City of Angels at the Garrick: Nearly Superb Production of a Nearly Great Showby Randi / March 12, 2020One Jewish Boy at Trafalgar Studios is Incisive, Upsetting, & Too Relevant
Honestly, forking finally. Stephen Laughton’s One Jewish Boy is the Jewish representation London’s theatre scene has been not only severely lacking but opening mocking the need for. A four-hander (that’s right) telling the story of a couple – one Jewish boy and one mixed race girl – over their 15-year relationship, Laughton’s work is like all our (the chosen our) anxieties about identity and prejudice in anti-Semitic England and the world at large distilled into an hour and a half of excellent, inventive, heartbreaking story-telling.
One Jewish Boy shares the relationship of Jesse and Alex and how anti-Semitism (and specifically its effect on the titular boy) affects their happiness. The storytelling jumps around through time to show Jesse and Alex at different points, from the day she serves him with divorce papers to the day they first meet, from their wedding day to the day he proposes, the day they decide to have a baby, in seemingly random but ultimately poignant order. The key flashback is glimpsed multiple times but never fully shown: a 2013 attack that left Jesse hospitalized. He was beaten on the street for being Jewish, as his white supremacist attackers shouted things about Hitler and gassing (lines that are played several times on the speaker system, definitely necessitating more of a trigger warning than I saw anywhere). Jesse rightly deems this a hate crime, and understandably suffers a sort of PTSD for years and years to come, as this realization of how much hate exists threatens his ability to live fully and without constant fear, for him and his son and his community. Alex thinks he should get over it.
Now I said that a little flippantly, and Alex does give him time (although the anti-therapy vibe is so very British and so very infuriating (and accurate)), but ultimately she cannot abide his inability to get over it. Even though it’s impossible not to be haunted by that sort of trauma, she sees a line where that crosses into debilitating preoccupation. And this is one of the several incredibly difficult and heavy ideas that this play handles so well. Even though I tended to side with Jesse, you see where Alex is coming from, regarding this and all their problems. Alex wants Jesse to stop letting his attack define how he sees the world. As someone who is mixed race, she definitely has experience with racism and with coping with it, and her view is valid. (Although it’s kind of ridiculous to ask a Jew to stop being anxious, like is she new.)
Where the play excels is in presenting these significant issues in a provocative way, where even if you side with one of them, you understand both and there’s no clear answer. The content is difficult because it’s so relevant, for really all young people trying to navigate a world of more blatant racism as well as longstanding cultural differences with the people in their lives. Laughton touches on incredibly important concepts like inherited trauma (done so well on season 2 of Transparent, btw), circumcision, and even who to vote for. (I appreciated the very new bits about Labour and Corbyn’s anti-Semitism in the recent general, since people are still blaming Jews for his loss and I could go on a big long rant as I have before about how Jews are really the only group to be blamed for not happily supporting people who have clearly shown to be against them but I won’t do that right now.)
A lot of the content is distressing and leaves you with a “well, fuck” kind of sigh, so the amount of laughter throughout is pretty remarkable. That’s due to the writing (some of the jokes, my god, RightMove is the Tindr for married people?? THAT IS TRUE) as well as the superb performances. Robert Neumark-Jones makes his Jesse open and vulnerable and deeply felt while also remaining likeable even when he’s being a dick, driving Alex, a vibrant Asha Reid, crazy in the good and bad senses of the word. It seemed obvious to me that in the sort of battle where no one is right or wrong, Jesse was clearly not wrong, but it could be that I identified with and understood him more for the obvious reasons. Or maybe I side so strongly with Jesse because he liked to stay home and Alex seemed like a ‘fun girl’ who likes to go out, yeesh. But they both feel so authentic and so connected to each other’s performances, making their characters’ fundamental differences all the sadder.
The only thing I actively disliked was putting forward as fact, through Jesse’s statements, the dangerous idea that white Jews are not white. This is an ugly battle that Jews face, and to give in to the idea that Jewish is a race and not a religious or cultural identity plays into and gives ammunition to the ever-increasing othering. It wasn’t clear if this was a statement being made by the author or a nuanced way to show that Jesse was going over the top with his obsession about the world rejecting him, but even if it was the latter I don’t think it will be clear to many theatergoers, who might think ‘oh I guess white Jews aren’t white’ (and London audiences are traditionally mmm not the best at getting nuance with these sorts of issues; see e.g. every single other review of mine).
Aside from that, One Jewish Boy is an exceptionally discerning and sensitive play, with sharp writing and strong performances. It’s a must-see for anyone who cares about society’s prejudice and racism and rising hate, which should be everyone.
INFORMATION
One Jewish Boy is playing at Trafalgar Studios 2, the small studio, until April 4. Studio 2 is on the bottom level, the same as the bar, with one 4-stall ladies room next to the bar. There are no bad seats as it’s a small square, but I had the best seat in the history of theatre and I’m super thankful – right next to the door. Also it was 20 minutes shorter than I anticipated so I was OKAY (shout out to Greg Serrano (you know what I mean)).
There is some smoking, not to much but amplified by the tiny unventilated room, which got a little rough for me but most people should be fine. If you’re in the front row you will get vaped in the face.
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Sondheim’s “Assassins” at the Menier: Creepy, Provocative, & Flawless
“Someone tell the story, someone sing the song. Every now and then the country goes a little wrong. Every now and then a madman’s bound to come along! Doesn’t stop the story – story’s pretty strong. Doesn’t change the song.” Stephen Sondheim’s brilliant, dark, and often funny look at what drives certain people to commit atrocities, “Assassins” is an exceptional and provocative show. Its current production at London’s Menier Chocolate Factory is one of the most well-done shows I have yet seen in London. If you are a frequent reader, you may be thinking, well that doesn’t say much. However, I could say right now that I found not a single fault with it…but then you’d have little reason to keep reading, so I won’t.
These above-quoted opening lines of the show (the true opening of the story, after a crazy sort-of prologue) reflect what our main characters seek: for their story to be added to history, to become part of the main story, be sung of. To gain fame as part of history’s need to always mention them in the same breath as the great men they assassinated. And that’s what this story brilliantly tells – how Lincoln, Garfield, McKinley, Reagan, Ford, all these important presidents, were killed or almost killed, but by barely mentioning their names. The names that matter here are the assassins – Booth, Guiteau, Czolgosz, Hinckley, Fromme – as we see things from their perspectives. To make things even more twisted and frightening, this is staged in a sort of abandoned carnival, with each assassination attempt treated as a carnival game and lit-up “Hit!” or “Miss!” signs accompanying each gunshot. Like carnivals weren’t scary before.
First, the central character: “Johnny Booth was a handsome devil!” These lyrics are hella true in this production. Broadway’s Aaron Tveit is adoooorable. More importantly, he handles the vital role of John Wilkes Booth sublimely, being a charming and debonair Southerner who clearly conveys a base desire for ill-gained notoriety. Although his main action (killing Abraham Lincoln, obviously) is done early on, he hangs around to support the others, because, as the Balladeer sings early on, “Damn you, Johnny! You paved the way for other madmen to make us pay!” Booth pretty much started a trend in America, and so his presence is required throughout the show.
First, the central character: “Johnny Booth was a handsome devil!” These lyrics are hella true in this production. Broadway’s Aaron Tveit is adoooorable. More importantly, he handles the vital role of John Wilkes Booth sublimely, being a charming and debonair Southerner who clearly conveys a base desire for ill-gained notoriety. Although his main action (killing Abraham Lincoln, obviously) is done early on, he hangs around to support the others, because, as the Balladeer sings early on, “Damn you, Johnny! You paved the way for other madmen to make us pay!” Booth pretty much started a trend in America, and so his presence is required throughout the show.
Despite his inherent evil, Booth seems the most stable of all the characters, and probably is. The most unstable is also my favorite. “Look on the bright side, not on the sad side…I am going to the Lordy”, sings Charles J. Guiteau, the most weirdly likable character in this production, probably because the actor, Andy Nyman, is so damn good in this role, petrifying but kind of lovable. Guiteau was executed for killing President Garfield, after being denied the ambassadorship to France, which he had long assumed would be given him when he requested it. Some of the lyrics to his big song actually came from the poem he wrote the day of his execution and recited on the gallows as he laughed and danced, before hanging. The poem was called “I am going to the Lordy”. Sondheim turned this into the most catchy, horrifyingly optimistic song that captures Guiteau’s, well, gallows humor and clear insanity. Here, Guiteau also sings and dances on the gallows, performing a cakewalk and an ever-intensifying song before swinging from the noose in front of us. It’s so disturbing and so powerful. Also, Nyman does the best American accent by a Brit that I’ve heard so far in London theatre.
Before deciding to kill the president, Guiteau writes books that don’t sell and he convinces himself and others that he’s the future Ambassador to France. By seeing our characters’ failures and blown ambitions, you start to feel for them. You think, this poor guy couldn’t catch a break, and yes obviously needs mental healthcare that no one is going to provide. The music and the stories lead you on a path to almost commiseration, and then hopefully you snap out of it and realize how f-ed up you have to be to consider making this turn. But that’s the genius of “Assassins”, showing history from their perspectives and forcing you to recognize their humanity.
Personal failures as well as professional failures take blame for coaxing some down this path. “I am unworthy of your love” is a duet between two strangers, Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme (Carly Bawden) and John Hinckley Jr. (Harry Morrison), the failed assassins of Gerald Ford and Ronald Reagan, respectively. The memorable and pretty lovely song shows how some are led towards awful deeds in trying to impress others. The show’s Hinckley is an odd man who can’t find love, in the all-too-familiar sense of men like the Santa Barbara killer who get angry and frustrated when women, whom they were told their whole lives that they as men were entitled to, rebuffed them. Our society’s continued view of women as playthings and pretty things that men should have a say over is creepily reflected in this character, as he decides to kill a president in order to impress a movie star enough that she’d actually know he existed (as opposed to, say, the modern version of men killing the women who threaten their world view).
Fromme, on the other hand, tries to assassinate Ford in order to impress her lover, Charles Manson, whom she believed was Jesus reincarnated. And if Jesus wishes for you to kill the president, you do that! (No, seriously, don’t, even if it’s really Jesus.) Luckily, she and Hinckley failed. In this production, Fromme’s failure is shown as mostly due to her ridiculosity of a partner in crime, played by British favorite Catherine Tate as Sara Jane Moore. It’s a smallish role but she’s hilarious. A lot of people think Tate plays it too over the top, but I found her antics necessary to brighten up all the dark psychology of the show. (Except when she accidentally shoots her dog. Not funny. Luckily a stuffed dog was used, so sort of funny.) Her best bits include her shooting practice on a bucket of KFC, after which she eats the chicken. But nothing is funnier than when Moore and Squeaky botch their assassination attempt so freaking badly that, in their mad rush to complete it in a crazy moving crowd, they are unable to reload and instead throw bullets at Ford while shouting ‘Bang!’ Amaaaazing.
The real brilliance of the show is demonstrating how a person’s disappointment in living a small life can lead to such a path, just to make some kind of name for himself. And we know this so well. Mental instability of all sorts leads many to commit mass atrocities because, as we know, our media will make perpetrators famous. Whenever the awful story of a school shooting or of President Lincoln’s final days is told, so too will the name of the murderers, or of Booth.
No one explains this better than Booth himself, who uses it as a selling point when trying to persuade our narrator, the Balladeer, whose identity becomes a beyond genius twist (that was added in the revival, and I can’t see the musical being as poignant without it). In the recording I know best, my balladeer was Neil Patrick Harris, so my favorite songs had a pop-star clarity and zest to them. Here, the Balladeer is sung like a twangy country singer by Jamie Parker, but it totally works and won me over. So the Balladeer has been on the sidelines all night, telling the tales of others most judgmentally – in the above-quoted “Ballad of Booth”, he reinforces that those madmen who have made us pay “have had their say, but only for a day….Angry men don’t write the rules and guns don’t right the wrongs. Hurts a while but soon the country’s back where it belongs.” But as things come to an end, the Balladeer is not so convinced that the country bounces back so easily, if ever, and he’s more open to discussion about leaving his moral high ground, not wanting to end things as a simple narrator strumming his guitar, but as someone who, like his subjects, will live forever in infamy as long as his target lives forever in fame. Booth tells him that their names will always go hand in hand, that just as Lincoln’s great life and deeds will never be studied without Booth’s being studied and remembered as well, so too will the next great Assassin in this way share the triumphs of his victim. It’s incredibly disturbing and true, that a killer can so easily usurp the greatness of his victim. (I wish so strongly for the media should stop reporting the names of people who commit mass shootings and the like, somehow, if it would make sense. Gaining such immediate fame is often the only goal, and I wish there was a way to not give these awful people the satisfaction of being remembered. (It would also be great if we had legit mental healthcare systems but that’s maybe more farfetched.))
All of this is demonstrated pretty remarkably by The Proprietor, the gun salesman and carnival runner, played hauntingly by Simon Lipkin, who represents a sort of universal id. He lures our characters into the darkness by reminding them of the show’s eerie twisted theme, that “Everybody’s got the right to be happy”. He opens the show with lines like, “Hey kid, failed your test? Dream girl unimpressed? Show her you’re the best – if you can shoot a president”, chillingly blunt lyrics that immediately set the disturbing and blackly humorous tone for the show.
That Sondheim makes you think all of this, makes you laugh and feel heartbroken at the world, all in a 100 or so minute musical is a testament to his genius. That this extremely difficult show is such a rousing success is a testament to the Menier, to this spectacular cast, and to this faultless production, which is now completely sold out, and rightly so. With any luck, it’ll transfer to mainstem West End so more people can appreciate how freaking great this show is.
“Urinetown” in the West End: A Privilege to See
This is my nightmare, honestly. No exaggeration, do you know how much I pee? In the dystopian society of “Urinetown”, it is indeed ‘a privilege to pee’: You have to pay at a public utility each and every time you have to use the bathroom. Because of a 20-year drought, there are no more private bathrooms, and because it’s a dystopia, if you pee in the woods or in a bush or relieve yourself in any way (even accidents) without paying your fee, you get “sent to Urinetown”. It’s in quotes because it is indeed a euphemism for something horrible.
Who does all of that money go to? Why, obviously a private corporation! “Urinetown” was written by Mark Hollman and Greg Kotis before its first production in 2001, so these guys were Nostradamus levels of prescient. Okay maybe not Nostradamus because corporate takeover was happening then too but now it’s like crazy so this show seems even more appropriate and smart than it did back then. The superbly named Urine Good Company, run by evil mastermind Caldwell B. Cladwell (played wonderfully by British comedian Phill Jupitus), implements utility price hikes at its will, pays off all the weasely politicians to push terrible legislation through, and sends poor people who can’t pay for their morning pee off to Urinetown. He bad.
Or is he? One of the most interesting aspects of this show is how they blur all the lines distinguishing between the good guys and the bad guys. Cladwell may be a mean man responsible for lots of deaths, but his public bathroom system exists for a reason: There is extremely little water in the ground, and it has to be regulated. If toilet usage went up too much, the fragile water supply would be destroyed, hence his price hikes and strict rules for using the utilities. Now sure, people should still be able to pee in bushes without causing serious damage, but I didn’t see any shrubbery. Also, it would smell. Cladwell prides himself on keeping water in the ground and pee off the street.
Adding to the horror of this society is that no one actually knows what Urinetown is, except for apparently two policemen, who take victims there, and Cladwell, who invented it. The public assumes it’s a terrible sort of exile, a place even worse than the town we see, but it’s more than that. I feel I shouldn’t say.
One of the cops is also the narrator. He’s pretty funny and scary at the same time, but I got distracted by how strangely he pronounced some words in his attempt to turn his British accent into an American accent and then into a New York accent. People, there is no reason for this show to be American. The whole world is suffering and drying up in this show, so if they wanted it to be British they could have and then I wouldn’t have been distracted by accent issues. Of course, then it wouldn’t make sense when Cladwell talks about how much money he spent on his daughter’s college education; that’s an American thing.
His daughter is Hope Cladwell, a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed young girl who wants everyone to be happy!!! and who expects to take over her father’s company before her eyes are opened to the world of poverty and anguish that he is extorting. She falls in love with a young man, Bobby Strong, who works in one of the poorest public utilities, and Bobby shows her the real world and how awful it is. Together, along with a rag tag group of povers who look like zombies, they resolve to bring down Urine Good Company and let everybody pee for free! Yay! Peeing for free is the dream. I guess that’s another reason they didn’t set it in Britain – there are so many ‘public’ bathrooms that you actually have to pay for here*. Already. It’s starting.
*In fact, Greg Kotis got the idea for “Urinetown” when he was traveling through Europe and encountered all the pay toilets. How scary is that! It really is real.
Bobby is played by Matthew Seadon-Young, and he’s fantastic. He looks kind of like Superman but wearing his Clark Kent glasses. He sings really well and dances so furiously that an extended applause break was pretty much just to let him catch his breath. That extended applause came during the best number, “Run Freedom Run”, which kind of sounds like peeing yourself. It’s the most fun song in the show, done in a spiritual fashion, when the whole chorus gets to shine.
All the songs in this score, which won a Tony, have a clear purpose. I don’t remember thinking ‘they should have cut this’ at any point, meaning I wasn’t bored. The score is fun because all the songs are so different. You have the aforementioned high-pace spiritual. You have the lovely love song ‘Follow Your Heart’, with Bobby and Hope (a clear-voiced Rosanna Hyland) professing their love for each other, which made me think of the Love Theme from “The Hurt Locker: The Musical” (look it up). You have the dark and scary poor-chorus numbers ‘It’s a Privilege to Pee’ and ‘What is Urinetown’, the comic and ridiculous ‘Don’t be the Bunny’ by Cladwell, and more. None sounds like the other, or like anything else, and that is huge. The songs are much simpler than Sondheim, but it reminded me of his style because you don’t leave humming any easy melodies. There are no easy melodies here.
The book is structured as a look back on these sad times, with Officer Lockstock (not to be confused by his partner in fighting crime and committing crimes, Officer Barrel — GET IT?!) also acting as the narrator of this sad story. Little Sally, the most likable character in the show, is a poor spunky Annie-type girl who keeps asking Officer Lockstock why everything is so depressing and sad when this is a musical! And he responds that it’s not a happy musical. And Little Sally will say “But it’s still a musical!!” Karis Jack is fantastic here, in her West End debut. Lockstock is pretty good too but needs to work on the accent.
Obviously you root for the poor ‘good’ people against the evil corporation, and you are glad when the fighting is over and they come out on top. (Except for some of our main characters, who shockingly get sent to Urinetown. Not expected!) But more of this show’s twisted brilliance comes through in the epilogue. You had to pay for a reason, remember? There’s barely any water left. And without regulation, Hope’s new system of do what makes you happy!!! dries up everything pretty fast, resulting in a world that is, if possible, worse than what it was under corporate control. At least there was control there. That’s when they all realize that Urinetown, the horrible tortuous place they thought criminals (unpaying pee-ers) were exiled to, was actually where they lived now. They brought it upon themselves. (Also, Urinetown wasn’t that kind of exile, you learn in Act II. The truth is pretty grim.) It’s pretty freaking dark, right! Yet it’s so funny and enjoyable. This show is like a comedic “Sweeney Todd”. So much death, so much tragedy, and you laugh way too much. Definitely a must-see before it prematurely closes in a month. Anyway I have to go pee now. FOR FREE.
Adding to the horror of this society is that no one actually knows what Urinetown is, except for apparently two policemen, who take victims there, and Cladwell, who invented it. The public assumes it’s a terrible sort of exile, a place even worse than the town we see, but it’s more than that. I feel I shouldn’t say.
One of the cops is also the narrator. He’s pretty funny and scary at the same time, but I got distracted by how strangely he pronounced some words in his attempt to turn his British accent into an American accent and then into a New York accent. People, there is no reason for this show to be American. The whole world is suffering and drying up in this show, so if they wanted it to be British they could have and then I wouldn’t have been distracted by accent issues. Of course, then it wouldn’t make sense when Cladwell talks about how much money he spent on his daughter’s college education; that’s an American thing.
His daughter is Hope Cladwell, a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed young girl who wants everyone to be happy!!! and who expects to take over her father’s company before her eyes are opened to the world of poverty and anguish that he is extorting. She falls in love with a young man, Bobby Strong, who works in one of the poorest public utilities, and Bobby shows her the real world and how awful it is. Together, along with a rag tag group of povers who look like zombies, they resolve to bring down Urine Good Company and let everybody pee for free! Yay! Peeing for free is the dream. I guess that’s another reason they didn’t set it in Britain – there are so many ‘public’ bathrooms that you actually have to pay for here*. Already. It’s starting.
*In fact, Greg Kotis got the idea for “Urinetown” when he was traveling through Europe and encountered all the pay toilets. How scary is that! It really is real.
Bobby is played by Matthew Seadon-Young, and he’s fantastic. He looks kind of like Superman but wearing his Clark Kent glasses. He sings really well and dances so furiously that an extended applause break was pretty much just to let him catch his breath. That extended applause came during the best number, “Run Freedom Run”, which kind of sounds like peeing yourself. It’s the most fun song in the show, done in a spiritual fashion, when the whole chorus gets to shine.
All the songs in this score, which won a Tony, have a clear purpose. I don’t remember thinking ‘they should have cut this’ at any point, meaning I wasn’t bored. The score is fun because all the songs are so different. You have the aforementioned high-pace spiritual. You have the lovely love song ‘Follow Your Heart’, with Bobby and Hope (a clear-voiced Rosanna Hyland) professing their love for each other, which made me think of the Love Theme from “The Hurt Locker: The Musical” (look it up). You have the dark and scary poor-chorus numbers ‘It’s a Privilege to Pee’ and ‘What is Urinetown’, the comic and ridiculous ‘Don’t be the Bunny’ by Cladwell, and more. None sounds like the other, or like anything else, and that is huge. The songs are much simpler than Sondheim, but it reminded me of his style because you don’t leave humming any easy melodies. There are no easy melodies here.
The book is structured as a look back on these sad times, with Officer Lockstock (not to be confused by his partner in fighting crime and committing crimes, Officer Barrel — GET IT?!) also acting as the narrator of this sad story. Little Sally, the most likable character in the show, is a poor spunky Annie-type girl who keeps asking Officer Lockstock why everything is so depressing and sad when this is a musical! And he responds that it’s not a happy musical. And Little Sally will say “But it’s still a musical!!” Karis Jack is fantastic here, in her West End debut. Lockstock is pretty good too but needs to work on the accent.
Obviously you root for the poor ‘good’ people against the evil corporation, and you are glad when the fighting is over and they come out on top. (Except for some of our main characters, who shockingly get sent to Urinetown. Not expected!) But more of this show’s twisted brilliance comes through in the epilogue. You had to pay for a reason, remember? There’s barely any water left. And without regulation, Hope’s new system of do what makes you happy!!! dries up everything pretty fast, resulting in a world that is, if possible, worse than what it was under corporate control. At least there was control there. That’s when they all realize that Urinetown, the horrible tortuous place they thought criminals (unpaying pee-ers) were exiled to, was actually where they lived now. They brought it upon themselves. (Also, Urinetown wasn’t that kind of exile, you learn in Act II. The truth is pretty grim.) It’s pretty freaking dark, right! Yet it’s so funny and enjoyable. This show is like a comedic “Sweeney Todd”. So much death, so much tragedy, and you laugh way too much. Definitely a must-see before it prematurely closes in a month. Anyway I have to go pee now. FOR FREE.
1 Comment
So true Randi and how it resonance not only the Jewish population but all of us.
Bravo another wonderful review