Thoughts on: Murder Ballad, Off-Broadwayby Randi / August 28, 2013
The Barrow Street Theatre’s production of Buyer & Cellar, starring the adorable and talented Michael Urie, honestly had me laughing harder than I did at The Book of Mormon (possibly (definitely) because I already had the BoM score memorized by the time I saw it so I knew all the jokes, but whatever). What a wonderful, low-key gem of a show, with a most impressive star.
I knew beforehand that the show was about a man working as the sole employee in Barbra Streisand’s basement mall, underneath her much-publicized Malibu mansion. Yes, that part is true – BS wrote a design book a few years back chronicling the building of her dream house, which does indeed have a shopping mall in the basement, holding all of BS’s memorabilia in various shoppes. (We know they are ‘shoppes’ and not ‘shops’ because Urie’s character adorably pronounces them ‘shopp-ees’ and jokes that one of the ‘shopp-ees’ is probably a purveyor of excess p’s and e’s.)
What I didn’t know was that this simple, cute concept could be taken to such entertaining heights in this pleasant little show.
I knew beforehand that the show was about a man working as the sole employee in Barbra Streisand’s basement mall, underneath her much-publicized Malibu mansion. Yes, that part is true – BS wrote a design book a few years back chronicling the building of her dream house, which does indeed have a shopping mall in the basement, holding all of BS’s memorabilia in various shoppes. (We know they are ‘shoppes’ and not ‘shops’ because Urie’s character adorably pronounces them ‘shopp-ees’ and jokes that one of the ‘shopp-ees’ is probably a purveyor of excess p’s and e’s.)
What I didn’t know was that this simple, cute concept could be taken to such entertaining heights in this pleasant little show.
Buyer & Cellar is the fictional tale of the employee tasked to work long days in this basement mall/shrine. The character, Alex, waits and waits for his one potential customer – of course, Babs herself – whose only potential purchases are, of course, her own possessions. This premise works because the most ridiculous aspect of the whole thing – that Barbra would have a private basement mall housing all of her memorabilia – is actually the true part! The rest kind of fills itself in naturally: If the mall already exists, why wouldn’t someone work down there? Why wouldn’t a woman who is enough of a character to build this thing and write a book about it also hire someone to treat her like any strange customer in any regular mall and try to sell her things?
Jonathan Tolins’ laugh-out-loud script could probably stand on its own with any number of talented actors in the one-man role, but Michael Urie clearly was born to knock it out of the park. As Alex More, Urie projects a sincere warmth and goodness through his often snarky reminiscences of his encounters with his diva employer. I liked Urie fine on Ugly Betty, recognizing his comedic talents as one must when you watch him, but I wasn’t a huge fan. (Maybe because he was so mean to Betty! And to that boyfriend I liked! The really nice but shlubby one! I loved him.) Aaanyway, that character might have colored my perception of Urie, but man alive if I don’t love him now.
In an endearing preface, Urie as himself discusses Barbra’s actual 2010 design book with the audience to familiarize us. The facts about the book are hilarious. Barbra’s writing, for instance, assumes that the reader knows that Winterthur, the inspiration for the basement mall, is a decorative arts and antiques museum in Delaware. Sure sure.
Urie also explains that he doesn’t do an impersonation of Barbra when he acts out her side of dialogue. However, the little aspects of Barbra’s demeanor that he does evoke are so effective that by the middle you are sold on this choice. The slumped shoulders, the seemingly endless and loose fingers, it works.
One-person shows require truly great writing and acting to succeed at all. Often the most telling test for a show that features encounters between various characters is when the audience forgets that all of these characters are only played by one person. Buyer & Cellar absolutely passes this test: Urie really made me feel the presence of several people up on that tiny stage. At times, I was seized with concern for Barbra, wanting to yell to her that Alex probably meant to say more or less or that she could eat as much froyo as she wanted. And then I’d realize, not only is this fiction, but there is no actress up there even playing Barbra. Equally compelling were Alex’s memories of encounters with his boyfriend Barry, who in the beginning was more excited about Alex’s job working for perhaps the greatest gay icon, but as time progressed turned quickly against Babs, partly from the jealousy of Alex’s developing a relationship that he could have no part of, partly from that omnipresent glee we plebeians derive from hating on celebrities whose privilege we mock with derision yet of course envy. (I think 80% of all internet comments exemplify the latter.) That Alex, Barry, Barbra, Babs’s chief of staff, James Brolin hilariously, and even a French bubble-blowing automaton named Fifi all seemed to share the stage equally and fully is a testament to Urie’s talents.
The audience, clearly full of Barbra fans, was completely won over. The show mocks Barbra while somehow remaining kindhearted. It vilifies her well-known insecurities as superficial interview fodder yet conveys her vulnerability. And still it remains a light, delicious, and hilarious hour and a half that I whole-heartedly recommend experiencing. The producers recently, wisely, decided to extend its limited run indefinitely. My only regret was not waiting afterward to get a pictures with Urie, but I feared in my newfound fangirl state I would start “shopping for throw pillows” on him as Barbra once did. You just must see it!
Jonathan Tolins’ laugh-out-loud script could probably stand on its own with any number of talented actors in the one-man role, but Michael Urie clearly was born to knock it out of the park. As Alex More, Urie projects a sincere warmth and goodness through his often snarky reminiscences of his encounters with his diva employer. I liked Urie fine on Ugly Betty, recognizing his comedic talents as one must when you watch him, but I wasn’t a huge fan. (Maybe because he was so mean to Betty! And to that boyfriend I liked! The really nice but shlubby one! I loved him.) Aaanyway, that character might have colored my perception of Urie, but man alive if I don’t love him now.
In an endearing preface, Urie as himself discusses Barbra’s actual 2010 design book with the audience to familiarize us. The facts about the book are hilarious. Barbra’s writing, for instance, assumes that the reader knows that Winterthur, the inspiration for the basement mall, is a decorative arts and antiques museum in Delaware. Sure sure.
Urie also explains that he doesn’t do an impersonation of Barbra when he acts out her side of dialogue. However, the little aspects of Barbra’s demeanor that he does evoke are so effective that by the middle you are sold on this choice. The slumped shoulders, the seemingly endless and loose fingers, it works.
One-person shows require truly great writing and acting to succeed at all. Often the most telling test for a show that features encounters between various characters is when the audience forgets that all of these characters are only played by one person. Buyer & Cellar absolutely passes this test: Urie really made me feel the presence of several people up on that tiny stage. At times, I was seized with concern for Barbra, wanting to yell to her that Alex probably meant to say more or less or that she could eat as much froyo as she wanted. And then I’d realize, not only is this fiction, but there is no actress up there even playing Barbra. Equally compelling were Alex’s memories of encounters with his boyfriend Barry, who in the beginning was more excited about Alex’s job working for perhaps the greatest gay icon, but as time progressed turned quickly against Babs, partly from the jealousy of Alex’s developing a relationship that he could have no part of, partly from that omnipresent glee we plebeians derive from hating on celebrities whose privilege we mock with derision yet of course envy. (I think 80% of all internet comments exemplify the latter.) That Alex, Barry, Barbra, Babs’s chief of staff, James Brolin hilariously, and even a French bubble-blowing automaton named Fifi all seemed to share the stage equally and fully is a testament to Urie’s talents.
The audience, clearly full of Barbra fans, was completely won over. The show mocks Barbra while somehow remaining kindhearted. It vilifies her well-known insecurities as superficial interview fodder yet conveys her vulnerability. And still it remains a light, delicious, and hilarious hour and a half that I whole-heartedly recommend experiencing. The producers recently, wisely, decided to extend its limited run indefinitely. My only regret was not waiting afterward to get a pictures with Urie, but I feared in my newfound fangirl state I would start “shopping for throw pillows” on him as Barbra once did. You just must see it!
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“The Flying Lovers of Vitebsk”: Love, War, and Marc Chagall
IT’S THEATRE THURSDAY Y’ALL! Today we are talking about “The Flying Lovers of Vitebsk”, currently at Wilton’s Music Hall as it begins its tour.
A relatively new, fairly abstract play called “The Flying Lovers of Vitebsk” is currently playing at Wilton’s Music Hall in London, and you should see it. I had no idea what it was about, but I live nearby and it’s theatre so I was game. This charming little play, amusing and moving, surprised me with how much it accomplished with so little. It tells the love story of Marc Chagall and his wife Bella, and how they created art and love during world wars. Light acrobatics and mesmerizing movements augment their narrative, to create a touching, energetic story about a painter’s personal life. The play it seemed to be in the beginning was not the play we were left with in the end, but even so, it’s a worthwhile endeavor to tell this story.
Honestly the only thing I knew about Marc Chagall going in was that Julia Roberts owned the famous painting of his, the one with the goat playing a violin flying around in space, and gave it, the real one, to Hugh Grant in “Notting Hill”, as you do to shy lil bookkeepers who may or may not ever want to see you again. Luckily he did (spoilers!) so she didn’t like give away a priceless authentic Chagall painting that would be so stupid. Anyway it’s a great painting so I figured the creator of it might be interesting. Like all artists, his character seemed to have a not-great set of priorities, as they put creating their art ahead of things like oh I don’t know the birth of their child, but still seemed to be a man capable of great feeling and understanding of the more abstract things than common sense, like love. From writer Daniel Jamieson and director Emma Rice, this play – seemingly, from the director’s note, produced out of their actual love story – is small but often powerful.
At the start, we see young Marc and Bella meet in the town of Vitebsk, now in Belarus. More than half the population was Jewish and so it had a staggering number of synagogues at the time (early 1900s), and so it was completely decimated in the war, they tell us in the beginning. The 90-minute play, though it uses the two onstage musicians in the action sometimes, is essentially just Marc and Bella, what people in the theatre would call a ‘two-hander’ because there are only two actors but I will fight my whole life against that phrase unless the two actors each only have one hand. (It should be called a four-hander, am I right?) Anyway, it’s nice to see a play about two Jews in a room bitching. Especially in London, where many people think Jews are alien. So Marc and Bella instantly fall in love and their initial courtship is kind of adorable. They talk to the audience a lot, and Bella confides in us that she knew he liked her and yet he waited so long to kiss her. One day on a picnic she thought he was coming in for one but instead he asks for his jacket, which she is sitting on. Super awkward and so funnily adorable! It’s crazy to hindsight to think back on how lighthearted a romp it felt in these hilarious moments compared to the heartbreaking weight of the end. The best scene is when Bella celebrates Marc’s birthday – his first birthday, he says, because he never celebrated it before. This play, in its first iteration 25 years ago, was actually called ‘Birthday’, I assume to highlight this event which surely solidified Marc’s love for Bella.
As Bella and Marc’s relationship grows, they portray this by doing aforementioned acrobatics, just a little bit, enough to completely captivate and convey their story and make you want more. It was so effective to see how they were falling for each other when they were literally falling through the air and being caught by the other and stuff, to see a representation of all of Marc’s famous paintings of them flying through the air together, buoyed by their love. LOVES IT. I loves it so much that the fact that they used this incredible movement only sparingly and only in the first half made me very upset. The selling point for this show, in my view, is that it’s telling this biographical tale in this fascinating new way. I mean it’s literally called “the FLYING lovers”, you know? I wanted much more flying. To take away the part that’s different, the part that sets it apart from other straight biographical plays, makes it just like any other straight drama and it’s not strong enough without its special quirks to stand out. Still good, still moving, but not as special as it would be if the movement were incorporated throughout. And I get that the directing choice may have been to decrease the brightness of such movement as the subject matter darkened, but I am sure that they still could have integrated some sort of choreography to tell the more serious parts of the story. And some of the movement we did see was valuable in conveying melancholy. I think it could have worked throughout the darker parts. I mean Cirque du Soleil is terrifying as shit.
It also uses music to tell the story, and also moreso in the beginning. I am not sure if I would call it a musical as opposed to a play with music, since it doesn’t actually tell the story but add to it, and of course because the music, like the fun movement, is front-loaded. The two onstage musicians, James Gow and Ian Ross, jump into the action a lot to lend their voices to some songs and to say a few lines as Soviet police officers here and there, and they do a fine job supporting the two stars. Marc Antolin as Marc (I know his name is with a ‘c’ too it was fate) and Daisy Maywood as Bella are lovely actors who really make you believe that they are feeling all the things. Their trust for each other is remarkable, and since it’s there I mean why not put it to more use with more of the acrobatic partner work? I know I can just repeat myself over and over but I just so want to see what this play could be with more of what made it special since that unique aspect was so effective.
We see Marc and Bella move to Paris and to St. Petersburg, then back to Vitebsk, and hither and thither during the war time as their safety and the lives of all Jews were threatened. As the second half loses the acrobatics and a lot of the music, a little magic was lost as well, but it may also be due to the story getting serious. It felt like it was dragging a bit as we learned about how terrible the war was, but that may be because war sucks. Also, as we learned more about the characters, the initial sheen fell away. Marc, it turns out, had anger issues like many artists have when their work isn’t seen as the end all be all of everybody’s lives. At one point, Bella gives birth to their daughter while they are living in a tiny apartment amid horrible atrocities occurring, and Marc is nowhere to be found. Days later, days after his child is born, he comes home and Bella’s like ‘duuude what the hell, I’m still in so much pain and I need your help taking care of a NEWBORN’ and Marc replies “Do you think what I do happens painlessly?” Artists are not in touch with reality, I guess, is a lesson of this play.
But this artist is in touch with his emotions, and his love for Bella helped him create some of his best work. The two characters talk about how they see new colors together, through and in each others’ eyes, and it’s true that Marc was considered one of the best when it came to understanding color, probably thanks to their love, which seemed significant. As I said, the second half did drag and lose some of its distinctiveness, because as a straight play without its special assets it has to measure up to other regular straight plays, better ones. But the end kind of tied everything together in a heartbreaking bow. A song that the characters sing to open the show seemed meaningless, just a fun period-appropriate song to get the party started, but when they reprise it at the end, it seems to envelop and explain the whole story in a superb, poignant way, and in turn to fortify whatever weaknesses in the play came before it.
INFORMATION
This Kneehigh company production of “The Flying Lovers of Vitebsk” is playing at Wilton’s Music Hall in London until February 10. After that, this production will tour England as well as the USA, making tour stops in Los Angeles and South Carolina. So if you are in those places, you should see it.
At the start, we see young Marc and Bella meet in the town of Vitebsk, now in Belarus. More than half the population was Jewish and so it had a staggering number of synagogues at the time (early 1900s), and so it was completely decimated in the war, they tell us in the beginning. The 90-minute play, though it uses the two onstage musicians in the action sometimes, is essentially just Marc and Bella, what people in the theatre would call a ‘two-hander’ because there are only two actors but I will fight my whole life against that phrase unless the two actors each only have one hand. (It should be called a four-hander, am I right?) Anyway, it’s nice to see a play about two Jews in a room bitching. Especially in London, where many people think Jews are alien. So Marc and Bella instantly fall in love and their initial courtship is kind of adorable. They talk to the audience a lot, and Bella confides in us that she knew he liked her and yet he waited so long to kiss her. One day on a picnic she thought he was coming in for one but instead he asks for his jacket, which she is sitting on. Super awkward and so funnily adorable! It’s crazy to hindsight to think back on how lighthearted a romp it felt in these hilarious moments compared to the heartbreaking weight of the end. The best scene is when Bella celebrates Marc’s birthday – his first birthday, he says, because he never celebrated it before. This play, in its first iteration 25 years ago, was actually called ‘Birthday’, I assume to highlight this event which surely solidified Marc’s love for Bella.
As Bella and Marc’s relationship grows, they portray this by doing aforementioned acrobatics, just a little bit, enough to completely captivate and convey their story and make you want more. It was so effective to see how they were falling for each other when they were literally falling through the air and being caught by the other and stuff, to see a representation of all of Marc’s famous paintings of them flying through the air together, buoyed by their love. LOVES IT. I loves it so much that the fact that they used this incredible movement only sparingly and only in the first half made me very upset. The selling point for this show, in my view, is that it’s telling this biographical tale in this fascinating new way. I mean it’s literally called “the FLYING lovers”, you know? I wanted much more flying. To take away the part that’s different, the part that sets it apart from other straight biographical plays, makes it just like any other straight drama and it’s not strong enough without its special quirks to stand out. Still good, still moving, but not as special as it would be if the movement were incorporated throughout. And I get that the directing choice may have been to decrease the brightness of such movement as the subject matter darkened, but I am sure that they still could have integrated some sort of choreography to tell the more serious parts of the story. And some of the movement we did see was valuable in conveying melancholy. I think it could have worked throughout the darker parts. I mean Cirque du Soleil is terrifying as shit.
It also uses music to tell the story, and also moreso in the beginning. I am not sure if I would call it a musical as opposed to a play with music, since it doesn’t actually tell the story but add to it, and of course because the music, like the fun movement, is front-loaded. The two onstage musicians, James Gow and Ian Ross, jump into the action a lot to lend their voices to some songs and to say a few lines as Soviet police officers here and there, and they do a fine job supporting the two stars. Marc Antolin as Marc (I know his name is with a ‘c’ too it was fate) and Daisy Maywood as Bella are lovely actors who really make you believe that they are feeling all the things. Their trust for each other is remarkable, and since it’s there I mean why not put it to more use with more of the acrobatic partner work? I know I can just repeat myself over and over but I just so want to see what this play could be with more of what made it special since that unique aspect was so effective.
We see Marc and Bella move to Paris and to St. Petersburg, then back to Vitebsk, and hither and thither during the war time as their safety and the lives of all Jews were threatened. As the second half loses the acrobatics and a lot of the music, a little magic was lost as well, but it may also be due to the story getting serious. It felt like it was dragging a bit as we learned about how terrible the war was, but that may be because war sucks. Also, as we learned more about the characters, the initial sheen fell away. Marc, it turns out, had anger issues like many artists have when their work isn’t seen as the end all be all of everybody’s lives. At one point, Bella gives birth to their daughter while they are living in a tiny apartment amid horrible atrocities occurring, and Marc is nowhere to be found. Days later, days after his child is born, he comes home and Bella’s like ‘duuude what the hell, I’m still in so much pain and I need your help taking care of a NEWBORN’ and Marc replies “Do you think what I do happens painlessly?” Artists are not in touch with reality, I guess, is a lesson of this play.
But this artist is in touch with his emotions, and his love for Bella helped him create some of his best work. The two characters talk about how they see new colors together, through and in each others’ eyes, and it’s true that Marc was considered one of the best when it came to understanding color, probably thanks to their love, which seemed significant. As I said, the second half did drag and lose some of its distinctiveness, because as a straight play without its special assets it has to measure up to other regular straight plays, better ones. But the end kind of tied everything together in a heartbreaking bow. A song that the characters sing to open the show seemed meaningless, just a fun period-appropriate song to get the party started, but when they reprise it at the end, it seems to envelop and explain the whole story in a superb, poignant way, and in turn to fortify whatever weaknesses in the play came before it.
INFORMATION
This Kneehigh company production of “The Flying Lovers of Vitebsk” is playing at Wilton’s Music Hall in London until February 10. After that, this production will tour England as well as the USA, making tour stops in Los Angeles and South Carolina. So if you are in those places, you should see it.
Broadway’s “Fun Home”: Setting A Very High & Necessary Bar For The Future Of Musical Theatre
My Playbill signed by Alison Bechdel herself, who was in my audience. Or, I was in her audience.
“Fun Home” is the kind of musical theatre that makes you grateful for the art form. Rarely are we treated to any art or entertainment that doesn’t cater to the lowest common denominator in our society or at least dumb itself down to appeal to the ignint masses. “Fun Home”, in contrast, treats its audience like intelligent, thinking people, and we are gifted the most heart-aching, mature, and deep show in years.
People think “Broadway Musical” should mean something diverting, with fun and dancing and repetitive, catchy songs about trivial happy things. And some shows are and should be like that. But modern shows need to challenge the genre and the audience in new ways to keep it growing and improving. New scores should develop emotions in ways words can’t; that’s kind of the point of having music in a play or like in the world, to express what words can’t. “Next to Normal” did all this and was revolutionary and boundary-pushing, but that was 6 or so years ago; nothing since has been up to the challenge.
Until now. “Fun Home” picks up that gauntlet thrown by “Next to Normal” and runs farther than ever. I think “Fun Home” will catch on and become more popular, and will continue to break barriers in this kind of storytelling. It seems like a really unlikely musical, given its subject matter, but it geniusly uses music to deepen its storytelling rather than embellish. The result is far more important and remarkable than anyone would have predicted.
“Fun Home” is based on the graphic novel of the same name by Alison Bechdel. If that name sounds familiar, it’s probably because you’ve heard of the Bechdel Test for movies: when two female characters are in a scene together and talk about something other than a man, it passes. (Movies rarely pass this test.) So Bechdel is professionally a very noteworthy modern voice. Her personal story, on the other hand, is the basis for the novel and the show; Tony winner Lisa Kron wrote the show’s book based tightly on its source material. It chronicles Alison’s upbringing in a small country town of Pennsylvania, from when she’s a little kid discovering herself and her sexuality; to when she’s a college student accepting who she is while learning more about her disciplined and particular father; to the modern-day adult looking back on her relationship with her father. Bruce Bechdel, a very rigid and exacting man, hid his own homosexuality his entire life. The story is told from grown-up Alison’s perspective as she looks back on her childhood and tries to come to grips with her father’s suicide (not a spoiler, real person, point of show). So, yeah, not the most expected story for a Broadway musical, but it works so well that you’ll be questioning your assumptions about everything, not just musical theatre.
Grown-up Alison (played by a superb Beth Malone (Tony nominee)) takes us on a tour through her memories of her younger years, as she tries to accurately recall the memories to draw, as her comics were what helped her deal with her complicated relationship with her father. As she revisits her childhood museum-like home, the funeral home her family ran (hence the title, what they referred to it as, the ‘fun home’), and different moments with her family, we watch with her as she witnesses her childhood memories being lived by the younger versions of herself (Sydney Lucas as Young Alison, an absolute legend in the making, and Emily Skeggs as Middle Alison (both Tony nominees)). She laughs along with us as she sees her little self and her little brothers stage a hilarious musical commercial for the fun home. Watching little kids pop out of caskets and dance on them is shocking and hilarious and the happiest time of the heavy show. She smiles along with us at the most poignant moments in her life, like when her younger self, always yearning for contact with her father, goes ‘flying’, balancing on Bruce’s feet as he lies down with his legs up, a happy memory of the best of their relationship that remains untarnished. Just thinking about that moment makes me cry.
Young Alison’s relationship with her father is the crux of this story, and it’s a wonder. You clearly see that they have a bond but one that is easily strained, especially when she pushes his rigid lines and rules. She doesn’t want to wear barrettes or dresses, but he can’t allow the blurring of gender boundaries, an obvious result of his hidden side and the shame he feels at not being what he feels he’s supposed to be. Their beautiful house is decorated perfectly with antiques and museum-worthy furniture that he dictates be positioned exactly as he says. He controls fastidiously anything he can because he can’t control himself or his urges as he believes he should. And you see all this so well in the subtle and poignant portrayal of Bruce by Michael Cerveris, the great. His Tony win was completely deserved; his portrayal is beautiful and crushing and I was rooting for him even though he’s a past winner (I am usually socialist in my awards decisions but not for him). His nuanced Bruce makes you feel terrible for his tragic persona even when his inability to control his urges leads him to make terrible decisions, like leaving his little kids alone in a NYC apartment so he can go cruising, or having flings with his underage high school students. It’s this loving but lacking relationship with his young daughter that makes it so hard to watch as it strains further, as she grows and becomes more self aware as a college student. Middle Alison accepts and embraces her personality and her sexuality as a young lesbian, and with this evolution her relationship with her father weakens, because he can never accept himself as his daughter has learned to do. Her coming out is barely acknowledged by her family, not out of disrespect or denial but because it would shatter the very fragile world her parents strived to keep balanced. And yes, her mother (Judy Kuhn) was aware and struggled her whole life to keep quiet and pretend that everything was fine.
Bruce and Alison’s final encounter is so perfectly and tragically portrayed as a silent car ride, with Alison, the grown-up who never got to spend time with her father, taking over the memory from Middle Alison. Beth Malone tearfully sings to her former self to say something to her father before the chance is gone, yelling to hurry up before the ride is over, as she knows in hindsight that it soon will be.
This story would work as a play, sure, but the music makes it so much more felt and heart-breaking. One of the best songs, “Ring of Keys”, is a startled realization that little Alison can dress however she wants, when she sees “an old-school butch”, as her older self remembers and explains (and as CBS/the FCC f-ing had them change on their Tony Awards performance because I guess some Americans aren’t okay with the word butch???!!!). Sydney’s performance of this song is so thoughtful and natural and incredible that it’s hard to believe she’s a child. No child actor has ever been this talented in history. It’s why she was considered the front-runner for the Tony Awards. Her fiercest competition was thought to be not from winner Ruthie Ann Miles (for “The King & I”) but from the actress who plays her mother, the great Judy Kuhn. Quiet, clearly long-suffering, she surprises us when she tells her college aged daughter about her father’s secret and that she’s known for, well, for “Days & Days & Days”, as her astounding, stunning big song goes. She freaking kills it, sharing how hard it has been to silently let her husband dictate and destroy their lives and how she sat by and watched for so long as nothing changed. In just one song, Kuhn defines and redefines her entire character’s story and adds new layers of wrenching emotion to the show as a whole. It must be such a pleasure to play a complex character for once (Kuhn originated the thankless role of Cosette in the original Broadway production of “Les Miserables”).
“Fun Home” is a flawless show that in only 100 minutes presents such depth and range of emotion and experience and it is all completely spell-binding. That it won the Tony Award shows that audiences and musical theatre as a genre are both ready to be treated with respect and given art that is worthy of being called art. (Of course, last night’s premature closure of “The Visit” argues in the opposite direction but we can’t win every battle.) I hope everyone sees it, learns from it, and remembers it as a benchmark for future shows. This is the direction Broadway needs to move in, and it’s a relief that people seem to accept that.
“Fun Home” is based on the graphic novel of the same name by Alison Bechdel. If that name sounds familiar, it’s probably because you’ve heard of the Bechdel Test for movies: when two female characters are in a scene together and talk about something other than a man, it passes. (Movies rarely pass this test.) So Bechdel is professionally a very noteworthy modern voice. Her personal story, on the other hand, is the basis for the novel and the show; Tony winner Lisa Kron wrote the show’s book based tightly on its source material. It chronicles Alison’s upbringing in a small country town of Pennsylvania, from when she’s a little kid discovering herself and her sexuality; to when she’s a college student accepting who she is while learning more about her disciplined and particular father; to the modern-day adult looking back on her relationship with her father. Bruce Bechdel, a very rigid and exacting man, hid his own homosexuality his entire life. The story is told from grown-up Alison’s perspective as she looks back on her childhood and tries to come to grips with her father’s suicide (not a spoiler, real person, point of show). So, yeah, not the most expected story for a Broadway musical, but it works so well that you’ll be questioning your assumptions about everything, not just musical theatre.
Grown-up Alison (played by a superb Beth Malone (Tony nominee)) takes us on a tour through her memories of her younger years, as she tries to accurately recall the memories to draw, as her comics were what helped her deal with her complicated relationship with her father. As she revisits her childhood museum-like home, the funeral home her family ran (hence the title, what they referred to it as, the ‘fun home’), and different moments with her family, we watch with her as she witnesses her childhood memories being lived by the younger versions of herself (Sydney Lucas as Young Alison, an absolute legend in the making, and Emily Skeggs as Middle Alison (both Tony nominees)). She laughs along with us as she sees her little self and her little brothers stage a hilarious musical commercial for the fun home. Watching little kids pop out of caskets and dance on them is shocking and hilarious and the happiest time of the heavy show. She smiles along with us at the most poignant moments in her life, like when her younger self, always yearning for contact with her father, goes ‘flying’, balancing on Bruce’s feet as he lies down with his legs up, a happy memory of the best of their relationship that remains untarnished. Just thinking about that moment makes me cry.
Young Alison’s relationship with her father is the crux of this story, and it’s a wonder. You clearly see that they have a bond but one that is easily strained, especially when she pushes his rigid lines and rules. She doesn’t want to wear barrettes or dresses, but he can’t allow the blurring of gender boundaries, an obvious result of his hidden side and the shame he feels at not being what he feels he’s supposed to be. Their beautiful house is decorated perfectly with antiques and museum-worthy furniture that he dictates be positioned exactly as he says. He controls fastidiously anything he can because he can’t control himself or his urges as he believes he should. And you see all this so well in the subtle and poignant portrayal of Bruce by Michael Cerveris, the great. His Tony win was completely deserved; his portrayal is beautiful and crushing and I was rooting for him even though he’s a past winner (I am usually socialist in my awards decisions but not for him). His nuanced Bruce makes you feel terrible for his tragic persona even when his inability to control his urges leads him to make terrible decisions, like leaving his little kids alone in a NYC apartment so he can go cruising, or having flings with his underage high school students. It’s this loving but lacking relationship with his young daughter that makes it so hard to watch as it strains further, as she grows and becomes more self aware as a college student. Middle Alison accepts and embraces her personality and her sexuality as a young lesbian, and with this evolution her relationship with her father weakens, because he can never accept himself as his daughter has learned to do. Her coming out is barely acknowledged by her family, not out of disrespect or denial but because it would shatter the very fragile world her parents strived to keep balanced. And yes, her mother (Judy Kuhn) was aware and struggled her whole life to keep quiet and pretend that everything was fine.
Bruce and Alison’s final encounter is so perfectly and tragically portrayed as a silent car ride, with Alison, the grown-up who never got to spend time with her father, taking over the memory from Middle Alison. Beth Malone tearfully sings to her former self to say something to her father before the chance is gone, yelling to hurry up before the ride is over, as she knows in hindsight that it soon will be.
This story would work as a play, sure, but the music makes it so much more felt and heart-breaking. One of the best songs, “Ring of Keys”, is a startled realization that little Alison can dress however she wants, when she sees “an old-school butch”, as her older self remembers and explains (and as CBS/the FCC f-ing had them change on their Tony Awards performance because I guess some Americans aren’t okay with the word butch???!!!). Sydney’s performance of this song is so thoughtful and natural and incredible that it’s hard to believe she’s a child. No child actor has ever been this talented in history. It’s why she was considered the front-runner for the Tony Awards. Her fiercest competition was thought to be not from winner Ruthie Ann Miles (for “The King & I”) but from the actress who plays her mother, the great Judy Kuhn. Quiet, clearly long-suffering, she surprises us when she tells her college aged daughter about her father’s secret and that she’s known for, well, for “Days & Days & Days”, as her astounding, stunning big song goes. She freaking kills it, sharing how hard it has been to silently let her husband dictate and destroy their lives and how she sat by and watched for so long as nothing changed. In just one song, Kuhn defines and redefines her entire character’s story and adds new layers of wrenching emotion to the show as a whole. It must be such a pleasure to play a complex character for once (Kuhn originated the thankless role of Cosette in the original Broadway production of “Les Miserables”).
“Fun Home” is a flawless show that in only 100 minutes presents such depth and range of emotion and experience and it is all completely spell-binding. That it won the Tony Award shows that audiences and musical theatre as a genre are both ready to be treated with respect and given art that is worthy of being called art. (Of course, last night’s premature closure of “The Visit” argues in the opposite direction but we can’t win every battle.) I hope everyone sees it, learns from it, and remembers it as a benchmark for future shows. This is the direction Broadway needs to move in, and it’s a relief that people seem to accept that.
