Strong London Transfer of Sorkin's To Kill A Mockingbirdby Randi / March 31, 2022Today’s show is Anyone Can Whistle, at the Southwark Playhouse in London until May 7, so hurry (or not)
It’s not often you get to see a new-to-you Sondheim show when you’re a Sondheim devotee! Or ever! But indeed the Southwark’s production of his insane musical Anyone Can Whistle, with book by noted goofball and apparent magic mushroom-lover Arthur Laurents (I’M JOKING) (am I), is my first full production of his lesser-known show. Sure I knew the score, especially those bangers “There Won’t Be Trumpets” (thanks to Mandy Patinkin) and “Everybody Says Don’t” (thanks to Sutton Foster). How could I have ever guessed that the fairly decent-to-great songs compose a show that would have us going ‘what’ ‘why’ ‘what’ ‘wait but why’ every few minutes?
Anyone Can Whistle tells the tale of a corrupt mayor (excuse me, ‘mayoress’) and her lackeys who need to get money into their very poor town, in which the only operating business of any sort seems to be the mental institution ridiculously named The Cookie Jar, with all patients (inmates) called cookies. (Is Paula’s nickname for Rebecca on “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend” Rachel Bloom’s little nod to Sondheim? I say yes.) They…they decide to pump a rock full of water? and have it be a miracle when much needed water comes shooting out of a rock. Pilgrims mfing FLOCK to see the magical water miracle. They’re all like (Lewis Black voice) ‘we gotta SEE the big fucking thing!’ Money pours in as the mayoral team sells tickets to see this water rock. I’m not saying I wouldn’t pay money to see a nice water feature but that’s just me I’m weird. As a town-saving gimmick, this shit’s A LONG SHOT. INTO THIS STORY SO FAR! KEEP UP THE NONSENSE IN A FUN WAY.
The nurse at the Cookie Jar (imagine going to nursing or medical school and being a professional healthcare worker and having to tell people your facility is called The Cookie Jar), Nurse Apple, wants to bring all her cookies to the miracle, either to prove it’s fake or just in case it’s legitimate, it’s unclear. This is where things started to get dicey and not in a ‘oh we’re all having fun!’ way. Apple’s only characterization from the book is that she’s skeptical and straight-laced, and I needed more/any further character development from the actress to make her make sense. She says she wants a hero to deliver the town from corruption, to save her cookies? And so she disguises herself as a French miracle inspector. It makes no sense if all we get is that this nurse is a no-fun-having idealist whose big idea is to dress like a French prostitute who just woke up to try to shut the miracle down. Could’ve done that in oodles of other ways that weren’t so nothing, Arthur. GETTING LESS INTO THIS STORY.
Meanwhile, a man named Hapgood shows up and the town is like ‘oh are you the new doctor for The Cookie Jar’ and he’s like OKAY SURE! and no one asks Dr Timothee Chalamet for like ID or anything, so immediately a thinking person would guess that he’s def NOT the doctor but he’s charismatic like a bright bone-free human version of the inflatable things outside car dealerships, and they tell him ‘okay you’re in charge of figuring out who’s crazy and who isn’t, just like, go through the town and tell us who gets locked up in the jar.’ NOT THE BEST SYSTEM. Then he and the disguised Nurse Apple meet and immeds try to seduce each other for very unclear reasons. From here, the last 10-15 mins of Act I (and then all their scenes in II) become tedious because it’s hard to know how to be onboard with whatever’s happening, because what is happening? Are they actually into each other? Did they have any clue who the other was? Why is she dressed like this? Is the abrupt change from the silly French joke song (which did have some funny lines) to the heartfelt title song supposed to be sincere?? How are we supposed to make that jump? It doesn’t have a payoff. And though they are both clearly talented actors, I felt they were both unforch miscast, at least when taken together. We need their chemistry to build support for the weak story, but they have no chemistry, so much so that it’s like a negative amount and made it hard to accept love at first sight (if that’s what we were supposed to take from it?). Like in a college play my best friend’s now-husband and I were voted Third Most Awkward Couple in the show but if this couple were in it we would have gotten Fourth, or even like Tenth because that’s how many places they would claim with their abundance of no-chemistry.
From here it gets confusing about what’s happening and honestly the wikipedia plot summary doesn’t seem to match what I saw, so maybe they updated things but it wasn’t clear. The miracle gets shown to be a fraud, yada yada yada, Hapgood is revealed to be a new cookie/patient, yada yada yada, Apple and Hapgood decide to be together. OFFICIALLY NOT A FAN OF THIS STORY.
So yeah it’s weird af and not in a fun ‘let’s ride this crazy train all the way to Kansas’ way, since the lack of strong character development made it hard to jump on board since you’re like ‘but where is the train, does this train know it’s a train’. But this production is entirely worth seeing for one reason: Alex Young as Mayor(ess) Cara Hoover Hooper. Even in her first performance with a sprained ankle and on crutches, she has the audience eating out of her hand, especially me, this supes old lady in the front row who was LIVING for her, and the young man in the front row who became one of the main characters. She has the comic timing and fully inhabited presence of an actor that understands the character she’s playing, which is rare. Every utterance and glance is hysterical and entertaining. I was giggling like a cookie at everything she did. She’s giving a masterclass in using the audience, too; everything she did with/to the aforementioned man was genius-level improv (even though drinking from his glass gave me the covid shivers, but no one cares about that anymore!). And while I think those two main characters were miscast, they and the rest of the cast overall were game and energetic.
MASK COUNT: 7
SOUTHWARK PLAYHOUSE PIZZA STATUS: STILL GREAT
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Dear Evan Hansen in London: Hot Damn I Love this Show
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is Dear Evan Hansen, now playing in London at the Noel Coward Theatre until the end of time if there’s justice.
Man alive does it feel good to see a flawless show in this old town! You know from my review of past productions of Dear Evan Hansen (off-Broadway and Broadway here) that I love this show. However, there were concerns among some (myself included) that the show might rely on the talents of original star Ben Platt to succeed as much as it did. His is a singular talent that seems born for this role, and the role tailor-made for him, so it seemed valid to wonder if his incredible performance was what made the show great. While Benny boy is definitely the definitive Evan, and no one can match his vocal ability in this role – in particular his ability to sing and emote through snot-dripping tears – it’s safe to say the success of this phenomenal musical does not rely on him, and the West End is doing it proud.
Dear Evan Hansen tells the story of – you guessed it – Evan Hansen, a high school outcast with no friends, a single parent working overtime to pay the bills, and a broken arm. When a fellow student commits suicide, there’s A Misunderstanding that the deceased and Evan were friends, and the grieving family is so overjoyed at the thought of their son having had a friend that Evan goes along – and builds – the lie instead of coming clean. He benefits in many ways from prolonging his lie, but of course he can’t continue lying forever and in different ways to the family, his mom, and his friends. And this means it all goes to shit, which is when Platt did his aforementioned incredible snot-faced singing. Although Sam Tutty, our British Evan, doesn’t fall to as many wet pieces, his Evan is great (and we found ourselves weirdly feeling proud of him). He makes the journey so believable and real, and his timing and inflection may be even more impressive than his vocals. DEH is EMOSH and stunning in its mature handling of the subject matter while also managing to be hysterically funny at times. The emotional beats, the fun songs, the heartbreaking songs, the nuances that build these characters so fully – the creators did everything they could to establish a watertight show, and this cast and production team take it and run with it.
This is the extraordinary and rare show that has a fantastic score and equally strong (maybe even more gripping) book scenes, a feat rarely witnessed, all while capturing today’s yoots and their struggles in a way that’s relevant and modern without seeming condescending. Now that I know all the music so well, I could concentrate on the book scenes more and really appreciate how well written and well performed they were. And I am convinced even more that this is a flawless show. On this viewing, I was curious to see if I could find any merit to the complaints about Evan the character. Since DEH’s bow, we’ve had lots of fans arguing on message boards about how Evan deserves more punishment or how he’s an evil person or how he’s the villain in the story. I don’t know if it’s because they’re under 26 and their brains aren’t done yet but I cannot see how someone can watch this show and think anything close to that. It’s so obvious to see Evan’s struggle, with the part of him that knows he should tell the truth, with his desire to not cause the family any more pain, with his longing to belong, and wit his attempt to just make grieving people feel better. No, he’s not perfect, and his Act II spiral out of control as he takes down his first friends shows this, but it’s so obvious that his hostility is due to his lack of control in trying to do the right thing (also his baby teenage brain unable to handle all that is happening). People who think he’s evil clearly don’t watch The Good Place, where the most important thing is to try to be a good person. Evan is trying to do the right thing – he thinks what he has chosen is right because it makes the family feel better. And yeah he’s lying but he’s not a Kantian; he thinks that it’s for a good reason. It seems impossible to me not to empathize with his predicament, especially when you know what he’s been through himself.
Anyway, despite my incessant rantings about how British musical theatre does not compare to Broadway and how productions are just done better there because musicals are treated with more respect whereas here there’s this weird need for Brits to always assure the world that they value straight plays more AND the history of panto seems to bleed too much into their vision of musical theatre – well, that’s a long essay, apparently, for another day, so despite all that, this production is ace, as we Brits say. Tutty is giving the star turn of the year, and the supporting cast is equally good. Along with the absence of Platt, I was worried about the absence of Rachel Bay Jones as his mother, since her performance was pitch perfect and as usual she found more to the character than is written. While Rebecca McKinnis might not have uncovered as much between the lines or with her delivery as RBJ somehow magically did, she was no disappointment, and her ‘So Big/So Small’ was the most emotional part of the show, even more than Evan’s breakdown. It was perfect. If I did my own awards (should I do my own awards) they’d all be winners.
INFORMATION
The Noel Coward theatre is one of those ‘stalls is below ground’ theatres, so if you don’t like being below ground, sit in the circle. Also, the ladies bathroom is house right, right next to the circle entrance. If you go for stalls like we did (CRY ON US), there’s a ladies in the back of the theatre with 4 stalls??? Like good luck even getting back there at the interval. Or you can sit house right and run upstairs for the circle one. RENOVATE THESE THEATRES, GUYS.
Stagedoor: We waited for just under 10 minutes but it was too cold. If it’s too cold to wait, it’s too cold to make them talk to you.
“Three Tall Women” on Broadway: A Magnificent Revival for the Ages
It’s…not Theatre Thursday, but this production closes on Broadway today and I didn’t realize.
Joe Mantello is a magician. Not a director, not an actor, a magician. Everything I’ve seen him do, whether it be acting or directing (okay, he is an actor and a director), is flawless, and his direction of the latest revival of “Three Tall Women” is that again, plus all the other superlatives you could think of. Of course, Joey M had the benefit of directing some of the best actresses of the modern age, as well as the rich source material of this challenging, thrilling play. I was unfamiliar with this particular Edward Albee classic, but I am happy to say that it continued the trend of my enjoying and appreciating Albee’s plays, which is a nice change of pace from my reactions to other playwright kings (*cough* Pinter *cough* Mamet*). I bought tickets to TTW superfast because Glenda Jackson, the closest you can get to royalty without being royal, was making her big return to Broadway after her amazing life of winning two Oscars, playing King Lear in London, and…serving in Parliament for more than twenty years. I had to go see the f-ing thing!
Joe Mantello is a magician. Not a director, not an actor, a magician. Everything I’ve seen him do, whether it be acting or directing (okay, he is an actor and a director), is flawless, and his direction of the latest revival of “Three Tall Women” is that again, plus all the other superlatives you could think of. Of course, Joey M had the benefit of directing some of the best actresses of the modern age, as well as the rich source material of this challenging, thrilling play. I was unfamiliar with this particular Edward Albee classic, but I am happy to say that it continued the trend of my enjoying and appreciating Albee’s plays, which is a nice change of pace from my reactions to other playwright kings (*cough* Pinter *cough* Mamet*). I bought tickets to TTW superfast because Glenda Jackson, the closest you can get to royalty without being royal, was making her big return to Broadway after her amazing life of winning two Oscars, playing King Lear in London, and…serving in Parliament for more than twenty years. I had to go see the f-ing thing!
The other Two Tall Women were played by Alison Pill, who I like, and Laurie Metcalf, who I would probably engage in sword fight to protect. I’ve been lucky enough to see her onstage several times and every time, she’s Streeping it up like nothing you ever imagined. Those Steppenwolf actors really know how to make characters come alive. She’s in her Tony-winning element here, hilarious in the first scene and given the meatiest dramatic monologues in the second, and although her Tony was an upset over Denise Gough in “Angels in America”, it was so deserved.
So, this play is Albee’s answer to the question of what goes through your mind when you face the moment of death, and it’s the most unique answer I’ve ever heard. It also deals with the inevitability of fate and how much it sucks to be old and how much you change as you grow old and how funny and heartbreaking Laurie Metcalf can be in the span of a few minutes. Well that last part’s not what the play is about but that’s what happens. The play is about a 92-year-old woman (played by Glenda) who is, well, 92. She old for the earth. But she’s hella fancy, and even though she’s ancient and frail, you can tell she’s rich and still able to exude a touch of the glamour she certainly had in spades years ago. She’s in her well-appointed bedroom with her strong, candid caretaker lady (Metcalf) who has the driest sense of humor and manages to make even her lines about how often the old lady pees the bed hilarious. She says that the lady’s daily doing-so is just her greeting to the day, and her delivery is, like gum, perfection.
These Two Tall Women have their regular routine disrupted by a young lawyer (Alison Pill) from the firm that handles the old lady’s finances. The youngen (the Third Tall Woman) is understandably frustrated, since the lady never returns the documents they send or keeps track of her paperwork. It’s a mess handling her money, and the lawyer grows ever more impatient with her task as the lady repeats hazy memories of her childhood in various ways instead of answering questions. The lawyer’s irritation is with the lady personally and with what happens to the mind of the elderly in general, and Metcalf’s caretaker is irritated by the lawyer’s irritation and she tries to get her to stop fighting them and accept that this is what happens when you get old. The three of them trade barbs amid Glenda’s stories, mainly about her sister and her mother, who, we are told repeatedly except when it is transferred to stories about her father, was ‘strict but fair.’
Glenda is a force in this role, which seems like it was written especially for her. Not only did she win the Tony, she won this year’s Distinguished Performance award from the Drama League, which is my favorite award of the year because only one performer gets it – no male/female, lead/supporting bullshit, ONE performance. And there was no question that she was winning it. Seeing her perform was an honor. Her rapport with Laurie’s straight-talking character is lovely in its candor and kindness, as Laurie helps steer her many stories forward but never by correcting her many mistakes. It’s clear Laurie has dealt with this for a long time and knows it’s best to let Glenda think she remembers her life accurately. The interaction between these two actors is that of masters, and Alison holds her on when thrown in there as well. You’ll notice I’m not using character names – they don’t have them. In the play, they’re listed simply as A, B, and C. Despite being specific women in this first scene, the nameless thing makes sense because they are such archetypes of their ages – the older lady who has been through it all, seen it all, and is getting it all kind of confused, and who demands to be placated by the younger women; the middle-aged woman steeped in the inevitability and effects of aging and thus resigned to the fact that we’re ‘dying from the day we’re born’; and the hotheaded, intolerant youth who thinks she knows more than everyone. In Scene 2 (the play is in two halves but I can’t say Act I or Act II because there’s no intermission, and I had to pee badly but it really was for the best, pacing-wise), the specific-yet-general form of their characters becomes even more meaningful, as they continue to fight about stages of life but with more emotional impact.
At the end of Scene 1, Glenda’s character has a heart attack or a stroke, some kind of serious incident, and the lights go out. After a pause, the lights rise, and Glenda is lying in the bed, which is now turned so her head is closest to us and the whole thing pushed farther away from us upstage, separated from the audience by a plexiglass/mirror barrier. Is she dead? Dying? Her hand flutters a bit, her head moves every now and then, so she’s not dead yet. But then all Three Tall Women – Glenda included – burst into the room. Our side of the room, which looks like it did before, only now we’re on this side of the transparent barrier, so we can all see Glenda, or whoever it is, lying in that bed like a one-sided reflection. They’re all dressed up like they just came from a fancy cocktail party, and much friendlier and more comfortable with each other than they were before. Who ARE these people, I wondered for a minute before it became clear.
Listen, I know I spoil pretty much everything I write about, but the moment in the beginning of Scene 2 when I realized what was happening, I gasped. I had no inkling what the central conceit was, or that there even was one. And I was not familiar with this play at all. Even though this production, this flawless, magical production, is closing today, it’s still a freaking Albee classic so there is a good chance you will get the chance to see it one day. And if you do, and you don’t already know what it’s about, I don’t want to spoil this realization for you because it was astounding. Everything made so much more sense and it was almost overwhelming how brilliantly it all played out. It’s absolute genius that struck me in a way few plays ever are able to.
Of course no set design this year can compare with the actual magic happening at the Harry Potter theatre, but part of me was wishing for this to win the Tony for set design, because that plexiglass barrier is so much more than meets the eye. The barrier between the two versions of that bedroom and what they, and the barrier itself, represent, was clever stage magic of the old school variety. How they managed to get certain things to reflect on themselves wherever the mirror was while others – namely, the three women – did not, I will never understand. And it’s ironic, because that’s all the three women do while in this antechamber version of the room: reflect on themselves. The only thing more astonishing that the central concept and how well it’s reinforced, and the incredibly nuanced expert acting, and the staging, and the directing, and everything, is the very last moment, which thank god is followed by the blackout because it rips you apart with its genius. Similar in nature to the final moment of “Hamilton”, it brings everything about the play together in one simple, sad, sweet act, and I gasped again so hard it was like a scream. So without saying anything more, we can simply say that this production forked me up big time. If I had one play-related wish to make, it would be that this was recorded for the Lincoln Center archives and that they decide to let PBS air it so everyone’s lives can be so enriched.
INFORMATION
I mean it’s closing today. If PBS doesn’t air it, get a NYC library card and then join the waitlist to watch it at Lincoln Center archives. Worth it.
STAGE DOOR
I saw a matinee so only Alison Pill came out. Honestly I don’t know what I’d think of the world if it was one where Glenda Jackson stage-doored.
So, this play is Albee’s answer to the question of what goes through your mind when you face the moment of death, and it’s the most unique answer I’ve ever heard. It also deals with the inevitability of fate and how much it sucks to be old and how much you change as you grow old and how funny and heartbreaking Laurie Metcalf can be in the span of a few minutes. Well that last part’s not what the play is about but that’s what happens. The play is about a 92-year-old woman (played by Glenda) who is, well, 92. She old for the earth. But she’s hella fancy, and even though she’s ancient and frail, you can tell she’s rich and still able to exude a touch of the glamour she certainly had in spades years ago. She’s in her well-appointed bedroom with her strong, candid caretaker lady (Metcalf) who has the driest sense of humor and manages to make even her lines about how often the old lady pees the bed hilarious. She says that the lady’s daily doing-so is just her greeting to the day, and her delivery is, like gum, perfection.
These Two Tall Women have their regular routine disrupted by a young lawyer (Alison Pill) from the firm that handles the old lady’s finances. The youngen (the Third Tall Woman) is understandably frustrated, since the lady never returns the documents they send or keeps track of her paperwork. It’s a mess handling her money, and the lawyer grows ever more impatient with her task as the lady repeats hazy memories of her childhood in various ways instead of answering questions. The lawyer’s irritation is with the lady personally and with what happens to the mind of the elderly in general, and Metcalf’s caretaker is irritated by the lawyer’s irritation and she tries to get her to stop fighting them and accept that this is what happens when you get old. The three of them trade barbs amid Glenda’s stories, mainly about her sister and her mother, who, we are told repeatedly except when it is transferred to stories about her father, was ‘strict but fair.’
Glenda is a force in this role, which seems like it was written especially for her. Not only did she win the Tony, she won this year’s Distinguished Performance award from the Drama League, which is my favorite award of the year because only one performer gets it – no male/female, lead/supporting bullshit, ONE performance. And there was no question that she was winning it. Seeing her perform was an honor. Her rapport with Laurie’s straight-talking character is lovely in its candor and kindness, as Laurie helps steer her many stories forward but never by correcting her many mistakes. It’s clear Laurie has dealt with this for a long time and knows it’s best to let Glenda think she remembers her life accurately. The interaction between these two actors is that of masters, and Alison holds her on when thrown in there as well. You’ll notice I’m not using character names – they don’t have them. In the play, they’re listed simply as A, B, and C. Despite being specific women in this first scene, the nameless thing makes sense because they are such archetypes of their ages – the older lady who has been through it all, seen it all, and is getting it all kind of confused, and who demands to be placated by the younger women; the middle-aged woman steeped in the inevitability and effects of aging and thus resigned to the fact that we’re ‘dying from the day we’re born’; and the hotheaded, intolerant youth who thinks she knows more than everyone. In Scene 2 (the play is in two halves but I can’t say Act I or Act II because there’s no intermission, and I had to pee badly but it really was for the best, pacing-wise), the specific-yet-general form of their characters becomes even more meaningful, as they continue to fight about stages of life but with more emotional impact.
At the end of Scene 1, Glenda’s character has a heart attack or a stroke, some kind of serious incident, and the lights go out. After a pause, the lights rise, and Glenda is lying in the bed, which is now turned so her head is closest to us and the whole thing pushed farther away from us upstage, separated from the audience by a plexiglass/mirror barrier. Is she dead? Dying? Her hand flutters a bit, her head moves every now and then, so she’s not dead yet. But then all Three Tall Women – Glenda included – burst into the room. Our side of the room, which looks like it did before, only now we’re on this side of the transparent barrier, so we can all see Glenda, or whoever it is, lying in that bed like a one-sided reflection. They’re all dressed up like they just came from a fancy cocktail party, and much friendlier and more comfortable with each other than they were before. Who ARE these people, I wondered for a minute before it became clear.
Listen, I know I spoil pretty much everything I write about, but the moment in the beginning of Scene 2 when I realized what was happening, I gasped. I had no inkling what the central conceit was, or that there even was one. And I was not familiar with this play at all. Even though this production, this flawless, magical production, is closing today, it’s still a freaking Albee classic so there is a good chance you will get the chance to see it one day. And if you do, and you don’t already know what it’s about, I don’t want to spoil this realization for you because it was astounding. Everything made so much more sense and it was almost overwhelming how brilliantly it all played out. It’s absolute genius that struck me in a way few plays ever are able to.
Of course no set design this year can compare with the actual magic happening at the Harry Potter theatre, but part of me was wishing for this to win the Tony for set design, because that plexiglass barrier is so much more than meets the eye. The barrier between the two versions of that bedroom and what they, and the barrier itself, represent, was clever stage magic of the old school variety. How they managed to get certain things to reflect on themselves wherever the mirror was while others – namely, the three women – did not, I will never understand. And it’s ironic, because that’s all the three women do while in this antechamber version of the room: reflect on themselves. The only thing more astonishing that the central concept and how well it’s reinforced, and the incredibly nuanced expert acting, and the staging, and the directing, and everything, is the very last moment, which thank god is followed by the blackout because it rips you apart with its genius. Similar in nature to the final moment of “Hamilton”, it brings everything about the play together in one simple, sad, sweet act, and I gasped again so hard it was like a scream. So without saying anything more, we can simply say that this production forked me up big time. If I had one play-related wish to make, it would be that this was recorded for the Lincoln Center archives and that they decide to let PBS air it so everyone’s lives can be so enriched.
INFORMATION
I mean it’s closing today. If PBS doesn’t air it, get a NYC library card and then join the waitlist to watch it at Lincoln Center archives. Worth it.
STAGE DOOR
I saw a matinee so only Alison Pill came out. Honestly I don’t know what I’d think of the world if it was one where Glenda Jackson stage-doored.
