The Minutes on Broadway: You Wish Your Local Council Was This Bonkerballs (you really don't)by Randi / August 18, 2022Woot I’m back from my weekend at the Edinburgh Fringe! We saw 9 shows these past few days (that is…exhausting! especially considering they all went at least 15 minutes long! we had to run across town a lot!) so I’m gonna talk about 3 at a time. First up, the Scottish Plays: Alan Cumming’s ode to Rabbie Burns; a promising but early-stages new musical ostensibly about Land but so far not; and the weirdest f-ing non-Beckett Beckett I’ve ever seen. Okay that last one isn’t Scottish per se but the leading accent was, so I’m going with it.
“Burn” by Alan Cumming and Steven Hoggett
If Scotland does an American-style president and VP combo when it goes independent, the first administration should be President Nicola Sturgeon and VP Alan Cumming. And at the inauguration Alan can be like “I saved every letter you wrote meee”. No but this g-d national treasure is giving his all yet again on the stage, as he always does, this time as the other Scottish national treasure Robert Burns (Rabbie). Burns is celebrated in Scotland for his poetry about haggis and women and Scotland, and in the rest of the world for writing Auld Lang Syne (it’s Scots and it means roughly ‘for old times’ sake’, Sally!).
“Burn” is an hour-long two-hander (just Alan) (he has two hands) using all the words of Burns to tell his life story (ish), with some funky modern dance and bold lighting that sometimes worked. The production boasts some truly great stagecraft, including a feather quill writing by itself and one of my favorite trustfalls I’ve ever seen in a theatre, so well done to Alan and the unseen cast member catching him in the darkened upstage. LOVES IT!
The visuals and Alan’s recitations were wonderful, but I felt unsatisfied in terms of actual substance about Burns. I felt I didn’t learn about his character, what kind of person he was. And maybe we don’t know and that’s unfair to have expected! But I did find myself wondering, throughout the changing tones, ‘wait so was he a good witch or a bad witch?’ I would have liked a personality-driven narrative, but regardless, it was a swell time, even with the weird modern dance that usually I’d be reacting to the same way I do modern art. But with Alan’s giving his trademark 110%, it’s hard not to enjoy the swift hour. Also, he’s pretty much giving a stump speech for Scottish independence, complete with the biggest Scottish flag you’ve ever seen, worn as a cape, obvs.
INFORMATION: After leaving the Edinburgh Fringe, Alan is taking “Burn” on a wee tour of Scotland. I saw it this past weekend in Perth, at the Perth Theatre. Best seat for getting to the toilet: House Right aisle, first few rows (the exit door is at the bottom of that side). They are in Inverness next week, pretty!
“LAND”, by Bethany Tennick, Fraser Scott, and Iona Ramsay
Full disclosure, when I saw there was a new musical at the Fringe from one of the two INCREDIBLE girls behind “Islander”, I legit yelped. “Islander” was one of the greatest pieces of art I’ve ever seen, no exag. I thought, if this new show is half as good, I’m in for a treat. And I’m so glad I saw it because it has some moments of beauty, but it does need a lot of work.
Land, a ‘Scottish folk musical’ as it was billed, is meant to explore our relationship with the earth, death, and generational difference, asking us to reexamine our connection to the planet and climate. With that kind of description, going in I naturally had this notion that it would be sort of climate change-y, about the ‘land’ as in the planet. But although it may have intended to touch on that metaphorically, I wouldn’t have known the show had anything to do with it if they hadn’t said in the materials. Essentially, it was about an older man and a younger man, in two different storylines. The storylines got confused easily and often, and more than a few theatregoers leaving the venue afterwards were expressing their frustration at how unclear the two plotlines were. (I eavesdrop!) The show “seeks to explore our heritage and legacy”, but really, all it was was the relationships between these two pairs of men. Those relationships gave rise to some beautiful, raw human moments, for sure, and that’s nothing to sneeze at. In fact, some were truly lovely and honest, and moving. But those were brilliant moments in terms of human connection, not anything deeper in terms of culture and, well, the land to speak of.
The music was pleasant, and some moments of brilliance shone through, proving the potential of this show. But the story needs to be cleaned up first, and then magnified and deepened to provide that sense of connection to the metaphorical themes that they are going for. As it stands, it’s not really about the land, or the planet, or the climate, but it has lovely moments between the two men, whichever two characters they may have been. And all three performers are giving great performances. It’s definitely worth seeing, but I am extremely eager to see its next iteration, which I’m hopeful will happen, and will improve upon what’s there now.
INFORMATION: Land is playing in a small EXTREMELY HOT room in the Gilded Balloon Patter Hoose venue, in the Dram room (suh kyut). There’s no air flow! Toilets are all the way in the basement.
“The Last Return”, by Sonya Kelly
When I tell you I had agita during and then after this show FOR HOURS. HOO BOY. Imagine the most frustrating episode of “Curb”, multiply that cringe by a factor of 10, and then imagine you’re sitting on one of those ‘productivity’ toilets that tilt forward and make your legs painfully cramp after 5 minutes. That’s this show. It’s not bad, I’m not saying it was bad, because it was interesting and provocative, I think?, but I am saying that it caused me health problems.
‘The Last Return’ takes place in the foyer of a theatre venue, on the last night of the run of the Oppenheimer, the most important lauded must-see production in this unknown city. People are queuing for last-minute returns, as it’s obviously sold out. An old man, a professor of Oppenheimer actually, is first in line, so if any ticket holders decide not to come out in the rain, he’s sure to get a seat. OR SO YOU’D THINK. An insane Scottish version of Will Ferrell as Janet Reno mixed with Dana Carvey’s Church Lady comes in next and stirs some shit up, aghast that the old man apparently told #2 in line, a young girl, that it was okay to leave her backpack to mark her place in the queue and then enjoy her time off in the cafe. I mean rightly so — when in a queue situation like this it’s okay to ask someone to watch your spot if you have to pee but not to fuck off for an hour in a cafe. As Scottish Will-Dana-Church lady says, the whole point of committing to this queueing is to give up your freedom to do anything else with your time.
So at this point, I’m pretty agitated, and I have VERY strong thoughts, mostly because I’m thinking back on all the horrid times I’ve had waiting for rush tickets on Broadway, especially when the Ticket Lady onstage keeps telling the queuers that she’s ‘only the ticket seller and has nothing to do with organizing the returns queue’ etc. I’m reminded in particular of the worst experience I had with rushing for ‘Something Rotten’, when this awfully rotten girl, the only person to arrive before me, said ‘I’m holding a spot for a friend, is that okay?’ and I said sure because I heard there were always at least 10 rush tickets, and even if this bee word and her friend each got two, I’d still be fine, and also I wrongly assumed that the friend just popped out to get food or pee or something. And then an hour and 50 minutes later, when our line was super long and it was just about 10am, time for the box office to open, this bitch’s ‘friend’ showed up, except it was FIVE FUCKING FRIENDS. I was like, excuse me, ABSOLUTELY NOT, you can’t let five people in front of all of us, and this bee had the audacity to say ‘but I told you I was saving a spot!’ YEAH FOR ONE. I hope she is having a horrible life.
As you can see, I had lots of strong opinions about the queueing policies happening onstage given my history as well as my strong judgmental nature and my never-failing sense of what is right and what is wrong in a given situation.
But then, shit gets weird and I stopped being able to see myself in the characters, because it starts to out-Beckett Beckett and go full-out nonsense surrealism that you’re like, what? huh? nervous laughter? but WHY! An American soldier PARACHUTES into the line, a police helicopter starts shooting, a refugee woman lies about not understanding English and cheats her way to the front of the queue and, infuriatingly, wins? people start getting shot and killed and poisoned and the ticket lady does not GIVE. A. SHIT.
It is…a very strange play. And LISTEN, all these problems and all the problems I’ve had on Broadway could be solved with a deli-counter-style number machine CAN EVERYONE JUST DO THAT? LITERALLY LIVES WOULD BE SAVED.
Apparently, the creators meant for this show to be a commentary on refugee experiences, but aside from some harrowing facts the refugee character shares about her trials, I don’t understand what they were trying to say, because she comes out not…looking…great. Like I would believe that they were anti-refugee Tory scum writing this, the way she’s depicted, which I am absolutely sure was not the intention. So, I don’t know what they were trying to say, and I know they owe me some edibles, and I know it would have been 100% better if the Scottish Church Lady and the refugee lady killed each other leaving the ticket to be claimed by the girl who fucked off to the cafe the whole time and avoided all the chaos, because that would have been some perfect nihilistic comedy, but instead they tried to do something emotional (is that what they were doing) that was entirely unearned after all this nonsense, and I’m not sure how I feel about this show, but I know it needs to be 15 minutes shorter and they need to pass the dutchie around afterwards, jfc.
INFORMATION: The show is playing in the Traverse 1 room of the Traverse Theatre, which is one of the nicer venues with some actual semblance of air flow, good toilets, and water pitchers on the bar. Like all Fringe shows, seating is first come, first served, with most holding good aisle seats by the exit as ‘reserved’ but actually for last-minute comers, which is just unfair! Why should lates and last minutes get those sweet sweet right-by-the-exit seats? Le sigh! Also this was the most expensive ticket of our Fringe weekend, which I guess makes sense if you are paying by weight of absolute nonsensory.
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Thoughts on: Far From Heaven, Off-Broadway
The sold-out run of Far From Heaven at Playwrights Horizons promised a more epic experience that the one I actually had. It starred the magnificent Kelli O’Hara, was written by the musical team from Grey Gardens, was based on the 2002 Oscar-nominated movie starring Julianne Moore. I paid more than I ever have for a Broadway ticket, and I expected to be astonished. Aside from getting to listen to O’Hara’s beautiful voice live, I was actually disappointed.
The show put forth a solid effort, but it felt like a house constructed without a foundation. Considering how miraculously affecting much of the Grey Gardens music was, I expected at least one song to make me feel something. Instead, I felt less than I do while watching episodes from season 2 of New Girl. And that shouldn’t be close to the case for a show about a woman, mother, wife in the 1950s dealing with her homosexual, philandering husband and her own surprising romantic feelings for her black gardener. I know! It’s all there, waiting to be interpreted and transcended, and yet the opportunity was squandered. This show deals with pretty much the most serious dramatic ploys possible – all of them! – yet doesn’t deliver emotionally. There has to be a really big disconnect among the creators for something like that to happen.
The show put forth a solid effort, but it felt like a house constructed without a foundation. Considering how miraculously affecting much of the Grey Gardens music was, I expected at least one song to make me feel something. Instead, I felt less than I do while watching episodes from season 2 of New Girl. And that shouldn’t be close to the case for a show about a woman, mother, wife in the 1950s dealing with her homosexual, philandering husband and her own surprising romantic feelings for her black gardener. I know! It’s all there, waiting to be interpreted and transcended, and yet the opportunity was squandered. This show deals with pretty much the most serious dramatic ploys possible – all of them! – yet doesn’t deliver emotionally. There has to be a really big disconnect among the creators for something like that to happen.
I would love for this show to move to Broadway, but only if it undergoes serious reworking. Several new songs that better fit O’Hara’s talents are necessary. Although she always manages to be good, even in things like Nice Work If You Can Get It, her voice is not one that you let sit there on run-of-the-mill, generic, straightforward songs. Let her shine! Christine Ebersole’s performance of “Another Winter In A Summer Town”, from Grey Gardens, gives me chills just thinking about. O’Hara, just as capable of producing such a performance, was given no such opportunity.
The songs need to be rewritten, plain and simple. The book needs editing too, as I saw way too much of Cathy’s (O’Hara) husband’s office, and not enough of Cathy’s best friend’s seeming understanding yet complete and utter disapproval. I also didn’t understand the casting of Steve Pasquale as the husband. Maybe it was because I couldn’t understand what he was saying. Diction, people!
I didn’t actively dislike the show, but I didn’t actively feel anything, which is a huge problem. Plays happen up on that stage in order to make you, the audience, feel something, and I felt nothing. I just wanted to badly for it to be the event I was hoping for. With any luck, severe changes will be made and the show will be entirely transformed when (if) it goes to Broadway. I sincerely hope this happens, because everyone involved deserves better.
The songs need to be rewritten, plain and simple. The book needs editing too, as I saw way too much of Cathy’s (O’Hara) husband’s office, and not enough of Cathy’s best friend’s seeming understanding yet complete and utter disapproval. I also didn’t understand the casting of Steve Pasquale as the husband. Maybe it was because I couldn’t understand what he was saying. Diction, people!
I didn’t actively dislike the show, but I didn’t actively feel anything, which is a huge problem. Plays happen up on that stage in order to make you, the audience, feel something, and I felt nothing. I just wanted to badly for it to be the event I was hoping for. With any luck, severe changes will be made and the show will be entirely transformed when (if) it goes to Broadway. I sincerely hope this happens, because everyone involved deserves better.
Tree at the Young Vic: A Maddening Take on Theatre
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is Tree, at the Young Vic until August 24.
In a post-theatre conversation this week, we established that the number of professional stage productions I’ve seen is in the thousands. I can say with all the certainty of someone who is pretty tired and should have taken her contacts out 5 hours ago and has a hard time remembering many of the 1000s of shows (as one would) that I have never been more frustrated by any show than I was with Tree, the creation of (as it says in all the program and marketing material, it was ‘created by’ them, not written by) Idris Elba (yes that one) and Kwame Kwei-Armah, the latter of whom also directed. It’s maddening beyond belief, because there’s so much potential in the story – if you can find the story underneath the noise. Tree shows glimpses of deep, provocative drama, but the creators obscure those little captivating buds with tons (and tons) (and tons) of bells and whistles that are beyond unnecessary, to the point where the entire experience is extraneous.
The most well-known of said bells and/or whistles is the immersive nature of the show. As we saw with the recent productions of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Bridge Theatre and, in smaller part, with Barber Shop Chronicles at the Roundhouse (at least to start the show), immersive style theatre is this summer’s trend. I’m all for immersion if it works. It works like a dream at Midsummer (I didn’t mean to make that so corny but alas) because the story remains the focal point. Sure the crowd is ushered hither and thither but never in a way that distracts from the actors or the words. This is a lesson in restraint that Tree did not learn. I don’t think Tree even knows the word restraint. The immersion exists here simply for its own sake, simply to make audiences feel like it’s all about them – and it is.
Beginning with most of the crowd in the middle of the stage dancing with the cast to super loud (like too loud) club music (literally my nightmare), the show is ostensibly about a young Londoner who goes to South Africa for the first time to confront his family’s history and learn about the strife that led to his existence and is in his blood. Now that story could be great, and like I said there are moments of almost-greatness. But instead of letting those moments breathe and grow, the play continues to rely on tricks like these dance parties to convince the audience that this was fun. And most of the audience did have fun, because of course they did if it’s a huge dance party. Londoners love clubbing!
The first half hour drags, with little happening to propel a story but LOTS happening to distract you from it – more super loud dance breaks apropos of nothing, staff repeatedly handing out placards to hold up, staff moving you around to set up another effect, staff making you hold sticks (staff have never worked harder in a theatre; they did not stop for a second, which was distracting). There was an inane release of either glitter or dirt – I honestly couldn’t tell the difference, quite the metaphor – over most of the crowd, and lots of Alfred moving through the crowd unnecessarily. (This last one seems just to give everyone the rush of a famous actor walking right by you, because that’s what everyone wants – to feel like they’re a part of whatever is happening, regardless of whether it makes sense. Everyone wanting to be a part of things is already the downfall of theatre, with the rampant videos and snapchatting during it, but more on that at the end.) There was a character we met for less than a minute who performed handstand pushups for no reason other than to show off and have the crowd cheer. There were loud gunshots. There was a character introduction via hip hop performance. And sure she’s a good performer, but WHY? Every inch of this production had me asking why. Nothing was in service of the story, so everything felt exasperating.
As Alfred’s character Kaelo delves deeper into his family’s past, there is a good ten minute chunk that felt like a completely different, compelling play: when modern day demonstrations gave way to a memory play of the protests in 1985, when Kaelo’s parents got together. There were fewer distractions here, fewer dance parties, and it worked. Those ten minutes or so worked. I wish I could see the rest of that play.
But I couldn’t because it was then time for another dance partayyyyyyyy! Wooooooooot!
Without any real commitment to telling this story, the overly dramatic direction – so much melodramatic music, so much slow motion – felt unearned, since any drama took a backseat to the audience’s constant outward enjoyment. There’s a good story (potentially a great story) under all that noise somewhere, and that’s what makes it so infuriating. The issues brought up could be challenging in a novel way, but instead of developing them, they’re tossed in the air like beach balls that you throw out into a crowd, one crowd-loving trick I was shocked that they didn’t use. I couldn’t even watch the climax because the staff was having us set up yet another effect. All of the bells and whistles quickly grew wearisome, and it’s a shame that they took over to become the experience. I have never seen such reliance on spectacle at the expense of storytelling when there is such a good story desperately trying to be heard.
INFORMATION
Tree is at the Young Vic until August 24. You can get discounted tickets to some performances on the TodayTix app.
Beware – or enjoy, I guess, if you’re a monster – that they allow photography and filming of the entire show. People were filming the entire show right in the very front row, standing next to ushers, throughout the entire theatre. People were taking FLASH photography during big moments! People were taking live video and putting it on snapchat or whatever they do! The ENTIRE TIME. And it was fine with the staff, so if you are not a fan of that kind of thing, take a valium, and if you are, wtf is wrong with you.
