Curtains the Musical Whodunnit is a Bloated But Fun Rompby Randi / January 7, 2020It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is Fairview, playing at London’s Young Vic until January 23.
I really hate when writers include spoilers in reviews, like they can’t write about the show without ruining it for everyone. I’ll do my best to avoid them here, but it’s kind of impossible to talk about the power of Fairview, the 2019 Pulitzer Prize-winning drama, without spoilers, so gird your loins/stop reading if you are going to see it. Now making its London debut, the play by Jackie Sibblies Drury ends in a way I can’t say any other theatrical work ever has. Even aside from that ending, it’s hard to talk about the play in general because it’s about that incredibly difficult thing to talk about as a white person: race and how terrible white people are. Okay that second part might not be the point, but if you are a white audience member who walks away from the show not feeling completely shitty then you maybe weren’t paying attention (like to the world either). I’ll try to not say anything ignorant, but I am a whitey, so, WE’LL SEE.
Fairview tells of a middle-class black family preparing for Grandma’s big birthday dinner: You have the mom trying to do everything perfectly, the feisty (and hilarious) aunt with the strong opinions, the husband who actually remembered to buy the root vegetables!, the daughter who is nervous about graduating high school. You have the set of a very large, plush home, very beigey-pinks and grays, very Miami in the 1980s that felt a little sitcommy at first and then, as the play progresses, a lot sitcommy. The first section of the play, as the family prepares dinner and argues and jokes with each other, is – like a sitcom – extremely pleasant, very funny, and opens a lot of doors to what kind of action could come next for the family.
And then, no further action comes. Instead of showing what happens with the big birthday dinner, or if the uncle’s plane will take off, or what the daughter will decide about college, instead the rug is pulled out from under you and the sitcommy feel is substantiated. The actors restart, and they go through the entirety of the first section blocking again, but silently. We see the movements and spills and gestures and little dances for the second time, but now the audio is the voiceover conversation of four white people watching this program, talking about the characters, talking about race. It’s a shock, and it’s awkward, interesting, and disturbing the whole time. The four viewers are the kind of people who will proclaim nicely “I’m definitely not racist!” but then in the same breath say a lot of racist things that aren’t obviously mean or cruel but are still wrong, the kind of people who, as we hear, casually converse about ‘what race you’d pick if you could change’. It is a bold gear change into a provocative flat-out conversation about race, except without a knowledgeable or culturally sensitive voice in the bunch.
And that’s the bit that’s slightly disappointing. It’s not the play’s fault but that of its marketing/other reviews, for saying that this is ‘the play that will make ‘woke’ white liberals realize their mistakes’ or whatever. As a white liberal, I was, as I am with all things purporting to show me how wrong I am, eager to learn what I’m doing wrong and try to improve. But these four white people are blatantly terrible people. They are not ‘woke’ and they are nothing like the people who would be described as or would describe themselves as being ‘woke’, at least if the people had any idea what that (annoying) word was supposed to mean. And liberal? I’m sure at least some of them would be Trump voters. They say clearly racist things and treat race like it’s a fashion choice. It’s worthwhile to show that the things they say and think and eventually do are problematic, but anyone who didn’t already know how problematic these ideas were already miiiiiiight be racist! Or living under a rock.
The third section dives even more into the surreal, with the two worlds mixing into eventual chaos, perhaps representing the kinds of conversations we try to have without better guidance, and perhaps representing the problems we face when white people ‘want to help’ but also don’t want to acknowledge, or give up, their privilege. That reluctance to give up your privilege comes to a head at the end, when the tables turn and the white audience members literally become the object of stage-lit scrutiny, and their (our) hesitance to listen to the cast’s urgings become the subject of this wider, provocative discussion on privilege, entitlement, and expectations. I can’t imagine any white person seeing this, experiencing this ending especially, and not feeling exposed, guilty, uncomfortable at the very least, so that’s good, I guess, for self-reflection. But who knows how many people who needed to feel that momentary guilt and shame took it into their actual lives? And it’s not up to me to say that that momentary guilt and shame was worth making the people of color in the audience feel even more like the objects of white gaze, under scrutiny as well.
So I was left afterwards with a kind of numbed sensation, embarrassed (in part because of stage fright). The play is the definition of provocative, leaving your mind a blur of jumbled thoughts and emotions, which can be the mark of a successful dramatic work. It’s confrontational, it’s fascinating, and you feel uncomfortable the whole time. Now, after trying to write something the least bit coherent (I failed didn’t I) I feel even more ignorant and needing to do and be better, which might after all be what Drury had in mind.
Related Posts
Sweet Charity at the Donmar: Can This Retroactively Win the Olivier?
The minute you walk in the joint, you can tell this was a show of distinctionnnn A REAL BIG SPENDER. Okay I’ll try to stop doing that (no promises), but man I’m not lying about the game being ON as soon as you enter the Donmar, all redone in the style of Andy Warhol’s 1950s factory. Sure the style redo doesn’t technically add anything for the story, but this specific anachronism doesn’t harm the story at all so I have no issue with their going for a cool look. And every other inch of this stunning, shocking, poignant revival is pitch perfect, not only serving the story but improving its meaning and deepening its emotional reach, in a way I never ever would have guessed was possible from knowing this show in previous incarnations.
As soon as the beat dropped (in my heart #jasonmendoza) and Anne-Marie Duff’s Charity started speaking to the pace of her quick-beating heart, jumping too quickly at any semblance of affection (as well as into a BUBBLE PIT LAKE, want) and latching onto it though it was always too slippery to grasp, I was in awe. No longer simply a good-hearted, down-on-her-luck heroine, we’re finally reminded after too many bland, uninspired revivals that Charity is a tragic character, in a fully heartbreaking tragic tale like the old school Greeks did. Charity is no simple sweet gal; she is a poor aging woman who life continues to beat like a piñata yet she always retains hope that the piñata is full of candy so she’s like ‘I guess the beating from life is okay because maybe candy?’ but it never is candy, poor sweet Charity, it never is. It’s always more and more unfair bullshit and she deserves better and NEVER GETS IT and finally, thanks to Anne-Marie Duff in a true masterclass of performance and character understanding, that’s the Charity portrayed in all her pitiful, tragic glory.
Josie Rourke’s meticulous, brilliant direction uses every inch of Cy Coleman and Dorothy Fields’ score and Neil Simon’s book to prove that this show is one of the great tragedies of musical theatre, exemplified by the super-slowed down version of “Big Spender” that, in its almost painstakingly slower meter, let the grit and devastation and more than anything desperation of the taxi dancers fill in all the slower gaps in the beat. You could tell the audience, recognizing the song, wanted to tap their feet and bop along in their seats, but Josie was like NO, SIT STILL, IT’S DEPRESSING. It was great. The other most well-known song in the show, though, was pure adorable joy, when Duff perfected, really, I mean, perfected, “If My Friends Could See Me Now”, when she finds herself in the apartment of a famous movie star (a fantastic Martin Marquez). With her scratchy voice that reminded me at times of Alice Ripley in Next to Normal (though with more optimism than Diana) in how it can use its jagged edges to cut directly to your core, Duff made this moment a delight, with nothing threatening to take it from her, like with all her future moments of happiness.
Another standout song, a song that I had forgotten about, was the determined number between Charity, ensemble standout Lizzy Connelly, and a great Debbie Kurup, “There’s Gotta be Something Better Than This”, a resolution among three pretty defeated women to ‘get up, get out’ and live a better life. Sharpening the emotional impact of what was already flawless was the painful reprise at the end, a knife through all our hearts that were already BROKEN ENOUGH from the preceding actions, jfc were Coleman and Simon and freaking Dorothy trying to kill us??
On top of all this, they also managed to include the most provocative version of Oscar (Arthur Darvill). Instead of just a one-note ‘nice’ guy who, like all ‘nice’ guys, ends up not being so nice, he was the epitome of toxic masculinity, representing in his averageness all the regular men who believe #notallmen yet still cannot condone women who live life on their own terms, women who don’t fit inside their controlling, oppressive box. Instead of feeling bad for Charity that Oscar isn’t what she’d hoped, you feel angry at Oscar for being such a weak man (and, though you hate to see her sad, glad that Charity found out before she devoted her life to him).
Honestly, if every revival brought half as much heart and inspiration to its reworking of classics, we would have endless amazing, transformative theatre. Rourke’s Sweet Charity sets a new benchmark that I hope future revivals can meet, but they’re gonna have a hard time trying.
“Pippin” at London’s Southwark Playhouse: Solid Production of a True Favorite
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we’re talking “Pippin”, at the Southwark Playhouse in London until Saturday.
“Pippin” is one of my best known, and best loved, shows. It lends itself so well to grandiose ridiculous spectacle, like in the most recent Broadway production, while still having a beating heart, an eternally provocative book, and one of the best all-around scores in musical theatre. So I was intrigued to see what a little almost-black-box of a theatre like Southwark Playhouse could do with the material. It’s been a long time since I saw a production of Pips that wasn’t full-out Cirque du Soleil treats – in fact, the last time was in high school, when I was indeed in a non-circus non-world-class-acrobat version. I couldn’t help but wonder (just a little call out to Miranda running for governor treats!), how strong are the bones of the show? Will it still produce the thrills and astonishment I remember even without all the flying through the air with the greatest of ease? And the answer is, those bones must have read The China Study and learned about how milk really isn’t the answer to osteoporosis and instead they’re eating vegetables and doing resistance training because hell yes, they are strong.
Not that I’m surprised, because it’s such a great show. But it really does lend itself so well to spectacle, so it’s nice to remember that even without mind-blowing choreography and amazement, it’s still solid and enjoyable. Losing the circus tent of Broadway and all the splendor and magic that came inside of it was a bit of a let-down, I’ll be honest, because that production featured some of the most insane stuff I’ve ever seen humans do, and that augmented the show rather than overwhelm it, so naturally I’m gonna prefer that version all other things being equal. But seeing the bare bones of ‘Pippin’ was a great opportunity to revisit what makes it so special, and to remember that it is so special as is. And that even with an average cast, the music shines and the story resonates.
That story is the really not historical tale of Pippin, the son of King Charlemagne, and his coming of age as he tries to figure out what to do with his life in order to find fulfillment. He’s your typical young white male character, having literally all the resources and opportunities in the world open to him but feeling discontented and unsatisfied with this or that. He tries this or that, to continued exasperating dissatisfaction, because he believes himself to be destined for something extraordinary. I mean wow did they nail today’s white male youth or what. So Pippin’s story is told by a traveling troupe of performers, led by the Leading Player, and this performance that we are seeing is the very first with this particular actor playing Pippin. So every now and then we’ll get him doing something different from usual or a different ensemblist messing up, requiring the Leading Player to say something to remind us of that show-within-a-show frame. This is important, because the actor playing Pippin is having the same existential crisis as his character, and he’s subject to the same delusions of grandeur that Pippin is.
That story is the really not historical tale of Pippin, the son of King Charlemagne, and his coming of age as he tries to figure out what to do with his life in order to find fulfillment. He’s your typical young white male character, having literally all the resources and opportunities in the world open to him but feeling discontented and unsatisfied with this or that. He tries this or that, to continued exasperating dissatisfaction, because he believes himself to be destined for something extraordinary. I mean wow did they nail today’s white male youth or what. So Pippin’s story is told by a traveling troupe of performers, led by the Leading Player, and this performance that we are seeing is the very first with this particular actor playing Pippin. So every now and then we’ll get him doing something different from usual or a different ensemblist messing up, requiring the Leading Player to say something to remind us of that show-within-a-show frame. This is important, because the actor playing Pippin is having the same existential crisis as his character, and he’s subject to the same delusions of grandeur that Pippin is.
The Southwark Playhouse always does stellar work, in such a tiny space with pretty much nothing in terms of resources or special effects, or sets, really, so it’s entirely up to the cast and creatives to make magic. I was prepared to be blown away as I usually am here, with this theatre, effectively Off West-End, doing work that often is stronger than the proper West End shows (especially right now, when the favorite British musical winning over unsound audiences is, well, you know I don’t want to talk about that anymore). And while this was the most enjoyable musical I’ve seen in London in 2018 so far, it was heavily due to the material and not really this production in particular. The production was solid, don’t get me wrong, but not as great as I expected. And a few things rubbed me the wrong way. Like, the cast is entirely white, except maybe one ensemblist who might not be. I’m sorry to be making generalizations about her race but I’m trying to give them the benefit of the doubt that this show isn’t 100% white despite being performed in one of the most diverse cities in the entire freaking world, and even so it’s still a real let-down in terms of diversity. It’s weird, it’s obvious, and it’s just not right.
That whiteness means that the Leading Player, the lead role, is played by a white lady, which is JUST WEIRD. Now that was okay to do in my high school because my little suburb barely had Asian kids in drama club let alone black kids, but (Joey’s voice) in LONDON? The Leading Player is historically black, originated by the legendary Ben Vereen and then in the revival by the great Patina Miller, and a white lady just made it I don’t know, it made it like school. She was kind of a school marm. Genevive Nicole, talented as she is, was simply completely miscast, and only in part due to her race. She didn’t have the terrifying, exciting, mysterious, sexual, electrifying qualities that the Leading Player needs. And because her casting fell way short, for the first time, it really seemed like Pippin’s show. Despite being the title role, Pippin has always played second fiddle to the spell-binding Leading Player, whose actors have started illustrious careers on the magic they made in this incredibly meaty role. No matter how great Matthew James Thomas was in the 2013 revival – and he was REALLY great – it was still Patina’s show. I wasn’t lucky enough to see Ben Vereen in the original production, but come on, it’s freaking Ben Vereen. I think we can agree that he made the show. And that’s how it always is – the Leading Player lives up to the name, and Pippin is right up there with her but a little less extraordinarily, which is ironic because of the song he sings. But here, because the LP was weak and the actor playing Pippin (Jonathan Carlton) was actually the strongest one in the cast, the usual dynamic was flipped on its head and it became truly Pippin’s show. I was riveted more than usual in his plight and his growth as a character. The beauty of his songs stood out more. Meanwhile, the Leading Player became like a side character to me, just another of the ensemble except with more lines. She vanished completely into the shadows for me, and not in the good way that you expect the LP to be living in the shadows. It was incredibly interesting to witness this change, unintentional as I’m sure it was.
I was also surprised at the decision to have one actress (Mairi Barclary) play both Berthe and Fastrada. Pippin’s hilarious grandmother Berthe usually steals the show with her comedic bit, while Pippin’s conniving step-mother usually has a thankless song unless performed and directed perfectly. It makes some sense to double up on the roles, when you have a small cast, since they each have one big number and that’s pretty much it. But focusing on such different characters meant that a little was sacrificed from both. While a talented performer, Mairi made weird choices that didn’t work for me. Her Berthe got off easy, because the audience will eat up everything that character throws at you and be sublimely happy doing so, so that’s a hard one to mess up. Kind of like Charles/Charlemagne, it’s written to be adored and hysterical. It was just a little too goofy for me; when all the humor you need is written into the part there’s little need for bared teeth gags. But Fastrada was a mess. Her “Spread a Little Sunshine” is really hard to get anything out of, and it’s thankless unless she makes it obvious that she’s lying about spreading happiness and joy because her main goal is shrewd manipulation. None of that came across here, mainly because the actress was doing a heavy Scottish accent. And I mean heavy. Like worse than Mike Myers in “So I Married an Axe Murderer” when he plays his own grandfather and shouts “HEEEAD. MOVE. NOW!” It made no sense for the woman who is supposed to be gorgeous and sexy, so much so that the king is blinded to her scheming, to instead be kind of vulgar, calling herself a ‘hoosewife’ and letting the heavy accent get in the way of her subtle lines. I mean the whole “I’m just an ordinary housewife and mother, just like all your ordinary housewives and mothers out there” line is only funny because Fastrada clearly isn’t ordinary, and for damn sure isn’t a housewife. But here, yeah for sure she was just a dowdy housewife…so…. It didn’t work at all.
I did enjoy our Charles/Charlemagne, Rhidian Marc, who did a fine job. Like Berthe, that part is written to win over audiences with almost no effort, so any effort the actor puts in just makes it all the better. I particularly enjoyed his famous line, given in a little confidential bit to the audience after his wife asks for more money, when he says “You know, sometimes I wonder if all the fornicating I’m getting is worth all the fornicating I’m getting.” The audience dies every time, for good reason, but this time I was also crying laughing because I remember – someone from high school correct me if I’m wrong but I remember – that our HS production did NOT cut that line. Is that possible?!
Faring pretty well was Tessa Kadler as Catherine, more commonly the thankless role in “Pippin” unless you have someone who knows what they’re doing, and then it can be absolutely sublime. I never knew that Catherine could be the funniest and fullest role in the show until I saw Rachel Bay Jones in the Broadway revival, when she completely reinvented the role and all future interpretations were challenged to keep up. Unfortunately, few can really keep up with her, and even fewer have the comedic brilliance that’s required to make Catherine more than a well-meaning, pretty love interest. I could honestly talk about RBJ’s genius in that truly virtuosic performance for days on end. Needless to say, she ruined me for future performances that fail to mine the lines for all the brilliance they could possess. Tessa’s Catherine fared better than most, and she has a beautiful voice, but none of the nuance was there to make Catherine special. More importantly, it was not clear at all that the actors playing Catherine and Pippin in the show-within-the-show were falling in love, not at all. My husband, seeing “Pippin” for the first time, asked afterwards “wait why would she have left with him?” There was no reason for her to have joined Pippin at the end, at least as far as we saw.
And that ending is always so tricky to get right, because it is so unbelievably dark and sinister. The chorus sounded great on the Finale number, and it was creepy as hell as they tried to get Pippin to take part in the one final act that will make him extraordinary. It’s always fascinating to see how this comes across. Sometimes, the ending tells you that despite the grandest of dreams, a person will only be truly happy living an ordinary life that has real meaning instead of larger-scale meaning. Sometimes, it’s that you can’t expect too much of yourself or your life, and that doing so will probably have the opposite consequences than you intend, and sometimes it’s that you can’t give in to the basest desires that flood your subconscious. And sometimes you think um this is coming across as extra-pro suicide. Here, it definitely felt more along the lines of Pippin having to quiet the visions, the fantasies he always had that told him he was so special and so needed to do something obviously special. He needed to learn to ignore the dark places in his imagination and be content with a normal life, and only then, when he stopped expecting so much of himself, could he be happy. Overall, it worked, although again there was no foundation for having Catherine help ground him. It still was moving as ever, and because of the black box situation, I REALLY hoped we would get the original ending – when Pippin and Catherine just stand there in the dark in their underwear talking to each other, and it ends so abruptly and the audience is like, wait whatttttt? That can’t be the end?? That’s the ending we did in high school and it still makes me laugh so hard to imagine what on earth those poor audiences were thinking. But more recent shows have added a truly remarkable ending, in which the little boy playing Theo starts singing “Corner of the Sky”, and the Leading Player and the troupe come back in to encircle him, having found a new potential Pippin to finish their finale for them. It’s FREAKING DARK, and it works so well because it ends on music but still has the incredibly disturbing troubling mood. BUT, I think it really only works well when it’s a child playing Theo. Here it was just one of the regular ensemble members, adult-sized, playing Theo, so it didn’t pack the normal punch that that ending is good for. Also, when the players remove all the ‘theatre magic’ in a black box theatre, well there’s not much to differentiate it when they come back. There are no sets to begin with, so they kind of just made the lights dimmer. It didn’t work as well. It is the better ending though, so whatever it’s fine, but I just wanted to be able to witness an audience deal with the dissatisfaction of the original ending.
Overall, it was a well done production and definitely worth seeing, if it left me wanting to see a full mounted production again soon. And mostly, it reminded me of how great “Pippin” is, when even down to its bare bones, as here, it’s still enjoyable and poignant.
AUDIENCE
The audience was fine! Huzzah! It helps to be almost in the round in a small room, so everyone knows I’m watching them.
