My New Favorite Restaurant in Baltimore: L'Eau de Vie Organic Vegan Brasserieby Randi / June 12, 2019It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is The Lehman Trilogy, currently playing in London’s West End at the Piccadilly Theatre until August 31.
When you walk away from a 3+ hour play thinking, “why didn’t they accomplish anything with that amount of time?”, you know something’s wrong. With The Lehman Trilogy, ostensibly about the Lehman Brothers global financial services firm but mostly about the family dynamics of the previous generations, you learn zero about what this company did in the modern age. You learn tons, tons about the three founding brothers and their marriages and their interactions with their kids (fictionalized of course) and how the kids acted in school and who their kids married and why…but literally nothing about why this behemoth financial company failed in the 2008 market crash. And so this shockingly well-received play feels like an early draft that needs work. If you wanted to write a family drama, why frame it as being about the Lehman Brothers? Why not just write a family drama instead of suggesting it’ll have to do with the financial world at all? They could have easily swapped this family for any other family’s story and had the same effect.
Perhaps that was the goal of Italian writer Stefano Massini: to show the inner workings of the Lehman family’s personal lives and struggles instead of sharing any substance about their infamous company. But then I ask with even more urgency, why?! What do we care why billionaires had to divorce their wives, or why one billionaire spent a lot of time betting on horses? Were we supposed to relate to their troubles, because I don’t. Why choose the Lehmans if not to talk about the last incarnation of the company and its 2008 collapse? The huge financial crash we all lived through felt like the elephant in the room for Acts II and III, like ‘um, guys, why aren’t we talking about that, or seeing what’s going to cause it?’ It’s such a strange choice, to focus the play on what the various Lehman generations were personally like yet to skip over everything relevant to our lives.
I discuss play length frequently, because it’s so interesting to see what different people can do with different amounts of time. Despite what you’d assume from the writing on this site, in my regular life I cherish efficiency. With more than 3 hours, you assume a play can make its point, yet here it was so much wasted time. We had endless jokes about the youngest brother being a potato; we had too much time wasted on one of the descendant’s annoying wife; we had a long, slow list of names of bankers (unrelated to the characters) who committed suicide; we had literally 10 minutes of Adam Godley doing the twist through the 20th century, instead of telling us what the company was doing to bring about its downfall. This play feels like the second draft, a work in progress that needs a dramaturge to help find its purpose.
Clearly the play wanted to be about the family, especially the three founding brothers – and the part that was about them, the first act, was the most compelling part. In the beginning, they managed to successfully portray the brothers’ dynamics while also showing what the actual company was like at the start, what kinds of financial decisions they made and why. So it can be done. (And as we’ve seen in superior plays like Enron, you can have interesting characters (who actually interact and don’t just narrate to the audience, a wearying trend) while simultaneously teaching about the financial industry, the company’s role in it, and how it all went to shit. Enron even had dinosaurs help us learn.)
But then the following two acts feel like a battle between the playwright’s objective – wanting to stick with the family biography – and everyone else’s expectation that the action was ‘supposed to’ get to the later incarnations of the company as a financial giant and, of course, the 2008 crash. I kept thinking ‘surely now they will get to the relevant part? Surely…now?’ By the time it did, it was too late to do anything worthwhile, and so they simply didn’t. They didn’t really mention what the work was even like in modern times. In fact, the last 5 minutes of the show felt like a mad dash of the entire creative team to the finish line, like everyone was shouting “OH SHIT WE ONLY HAVE A FEW MINUTES LEFT AND WE’RE IN 1980 QUICK LET’S SAY DECADES ARE PASSING AND THEN OH NO IT’S 2008 WE CRASH THE END.” I’m pretty sure that’s the ending verbatim. It felt that sudden, that unplanned. The surprise of a dozen otherwise unused actors standing in a boardroom sadly at the end felt equally misguided.
I have to believe that other critics are raving about this play entirely because of the acting. With the stellar trio of Simon Russell Beale, Ben Miles, and Adam Godley, the acting is absolutely top-notch. Sam Mendes inventively directs them not just as the three founding Lehmans, but as their wives, their kids, their grandkids, as they seemingly effortlessly weave in and out of various personas with the bat of an eye, a slight change in voice. Their acting skills were as impressive as it gets, but they deserve a play that delivers too.
INFORMATION
The Lehman Trilogy runs just under 3 hours and 20 minutes, with two 20-minute intervals (which is the best way to do long shows). As is the despicable trend among London theatres these days, they held the curtain for latecomers to arrive. MY DUDES. Stop holding the g-d curtain for latecomers. If they’re late, let them wait till the late seating time. If there is no late seating, then actually respect your own policy and don’t forking let the latecomers dictate the schedule for everyone else. It’s so rampant now, this issue, that we all may as well take our sweet ass time getting to the theatre 5-10 minutes late because it doesn’t matter anymore, there are no rules, they will hold it for you. APPARENTLY. SMDH.
It was also one of the smokiest rooms I’ve ever been in, and I was seated in the stalls. This is because the main lobby’s entrance doors were open and there’s a bar next door and no staff gives a good g-d that people were smoking literally in the doorways, to such an extent that the smoke traveled through all the stairs and hallways and into the stalls at full strength. That is inexcusable. Aren’t there RULES?!
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“Amadeus” at London’s National Theatre: Toxic Masculinity at its Finest
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about the revival of “Amadeus” at London’s National Theatre,
The best theatre, in my opinion, comments on society or humanity in a smart or clever or meaningful way. Sometimes it makes you feel things, and sometimes the thing it makes you feel is anger. I haven’t felt truly angry from a play in a long time, but “Amadeus”, a fascinating, provocative, wonderfully staged revival of the Peter Shaffer classic at the National Theatre, made me so angry I couldn’t talk for hours afterwards. Granted I was angry about other things too (hellooooo cops are terrorists and a traitorous turd cheeto runs America and will any lads EVER care that drinking is illegal on the tube?? Ugh my stomach hurts all the time like Chidi) but this show definitely added to my seething yet impotent rage. And overall I’m glad for it, because theatre should do things like that. The depths of evil that man can sink to are well known today, especially in the political and business realms, but it was nice to see that evil men exist in music too! Evil men everywhere!
“Amadeus” tells the tale of Antonio Salieri, once considered the best musician in Austria, and if you were the best in Austria in the 1700s, you were the best in the world. He’s throwing back champagne and high-kicking it at parties with royals and the best of society in Vienna and eating all the mascarpone cream he can get, and he’s enjoying a considerable amount of power in the court as Kapellmeister, which my computer recognizes as a word yet it has underlined both turd and cheeto so wow bravo to all involved. Soon though, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart arrives on the scene to challenge Salieri’s place as numero uno in music. It’s not really a challenge because Mozart is, well, Mozart and there’s room for everyone in music and their relationship in real life was a lot more amiable than the play depicts. But facts are not what this play cares about, and though it makes me angry how many people might think that it’s a factual retelling of history and thus consider both figures to be sickening in certain ways, it does make for a more interesting play to pit them against each other as lethal rivals. Well, in one direction only.
This play, called “Amadeus” as you can see because that’s Mozart’s middle name and a play called “Wolfgang” would probably draw the wrong crowd (though I’d be there for that play too) (omg it could be an absolutely terrifying crime drama or just about pups) (please let it be about pups), instead of taking notes from history completely rewrites history, so know that before going in or seeing the movie. The characters as depicted are fictionalized entirely except for names and like jobs and things they wrote. Got it? It begins with Salieri as an old man bemoaning his lot in life and how his God betrayed him by making Mozart so talented and also he kind of admits to poisoning Mozart and being responsible for his death and his entire downfall so you’re like hmm this guy is a piece of shit, right? He is, good observation. Old Man Salieri clearly has lost his marbles and is scared of meeting his God that he had denounced and failed by being such a shitty person. Salieri, played by Lucian Msamati, is captivating throughout the play, but it’s a difficult jump into his performance in the beginning. It opens with him talking, and talking, and talking, and you really have to listen and it was kind of exhausting because it’s the most tedious part of the show. And it takes a minute to get used to his enunciation. My mind wandered a little in those first few minutes and I had to remind myself to pay attention, which is not a good sign but it is a result of how this is written. It’s a very big ask to dive straight into endless monologuing. Anyway I got over it in five minutes like Doug Dorsey (omg remind me to check if “The Cutting Edge” is on Netflix prayers up) and then I was in it.
After Salieri’s deathbed confessional/droning, we flashback to his heyday in the Viennese court, as he impresses everyone with his simplistic compositions and stays true to his god. Everything looks peachy keen for him but then he hears about young upstart named Mozart. He goes to a party to hear him play and is riveted, stricken with the realization that the person he is listening to play is beyond earthly talents and gifts. But when he sees that the person bequeathed by god with such gifts is an infantile, idiotic fool of a man, Salieri is disgusted and angry with his god. Salieri is very self-involved, you see. He believes that his god, whom he has been so devoted to his entire life, has betrayed him personally by giving such musical gifts to such a fool. So, naturally, Salieri denounces his god and commits his life to destroying Mozart’s. And destroy it he does, all while making Mozart believe that he’s his friend, which is as cruel and deceptive as you get.
Lucian Msamati’s performance is remarkable and very powerful. However, I was most taken with Adam Gillen’s as Mozart. It’s a bizarre, kind of wacky, unbelievably physical portrayal and a very divisive one. I heard old British farts afterwards talking about how good the show was but how Mozart was just ‘altogether too much,’ with too much going on that it was distracting. But I am HERE for it. or WAS THERE for it. I thought Gillen’s rambunctious physicality and strange mannerisms and truly nutty line readings made for an extraordinary performance. It was overwrought but clearly carefully considered and it worked to convey Mozart’s peculiar, immature, zany, and truly crazy character. (Remember he wasn’t actually an absurd fool.) I’m surprised too because usually I’d be like ENOUGH ALREADY I GET IT YOU ARE KOOKY but he was quite effective. It helps that his role is significantly smaller than Salieri’s; I’m sure that if he were onstage the whole time it would be as exhausting for the audience as it no doubt is for the actor. But as is, it was a great performance, and through all the folly, he really connected emotionally with the audience in Act II so much as to be heart-breaking, which is no small feat.
The other highlight of the production was how the entire thing was staged. Having never seen this show before, I can’t comment on how much is due to director Michael Longhurst’s vision but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t hurt to give him the credit. I loved how the orchestra was part of the show, with all of the musicians and all of their instruments on stage whenever music was playing. The musicians, all dressed in black, were the townspeople, the court, the citizens reacting to gossip about the two famous composers, all while playing the composers’ works. Not only did this staging effectively show how the populace played into the drama, but it was also simply nice to see the orchestra onstage instead of hidden underneath it. A great spark of life came from it.
And we do hear lots of Mozart’s work throughout the show, so even for a play there is still a good deal of music, which is my kind of play. We hear his operas as they are produced and performed for the first time, we hear them with Salieri and react in the same way – in total awe. Well maybe not the same amount of awe, for most of us have heard them before and in better ways but you get what I mean. We get a scene from The Marriage of Figaro and watch Salieri positively aghast at how ingenious it is. We get a snippet from Don Giovanni and are like howww did the rest of the populace not realize they were amongst a genius? We unfortunately get the most famous part of The Magic Flute – the Queen of the Night aria – and yes it’s the best part and yes it’s so famous that they had to do that part but it is also the hardest part to sing and let’s just say it’s not like the greatest opera singers in the world are spending their time doing plays where they have 10 minutes of stage time. Not to be mean not to be mean.
The music was used very effectively to match the drama, as Salieri realizes how great it is and how bad he is in comparison and the music grows along with his horror. At the end of the first act the music of the performance builds into a giant dramatic ‘boom’ of an ending as Salieri cowers in insignificance and I thought HOLY CRAP that is a KILLER way to end an act! It was that kind of act break that totally pumps you up with its drama and its success in making you feel all kinds of emotions and then…it wasn’t actually the act break. It should have been, but instead Salieri talks to the audience for 5 or 10 more minutes, putting words to what we just witnessed kind of unnecessarily. This monologue after what I thought was a great button to the entire act was like letting air out of a balloon. Just so unsatisfying when the most incredible alternative was so close within reach. Salieri talks about how Mozart is so good despite being a fool, and he’s so angry that his god has given such gifts to such a fool so now he will turn against god and destroy Mozart as a way to get back at god. And you’re like a) we kind of just saw that with your good acting show don’t tell and all that and b) you couldn’t have explained anything left unclear at the beginning of the next act? I just really loved that button that wasn’t meant to be.
The build-up of how Mozart’s unmatched musical genius destroys Salieri’s sense of self and sense of how he himself fits into the world occurs dramatically and believably, but the problem for me was that Salieri is such a piece of shit that there is no chance of feeling any empathy for him, and if you don’t feel empathy for the main character it’s kind of hard to care. All the caring, at least on my part, came for poor sad Mozart, unwittingly destroyed by another man’s jealousy. But Salieri made me furious because he was a monster, and I realized how that’s the most realistic part of the whole show – that some people really truly are horrible monsters with zero capacity for empathy themselves and so they give no reason for you to have any empathy for them. With two lead actors in the play (and one black even though it’s a white historical figure so yay because that’s just common now and that’s great) I couldn’t help but think of Hamilton, and how we have a historical villain and our hero. But Hamilton blurs the lines between good and bad, and although Burr makes some pretty significant mistakes, he ends the show aware of his failures and remorseful of his mistakes. He regrets thinking that because Hamilton was better than him at certain things that that meant he had to destroy him. Whereas Salieri is like shit this idiotic fool is better than me I must destroy him, and even on his deathbed he regrets nothing. Even then, he bellows about how his deplorable actions ensured that he will be remembered forever, because history will always remember Mozart and his incredible talent, but it otherwise would have forgotten about ordinary old Salieri, so by linking himself with Mozart’s destruction and death he will always be remembered too. He doesn’t care one bit that it will be in infamy; he’s glad for it lest it mean he would be forgotten. The comparison to Hamilton is clear, in that Burr is forever linked to Hamilton’s name, but at least in that fictionalized account of things he didn’t aim for that. Salieri thinks the desire to be remembered excuses his actions, and that is despicable and infuriating. And that’s what was so provocative about this play, the questions it raises about legacies and about being appreciated in your own time. It is never a question to me that it is better to be a good person and do good deeds in real life than worry about how history will treat you but I’m not a psychopath now am I.
“Amadeus” obviously makes for a very in-depth discussion of various issues. I haven’t even talked about how mind-numbingly clichéd its treatment of women is but chances are I’ll have plenty more opportunities to broach that subject in the future. The real dramatic element here is yet again the toxic male ego and I can’t think of anything I’ve seen recently that does a better job at exploring that.
INFORMATION
Okay I just looked it up and it closed on Tuesday! I had NO IDEA we were seeing it on its final weekend! Eek sorry. It had a super short run (3 months) for such a huge production. I wonder why! Okay I looked it up again and apparently this was just a sweet little revival of the revival, which had its real run over a year ago! It was so beloved that they brought it back for a 3-month hey-thanks-for-loving-us farewell tour. Can’t believe I wasn’t aware of any of this ahhh.
AUDIENCE
The audience at the National skews older so they are usually more whispery than phone-y. Honestly whisperers are harder to deal with because you look like a jerk if you say omgggg stop whispering so much but you are a hero for reporting people who use their phones well at least that’s how I think of it. I report phone users ALL DAY ALL DAY.
NATIONAL THEATRE
If you guys are reading this, know that my fury after the show was like 40% from the questions raised by the play as intentioned and eleventy billion percent because of your incompetence. There was NO STAFF in the circle (the mezzanine, which is the only upper level in this theatre). There were no ushers or guards or anything during the interval or after the show ended. And there was zero personnel at the start except for ticket-takers, but they were not acting as ushers. No one told people to shut their phones off, and more glaringly no one told the people in the front row of the circle not to put their shit on the overhang. The ledge – where speakers are attached – was lined with drinks because British people can’t go an hour without alcohol. In every single theatre in the world, an usher would come down and remind those patrons that you cannot put anything on that rim, let alone liquid, because if it tips, it falls on people sitting below. Or into the speakers. But no one apparently works there and so the drinks stayed there. I wanted to report something at intermission but couldn’t find anyone to report it to. It’s a good thing it wasn’t a very serious problem but I guess this means that that National Theatre is a-ok with anything you might think of doing since there’s no need for ushers or managers up there. I talked to a representative about this on twitter and they basically said ‘eh we don’t really need anyone up there and after the show there was a security guard by the FRONT DOOR’ (meaning down 5 flights of stairs) so I guess that is blanket permission to take pictures and film whatever performances that you want to so have fun! (Theatres here must do better, in case you haven’t picked up on that yet.)
This play, called “Amadeus” as you can see because that’s Mozart’s middle name and a play called “Wolfgang” would probably draw the wrong crowd (though I’d be there for that play too) (omg it could be an absolutely terrifying crime drama or just about pups) (please let it be about pups), instead of taking notes from history completely rewrites history, so know that before going in or seeing the movie. The characters as depicted are fictionalized entirely except for names and like jobs and things they wrote. Got it? It begins with Salieri as an old man bemoaning his lot in life and how his God betrayed him by making Mozart so talented and also he kind of admits to poisoning Mozart and being responsible for his death and his entire downfall so you’re like hmm this guy is a piece of shit, right? He is, good observation. Old Man Salieri clearly has lost his marbles and is scared of meeting his God that he had denounced and failed by being such a shitty person. Salieri, played by Lucian Msamati, is captivating throughout the play, but it’s a difficult jump into his performance in the beginning. It opens with him talking, and talking, and talking, and you really have to listen and it was kind of exhausting because it’s the most tedious part of the show. And it takes a minute to get used to his enunciation. My mind wandered a little in those first few minutes and I had to remind myself to pay attention, which is not a good sign but it is a result of how this is written. It’s a very big ask to dive straight into endless monologuing. Anyway I got over it in five minutes like Doug Dorsey (omg remind me to check if “The Cutting Edge” is on Netflix prayers up) and then I was in it.
After Salieri’s deathbed confessional/droning, we flashback to his heyday in the Viennese court, as he impresses everyone with his simplistic compositions and stays true to his god. Everything looks peachy keen for him but then he hears about young upstart named Mozart. He goes to a party to hear him play and is riveted, stricken with the realization that the person he is listening to play is beyond earthly talents and gifts. But when he sees that the person bequeathed by god with such gifts is an infantile, idiotic fool of a man, Salieri is disgusted and angry with his god. Salieri is very self-involved, you see. He believes that his god, whom he has been so devoted to his entire life, has betrayed him personally by giving such musical gifts to such a fool. So, naturally, Salieri denounces his god and commits his life to destroying Mozart’s. And destroy it he does, all while making Mozart believe that he’s his friend, which is as cruel and deceptive as you get.
Lucian Msamati’s performance is remarkable and very powerful. However, I was most taken with Adam Gillen’s as Mozart. It’s a bizarre, kind of wacky, unbelievably physical portrayal and a very divisive one. I heard old British farts afterwards talking about how good the show was but how Mozart was just ‘altogether too much,’ with too much going on that it was distracting. But I am HERE for it. or WAS THERE for it. I thought Gillen’s rambunctious physicality and strange mannerisms and truly nutty line readings made for an extraordinary performance. It was overwrought but clearly carefully considered and it worked to convey Mozart’s peculiar, immature, zany, and truly crazy character. (Remember he wasn’t actually an absurd fool.) I’m surprised too because usually I’d be like ENOUGH ALREADY I GET IT YOU ARE KOOKY but he was quite effective. It helps that his role is significantly smaller than Salieri’s; I’m sure that if he were onstage the whole time it would be as exhausting for the audience as it no doubt is for the actor. But as is, it was a great performance, and through all the folly, he really connected emotionally with the audience in Act II so much as to be heart-breaking, which is no small feat.
The other highlight of the production was how the entire thing was staged. Having never seen this show before, I can’t comment on how much is due to director Michael Longhurst’s vision but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t hurt to give him the credit. I loved how the orchestra was part of the show, with all of the musicians and all of their instruments on stage whenever music was playing. The musicians, all dressed in black, were the townspeople, the court, the citizens reacting to gossip about the two famous composers, all while playing the composers’ works. Not only did this staging effectively show how the populace played into the drama, but it was also simply nice to see the orchestra onstage instead of hidden underneath it. A great spark of life came from it.
And we do hear lots of Mozart’s work throughout the show, so even for a play there is still a good deal of music, which is my kind of play. We hear his operas as they are produced and performed for the first time, we hear them with Salieri and react in the same way – in total awe. Well maybe not the same amount of awe, for most of us have heard them before and in better ways but you get what I mean. We get a scene from The Marriage of Figaro and watch Salieri positively aghast at how ingenious it is. We get a snippet from Don Giovanni and are like howww did the rest of the populace not realize they were amongst a genius? We unfortunately get the most famous part of The Magic Flute – the Queen of the Night aria – and yes it’s the best part and yes it’s so famous that they had to do that part but it is also the hardest part to sing and let’s just say it’s not like the greatest opera singers in the world are spending their time doing plays where they have 10 minutes of stage time. Not to be mean not to be mean.
The music was used very effectively to match the drama, as Salieri realizes how great it is and how bad he is in comparison and the music grows along with his horror. At the end of the first act the music of the performance builds into a giant dramatic ‘boom’ of an ending as Salieri cowers in insignificance and I thought HOLY CRAP that is a KILLER way to end an act! It was that kind of act break that totally pumps you up with its drama and its success in making you feel all kinds of emotions and then…it wasn’t actually the act break. It should have been, but instead Salieri talks to the audience for 5 or 10 more minutes, putting words to what we just witnessed kind of unnecessarily. This monologue after what I thought was a great button to the entire act was like letting air out of a balloon. Just so unsatisfying when the most incredible alternative was so close within reach. Salieri talks about how Mozart is so good despite being a fool, and he’s so angry that his god has given such gifts to such a fool so now he will turn against god and destroy Mozart as a way to get back at god. And you’re like a) we kind of just saw that with your good acting show don’t tell and all that and b) you couldn’t have explained anything left unclear at the beginning of the next act? I just really loved that button that wasn’t meant to be.
The build-up of how Mozart’s unmatched musical genius destroys Salieri’s sense of self and sense of how he himself fits into the world occurs dramatically and believably, but the problem for me was that Salieri is such a piece of shit that there is no chance of feeling any empathy for him, and if you don’t feel empathy for the main character it’s kind of hard to care. All the caring, at least on my part, came for poor sad Mozart, unwittingly destroyed by another man’s jealousy. But Salieri made me furious because he was a monster, and I realized how that’s the most realistic part of the whole show – that some people really truly are horrible monsters with zero capacity for empathy themselves and so they give no reason for you to have any empathy for them. With two lead actors in the play (and one black even though it’s a white historical figure so yay because that’s just common now and that’s great) I couldn’t help but think of Hamilton, and how we have a historical villain and our hero. But Hamilton blurs the lines between good and bad, and although Burr makes some pretty significant mistakes, he ends the show aware of his failures and remorseful of his mistakes. He regrets thinking that because Hamilton was better than him at certain things that that meant he had to destroy him. Whereas Salieri is like shit this idiotic fool is better than me I must destroy him, and even on his deathbed he regrets nothing. Even then, he bellows about how his deplorable actions ensured that he will be remembered forever, because history will always remember Mozart and his incredible talent, but it otherwise would have forgotten about ordinary old Salieri, so by linking himself with Mozart’s destruction and death he will always be remembered too. He doesn’t care one bit that it will be in infamy; he’s glad for it lest it mean he would be forgotten. The comparison to Hamilton is clear, in that Burr is forever linked to Hamilton’s name, but at least in that fictionalized account of things he didn’t aim for that. Salieri thinks the desire to be remembered excuses his actions, and that is despicable and infuriating. And that’s what was so provocative about this play, the questions it raises about legacies and about being appreciated in your own time. It is never a question to me that it is better to be a good person and do good deeds in real life than worry about how history will treat you but I’m not a psychopath now am I.
“Amadeus” obviously makes for a very in-depth discussion of various issues. I haven’t even talked about how mind-numbingly clichéd its treatment of women is but chances are I’ll have plenty more opportunities to broach that subject in the future. The real dramatic element here is yet again the toxic male ego and I can’t think of anything I’ve seen recently that does a better job at exploring that.
INFORMATION
Okay I just looked it up and it closed on Tuesday! I had NO IDEA we were seeing it on its final weekend! Eek sorry. It had a super short run (3 months) for such a huge production. I wonder why! Okay I looked it up again and apparently this was just a sweet little revival of the revival, which had its real run over a year ago! It was so beloved that they brought it back for a 3-month hey-thanks-for-loving-us farewell tour. Can’t believe I wasn’t aware of any of this ahhh.
AUDIENCE
The audience at the National skews older so they are usually more whispery than phone-y. Honestly whisperers are harder to deal with because you look like a jerk if you say omgggg stop whispering so much but you are a hero for reporting people who use their phones well at least that’s how I think of it. I report phone users ALL DAY ALL DAY.
NATIONAL THEATRE
If you guys are reading this, know that my fury after the show was like 40% from the questions raised by the play as intentioned and eleventy billion percent because of your incompetence. There was NO STAFF in the circle (the mezzanine, which is the only upper level in this theatre). There were no ushers or guards or anything during the interval or after the show ended. And there was zero personnel at the start except for ticket-takers, but they were not acting as ushers. No one told people to shut their phones off, and more glaringly no one told the people in the front row of the circle not to put their shit on the overhang. The ledge – where speakers are attached – was lined with drinks because British people can’t go an hour without alcohol. In every single theatre in the world, an usher would come down and remind those patrons that you cannot put anything on that rim, let alone liquid, because if it tips, it falls on people sitting below. Or into the speakers. But no one apparently works there and so the drinks stayed there. I wanted to report something at intermission but couldn’t find anyone to report it to. It’s a good thing it wasn’t a very serious problem but I guess this means that that National Theatre is a-ok with anything you might think of doing since there’s no need for ushers or managers up there. I talked to a representative about this on twitter and they basically said ‘eh we don’t really need anyone up there and after the show there was a security guard by the FRONT DOOR’ (meaning down 5 flights of stairs) so I guess that is blanket permission to take pictures and film whatever performances that you want to so have fun! (Theatres here must do better, in case you haven’t picked up on that yet.)
Broadway’s “Fiddler on the Roof”: It Might Be Over But Nope It’s Never Over
“Fiddler on the Roof” is an important show for so many reasons. It’s a golden age classic with a memorable score that has held up today. It’s up there with other classics like “The Sound of Music” and “Singin’ in the Rain” in terms of how important they were to my upbringing and development. But most significantly, Fiddler is a consistent reminder to a people who apparently need consistent reminding that the fight against racism and fascism is a serious one, a terrible one, and an apparently never-ending one. “Fiddler” has never been as relevant in my lifetime as it is today, as we grapple with the shock and terror of the government discriminating against an entire religion again. Despite this fantastic revival closing over a month ago on Broadway, I’m still thinking about it regularly, about how fantastic this cast and production were, how moved I was at moments that I never really cared for before, how yet again theatre exactly reflects the struggles of humans today. I don’t usually write about things I’ve seen that have long since closed, but I have been thinking about it constantly and about how important it is to keep talking about the issues raised by this beautiful show and to add to the chorus of sane people who don’t think religious persecution is okay.
If you aren’t familiar with “Fiddler on the Roof”, a) I don’t know how you put pants on and b) you really should rent the movie at the very least. IT IS A MARVELOUS CLASSIC. It’s about a poor milkman named Tevye who lives with his wife Golde in Anatevka, a small village in Russia in the early 1900s, right about when the violent pogroms of that decade (not to be confused with violent pogroms of other decades) were happening. Tevye’s favorite thing to kvetch about is that he has five daughters. “Five?” “Five!” he always answers in a way that conveys how hard it is and also how proud he is. Tzeitel is the oldest, and she is in love with her best friend, the tailor Motel Kamzoil, in an era when marriages were arranged. Hodel is the next oldest, followed by Chava. We follow these three as they fall in love and deal with the ramifications of their choices, when they aren’t supposed to be making any choices. We also have Shprintze and Bielke, the little ones who don’t do much but for damn sure will be the names of two of my future dogs.
If you’ve only seen the movie with Topol, then you still know how great the show and the score are and Topol is on your list of Top Five Mosts. Or maybe you have seen footage of original Tevye, Zero Mostel, or at least have the original Broadway cast recording and love Zero. Topol and Zero set the bar for most Tevyes to be somewhat comical and often over-the-top, as well as establishing the unwritten rule that actors playing Tevye have ridiculous names. But Danny Burstein turned all of that on its head, surprisingly, but beautifully. First of all, his name is Danny. Second of all, his Tevye was more grounded, warmer, and unbelievably charming. His humor – and there was so much of it – came not from the usual comic broadness but more from a place of warmth, sincerity, and Elmo-levels of adorableness. In fact, I would not have been surprised if his Tevye had been given an extra song called “The Letter of the Day” (p.s. my favorite song). He does get angry and mean at times, of course, but it’s more believable and moving because he built up that earnest and loving foundation. He’s a much more rounded and authentic character because of it.
And he wasn’t the only stunningly authentic aspect of this revival. More than any other production of Fiddler, this revival felt real, like it was happening in real life. I mean maybe that’s because it is, actually, happening in some form, and in America no less. But the family and the townspeople came across as people I felt like I knew, whose struggles I cared about sincerely. The sparse set of the farm and the effective lighting helped Danny tell his story in a way that made me forget I was in a theatre. (Well, until the grown ass adults who don’t know how to behave in the theatre needed to be shushed behind me.)
As soon as it began, this production distinguished itself from all others. Bartlett Sher, one of the greatest directors today of golden age musicals, used a very controversial framing device to open and close the show. At the start, Burstein walked onto the stage in modern clothes, wearing a red ski jacket, bare-headed, and he looked around Anatevka while holding a book – the book that Fiddler was originally based on, Tevye And His Daughters, by Sholem-Aleichem (pen name obvs). He said the famous opening line of the show – regarding the precarious perch of a fiddler on the roof, “sounds crazy, no?” – in this outfit. Then he slowly took off the jacket and put on his Tevye cap and prayer shawl and transformed into Tevye, like he was a modern man exploring his ancestors’ history, going to Anatevka both in person and in the abstract. I’d heard a lot of debate about people loving or hating this tiny update, and I expected to hate such a change to a revered classic, but I thought it was very effective in its message. More on that at the end.
That was the only noticeable difference, and in less than a minute we were off to a rollicking start with “Tradition”. The medium-sized chorus on that cavernous empty stage seemed a little wrong at first but the joy of the song and the enthusiasm of the cast improved it. We then saw a little interaction between Tevye, his wife Golde – one of those great early stereotypes of a shrew who always gives her husband a hard time – and the matchmaker Yente. In her small role, Yente is usually worth her comic weight in gold, and although at first I was resistant to Alix Korey’s more restrained Yente (compared to the usual), she quickly won me over with her hilarious, sarcastic line readings.
As we went into “Matchmaker” I remembered that nearly every song of this score is beloved and memorable. I got even more excited but then kind of disappointed, as “Matchmaker” was the one part I was annoyed with. “Matchmaker” should be a bouncy, energetic song. Yet most of this rendition was slow, thudding along sadly despite the song screaming for liveliness. Also, this is one of Tzeitel’s only real moments to shine, yet I thought the usually-great Alexandra Silber was lackluster. Between her substandard vocals and the too-slow tempo, it was the one low point of the production.
Luckily, the next Top 10 hit on the schedule was “If I Were A Rich Man”. If I were a rich man, I would have made a tie in last year’s Tony Awards so that Danny Burstein could have won a much deserved award despite the existence of Hamilton. He was everything. I am still in awe of his performance. He made this ridiculous song feel important and touching and he was so lovable. His little celebratory shimmy that he did throughout “Rich Man” will stand throughout eternity as one of the Top 3 Shimmies, up there with Hillary Clinton’s Debate Shimmy and John Mulaney’s Realtor Trying to Pressure Him into Having a Baby Shimmy.
Tevye’s relationship with his wife was, as was the trend, also more understandable and moving than I’ve ever seen. This is probably because Danny was amazing and Judy Kuhn, as Golde, was his equal. I was kind of upset not to have caught the original Golde of this production, Jessica Hecht, with her kicky beret. (Hecht was Susan, Ross’s ex-wife’s lesbian lover, throughout the entire run of ‘Friends’. You know her.) But not really, because Judy Kuhn was the most exciting replacement they could have possibly announced. She is always dependable and guaranteed to move you to tears even when she only has one song (one insane killer song) like in “Fun Home”. I loved their bickering and Danny was at his funniest when responding to her. And Judy made Golde, who is usually played harsh in her shrewishness, seem like the grounded reasonable one in the family, more pleasant than ever.
As for the daughterssss the daughters, they were solid in general. As I said before, Silber’s Tzeitel was kind of disappointing considering that she is usually great, but she wasn’t bad. I loved Adam Kantor’s Motel (the tailor Motel Kamzoil, as you always have to say), mainly because he was a dead ringer for every boy who went to my camp. Real Main Line Jewish looking. I would have loved to see him as Jamie in “The Last Five Years”. His “Miracle of Miracles” was joyous and fun, although the blocking felt a little off. He and Tzeitel were far apart a lot, which is weird when they are celebrating their love and impending marriage. I also really enjoyed Samantha Massell’s Hodel. She had a gorgeous voice and her presence just felt right, very appropriate for the role. Melanie Moore’s Chava was very good too. I especially liked that she looked like Keri Russell with that signature pointy chinface and so it was like a small signal that she was going to fall for the Russian. Apparently, she was a winner on ‘So You Think You Can Dance’, which is awesome, so although the little dancing she did was beautiful, I would have loved a lot more, considering.
One of the best scenes ermagerd came really early; I forget how chockfull of winners this show is. “To Life”, the one everyone knows (or is that every other song), was su-freaking-blime. Tevye’s classic miscommunication with Lazar Wolf, when Lazar wants to marry his daughter and Tevye thinks he wants to buy his cow, is as wonderfully chauvinistic as ever and just hilarious in the hands of these actors. Throughout this show, even though you know what’s coming at every step, it’s still so enjoyable. And this is where the choreography from Hofesh Shechter started to shine. This choreography was a big deal, because productions usually use the original choreography or stuff that looks like it. Hofesh, instead, created this energetic and kind of wild choreography that really jumped off the stage and brought new surges of celebration to “To Life” and new levels of meaning to the movement in other scenes, namely the wedding scene, which seemed to go on forever yet ended too soon. It was glorious dancing. Somehow in its frenetic movement, the ensemble looked like they were black charcoal drawings that came to life. So many horizontal lines thrashing about and it really looked like sketch art. It was enthralling and entirely unexpected. I made a big deal last year about how “Shuffle Along” should have won the Tony for Best Choreography over “Hamilton”, but I later changed my mind when I started really looking at the latter’s lyrical movement. However, I honestly think I would have voted for “Fiddler” now; it was that unexpected and impressive. I mean anytime you have Jews in suits doing those super-low quad-burning Russian squat kicks I am IN. But in “To Life” and especially the wedding scene and its ‘bottle dance’, I was blown away by how scrappy and kind of feral the movement seemed and how much I was reminded of etchings. It made me really understand the meaning in movement, as it was obvious that these men (it was mostly the men dancing like this) were dancing for their lives, trying to keep it jubilant but veering towards desperate, reflecting their struggle in their increasingly violently anti-Semitic society.
The scene I was most excited to see on Broadway was the big dream sequence, when Tevye fakes a visit from his grandmother beyond the grave in order to convince Golde to allow Tzeitel to break the engagement with Lazar. Grandma Tzeitel’s little old lady voice always kills me and here was no exception. Danny and Judy were wonderful on their little twin beds too. I was really surprised, however, at how Fruma Sarah, Lazar Wolf’s deceased wife, was done. I expected her to fly. Even in our high school production we had the girl flying around in the rafters like a real scary ghost would. Instead, Fruma Sarah was a giant demon in statue form, wheeling around the stage at maybe 20 feet tall. Really odd! It still worked okay, especially with the ghostface killah ensemble, but I remember thinking this is so weird! Like a giant statue. On wheels. And no flying! Whatevs.
At least one thing that went as expected was how moving “Sunrise, Sunset” would be. It was beautiful and perfect, although every time I hear that song, I can’t help but remember our high school production and how one night our Tevye began the song singing the second verse, and all the kids facing me, with their backs to the audience (so, the other main characters) were cracking up and shaking. Hilarious. This was not hilarious but it was lovely, and followed by the aforementioned impressive extended dance scene, including when the men danced with bottles balanced on their heads. I’m sure they were attached somehow but that didn’t matter. I didn’t want it to end. Well except it’s the last part of Act I and I really had to pee but you get what I’m saying.
The wedding scene is also where the real drama of Fiddler starts to boil over, when it’s no longer about family problems but about an entire people being persecuted. So, it’s when the decent people in the audience start shifting in their seats and going, oh shit, this is familiar. The Russian officers of the village break up the wedding and destroy everything and threaten all the Jews with continued violence. It was devastating to watch even without the real-life context, but with it, it was chilling.
In Act II, the next two daughters, Hodel and Chava, see their frowned-upon romances bloom as Tevye struggles to handle how everything he knew to be sure is falling apart, as the Russians take more control, more violence occurs, and the village hears more news of Jews in similar villages being forced to flee. Whereas before I would be upset with Tevye when his anger erupts at his wife or children, thinking why can’t he just let them be happy, it made a lot more sense to me through Danny’s performance. Everything he knew is changing against his will. All of his traditions are being destroyed, his family is separating in ways he never expected, and his entire way of life is threatened because of his religion. Each part separately would be a lot to handle, so expecting him to retain any semblance of self-control or compassion is expecting too much of one decent man.
As the threat of the Russian takeover builds, Hodel falls in love with the girls’ high-minded revolutionary tutor Perchik, a very political activist who I hope has been reborn today to help fight in this same fight again. Sure he gets sent to Siberia as punishment for his activism but at least he’s fighting injustice. Ben Rappaport did a fine job as our activist, and even though Perchik gets what I think is the ugliest song ever written for musical theatre, “Now I Have Everything”, he made it bearable. Seriously though, it’s such a bad song. It’s really hard to not sound terrible on, and then it ends on the wrong note, kind of like the end of Javert’s Soliloquy when all of a sudden you’re like oh what I was not expecting that note in that key to be where that phrase ended up, but at least for Javert the music swells and changes to make that weird ugly note make sense and it all resolves. Nothing resolves in “Now I Have Everything”, it just stays ugly like nails on a chalkboard as the final ‘wrong’ note just lingers. Yeesh. Hodel’s relationship with Perchik, though very briefly shown, felt believable, mostly because Samantha did a fantastic job with her heartbreaker of a song, “Far From the Home I Love”. These later scenes felt extra touching because the lighting changed with the mood of the show, as Tevye’s heart broke more and more.
Meanwhile, Chava develops a relationship with one of the very Russians destroying their lives, Fyedka. Sure he is one of the nice ones, but he’s still part of the group that is persecuting Tevye and his people. It’s more than Tevye can be asked to manage, and so he orders his daughter to stop seeing him, even though she loves him, because he is the enemy. I always hated Tevye when he disowns Chava after she elopes with Fyedka, but Danny made Tevye’s journey to that decision so convincing that even though it’s cruel I could understand why and how he could do that. It’s the only thing left for him to do in his efforts to keep a handle on what he knows to be true. And his fragile and heartbreaking “Chavelah” was too much for any of us to handle. Ugh it’s so sad.
Then of course there’s no time to mourn because the Russians are forcing all the Jews to flee their homes for who knows where because people are terrible and dogs should rule the planet and make things better. “Anatevka” is as sad as ever, more so because, like I said a hundred times, this is happening again and I don’t want to think about how many people in that audience helped make it happen and/or aren’t doing anything to fight it. We all know now that “Fiddler” is timeless, but who thought that 50 years on it would not only have such a lasting score and important message but that it would be so scarily relevant to what’s going on in our society? This is where the framing device used in this production really paid off. As the villagers wheeled their carts, stuffed with all the belongings they could fit, around the stage to signify their leaving during “Anatevka”, Tevye separated himself without really being noticed and Danny showed up in the modern clothing and the red coat again. As the villagers sang, he watched and then decided to join them, taking the handles of a cart from one of them, breaking through the division between his ancestors’ past and his present, the world he knows and the world whose history he was exploring to show that their fight was his fight and vice versa. He represented us, today, and how we are now facing that same choice of whether to join in that same fight that the people of Anatevka were fighting. It was so effective, and so frightening. It was a small, subtle way to lift this production to even higher levels of quality and emotional significance. I hope that this show, one of the most widely produced musicals ever, continues to be performed and continues to inspire and teach people about religious persecution. And that religious persecution is wrong; I feel the need to clarify nowadays. It’s wrong! Okay? Got it?! good.
