Fairview at the Young Vic: White People, Feel Bad!

​It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is Part 2 of The Inheritance, playing along with Part 1 until January 19 at London’s Noel Coward Theatre..
 
Before I saw Part 1 of The Inheritance, I had been putting off seeing the show for a very long time because I couldn’t imagine that it was worth the serious time investment: two separate theatre visits of 3 ½ hours each. I said stupid things like ‘if I’m going to see a superlong two-part show it’s going to be Angels in America’ and ‘but they’re not even singing!’ As we learned a few weeks ago, I was hella wrong, because I found Part 1 to be one of the most gripping, moving, full-blooded shows I’ve ever seen. In the few weeks I had between seeing Part 1 and Part 2, I again wished I could put off seeing the second half, but now for incredibly different reasons: I didn’t want to be finished with this story or have to say goodbye to these characters. Spending so much time with this play, the story became part of my mind the way a book does, the way dedicating so much personal time to a book results in it becoming a part of you. I didn’t want it to end. And I was simultaneously scared of how it would end, because this play isn’t exactly a romp. But even though Part 2 is not as great – after the glorious perfection that was Part 1, no second half could really ever measure up – it’s still riveting and emotional and, ultimately and most importantly, satisfying.

The simple-seeming title, The Inheritance, was relevant to several aspects of Part 1 – the inheritance as in a last will & testament, as in what you receive from ancestors, as in what you get from and what you owe to those who came before you in certain struggles. Part 2 develops that even more, as the play is also about what you get personally from your own family and your upbringing, what you can do with what you’re given and what you can’t fix, what you’ve inherited that might ruin you. Every aspect of what the title encompasses finds a way to break your heart, and even though the emotional reach doesn’t have the same breadth as Part 1, it retains its depth.
 
The main questions I had from Part 1 were, whether Eric would ever find out the truth about the house; whether he would take over the house’s spiritual purpose of providing a refuge for gay men with nowhere else to turn; and whether Eric would actually continue this relationship with Henry, the real estate billionaire who doesn’t seem to care about anything but himself. Part 1 ends with Eric finally seeing Walter’s country house and feeling the history of the place just as Walter thought he would, in a beautiful tearjerker of a scene that seemed to go on too long but also should never have ended. It created a sense of peace and importance. Part 2 opens with the exact opposite sensibility, an abrupt flip to coldness and ignorance of the house’s tranquil beauty, as Henry Wilcox (John Benjamin Hickey) tells Eric Glass (Kyle Soller) they’re ready to leave only minutes after they’ve arrived. The painful change served as a reminder that these stories aren’t going to work out easily or happily or how I wanted them to. You yearn with Eric to stay and find out more about what has happened there, and in the bigger picture you want Eric to decide that this life of helpfulness that Walter had found in the house is the kind of life he’s meant for, and that Henry’s lack of awareness in this regard shows why he’s wrong for him. Of course, that wouldn’t happen in the first scene, and so he follows Henry back to the city, even though you’re like, dude, why are you spending time with this jabronie?? But it effectively reminds you that these stories are probably not going to go how you wish they would.
 
The jabronieness of Henry Wilcox is amplified in the first major part of the play, and the most upsetting, when Eric has all his friends over to Henry’s $30 million house in the Village for brunch. I don’t know what he was expecting to happen, but when you bring a bunch of liberal gay men to the house of a billionaire Republican, things are gonna get ugly. In Part 1, it was hinted at that Henry was an R-word when he said he didn’t think the direction of U.S. politics was so bad, and that seemed bad enough for me. But here, they go full out and have Henry talk openly about supporting Trump because he supports what’s ‘best for the market’ and probably loves him some tax breaks because all a billionaire needs is more money. This whole long scene, I felt like Chidi with the stomachaches. Jasper, Eric’s most politically active friend, tries to talk some sense into Henry, but it’s a lost cause and the frustration I felt in my belly exploded onstage as Jasper lost his cool in the ensuing argument. Sure Jasper was wrong for fighting with Henry in his own home, I guess that’s rude, but is it as rude as someone actively making the world worse? I think not. Just go out on the sidewalk and fight the monster. This scene was well done, with Henry at least offering the arguments that aren’t ‘because I hate everyone who isn’t a white man’, and showing how Eric’s sense of morality is disappearing as he spends more time in the billionaire’s world. But it was so frustrating to have to listen to any republican apologists and to think about the diaper genie during my theatre time. Ughh the frustration at Eric for standing by this patently immoral man made me long for the craziness of Toby.
 
And then we get hours of craziness from Toby (Andrew Burnap)! Like I said before, if Burnap doesn’t win an Olivier and a Tony, then the awards truly don’t mean anything. We already know awards don’t mean anything but they REALLY won’t extra extra. Toby tries to feel something and escape his problems not by getting direly needed therapy or rehab, but by partying on Fire Island with the prostitute Leo (played by the same actor who plays Adam, Samuel H. Levine). The Fire Island club scenes are literally my nightmare, with all the unce unce unce music and the flashing lights and just all the noise, guys, can we keep it down. I was surprised that the focus seemed to switch from the role of Adam in Part 1 to the role of Leo in Part 2, with Adam barely in it anymore, but the actor doubling shows how important both men were for Toby in different ways. Leo’s character was fascinating and heartbreaking, and while Toby still wins the prize for Most in terms of both of those things, the ways they help and hurt each other made both characters more compelling.
 
Leo gets some of the most spellbinding reveals in Part 2, from the riveting wedding appearance and all the multitudes that can be said by saying just one word, to the ending when we come back to the framing device and it all makes sense. But it’s Toby this time around whose heart you worry about the most, whereas in Part 1 I was concerned most with Eric’s well-being. Eric, though misguided with Henry, shows he can remain standing on his own two feet when things get hard. Toby, on the other hand, is fragile, and even though someone who can be so horrible to others and to himself can seem tough and resilient, he’s really the one most in need of help. I find myself still worrying about Toby and heartbroken at his strife, and mad at playwright Matthew Lopez, Boy Genius, for causing him so much sadness. Oh Toby.
 
Interestingly, one of the aspects of Part 2 we were most keenly aware of was not the presence of something but the absence: we missed Walter (Paul Hilton). It’s remarkable how he managed to create such a warm, wise, beloved character in Part 1, so much that his absence was deeply felt, creating in our minds a semblance of what Eric and Henry must have been going through. We grieved with them. 
 
Amid all the anxiety I had about Part 2 and where the various stories would go, I had excitement for one specific aspect: to see Vanessa Redgrave onstage. And while I mean no disrespect to this living legend, they should cut her entire part out for Broadway. They won’t, because you can’t fire Vanessa Redgrave, but they should. It’s the same exact situation as with Meryl Streep in “Mary Poppins Returns” – sure she’s a g-d ledge and you’re lucky to have her in your thing, but neither her character nor her scenes do anything to augment rather than detract from the story you’ve built. It didn’t serve the story well, and although she shares some emotional moments as she talks about her past, they weren’t anything novel and so it wasn’t enough to outweigh their feeling out of place in this play. Shame.
 
There’s so much I want to talk about and cry about and rant about, but I’ll avoid any more spoilers in case some of you decide to see The Inheritance when it opens on Br’dway. Suffice it to say, the total work was one of the best theatrical events ever, and I’m so glad I finally got to experience it. As my last show of 2018, it was fitting to end a stupendous year of theatre with this masterpiece.
 
INFORMATION
Trying to rush this show on TodayTix is pretty much impossible – they’re gone in a matter of seconds, not minutes. Luckily, the grand circle (that’s the second mezzanine) is still as good a view as the royal circle (that’s the first mezzanine) and slightly cheaper, so affordable tickets are still to be had. Although this Part is five minutes longer than Part 1, there is only one full intermission and one 5 minute ‘pause’, whereas Part 1 had two full intermissions. However, the pause is more than long enough for a sprint to the bathroom if you sit on the correct side – house right (stage left) is closest to the women’s. YOU’RE WELCOME. 

​It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are discussing “Girl from the North Country”, which is playing at the Noel Coward theatre in London until March 24.

​As I’ve said hundreds of times, I love going into shows cold, not knowing any spoilers, not knowing the words to all the music yet, just a blank slate ready to be won over. But I may have gone overboard this week because not only did I know nothing about London’s new play “The Girl from North Country”, I knew wrong information. I thought this was about farming life in Ireland. Cue all the laughing-crying emojis because it’s about MINNESOTA. Duluth, specifically. I guess that is easily confused with Dublin? Regardless of my hysterical laughing when the show started and I heard them say ‘Duluth, Minnesota’ (internalized laughing, of course), and despite the awkwardness of this disjointed, rickety show, it’s a nice piece of theatre, enjoyable in spite of itself.

“The Girl from North Country” is about a family in Duluth in the 1930s and the cast of characters renting rooms in their ramshackle inn of sorts. They’re all suffering from the Great Depression and a lil bit of just normal depression too, it seems. It’s written and directed by Conor McPherson. Listen, when you aren’t working with Greta Gerwig or sweet lil Guillermino, it’s rarely a good idea to produce a show written and directed by the same person. You need that variation and sometimes clashing of ideas to make sure you make the best decisions for the work, as more often than not the strongest choices come out of having to defend them. If no one is challenging what’s written as is, the work can’t rise to its full potential. That’s clearly the case here, and although it doesn’t ruin the play – it’s still a lovely time, as I said – it’s not as good as it could be, and it’s full of unnecessary and ineffective aspects that would have been easily cut if more than one creative mind had been discussing them.

There are two patent examples of large, bad decisions that aren’t compelling. One is the completely annoyingly unnecessary framing device of the narrator. One actor, who plays the town doctor, also narrates the story and gives a lot of details to the audience that we don’t need. Using this needless device shows a lack of faith in the story to present what the author is aiming for. And never once did the narrator’s monologues share anything worthwhile to the story or anything that would not have been better left to the imagination. The play is pretty decent as is, but this device, borne out of a lack of confidence, distracts from the parts of quality.

The second example is the reason why I haven’t used the word ‘musical’ yet, even though everyone else (and the Oliviers) calls this production a musical. To me, it is the very epitome of a play with music, not a musical, because the music does not drive the story-telling. Instead of having the characters sing to each other to further the plot, a play with music uses the songs for their own sake unrelated to the plot, like in “Lady Day at Emerson’s Bar & Grill” when Billie Holiday was simply performing at a concert. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing to choose, not at all, but the use of the chosen music seems haphazard. The music should still be well considered and there for a reason, and if the characters in the show are singing, the songs chosen should somewhat reflect on them enough to make sense. Here, the songs sometimes make sense, but often don’t. The one thing I knew going in was that this show uses the music of Bob Dylan. So every so often, the characters will sing a Bob Dylan song, and it will have nothing to do with the plot, but the problem was they often didn’t make sense for the characters or for what the show was ostensibly trying to achieve. I’ll point to specific examples later.

Aside from these missteps (huge as they are), the show is decent, inoffensive and overall pleasant. It tells the story of the Laine family in Duluth, headed by the stern, imposing Nick (Ciaran Hinds (I know)), whose wife Elizabeth (Shirley Henderson) is suffering from a form of dementia that keeps her alternating between having no idea what is going on to having zero filter on her speech and actions. Their son, Gene (Sam Reid), has amounted to nothing and is a piece of a nothing shithead, we see because of how he treats a black man, but I honestly think the writer wants us to feel bad for him for some reason, which um no. Their daughter, Marianne, is a black woman (Sheila Atim) that was left in their inn as a baby, so they decided to raise her as their own. There’s a whole other show to be made just about this relationship and how their town reacted to it, but we strangely don’t get much in the way of racial unease, which is odd because it for sure would have created some. I wonder if the writer wanted us to think highly of all the characters for not calling attention to this, but it just seems unrealistic. I mean come on it’s Minnesota in the 1930s. Or, it’s America at any time. People would have torches.

Marianne is pregnant, and single – she won’t tell anyone who the father is. At one point, she tells someone that she was impregnated by the ghost of the wind of Jesus or something weird like that and I have no idea what they were going for with that. It seemed meant to add a mystical element, but such an element had no business in a straightforward show like this. An old man in town, Mr. Perry (Karl Johnson), has offered to marry Marianne and raise the baby, which seems like a nice offer but he’s super ancient and Marianne is like nah thanks. Unfortunately, her father has no patience for her idealistic decision-making, wanting to marry someone she actually loves and all. Elizabeth, in one of her unfiltered episodes, shares that Mr. Perry once assaulted her when she was young (he’s hella old so he was an older man even when she was young) and no one seems to care, which is the most realistic part of this show. I love that Elizabeth, in all her raw, crude honesty, is often the only voice of reason in the community.

Soon two men arrive to spend the night, a man presenting himself as a reverend but he is really a slimy Bible salesman (Finbar Lynch (I mean can we talk about that name? that’s the real name of the actor. Man alive)), and a former boxer named Joe Scott. Joe for my performance was played by the understudy Emmanuel Kojo, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled because Kojo is one of the West End names I actually remember from several past productions, so lucky me. The men join existing guests Mrs. Neilsen (Debbie Kurup), a hot widow who is sleeping with Nick and maybe loves him even though he’s old and wrinkly and mean; and the Burke family, an older married couple with a grown but developmentally disabled son, Elias (Jack Shalloo). The Burkes have an interesting but ultimately unfulfilled storyline about how the grown son may have killed a woman unintentionally, and how they may be fleeing from the authorities. It sounds a lot worse than it is. Not the crime, the crime is bad, but how this fit into the show. It was random and nuts but it kind of all worked, because we’re learning about all the sad stories of those involved.

And then we have the town doctor (Adam James) who should have remained a doctor instead of moonlighting as a narrator.

The first act is actually quite well done. The chosen Bob Dylan songs, although they don’t really inform the story or characters, seem at least a little bit relevant. And if not, at least the choices are mediocre and not aggressively bad. The twangy Dylan sound of the less famous songs worked with this setting. It helps that I didn’t know 90% of the songs, so for a while everything seemed suitable and interesting. The second act, however, falls apart. They perform songs back to back (to back, I think) apropos of nothing, and you can feel the thing falling off the rails and see that the songs are the desperate attempt to keep it moving. Then, the character of Joe Scott, a really interesting, well performed and mysteriously drawn character, is done a huge disservice by having to sing “Hurricane”. This is not a song that jives well with the small, rural action of the play, a huge contrast to the other songs used, so it is seriously shoehorned in to make it fit, and it was a bad idea. Like I said, Joe is a former boxer, which seemed acceptable in the first act, but having him sing “Hurricane” made me think, wait, did they make up his backstory in order to fit this song? It’s hard to believe otherwise when the writing reveals him to have committed a robbery and be on the run from authorities. This is where they really lost me. Forcing this song into the show and molding the story around it felt so amateur and for all the damage it does to the story, the payoff is exactly nil.

After that, the action seems to happen without compelling reason shoring it up. Truly dramatic things occur, and rarely do they feel earned or warranted. Marianne’s character is poorly drawn, for such a central character, and her decision to leave town without saying goodbye to her family feels unjustified. It’s hinted at (more than hinted at) that Nick might resort to a little murder-suicide and just, like, what? And don’t get me started on the ambiguity of what actually happens to Elias (who has the second best musical performance of the night, but it is very ill-suited to the story).

What keeps the show largely afloat are the performances. Not all – most of the ensemble was obviously focusing on their American accents to the detriment of their acting. This was especially clear in the case of the poor sad Mrs. Neilsen, whose ‘I just came from my elocution class’-style of speaking was inappropriate for this setting. “Oh I will MEETUH you OUTUH-SIDUH,” she said once. She was the female equivalent of Gary Oldman when he guested on “Friends”, spitting all his t’s and popping all his p’s. Then we had other ladies giving full-on Fargo-style accents, dontcha know, because North Dakota is pretty much Minnesota, yah fer sure, so the clash was blatant and upsetting. Why don’t West End shows all have dialect coaches?? But the leading performances by Ciaran Hinds and Shirley Henderson are the compelling parts of this show and what makes it worth seeing. Ciaran, whose name I literally just found out yesterday is not pronounced as written (I’m sorry), as the gruff, well-meaning but wrong-headed patriarch Nick Laine, is so natural and believable. The tinge of his Irish accent works really well actually to convey mid-West America, and even though his character is wrong so often, he’s such an incredible actor that he makes you want to understand why.

The real star turn here is that of Shirley Henderson as Elizabeth Laine. At first, she just kind of sits in her chair and makes faces at the goings-on, and I was thinking ‘she got an Olivier nomination for this?’ However, slowly but surely her performance grows and builds so much that I would honestly think about voting for her over the “Follies” ladies. (Don’t get me started on the fourth nom.) I didn’t know at first that Shirley was that Shirley, the one I know best as Bridget Jones’s brunette friend and as Moaning Myrtle in Harry Potter. Yeah, her. She’s fantastic. Her portrayal of a woman with dementia is so honest and uncomfortable and you have fremdschamen watching the whole time and you want to look away because it’s so painful, funny at times but painful, but you can’t because what she is doing is extraordinary. It’s mostly a physical role, peppered by line deliveries that could not be more perfect. She takes these words and chews them up and spits them out at such perfect moments with timing and venom that could be deadly. And then when she breaks into song, my goodness, I had no idea this lady could sing. She has the strongest voice in the whole production (and gets to do most of “Like a Rolling Stone”) and why hasn’t she been in more musical theatre? She could have single-handedly been saving British musical theatre! (Okay they still need someone besides Tim Minchin who can write scores but still.) Her performance is remarkable, how she does so much with so little and makes you invested in this story for her sake.

So clearly there are a lot of things wrong with this show, but in spite of all of that, it’s still enjoyable and a little bit moving, which I think is a testament to the performances, and also the writing. If this play could have been just a play, forgetting the weird Bob Dylan constraints, and if Conor had someone reigning him in and editing this draft, it could have been excellent. As it stands, it’s just fine, but entertaining.

AUDIENCE
Oh the joy – this was one of the best audiences I’ve witnessed in London. I didn’t see ANY phones during the show – and I was sitting in the way way back of the stalls, which usually means all you see is phones. There was a super old lady singing along sometimes and slapping her knees to the music and I shot her death stares but she was so old that that was probably dangerous. The girl next to me was coughing literally the entire first act so I moved for the second so that was fine. Honestly, most of the bad behavior came from the ushers I heard talking in the back and the back of house staff I could hear through the doors! Nonsense! Cameron Mackintosh better get his people under control.

STAGE DOOR
There were only like one or two weirdos there so I didn’t want to stay too long and also be a weirdo. The cast seemed super uninterested in talking to anyone anyway so best to skip this one.