My Mixed Day at MTFest: The Assassination of Katie Hopkins & Soapdishby Randi / February 20, 2020The Wedding Singer & London Theatre’s Jewish Problem
London theatre has a Jewish problem. Whether the fault of creative teams, prejudice in the community and thus audiences, or a mix of both (it’s both), there’s an obvious ‘othering’ happening that feels offensive and demoralizing. Suffice it to say, I’m tired. Ain’t you tired Miss Hilly? I recently saw The Wedding Singer – a show I loved when I saw it on Broadway – and had to leave at the interval. I NEVER do that. (Okay, once.) (I mean one other time; this isn’t a Simpsons thing.) I felt ridiculed and ridiculous, with everyone around me in on a joke that is not funny. And I realized that this problem that I’ve been noticing in tiny bits and pieces is larger than I wanted to believe.
As we saw with last season’s Falsettos debacle, many productions fail to make a concerted effort to ensure that Jewish voices are involved with Jewish content. Not to start playing an unwinnable battle of the minorities, but you would never see a production of e.g. The Normal Heart without gay men involved, or The Inheritance. Or Falsettos! And this isn’t only about the acting talent, because yes, it’s the job of actors to play other identities, like Scarlett Johansson and her tree. It’s about having representation in the creative process, whether onstage or off, someone in the room to speak up, to ensure that representation onstage isn’t problematic or insulting. I didn’t support last season’s Falsettos by seeing it, but according to some people who did go, it was indeed insulting.
If it was anything like the Bar Mitzvah scene of The Wedding Singer, I’m glad I didn’t go. In this show, based on the great Adam Sandler movie, the lead needs a break from singing at weddings, and the scene changes to a Bar Mitzvah. It’s semi-funny in the movie because of Sandler and the content of the scene. But here, presenting the scene of a Bar Mitzvah was the joke in itself. As soon as men dressed in traditional Hasidic black suits and vests and hats come out, the audience roars. It doesn’t matter whether it’s funny that Robbie now has to change his act or do things he’s not used to doing – the joke was clearly Judaism. You could barely hear the lines or music because the audience was laughing at the pure visuals of Jewish men in their suits and payot (yes, they wore fake payot). That was the punch line. I felt my entire body burning with anger, as well as shame. And it got worse: the feature of this new act was Robbie’s queer keyboardist (I could write a whole nother piece on how offensively homophobic the direction around this character and everything else slightly queer was and how it was used for weird cheap laughs (and this was hundo p a right-wing crowd laughing at not with)) singing Hebrew prayers to the tune of an ’80s song.
I don’t remember whether this is done in the movie or the original production, but even if it was, it does not go over well here. Comedy has different effects on different crowds and communities, and you can tell when it’s good natured. Here, it is pure mockery of the sound of the Hebrew language and prayers, amid the sheer look of Jewish people as a punch line. In the movie, Sandler is a known Jewish performer whose comedy has the ability to poke good-natured fun at his culture. Here, it wasn’t good-natured, it was ridicule, and the laughter around me was based in contempt, which is why I left. (The production isn’t very good so I wasn’t heartbroken to leave – the pacing is about twice as slow as it should be, like the directorial metronome is broken, which makes all the actually good parts of the show fail.) Also, just because something plays appropriately in New York does not mean it will here. You have to be cognizant of the differences in the communities. In a Broadway theatre, you’re surrounded by Jews, and Jewishness is part of New York culture, especially in the theatre. In the UK, Jews are still considered rare, outsiders, and blamed for all sorts of things (like Labour losing). And there aren’t that many. In London, I was for sure the only Jewish person in the audience at my performance of Wedding Singer, and I wasn’t even surprised. Productions have to be aware of how something will play in different places and think about whether it works or not.
Falsettos wasn’t the start to the problem, and clearly not the end. I’ve noticed this in many shows over the past few years, and I’m new. The last production of Caroline, or Change was my first shocking moment. There’s a line in the show where Caroline says to her young Jewish charge that his people burn in hell. On Broadway, this line was met with a kind of hushed “oh shit” reaction, like wow that was dark, and cruel. In London, it was met with a hearty chuckle. Not a nervous laugh, a real laugh. If that doesn’t show how differently the same thing can play in the two cities and how important it is to make sure you have someone in the room (Caroline had no Jews) to account for potential offensive representation, then I don’t know what to tell you.
Recent (and great) productions like Rags at the Park Theatre and Leopoldstadt (review next week) at Wyndham’s are promising in their inclusivity and representation, although the latter still had a few very strange moments of laughter when I saw it. I am still continually surprised at what London audiences will laugh at. And yesI have a different sense of humor as an American, but sometimes it’s not that. Sometimes the laughter is quite troubling (like in Caroline and parts of Appropriate). We know that anti-Semitism is just as strong as ever in this country (and around the world), and that’s something to be aware of when you are creating art that involved Jews or Jewishness. My horror at The Wedding Singer may seem misplaced or overblown to you, but that show’s missteps are symptoms of a much larger problem in British theatre and the country itself.
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Broadway’s “Shuffle Along, Or the Longest and Most Unnecessary Title Since the Horrors of Birdman” Is Prettayy Good
Best show art of the season
In this Broadway season of beyond splendid revivals and nice enough new shows dwarfed by “Hamilton”, one important show is kind of a mix of the two. “Shuffle Along, or the Making of the Musical Sensation of 1921 and All That Followed” (I know) (whose idea right) (so ridic) (but it is accurate) actually petitioned to be considered a revival, because it uses the score of the original show “Shuffle Along” from 1921. But it was wisely considered a new show because this new Shuffle is telling the story of that 1921 show, how it was made, who was involved, and how it was received. And of course all that followed.
What makes the 1921 “Shuffle Along” worth discussing? It was a groundbreaking musical revue written by four African-American men – Noble Sissle, Eubie Blake, F.E. Miller, and Aubrey Lyles. Not only was it the first musical for all four writers, it was the first major production in a long time to be created and produced entirely by African-American, like at all. That it played in New York of all places, and that it had an incredibly successful run for its time, shows how important a cultural milestone it was.
Why was it groundbreaking? It convinced the theatre community (and white producers) that a ‘black show’ could be successful, and that people of all races would pay to see an exciting, quality show like this. The black community embraced it wholeheartedly for showing the world its exuberant singing and dancing styles, and the theatre community at large embraced it too, legitimizing these new-to-them styles for the uptight people of that world. “Shuffle Along” famously had to add a midnight showing (always sold out) so that other celebrities with similar schedules – fans like Fanny Brice and Al Jolson – could catch it regularly. And not only did the show introduce a new kind of theatre to the world, it also launched the careers of luminaries like Florence Mills, Gertrude Sanders, and Josephine Baker, while showcasing already-famous stars like Lottie Gee.
So the original “Shuffle Along” stands as a vital moment in theatre history, yet so few people know about it. George C. Wolfe, legendary Broadway director, decided to bring its story back to Broadway, but not the story the original told (some forced plot about a mayoral race that no one really cared about because the score and the dancing was really what they were after). Instead, he wanted to tell the story behind the mounting of that show and how it came to be and what happened to those four creators and all those stars they made after all the success of the musical sensation of 1921. Naturally, to tell this story, you hope to gather the most incredible African-American performers there are today. You hope to get Audra McDonald, queen of everything, to play the diva Lottie Gee. You hope that Brian Stokes Mitchell, Broadway’s longtime beloved leading man, will join you as one of the four creators, along with other Broadway stars Billy Porter, Joshua Henry, and Brandon Victor Dixon. You even have the pipe-dream that Savion Glover, the best tap dancer in the entire world, will choreograph the whole thing and attract the most incredible dancers to the ensemble. And then that all happens! And you get “Shuffle Along 2.0 or the Show That Could Have Been Amazing But Is Really Just Very Good”.
Yeah, not joking. All those amazing parts came together, but yet you are left feeling a little unsatisfied. You expect the show to really hit you and resonate with you, but it never fully makes that emotional connection. No matter how far I put out my feelers, the ones coming from their end never made contact. “Shuffle” is wonderfully exciting to watch for the most part, but it’s more like the original than it wanted to be: The score (the same score as the 1921 one) is great, the dancing is out of this world, but the book is a bit of a mess. Such a mess that, unlike most shows, “Shuffle” wisely took advantage of its preview period, making necessary changes night after night until the show was frozen. Unfortunately, this is one show that definitely could have benefited from an out-of-town tryout so it was in even better shape before the move to Broadway. Then it could have used previews to hone and tighten rather than reimagine and rewrite as much as it did. Because of the wattage of all the stars involved, an out-of-town tryout was nigh impossible, but I wonder what could have been possible if they made it happen. As it is now, “Shuffle” has a fine story in the first act, and you pull for them to make it to New York and have success and be able to buy train tickets and stuff. It is positively magical when Audra, one of the greatest divas of our time, sings as another great diva; when BSM sings because oh my god that voice (and they didn’t make nearly enough use of it); and when the ensemble dances to Savion’s insane choreography. I say insane both in the way I describe things that are amazing, and also in the way that means actually insane. Some of the dancing is almost manic, all maniacally energetic and so fast and disjointed and trippy that you can’t believe they aren’t falling down or convulsing but somehow they are still dancing. The ensemble really deserves as much credit for doing these moves as Savion deserves for making them do it.
But then much of it feels blank. My mind wandered a little in the first act and then a lot in the second, when they tell you how important everything that happened in the first act was and how monumental the original “Shuffle” was and how it affected all their lives, but they kind of just tell you. Repeatedly, yet nothing sticks. I know some people are still confused at what Joshua Henry’s Noble Sissle talks about in a monologue about how his former military officer was killed and made Noble promise to continue what he was doing by creating opportunities for black musicians…I think. It was obviously a really important moment, but it didn’t come across very strongly. There’s a lot of talk about how these men had such an important job to do and how meaningful what they did was, and it was of course, but this show didn’t do much to make you believe it and know it for yourself. Without any background about the original “Shuffle”, it’s not easy to jump in accepting how significant it really was. It’s a difficult task this show took on, and they do a good job, but not great.
The big dance numbers are the best parts of the show, by far. My favorite featured the ensemble split into two groups, facing each other, kind of having a dance-off but using crazy tap-as-weapons that looks like their feet are falling off. It was crazy fun. I wanted more of those kinds of numbers to fill the holes in the book. Luckily, the entire cast is terrific. Of course Audra and B(d)SM are phenomenal, and it’s really special, beyond special, to see them onstage together again after starring in “Ragtime” so many years ago. One of my favorite facts is that Brandon Victor Dixon, who plays Eubie Blake (one of the few creatives who had success after “Shuffle”), said his first Broadway show was “Ragtime”, starring his now his costars (and Audra plays his love interest). I love that! Hooray for this community! I also loved Billy Porter’s big number, “Broadway Blues” (I think). He gets a big bluesy number to bring the house down, and he does. It’s tailored to his talents – overdoing it, but in a fun way. It’s the perfect opportunity for him to let loose, because it works as this huge and exaggerated number, and it’s not bad if Billy overacts, which he sometimes does but we love him for it. And Adrienne Warren, Tony nominee for this show, was really fantastic pulling double-duty as Gertrude Sanders & Florence Mills. She really performed the two characters so distinctly and was truly lovely. Sadly, I don’t remember Joshua Henry getting to really shine on any song. He’s solidly good but has the smaller role of the four men, so his beautiful voice doesn’t get enough airtime. I loved loved the train station song that had Brian lifting the spirits of the ensemble, leading to some impeccable dancing, but I wanted Brian to sing more too. That voice is just velvet and I would have been happy if he (and Audra) just started singing the phone book (or “Ragtime”). I wish I could speak specifically on each song, but weirdly, there is no song list in the Playbill. This made sense during previews when the show was changing every night, but now it’s been frozen for a while so I don’t get it. I can say of course that “I’m Just Wild About Harry” was phenomenal, as sung by Audra, because that is the most famous song Sissle & Blake wrote so I’m pretty sure it was in there. RG.
The surprising thing to me, though, is that if “Hamilton” wasn’t around this season, “Shuffle” would be winning the Best New Musical Tony Award (it has already won the lead-up awards that Ham was eligible for last year). I’m kind of like whoa about it, because the book is a mess – which makes it all the more upsetting that some pundits think it should win the Best Book Tony over Hamilton just to spread the wealth. And, without this current cast, I have some doubts about how it will hold up. Audiences will get an answer to this sooner rather than later, as Audra’s preggernancy will bring in her replacement Rhiannon Giddens. I don’t know her, and I’m sure she is wicked talented, but a lot of the magic of this show came from knowing you were watching Audra, the greatest musical theatre actress maybe ever, play another famous singer. And a lot of the magic from watching the men’s scenes came from knowing you were watching a group of beloved Tony winners and nominees shine. Without a strong second act and with the importance of the original cast, it would be a winner on the weaker side. Still, as it is now, it’s a solid show with an all-star cast that I would jump at seeing onstage together again if I could. I am so lucky I saw it before Audra got preggers. She’s leaving soon, and I’ve heard reports that in the meantime she is sometimes a bit scaled back, probably because the alien inside her is making her nauseous. And it’s the best tap dancing you’ll see maybe ever. The story they are trying to tell is one of great importance, and I wish it was told a little more clearly, a little more cleanly. But you know, it did get me interested enough in the original “Shuffle” to do my own research into it. If other audience members do the same, and if a lot more people now know about the original show and what it did for African-Americans and for theatre, then that is a big success.
AUDIENCE
I think fine. One night when I didn’t have to yell at anyone! OH important note – this is a Scott Rudin production, and he famously does not allow late seating in his shows. If you miss the very start of the show, you don’t get to come in from the lobby until Act II, no joke. This is really great to stop all the shitheads who don’t think live theatre is important enough to stop them from hanging at the bar a little longer or stuff like that, but I do worry about the very few people who will be negatively affected who don’t deserve to be for reasons out of their control (read, I worry that one day I will be late). But for the most part it’s a good idea. I did hear from a few people that ushers at his shows don’t let you bring water bottles in, but that shit should be illegal and if anyone tried to take mine away I would have starting railing about all the amendments. ALL OF THEM.
STAGE DOOR
No one came out boooooo. I wanted to ask Brian to record my outgoing voicemail. Just kidding. Not really. #velvetteddybear
Fun Home Brings Its Magic to London
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about the musical Fun Home, which is playing at London’s Young Vic until September 1.
I haven’t been this nervous about a show in a long time. Experiencing the original Broadway production of Fun Home in 2015 was one of the most magical theatrical moments I’ve had. Everything about it was absolute perfection, including the first truly great use of the Circle in the Square Theatre’s setup in the round. I worried that the show would lose some of its power and emotional depth without that original cast that I so adored, without the circular theatre, without the extra tinge of greatness that Broadway musicals tend to have. Fortunately, Fun Home is in good hands at London’s Young Vic theatre, such good hands that I was dehydrated for days from all the crying.
I haven’t been this nervous about a show in a long time. Experiencing the original Broadway production of Fun Home in 2015 was one of the most magical theatrical moments I’ve had. Everything about it was absolute perfection, including the first truly great use of the Circle in the Square Theatre’s setup in the round. I worried that the show would lose some of its power and emotional depth without that original cast that I so adored, without the circular theatre, without the extra tinge of greatness that Broadway musicals tend to have. Fortunately, Fun Home is in good hands at London’s Young Vic theatre, such good hands that I was dehydrated for days from all the crying.
Fun Home is the musical adaptation of Alison Bechdel’s 2006 autobiographical graphic (autobiographical maybe?) of the same name, in which she delves into her childhood and her relationship with her father, who she learned was gay soon after she herself came out, and shortly before his suicide. The musical features Alison at three ages – as an adult, a new college student (Medium Alison), and as a 10-year-old kid (Small Alison). Now age 43, Alison, the ‘lesbian cartoonist’, as she calls herself, is sorting through her father’s old belongings and other mementos from her old house and her family’s funeral home in order to form her graphic novel. The adult Alison, played by a solid Kaisa Hammarlund, is prodded into memories as she looks at these belongings, and the moments from the two earlier stages of her life play out on the stage before her as she remembers them and starts to document them in her cartoons.
Hammarlund’s Big Alison carried the structure of the play well, with the memories eliciting reactions from her ranging from angry to embarrassed to remorseful. Her anger came when we saw her father stopping Small Alison (Harriet Turnbull) from expressing herself as she wanted to, or from her father’s quick temper and, sometimes, rage. Her embarrassment often came from truly hilarious moments of seeing her college-aged self try to sound smart but end up completely mortified. The great thing about getting different and unique incarnations of this show now is that different characters will shine the brightest depending on the cast and the interpretation. On Broadway, the discovery of the extraordinary Sydney Lucas, a one-in-a-million phenom of a child actor, stole the show with her natural, moving Small Alison and her showstopper ‘Ring of Keys’, where she first sees the kind of butch lesbian that feels so right to her. While that doesn’t mean regularly talented child actors like Turnbull do any less of a moving portrait of Small Alison – she was very good and had the audience completely taken – it means that the balance changes. Here, Medium Alison (Eleanor Kane) stood out as the showstopper, especially with her exceptional performance of “Changing My Major”, where her first sexual experience (with Cherrelle Skeete’s wonderful Joan) forces her to be completely vulnerable, uproariously funny (her little jumps!), and so touching all at once. Hers was a stunning performance and the standout of the night.
Well, one of the standouts; it’s a show full of magical moments. Big Alison’s remorse turned into another such moment in an emotionally resonant and brilliant part (of a show that is entirely brilliant and emotional): during the song “Telephone Wire”, when her memory of her last moments with her father shift his focus from Medium Alison to Big Alison herself, implanting herself into the past to try to futilely change it yet again. Bruce’s gaze moving to the daughter he never got to see as an adult is the kind of moment in a play where, if you are human, you’ll start making little yelpy puppy sounds as you try to suppress your overwhelming sobs. The impact of this moment felt real, and a scene that is heartbreaking simply as written takes on new tragic life.
But even though the story is ostensibly about Alison, it’s her father, Bruce (Zubin Varla), who becomes the focus. Varla takes the complex character of Bruce in a different direction from Michael Cerveris, the original Bruce. Cerveris played him much more natural and reserved, so his anger was shocking, his truly cruel comments to his family seeming unforgivable but infrequent. Varla, on the other hand, had crazy eyes most of the time, so his unstable emotional state was evident and it let his rage fly off the handle more. It was clearer, and for longer, how troubled this Bruce was, and even though I think I prefer the more grounded take – the one that sees the ache in an everyman rather than someone who is more obviously troubled – his interpretation was valid and equally moving. His brilliant introduction – letting the audience see how much he values the beauty he sees in the world – before we see how fast he can descend into rage, is so well done, as are his interactions with all the young men in his life (played by a talented Ashley Samuels) especially when contrasted with how he treats his family in similar situations.
As Alison’s mother Helen, Jenna Russell masterfully harnesses her coldness and uses it as a weapon against her family and her own vulnerability. As usual, Helen’s big song “Days and Days” is set up and performed flawlessly, in a truly remarkable bit of songwriting that lets you understand all of her character’s motivations but completely disagree with her. The big change from the show being presented in the round paid off in this scene, when the set of the house changes into a surprisingly larger, lavish one. I was surprised that it didn’t stay in the round, especially since I’ve seen productions in the round at the Young Vic, and since the original director, Sam Gold, apparently directed this production too. But the changes worked, especially in this scene, and it was interesting to see the show presented from a regular proscenium, although Bruce’s final scenes felt a little static.
The brilliant songwriting is really the star of this show, the reason why it resonates and why every inch of it feels necessary and special. Jeanine Tesori and Lisa Kron’s score and book stand with the best of musical theatre. When I first heard some of it, I thought it was a little too simple. But its lack of big belted numbers or traditional musical theatre moments in favor of personal connection and delicate motifs makes it such a singular achievement in telling such an intimate story. Moments that I thought at first were to lift the somber mood, like when Small Alison imagines her family as a happy singing and dancing one like she watches on TV in “Raincoat of Love”, actually had me crying: It’s not a goofy break from the drama; it’s a heartbreaking look at the kind of happiness this poor child wishes she had. It’s forking sad. Okay so “Come to the Fun Home” is still a very silly moment that lets the kids have fun, but it’s followed by a scene that I don’t remember being so harrowing – when Bruce calls Small Alison in and she sees her first dead body. This small moment was riveting, especially with Big Alison’s anger at remembering this moment and her frustration that she’ll never understand her father’s reasons for doing it.
Such precise, flawless writing feels wrong to change, so the few lyric changes I noticed I don’t really understand. In the beginning, Small Alison originally orders her father to play airplane with her and sings “I wanna play airplane/I wanna put my arms out and fly/Like the Red Baron in the Sopwith Camel”. Apparently that’s a reference to Peanuts, when Snoopy pretends to fly on his doghouse. I don’t know anything about the Sopwith Camel or Snoopy pretending to fly in Peanuts but I know the Red Baron, so the line made overall sense to me – she wants to fly like a plane. To quote my girl Tahani, you can get some of these from context. But in this production, it’s changed to “I wanna put my arms out and fly/like Snoopy and the Red Baron”. Is that really a change that helps people get the reference? I feel like you either know that reference or you don’t, so it’s an odd change for me, dog.
But it’s a tiny non-issue with an overall great production of this incredible show. It’s by far the best musical playing in London right now. I love that such a small show about such specific characters feels so universal, and that it’s getting the chance to be loved by a new audience.
AUDIENCE
Since this is the first (only?) show with a lesbian protagonist and it’s heavily about characters’ sexuality, it’s drawing a more diverse crowd that you see in the theatre usually, which is awesome. But it means some possibly new theatergoers are not used to theatre etiquette. When Medium Alison writes home, “Dear mom and dad, I’m a lesbian”, one or two audience members whooped and shouted YASS. Audiences, I get that it’s amazing when you feel represented in art, but if you want to be a part of the action, become an actor. It is not a YAS moment. In fact, there are no YAS moments in this show. And just for everyone’s edification, don’t talk or sing along or bullshit like that in the theatre unless everyone onstage makes it clear that they want you to do so (e.g. during “No Time At All” in Pippin, and during the curtain call of “Mamma Mia!”. Pretty sure that’s it).
Shout out to the one usher at the Young Vic who was READY to snatch cell phones. We could be friends.
Hammarlund’s Big Alison carried the structure of the play well, with the memories eliciting reactions from her ranging from angry to embarrassed to remorseful. Her anger came when we saw her father stopping Small Alison (Harriet Turnbull) from expressing herself as she wanted to, or from her father’s quick temper and, sometimes, rage. Her embarrassment often came from truly hilarious moments of seeing her college-aged self try to sound smart but end up completely mortified. The great thing about getting different and unique incarnations of this show now is that different characters will shine the brightest depending on the cast and the interpretation. On Broadway, the discovery of the extraordinary Sydney Lucas, a one-in-a-million phenom of a child actor, stole the show with her natural, moving Small Alison and her showstopper ‘Ring of Keys’, where she first sees the kind of butch lesbian that feels so right to her. While that doesn’t mean regularly talented child actors like Turnbull do any less of a moving portrait of Small Alison – she was very good and had the audience completely taken – it means that the balance changes. Here, Medium Alison (Eleanor Kane) stood out as the showstopper, especially with her exceptional performance of “Changing My Major”, where her first sexual experience (with Cherrelle Skeete’s wonderful Joan) forces her to be completely vulnerable, uproariously funny (her little jumps!), and so touching all at once. Hers was a stunning performance and the standout of the night.
Well, one of the standouts; it’s a show full of magical moments. Big Alison’s remorse turned into another such moment in an emotionally resonant and brilliant part (of a show that is entirely brilliant and emotional): during the song “Telephone Wire”, when her memory of her last moments with her father shift his focus from Medium Alison to Big Alison herself, implanting herself into the past to try to futilely change it yet again. Bruce’s gaze moving to the daughter he never got to see as an adult is the kind of moment in a play where, if you are human, you’ll start making little yelpy puppy sounds as you try to suppress your overwhelming sobs. The impact of this moment felt real, and a scene that is heartbreaking simply as written takes on new tragic life.
But even though the story is ostensibly about Alison, it’s her father, Bruce (Zubin Varla), who becomes the focus. Varla takes the complex character of Bruce in a different direction from Michael Cerveris, the original Bruce. Cerveris played him much more natural and reserved, so his anger was shocking, his truly cruel comments to his family seeming unforgivable but infrequent. Varla, on the other hand, had crazy eyes most of the time, so his unstable emotional state was evident and it let his rage fly off the handle more. It was clearer, and for longer, how troubled this Bruce was, and even though I think I prefer the more grounded take – the one that sees the ache in an everyman rather than someone who is more obviously troubled – his interpretation was valid and equally moving. His brilliant introduction – letting the audience see how much he values the beauty he sees in the world – before we see how fast he can descend into rage, is so well done, as are his interactions with all the young men in his life (played by a talented Ashley Samuels) especially when contrasted with how he treats his family in similar situations.
As Alison’s mother Helen, Jenna Russell masterfully harnesses her coldness and uses it as a weapon against her family and her own vulnerability. As usual, Helen’s big song “Days and Days” is set up and performed flawlessly, in a truly remarkable bit of songwriting that lets you understand all of her character’s motivations but completely disagree with her. The big change from the show being presented in the round paid off in this scene, when the set of the house changes into a surprisingly larger, lavish one. I was surprised that it didn’t stay in the round, especially since I’ve seen productions in the round at the Young Vic, and since the original director, Sam Gold, apparently directed this production too. But the changes worked, especially in this scene, and it was interesting to see the show presented from a regular proscenium, although Bruce’s final scenes felt a little static.
The brilliant songwriting is really the star of this show, the reason why it resonates and why every inch of it feels necessary and special. Jeanine Tesori and Lisa Kron’s score and book stand with the best of musical theatre. When I first heard some of it, I thought it was a little too simple. But its lack of big belted numbers or traditional musical theatre moments in favor of personal connection and delicate motifs makes it such a singular achievement in telling such an intimate story. Moments that I thought at first were to lift the somber mood, like when Small Alison imagines her family as a happy singing and dancing one like she watches on TV in “Raincoat of Love”, actually had me crying: It’s not a goofy break from the drama; it’s a heartbreaking look at the kind of happiness this poor child wishes she had. It’s forking sad. Okay so “Come to the Fun Home” is still a very silly moment that lets the kids have fun, but it’s followed by a scene that I don’t remember being so harrowing – when Bruce calls Small Alison in and she sees her first dead body. This small moment was riveting, especially with Big Alison’s anger at remembering this moment and her frustration that she’ll never understand her father’s reasons for doing it.
Such precise, flawless writing feels wrong to change, so the few lyric changes I noticed I don’t really understand. In the beginning, Small Alison originally orders her father to play airplane with her and sings “I wanna play airplane/I wanna put my arms out and fly/Like the Red Baron in the Sopwith Camel”. Apparently that’s a reference to Peanuts, when Snoopy pretends to fly on his doghouse. I don’t know anything about the Sopwith Camel or Snoopy pretending to fly in Peanuts but I know the Red Baron, so the line made overall sense to me – she wants to fly like a plane. To quote my girl Tahani, you can get some of these from context. But in this production, it’s changed to “I wanna put my arms out and fly/like Snoopy and the Red Baron”. Is that really a change that helps people get the reference? I feel like you either know that reference or you don’t, so it’s an odd change for me, dog.
But it’s a tiny non-issue with an overall great production of this incredible show. It’s by far the best musical playing in London right now. I love that such a small show about such specific characters feels so universal, and that it’s getting the chance to be loved by a new audience.
AUDIENCE
Since this is the first (only?) show with a lesbian protagonist and it’s heavily about characters’ sexuality, it’s drawing a more diverse crowd that you see in the theatre usually, which is awesome. But it means some possibly new theatergoers are not used to theatre etiquette. When Medium Alison writes home, “Dear mom and dad, I’m a lesbian”, one or two audience members whooped and shouted YASS. Audiences, I get that it’s amazing when you feel represented in art, but if you want to be a part of the action, become an actor. It is not a YAS moment. In fact, there are no YAS moments in this show. And just for everyone’s edification, don’t talk or sing along or bullshit like that in the theatre unless everyone onstage makes it clear that they want you to do so (e.g. during “No Time At All” in Pippin, and during the curtain call of “Mamma Mia!”. Pretty sure that’s it).
Shout out to the one usher at the Young Vic who was READY to snatch cell phones. We could be friends.
1 Comment
And a problem it is . Damn what a world we live in.
I guess love is love is love has no meaning in London theater .
Well written 😍
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