It's a Mad Mad Mad "Mad House" with Bill Pullman and David Harbourby Randi / August 30, 2022It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are finally talking about ‘A Strange Loop’, this year’s Best New Musical Tony Winner and all-around contender for BDE BME!
What a season for Michael Jacksons! Michael R. Jackson, Tony-winning phenom (remember that show? anyone? about tennis?) and creator of brave new worlds of musical theatre, has given modern MT a gift of a new show, new in every conceivable way, and reminded everyone in the scene how important it is support new works and artists. Because it could produce THIS! His intimate and clever and unique show follows Usher, a Black queer man working as an usher at The Lion King, who’s writing a musical…about a Black queer writer writing a musical…about a Black queer writer writing a musical.
I feel like a big book of cliches talking about how original this show is, but it’s true, and I’m not even talking about the hysterical jabs at Lion King and its audiences. We have a self-identified fat queer Black man being open and honest about his family and how unsupportive and sometimes cruel their treatment of him is; about his dreams and his demons, personified by the rest of the ensemble cast as his Thoughts; and about his sexuality, like full on not holding anything back. There’s sex between two men on a Broadway stage! The ancient old lady near me busted out a ‘well I never!’ but she loved it!
Usher quickly establishes himself as a sympathetic character. We’ve heard great things about Jacquel Spivey but he was out, and his understudy Edwin Bates was ridiculously good and a gorgeous singer. You can’t not love the guy for laying bare literally everything he could possible lay bare, including his bottom. As he struggles through living in New York with a dream that hasn’t yet come true, his interactions with his Greek chorus of Thoughts often trying to drag him down are incredibly easy to identify with by anyone human. Surely everyone has had similar experiences with self-doubt, maybe self-hatred, but wowie zowie has anyone so openly put them on literal display like this? It’s so intimate and raw.
You get right up inside Usher’s emotional life, his fears and self-doubts, and self-loathing, and his family struggles. It feels like eavesdropping, like you should be apologizing and turning around being like ‘don’t worry I didn’t see anything you’re fine!’ instead of paying hundos of dollars to watch. The intensity of the intimacy is astounding, and I think it’s one of the main reasons it caused such a storm.
The score is so much fun, hilarious and joyous at times, heartbreaking and soulful at others. Why was the most beautiful melody in the show, the one that stuck in my brain the most after hearing it only once, given to the lyric “the second-wave feminist in me is at war with the dick-sucking Black gay man”? Because this MJ is a genius who says ‘why tf not!’
The gloriously bold writing doesn’t just focus its power on the character, but of course turns the tables on the audience – but subtly. One of Usher’s Thoughts at some point says point blank how the topics they’re discussing makes it harder to allies to feel easily supportive, as the issues are less obviously things allies attach themselves to, not about slavery or Jim Crow or ‘intersectional issues like police violence’. It’s so blatant and ballsy, how it calls out the pitfalls of the people who fancy themselves decent allies, to show how they need to do more and care about actual people and not just issues that are easy to care about. The whole show very much feels like a ‘oh you want to support Black talent and art? How about this’ kind of thing to the stereotypical rich white audiences. Almost daring the audience to like it, or not, and think about why. And we liked it, and we loved it.
INFORMATION
The Lyceum Theatre belongs in an abandoned farm in rural Alabama, not on Broadway. It needs to close down and get refurbed like YESTERDAY. Move this show to a better theatre and take the needed time to build bathrooms that human-sized humans can use. And for the love of god get rid of the mens room in the balcony that opens FROM THE AISLE, wtaf? Who built that?
Also the Lyceum balcony is falling apart already — our row was on a slant, like we were falling towards one side and one buttcheek was higher than the other. literally what. And people are paying so much money for that.
Leaving the theatre, we saw The Real Michael R. Jackson! We got to talk to him and I said some stupid things as I do! What a treat!
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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.
Ian McKellen Live in London is the Best G-D Thing in London Right Now
Ian McKellen is dazzling audiences at the Harold Pinter Theatre until January 5.
However high your expectations are for Ian McKellen’s one-man show at the Harold Pinter Theatre, he will exceed them. Doing a celebratory ‘birthday’ tour around the UK, which makes a ton of sense because I know all I like to do for my birthday is work my ass off (??), Sir Ian (honestly he earned this title just with this performance) is showing everyone why he is such an icon: because he’s g-d incredible.
This birthday he’s celebrating, he’s like what, 100? 110? And has more stamina and energy than most performers nowadays. He is up there alone for THREE HOURS. Yeah, it’s a 3-hour show! We thought maybe it would be a one act 90-minute situation, but the first act alone was 90 minutes! (The Harold Pinter website says it’s 2 hours 25 minutes with an interval, and just like its namesake, that theatre tells lies.) The performance is a life onstage, truly, a nonstop whirlwind of his entire multi-decade career, from stage to screen, from his early school days to his most precious memories, and of course, his recollections of the very first theatre he saw.
But of course, the show begins with a bang, as audio from The Lord of the Rings movie (one of them) booms over the blackened theatre until the spotlight reveals Sir Ian ‘reading’ (he has everything memorized, I don’t know how; he explains later ‘well it’s my job’ but even so man, even so) from Tolkien’s book (“it was a book first!”), the section around the famous “You shall not pass!” part. So yeah, he knows, give the people what they want right off the bat. The thrill of seeing this man saying these words in person was only topped by his bringing out his actual sword from the movies – and letting a ‘youngster’ (she looked my age, I’m pissed, I would have volunteered) come on stage to wield it.
His entire persona is pitch-perfect for this kind of show, where his effortless charm and affability make anything and everything he decides to do utterly enjoyable. Monologue from earlier stage works? We love it! Yes! Silly stories about Christopher Lee and everyone who brags about having read LOTR? Yes! We love it! Anecdotes about Judi Dench as a cat? Benedict Cumberbatch as a baby? Starring in his first panto? YES, WE LOVE IT ALL!
The first act is generally the story of his life, as he talks about the highlights of his career as well as the earliest theatre memories he has. The loveliest parts of the show are about his family and his coming out, and he ping pongs your heart between the warming and the breaking so quickly and so easily that you almost forget to pay respect to the art of his storytelling, some of the most brilliant storytelling imaginable. He makes all of this seem like he’s just chatting with friends in the most pleasant, wonderful way, and you’re too busy enjoying it to realize how revolutionary that is for an actor of such stature, and how astonishingly talented he has to be to make all of this work.
Just when you think you can’t be any more impressed, he decides to completely blow you away with the second act. He literally goes through every. single. Shakespeare play. All 37 of them. It’s quite the magnificent feat: He pulls 37 paperback copies of the plays out from his trunk, from which all his props came, and tells the audience to yell out titles as we think of them. Whenever he hears one, he picks up that paperback and either tells a wonderful story about his favorite production of that, or his favorite memory of when he was in that or when his friend (usually Dench) was in that…OR, he will just flat out do a 10-minute monologue from memory. Sometimes hearing the big speeches out of context doesn’t have the same power that seeing it in a play would, but sometimes, as with his monologue from Cymbelline that he used to eulogize the loved ones he’s lost, it still manages to be extraordinary, and to remind you that he’s not just your new best friend – he is a capital-A Actor, and he’s f-ing amazing.
INFORMATION
I honestly haven’t been so happy about my seat in a theatre in a while. I remembered my last experience at the HPT and used that info to make sure I had the seat right next to the exit in the stalls that is RIGHT at the Ladies bathroom – H22. You’re welcome. (Ladies bathroom users, you will want to sit house left in the stalls to get to the bathroom.) If you want to catch some of the candy, fruit, or giant cucumber he will throw into the audience to explain what the fork panto is, sit in the front center.
