CD Berlitz Spanish course and made it through the first 4 or 5 CDs. (Though don’t ask me to spell much of what I learned, since it was an all-audio course.) I also began a biography of Marlon Brando--Somebody by Stefan Kanfer (“The Reckless Life and Remarkable Career of Marlon Brando”)--but it will take another couple of long drives to get through the next 11 CDs.

I also bought some other titles, which I probably won’t get around to for a while, since I don’t have many long drives planned at the moment: A Man Without a Country by Kurt Vonnegut. The Know-It-All by A.J. Jacobs (“One Man’s Humble Quest to Become the Smartest Person in the World”). The Giants of Philosophy: Aristotle read by Charlton Heston. Hegel in 90 Minutes (that’s a laugh!) by Paul Strathern.

Some final thoughts: I’ve chosen to concentrate on non-fiction rather than fiction, because you have less control over the experience with an audiobook--you can’t stop it and go over a phrase or short passage whenever you want, something I like to do when I read. Also, the somewhat distracted attention (meaning that I have to focus SOMEWHAT on the driving) I find to be less suitable for fiction. I really like to luxuriate in the world of a novel. I also only select unabridged versions (watch out for the abridged versions also on sale) since I don’t want someone else deciding what I will or won’t find interesting.

So start driving and listening to a book!

Theater is Alive and Well in Provincetown

Sat, 15 Aug 2009 18:28:30 -0400

I recently returned from 10 days in Ptown where I was reminded of one of the things I like the best about that magical place. Amidst all the street activity in Ptown--the crowds of tourists, the drag queens on bikes, the speeding pedicabs driven by kids from Eastern Europe, the barkers barking their shows--there’s one of the most thriving theater communities in America. First, of course, there are examples of what we think of as traditional theater--The Provincetown Playhouse was running three plays in repertory: Take Me Out, Studs Turkel’s Working, and Gross Indecency: The Trials of Oscar Wilde. Then there were a couple of plays at other venues. There was the one-man play, Blanche Survives Katrina in a FEMA Trailer Named Desire written and performed by Mark Sam Rosenthal (a poetic, moving, witty and profound theater piece), which ran for 9 weeks in New York earlier this season, a return of the two-hander (with nudity), 2 Boys in a Bed on a Cold Winter’s Night by James Edwin Parker (which, despite the lure of the promise of nudity is quite moving and romantic), and the perennial Naked Boys Singing. But that’s just the beginning. There are innumerable drag shows--Varla Jean, Miss Ritchfield (who deserves the award for best in-the-street barking), Dina Martina, Showgirls, etc. This year I saw Hedda Lettuce’s show, Eat Me. (Hedda is a hilarious, smart, quick-witted, and raunchy performer--as well as a great singer.) There were also the comics. I saw Kate Clinton (surely one of the smartest comics alive--and incredibly political--Rachel Maddow is a big fan, need I say more?) and Jennifer Kirson (who contorts her face and body in outrageous ways--her baby is not to be missed). And the amazing comedy troupe, The Nellie Olesons. (They’re like Saturday Night Live without censors--plus dancing.) Hedda Lettuce (in full Joan Crawford drag) also hosted an interactive screening of Mommie Dearest--with running commentary and audience participation. The lead member of the group Betty was also in town with a one-woman theater piece. And those are just the shows that I remember.

But one of the things that always strikes me about the wealth of theater in Ptown is how casually it’s all handled. Most performers have to promote their show in the street or in front of their venue right before curtain time, because most decisions to attend shows happen at the last minute and almost by accident. For example, when I couldn’t get into Miss Richfield’s show, I just went down the street to see Hedda Lettuce. And at these prices (I paid between $15 and $35 per show), these shows are accessible to almost anyone. Sitting in the audience waiting for Eat Me to begin--having plunked down my $20 just moments before--I suddenly realized that this must be what theater was like in many places before movies came along: a wide selection, affordable prices, the decision to attend made at the last minute while out looking for something to do. All of which makes the experience a far cry from what one goes through on Broadway. In the course of my stay, I saw 7 shows and probably paid a total equal to one or one-and-a-half Broadway tickets.

All of this is just one more reason why I think Provincetown is the center of the universe. (But please don’t tell too many people about this--especially families. This Camelot might not survive the influx of even more hordes of tourists.)

The Urge to Give Notes

Tue, 28 Jul 2009 19:58:43 -0400

Why do we feel compelled to give notes when we see a play? (Or read a book, for that matter?) There’s nothing wrong with being perceptive and analytical and sharing our discoveries and thoughts with others, but I find that many people are so quick to offer their notes, they fail to enjoy the work--or at least fail to help others enjoy the work, too.

Last night, I saw a hysterical play at the Midtown International Theater Festival here in New York--ASSHOLES AND AUREOLES by Eric Pfeffinger. The title says it all--this will probably be an outrageous play. Keep your distance if you’re easily offended. I found it to be hilarious and brilliant. It consisted of 8 scenes, or vignettes. Each of them was filled with surprises, outrageous situations, and clever dialogue. The two actresses were beyond brilliant--as talented as anyone on Saturday Night Live, a show that shares some similarities with this play.

As I followed two men out of the theater--both of whom seemed buoyed by the play--I couldn’t help listening in on their conversation. I didn’t hear, “That was great!” “How funny!” “Very clever.” Or anything of the sort. Instead I heard, “Boy the last two scenes weren’t as strong as the rest. That middle scene certainly needs to be cut.” And so on.

I’m not saying these observations were off the mark. I’m just wondering why these are the first thoughts out of their mouthes. Why can’t they take a moment to savor the experience--to tell each other what they liked about it. Then rip it apart, for all I care!

Just a thought from a playwright who goes to the theater to enjoy the wonder of live theater and not to hand out grades. At least not in the first 30 seconds after the curtain falls.

The Northern Writes New Play Festival Experience

Tue, 30 Jun 2009 20:40:27 -0400

My full-length play, THE BEST PLACE WE’VE EVER LIVED, was admitted into the Northern Writes New Play Festival at the Penobscot Theatre Company (pictured above) in Bangor, Maine--a festival of readings of new plays--and scheduled to be performed Friday evening, June 26, 2009. I decided to drive up to Bangor from New York to attend the reading because this was the first time any of my plays was being presented outside New York and because this was the first time someone was putting on a play of mine without my direct involvement. (While some playwrights may insist on directing, producing, or otherwise being deeply involved in any presentation of their work, I welcome the opportunity to hand my script over to someone else and let them deal with all the logistics of actually putting it on.)

I decided to break the drive up by spending the first night in Ogunquit, Maine, just barely over the border. I’d heard that this was an emerging gay vacation destination, so I was curious to take a look. Fortunately, after a month of clouds, gloom and rain in most of the Northeast, in Ogunquit the sun was shining, the sky was blue, and the waves were crashing over the rocks on cue, providing the picture-perfect experience of the Maine coast. For dinner, I ate upstairs at The Front Porch, lured by the sound of show tunes. Seated around a grand piano were several older men and one or two women singing their hearts out. I figured this must be the heart of gay society in Ogunquit. (Some of the voices were excellent, by the way.) After dinner I went to the main gay bar in town, where I was one of only two customers--and where the bartender reported that the place was probably not going to get much more crowded that night. So much for the new gay mecca.

The next day, I stopped in Brunswick to take a look at Bowdoin College. I had seen umpteen colleges and universities over the past few years on various college tours with my daughters, so I knew how to check out a place quickly. Bowdoin--in addition to being the alma mater of Nathaniel Hawthorne and President Franklin Pierce and the site of a summer science program attended by one of my brothers in the summer we first sent men to the moon--is an extremely beautiful campus. I also stopped at Boothbay Harbor, where I had worked as the manager of a bookstore for two summers in the 1970s (and where several scenes in my play THE SEEKER take place.) The bookstore was long gone, but in its place stood a gift shop, Mung Bean, whose proprietor was a very nice man named Steven Madden (the shoe magnate? hmm?), who was aware of the long-gone bookstore and knew the store’s then-landlady, Pauline Stevens (now deceased). At any rate, for some reason Boothbay Harbor played a big role in my psychological development, and it was both thrilling and disturbing to see it again after over thirty years. (I also found the very cabin on Ocean Point where I had lived my second summer up there.)

My head reeling and my camera stuffed with nostalgically resonant images, I drove the long way the rest of the way to Bangor--along the coast--passing through picturesque towns (Rockland, Rockport, Camden...) and driving deeper into the clouds. As I entered Bangor on its Main Street, I was stopped at a red light when I realized I was right in front of the Penobscot Theatre Company. The marquee and facade were quite beautiful (see photo above). After checking in at the Charles Inn, I went out for a walk and decided to peek in at the theater. As it turned out, they were in the middle of rehearsing my play, so I went in and sat in the back. As always, I found it a narcissistic thrill beyond compare to hear my words coming out of other people’s mouths. During a break, I introduced myself to the director and Producing Artistic Director of the festival, Scott RC Levy. The cast he had assembled was excellent (more on this in a moment). When they finished, he dismissed the cast and told them to be back in thirty minutes--odd, I thought, since the curtain time was over an hour and a half away.

When I left, I walked around downtown Bangor, which is a surprisingly handsome place with well-maintained historic buildings, canals, and flowers everywhere. Apparently some of this is thanks to the largesse of Bangor’s most famous resident, novelist Stephen King. For dinner, I found a Pakistani restaurant, where the spicy odors were intense and I realized I would have to shower before going back to the theater. When I arrived back at the hotel, the woman at the front desk told me that the theater had called, concerned that I hadn’t shown up yet--and worried that I might have thought the curtain time was 8 rather than 7. Yes, that’s what I thought--don’t ask me why. And now it was ten after 7. To come all this distance and then miss some of my play was an instant nightmare. Forget the shower. Forget the nice clothes I had brought specifically for the event. Forget the fact that I reeked of Pakistani food. I rushed over there and slipped in half way through the first scene. (By my calculation, I missed the first 7 minutes--not so bad, really, but since every line is like a playwright’s child, you hate to miss any of them.)

The Penobscot Theatre Company owns their building, the former Bangor Opera House. Although they’ve restored the facade and marquee, they haven’t yet begun the interior restoration. The Opera House used to seat 1500 people. The balcony is no longer used, and the theatre is currently configured to seat 366 people. At my reading there were about 30 people. I didn’t know if this was a good turnout for something like this or not, but they were a very responsive audience. It’s always wonderful to hear your lines come to life, but it’s even more gratifying to see your characters come to life before you--to be fleshed out by actors and directors. Although they were all good, I was particularly struck by the son, Ike. A somewhat goofy character, the actor enlivened this role with mannerisms and expressions that fleshed him out in ways that I can’t help thinking were perfect. Ike is now a very real person to me. Ivor the Warrior was played to comic perfection. Where I had envisioned a Jackie Gleason sort of characterization, this was a more modern, twitchy way of playing the role (think Tony Randall) that I think worked even better. The mother--who in the end really is the center of the play (and in fact has the most lines)--held everything together, had great comic timing, and was quite moving in her “Scarsdale soliloquy.”

After the reading, I was invited up on stage to participate in the talk-back. Fortunately, by my being on stage, no one in the audience could smell my spicy dinner. The feedback was valuable--and has helped me make some changes. I’ve made a crucial change at the end of the play and added a very brief prologue. I was happy to hear that people thought there was a good mix of comedy and drama and that all the characters were fully developed. I was also happy to hear that the audience was never bored and that they didn’t think the mother’s Scarsdale soliloquy was too long. One man in the audience thanked the playwright for an excellent play and the actors for great performances. I decided that HE is the audience I should be writing for (since some people suggest that a writer should envision his or her audience--something I don’t necessarily agree with).

(Photo above right - Bangor native Paul Bunyon)

When's your next play being produced?

Sun, 19 Apr 2009 20:16:32 -0400

Playwrights dread being asked when our next play is being produced--because, although most of the factors leading to an actual production of one of our plays are beyond our control, we feel like a failure if we admit the truth. On the other hand, lying isn't really an option--unless you're from the trying-to-pass-off-fiction-as memoir school of writing. So we usually mumble something along the lines of the following--"Oh, I'm working on several things at the moment and I've been sending them around, so you never know, heh, heh." Unfortunately, that kind of vagueness makes it sound like we're not really much of a writer--like maybe we've given it up--or maybe it's never been much more than a hobby anyway. Yet the truth is usually so much richer than people may realize--but they probably don't want to hear the details anyway.

So with that as an introductory apologia of sorts, here's what in fact I've been up to with my writing lately. At the moment I'm actively working on four plays and one story. I should first of all mention (which I haven't yet mentioned in this journal), that I was recently accepted into the Turtle Shell Productions Playwrights' Platform. This is a playwrights' group affiliated with a theater troupe. The main activity of the group is to have the playwrights' work read aloud by the actors and then critiqued by the other playwrights and the actors. We meet twice a month. So far, I've attended three meetings and have presented excerpts from my unproduced full-length play, All in the Faculty. The fourth of these excerpts will be presented at the next meeting, leaving just one more excerpt before the entire play will have been presented. (This play is a tale of academia, based very, very loosely on my experiences as a professor at a liberal arts college in upstate New York many years ago. The play is based on an unpublished novel I wrote in 2001 called, The Academy.) It turns out that participation in this group requires a tremendous amount of work, because in addition to having to round up actors for each session, you find yourself working furiously on revisions reflecting input you received from the previous session in time for the next meeting. And the very good news is that, so far, I've found this process to be a great boon to my writing. This play, which has been sitting ignored in my computer for some time (not counting the occasional rejection letter it generates--if it generates any response at all--when I send it someplace) is being transformed into a much better play right before my eyes. And I think this is the secret to playwriting. You can't just do it in isolation, like fiction writing. It HAS to be SEEN in some guise or other and reacted to. That's the only way you can know what works and what doesn't. Anyway, so that should be enough good news for anyone who wonders what I've been up to.

But wait, there's more. The other 3 plays I mentioned include Miss Peddy and Her Charge--a play in two scenes for one actor. I'm writing this for a friend who is looking for a one-woman play to perform. I've read most of it to my writers group--The River Writers of Manhattan--and their input has been very helpful. I don't know if my friend will end up using it or not, but at least I'll have a one-woman script ready to offer up if anyone ever asks me for one. I'm also working on Museum Piece--a 3-character play (in a somewhat experimental format)--about different people's experience visiting an art museum one afternoon. Finally, I'm also working on Table Manners, a full-length play I described in my last journal entry which was inspired by my recent trip to Buenos Aires. (The title is the same as that of one of my short plays--but I intend to incorporate that play into this new, longer one.)

But wait, there's still more. On the fiction front, I finished and have begun submitting a short story called, The Church. This was my third crack (with the help of the River Writers) at this tale of healthy agnosticism. I hope I got it right this time. And I've recently begun a story that is a short story, not a play, but experiments with a dialogue format similar to the one used by Manuel Puig in his novel, Kiss of the Spider Woman.

So the next time someone asks me what's being produced, I can either admit that there are no productions on the horizon at the moment, confess that nothing whatsoever has in fact been produced or even read publicly since last June (when Couple of the Century was presented at DUTF at the Cherry Lane), and then break down and cry. Or launch into the long answer I've presented above. Most likely, however, I'll simply mumble something like, "Well I'm working on several things and sending plays around, so you never know..."