One Day in Moscow: Hello Old Friendby Randi / January 30, 2018
IT’S THEATRE THURSDAY Y’ALL! Today we are talking about “The Flying Lovers of Vitebsk”, currently at Wilton’s Music Hall as it begins its tour.
A relatively new, fairly abstract play called “The Flying Lovers of Vitebsk” is currently playing at Wilton’s Music Hall in London, and you should see it. I had no idea what it was about, but I live nearby and it’s theatre so I was game. This charming little play, amusing and moving, surprised me with how much it accomplished with so little. It tells the love story of Marc Chagall and his wife Bella, and how they created art and love during world wars. Light acrobatics and mesmerizing movements augment their narrative, to create a touching, energetic story about a painter’s personal life. The play it seemed to be in the beginning was not the play we were left with in the end, but even so, it’s a worthwhile endeavor to tell this story.
Honestly the only thing I knew about Marc Chagall going in was that Julia Roberts owned the famous painting of his, the one with the goat playing a violin flying around in space, and gave it, the real one, to Hugh Grant in “Notting Hill”, as you do to shy lil bookkeepers who may or may not ever want to see you again. Luckily he did (spoilers!) so she didn’t like give away a priceless authentic Chagall painting that would be so stupid. Anyway it’s a great painting so I figured the creator of it might be interesting. Like all artists, his character seemed to have a not-great set of priorities, as they put creating their art ahead of things like oh I don’t know the birth of their child, but still seemed to be a man capable of great feeling and understanding of the more abstract things than common sense, like love. From writer Daniel Jamieson and director Emma Rice, this play – seemingly, from the director’s note, produced out of their actual love story – is small but often powerful.
At the start, we see young Marc and Bella meet in the town of Vitebsk, now in Belarus. More than half the population was Jewish and so it had a staggering number of synagogues at the time (early 1900s), and so it was completely decimated in the war, they tell us in the beginning. The 90-minute play, though it uses the two onstage musicians in the action sometimes, is essentially just Marc and Bella, what people in the theatre would call a ‘two-hander’ because there are only two actors but I will fight my whole life against that phrase unless the two actors each only have one hand. (It should be called a four-hander, am I right?) Anyway, it’s nice to see a play about two Jews in a room bitching. Especially in London, where many people think Jews are alien. So Marc and Bella instantly fall in love and their initial courtship is kind of adorable. They talk to the audience a lot, and Bella confides in us that she knew he liked her and yet he waited so long to kiss her. One day on a picnic she thought he was coming in for one but instead he asks for his jacket, which she is sitting on. Super awkward and so funnily adorable! It’s crazy to hindsight to think back on how lighthearted a romp it felt in these hilarious moments compared to the heartbreaking weight of the end. The best scene is when Bella celebrates Marc’s birthday – his first birthday, he says, because he never celebrated it before. This play, in its first iteration 25 years ago, was actually called ‘Birthday’, I assume to highlight this event which surely solidified Marc’s love for Bella.
As Bella and Marc’s relationship grows, they portray this by doing aforementioned acrobatics, just a little bit, enough to completely captivate and convey their story and make you want more. It was so effective to see how they were falling for each other when they were literally falling through the air and being caught by the other and stuff, to see a representation of all of Marc’s famous paintings of them flying through the air together, buoyed by their love. LOVES IT. I loves it so much that the fact that they used this incredible movement only sparingly and only in the first half made me very upset. The selling point for this show, in my view, is that it’s telling this biographical tale in this fascinating new way. I mean it’s literally called “the FLYING lovers”, you know? I wanted much more flying. To take away the part that’s different, the part that sets it apart from other straight biographical plays, makes it just like any other straight drama and it’s not strong enough without its special quirks to stand out. Still good, still moving, but not as special as it would be if the movement were incorporated throughout. And I get that the directing choice may have been to decrease the brightness of such movement as the subject matter darkened, but I am sure that they still could have integrated some sort of choreography to tell the more serious parts of the story. And some of the movement we did see was valuable in conveying melancholy. I think it could have worked throughout the darker parts. I mean Cirque du Soleil is terrifying as shit.
It also uses music to tell the story, and also moreso in the beginning. I am not sure if I would call it a musical as opposed to a play with music, since it doesn’t actually tell the story but add to it, and of course because the music, like the fun movement, is front-loaded. The two onstage musicians, James Gow and Ian Ross, jump into the action a lot to lend their voices to some songs and to say a few lines as Soviet police officers here and there, and they do a fine job supporting the two stars. Marc Antolin as Marc (I know his name is with a ‘c’ too it was fate) and Daisy Maywood as Bella are lovely actors who really make you believe that they are feeling all the things. Their trust for each other is remarkable, and since it’s there I mean why not put it to more use with more of the acrobatic partner work? I know I can just repeat myself over and over but I just so want to see what this play could be with more of what made it special since that unique aspect was so effective.
We see Marc and Bella move to Paris and to St. Petersburg, then back to Vitebsk, and hither and thither during the war time as their safety and the lives of all Jews were threatened. As the second half loses the acrobatics and a lot of the music, a little magic was lost as well, but it may also be due to the story getting serious. It felt like it was dragging a bit as we learned about how terrible the war was, but that may be because war sucks. Also, as we learned more about the characters, the initial sheen fell away. Marc, it turns out, had anger issues like many artists have when their work isn’t seen as the end all be all of everybody’s lives. At one point, Bella gives birth to their daughter while they are living in a tiny apartment amid horrible atrocities occurring, and Marc is nowhere to be found. Days later, days after his child is born, he comes home and Bella’s like ‘duuude what the hell, I’m still in so much pain and I need your help taking care of a NEWBORN’ and Marc replies “Do you think what I do happens painlessly?” Artists are not in touch with reality, I guess, is a lesson of this play.
But this artist is in touch with his emotions, and his love for Bella helped him create some of his best work. The two characters talk about how they see new colors together, through and in each others’ eyes, and it’s true that Marc was considered one of the best when it came to understanding color, probably thanks to their love, which seemed significant. As I said, the second half did drag and lose some of its distinctiveness, because as a straight play without its special assets it has to measure up to other regular straight plays, better ones. But the end kind of tied everything together in a heartbreaking bow. A song that the characters sing to open the show seemed meaningless, just a fun period-appropriate song to get the party started, but when they reprise it at the end, it seems to envelop and explain the whole story in a superb, poignant way, and in turn to fortify whatever weaknesses in the play came before it.
INFORMATION
This Kneehigh company production of “The Flying Lovers of Vitebsk” is playing at Wilton’s Music Hall in London until February 10. After that, this production will tour England as well as the USA, making tour stops in Los Angeles and South Carolina. So if you are in those places, you should see it.
At the start, we see young Marc and Bella meet in the town of Vitebsk, now in Belarus. More than half the population was Jewish and so it had a staggering number of synagogues at the time (early 1900s), and so it was completely decimated in the war, they tell us in the beginning. The 90-minute play, though it uses the two onstage musicians in the action sometimes, is essentially just Marc and Bella, what people in the theatre would call a ‘two-hander’ because there are only two actors but I will fight my whole life against that phrase unless the two actors each only have one hand. (It should be called a four-hander, am I right?) Anyway, it’s nice to see a play about two Jews in a room bitching. Especially in London, where many people think Jews are alien. So Marc and Bella instantly fall in love and their initial courtship is kind of adorable. They talk to the audience a lot, and Bella confides in us that she knew he liked her and yet he waited so long to kiss her. One day on a picnic she thought he was coming in for one but instead he asks for his jacket, which she is sitting on. Super awkward and so funnily adorable! It’s crazy to hindsight to think back on how lighthearted a romp it felt in these hilarious moments compared to the heartbreaking weight of the end. The best scene is when Bella celebrates Marc’s birthday – his first birthday, he says, because he never celebrated it before. This play, in its first iteration 25 years ago, was actually called ‘Birthday’, I assume to highlight this event which surely solidified Marc’s love for Bella.
As Bella and Marc’s relationship grows, they portray this by doing aforementioned acrobatics, just a little bit, enough to completely captivate and convey their story and make you want more. It was so effective to see how they were falling for each other when they were literally falling through the air and being caught by the other and stuff, to see a representation of all of Marc’s famous paintings of them flying through the air together, buoyed by their love. LOVES IT. I loves it so much that the fact that they used this incredible movement only sparingly and only in the first half made me very upset. The selling point for this show, in my view, is that it’s telling this biographical tale in this fascinating new way. I mean it’s literally called “the FLYING lovers”, you know? I wanted much more flying. To take away the part that’s different, the part that sets it apart from other straight biographical plays, makes it just like any other straight drama and it’s not strong enough without its special quirks to stand out. Still good, still moving, but not as special as it would be if the movement were incorporated throughout. And I get that the directing choice may have been to decrease the brightness of such movement as the subject matter darkened, but I am sure that they still could have integrated some sort of choreography to tell the more serious parts of the story. And some of the movement we did see was valuable in conveying melancholy. I think it could have worked throughout the darker parts. I mean Cirque du Soleil is terrifying as shit.
It also uses music to tell the story, and also moreso in the beginning. I am not sure if I would call it a musical as opposed to a play with music, since it doesn’t actually tell the story but add to it, and of course because the music, like the fun movement, is front-loaded. The two onstage musicians, James Gow and Ian Ross, jump into the action a lot to lend their voices to some songs and to say a few lines as Soviet police officers here and there, and they do a fine job supporting the two stars. Marc Antolin as Marc (I know his name is with a ‘c’ too it was fate) and Daisy Maywood as Bella are lovely actors who really make you believe that they are feeling all the things. Their trust for each other is remarkable, and since it’s there I mean why not put it to more use with more of the acrobatic partner work? I know I can just repeat myself over and over but I just so want to see what this play could be with more of what made it special since that unique aspect was so effective.
We see Marc and Bella move to Paris and to St. Petersburg, then back to Vitebsk, and hither and thither during the war time as their safety and the lives of all Jews were threatened. As the second half loses the acrobatics and a lot of the music, a little magic was lost as well, but it may also be due to the story getting serious. It felt like it was dragging a bit as we learned about how terrible the war was, but that may be because war sucks. Also, as we learned more about the characters, the initial sheen fell away. Marc, it turns out, had anger issues like many artists have when their work isn’t seen as the end all be all of everybody’s lives. At one point, Bella gives birth to their daughter while they are living in a tiny apartment amid horrible atrocities occurring, and Marc is nowhere to be found. Days later, days after his child is born, he comes home and Bella’s like ‘duuude what the hell, I’m still in so much pain and I need your help taking care of a NEWBORN’ and Marc replies “Do you think what I do happens painlessly?” Artists are not in touch with reality, I guess, is a lesson of this play.
But this artist is in touch with his emotions, and his love for Bella helped him create some of his best work. The two characters talk about how they see new colors together, through and in each others’ eyes, and it’s true that Marc was considered one of the best when it came to understanding color, probably thanks to their love, which seemed significant. As I said, the second half did drag and lose some of its distinctiveness, because as a straight play without its special assets it has to measure up to other regular straight plays, better ones. But the end kind of tied everything together in a heartbreaking bow. A song that the characters sing to open the show seemed meaningless, just a fun period-appropriate song to get the party started, but when they reprise it at the end, it seems to envelop and explain the whole story in a superb, poignant way, and in turn to fortify whatever weaknesses in the play came before it.
INFORMATION
This Kneehigh company production of “The Flying Lovers of Vitebsk” is playing at Wilton’s Music Hall in London until February 10. After that, this production will tour England as well as the USA, making tour stops in Los Angeles and South Carolina. So if you are in those places, you should see it.
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The Inheritance Part 2: A Fine and Fitting Conclusion to A Masterpiece
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is Part 2 of The Inheritance, playing along with Part 1 until January 19 at London’s Noel Coward Theatre..
Before I saw Part 1 of The Inheritance, I had been putting off seeing the show for a very long time because I couldn’t imagine that it was worth the serious time investment: two separate theatre visits of 3 ½ hours each. I said stupid things like ‘if I’m going to see a superlong two-part show it’s going to be Angels in America’ and ‘but they’re not even singing!’ As we learned a few weeks ago, I was hella wrong, because I found Part 1 to be one of the most gripping, moving, full-blooded shows I’ve ever seen. In the few weeks I had between seeing Part 1 and Part 2, I again wished I could put off seeing the second half, but now for incredibly different reasons: I didn’t want to be finished with this story or have to say goodbye to these characters. Spending so much time with this play, the story became part of my mind the way a book does, the way dedicating so much personal time to a book results in it becoming a part of you. I didn’t want it to end. And I was simultaneously scared of how it would end, because this play isn’t exactly a romp. But even though Part 2 is not as great – after the glorious perfection that was Part 1, no second half could really ever measure up – it’s still riveting and emotional and, ultimately and most importantly, satisfying.
Before I saw Part 1 of The Inheritance, I had been putting off seeing the show for a very long time because I couldn’t imagine that it was worth the serious time investment: two separate theatre visits of 3 ½ hours each. I said stupid things like ‘if I’m going to see a superlong two-part show it’s going to be Angels in America’ and ‘but they’re not even singing!’ As we learned a few weeks ago, I was hella wrong, because I found Part 1 to be one of the most gripping, moving, full-blooded shows I’ve ever seen. In the few weeks I had between seeing Part 1 and Part 2, I again wished I could put off seeing the second half, but now for incredibly different reasons: I didn’t want to be finished with this story or have to say goodbye to these characters. Spending so much time with this play, the story became part of my mind the way a book does, the way dedicating so much personal time to a book results in it becoming a part of you. I didn’t want it to end. And I was simultaneously scared of how it would end, because this play isn’t exactly a romp. But even though Part 2 is not as great – after the glorious perfection that was Part 1, no second half could really ever measure up – it’s still riveting and emotional and, ultimately and most importantly, satisfying.
The simple-seeming title, The Inheritance, was relevant to several aspects of Part 1 – the inheritance as in a last will & testament, as in what you receive from ancestors, as in what you get from and what you owe to those who came before you in certain struggles. Part 2 develops that even more, as the play is also about what you get personally from your own family and your upbringing, what you can do with what you’re given and what you can’t fix, what you’ve inherited that might ruin you. Every aspect of what the title encompasses finds a way to break your heart, and even though the emotional reach doesn’t have the same breadth as Part 1, it retains its depth.
The main questions I had from Part 1 were, whether Eric would ever find out the truth about the house; whether he would take over the house’s spiritual purpose of providing a refuge for gay men with nowhere else to turn; and whether Eric would actually continue this relationship with Henry, the real estate billionaire who doesn’t seem to care about anything but himself. Part 1 ends with Eric finally seeing Walter’s country house and feeling the history of the place just as Walter thought he would, in a beautiful tearjerker of a scene that seemed to go on too long but also should never have ended. It created a sense of peace and importance. Part 2 opens with the exact opposite sensibility, an abrupt flip to coldness and ignorance of the house’s tranquil beauty, as Henry Wilcox (John Benjamin Hickey) tells Eric Glass (Kyle Soller) they’re ready to leave only minutes after they’ve arrived. The painful change served as a reminder that these stories aren’t going to work out easily or happily or how I wanted them to. You yearn with Eric to stay and find out more about what has happened there, and in the bigger picture you want Eric to decide that this life of helpfulness that Walter had found in the house is the kind of life he’s meant for, and that Henry’s lack of awareness in this regard shows why he’s wrong for him. Of course, that wouldn’t happen in the first scene, and so he follows Henry back to the city, even though you’re like, dude, why are you spending time with this jabronie?? But it effectively reminds you that these stories are probably not going to go how you wish they would.
The jabronieness of Henry Wilcox is amplified in the first major part of the play, and the most upsetting, when Eric has all his friends over to Henry’s $30 million house in the Village for brunch. I don’t know what he was expecting to happen, but when you bring a bunch of liberal gay men to the house of a billionaire Republican, things are gonna get ugly. In Part 1, it was hinted at that Henry was an R-word when he said he didn’t think the direction of U.S. politics was so bad, and that seemed bad enough for me. But here, they go full out and have Henry talk openly about supporting Trump because he supports what’s ‘best for the market’ and probably loves him some tax breaks because all a billionaire needs is more money. This whole long scene, I felt like Chidi with the stomachaches. Jasper, Eric’s most politically active friend, tries to talk some sense into Henry, but it’s a lost cause and the frustration I felt in my belly exploded onstage as Jasper lost his cool in the ensuing argument. Sure Jasper was wrong for fighting with Henry in his own home, I guess that’s rude, but is it as rude as someone actively making the world worse? I think not. Just go out on the sidewalk and fight the monster. This scene was well done, with Henry at least offering the arguments that aren’t ‘because I hate everyone who isn’t a white man’, and showing how Eric’s sense of morality is disappearing as he spends more time in the billionaire’s world. But it was so frustrating to have to listen to any republican apologists and to think about the diaper genie during my theatre time. Ughh the frustration at Eric for standing by this patently immoral man made me long for the craziness of Toby.
And then we get hours of craziness from Toby (Andrew Burnap)! Like I said before, if Burnap doesn’t win an Olivier and a Tony, then the awards truly don’t mean anything. We already know awards don’t mean anything but they REALLY won’t extra extra. Toby tries to feel something and escape his problems not by getting direly needed therapy or rehab, but by partying on Fire Island with the prostitute Leo (played by the same actor who plays Adam, Samuel H. Levine). The Fire Island club scenes are literally my nightmare, with all the unce unce unce music and the flashing lights and just all the noise, guys, can we keep it down. I was surprised that the focus seemed to switch from the role of Adam in Part 1 to the role of Leo in Part 2, with Adam barely in it anymore, but the actor doubling shows how important both men were for Toby in different ways. Leo’s character was fascinating and heartbreaking, and while Toby still wins the prize for Most in terms of both of those things, the ways they help and hurt each other made both characters more compelling.
Leo gets some of the most spellbinding reveals in Part 2, from the riveting wedding appearance and all the multitudes that can be said by saying just one word, to the ending when we come back to the framing device and it all makes sense. But it’s Toby this time around whose heart you worry about the most, whereas in Part 1 I was concerned most with Eric’s well-being. Eric, though misguided with Henry, shows he can remain standing on his own two feet when things get hard. Toby, on the other hand, is fragile, and even though someone who can be so horrible to others and to himself can seem tough and resilient, he’s really the one most in need of help. I find myself still worrying about Toby and heartbroken at his strife, and mad at playwright Matthew Lopez, Boy Genius, for causing him so much sadness. Oh Toby.
Interestingly, one of the aspects of Part 2 we were most keenly aware of was not the presence of something but the absence: we missed Walter (Paul Hilton). It’s remarkable how he managed to create such a warm, wise, beloved character in Part 1, so much that his absence was deeply felt, creating in our minds a semblance of what Eric and Henry must have been going through. We grieved with them.
Amid all the anxiety I had about Part 2 and where the various stories would go, I had excitement for one specific aspect: to see Vanessa Redgrave onstage. And while I mean no disrespect to this living legend, they should cut her entire part out for Broadway. They won’t, because you can’t fire Vanessa Redgrave, but they should. It’s the same exact situation as with Meryl Streep in “Mary Poppins Returns” – sure she’s a g-d ledge and you’re lucky to have her in your thing, but neither her character nor her scenes do anything to augment rather than detract from the story you’ve built. It didn’t serve the story well, and although she shares some emotional moments as she talks about her past, they weren’t anything novel and so it wasn’t enough to outweigh their feeling out of place in this play. Shame.
There’s so much I want to talk about and cry about and rant about, but I’ll avoid any more spoilers in case some of you decide to see The Inheritance when it opens on Br’dway. Suffice it to say, the total work was one of the best theatrical events ever, and I’m so glad I finally got to experience it. As my last show of 2018, it was fitting to end a stupendous year of theatre with this masterpiece.
INFORMATION
Trying to rush this show on TodayTix is pretty much impossible – they’re gone in a matter of seconds, not minutes. Luckily, the grand circle (that’s the second mezzanine) is still as good a view as the royal circle (that’s the first mezzanine) and slightly cheaper, so affordable tickets are still to be had. Although this Part is five minutes longer than Part 1, there is only one full intermission and one 5 minute ‘pause’, whereas Part 1 had two full intermissions. However, the pause is more than long enough for a sprint to the bathroom if you sit on the correct side – house right (stage left) is closest to the women’s. YOU’RE WELCOME.
The main questions I had from Part 1 were, whether Eric would ever find out the truth about the house; whether he would take over the house’s spiritual purpose of providing a refuge for gay men with nowhere else to turn; and whether Eric would actually continue this relationship with Henry, the real estate billionaire who doesn’t seem to care about anything but himself. Part 1 ends with Eric finally seeing Walter’s country house and feeling the history of the place just as Walter thought he would, in a beautiful tearjerker of a scene that seemed to go on too long but also should never have ended. It created a sense of peace and importance. Part 2 opens with the exact opposite sensibility, an abrupt flip to coldness and ignorance of the house’s tranquil beauty, as Henry Wilcox (John Benjamin Hickey) tells Eric Glass (Kyle Soller) they’re ready to leave only minutes after they’ve arrived. The painful change served as a reminder that these stories aren’t going to work out easily or happily or how I wanted them to. You yearn with Eric to stay and find out more about what has happened there, and in the bigger picture you want Eric to decide that this life of helpfulness that Walter had found in the house is the kind of life he’s meant for, and that Henry’s lack of awareness in this regard shows why he’s wrong for him. Of course, that wouldn’t happen in the first scene, and so he follows Henry back to the city, even though you’re like, dude, why are you spending time with this jabronie?? But it effectively reminds you that these stories are probably not going to go how you wish they would.
The jabronieness of Henry Wilcox is amplified in the first major part of the play, and the most upsetting, when Eric has all his friends over to Henry’s $30 million house in the Village for brunch. I don’t know what he was expecting to happen, but when you bring a bunch of liberal gay men to the house of a billionaire Republican, things are gonna get ugly. In Part 1, it was hinted at that Henry was an R-word when he said he didn’t think the direction of U.S. politics was so bad, and that seemed bad enough for me. But here, they go full out and have Henry talk openly about supporting Trump because he supports what’s ‘best for the market’ and probably loves him some tax breaks because all a billionaire needs is more money. This whole long scene, I felt like Chidi with the stomachaches. Jasper, Eric’s most politically active friend, tries to talk some sense into Henry, but it’s a lost cause and the frustration I felt in my belly exploded onstage as Jasper lost his cool in the ensuing argument. Sure Jasper was wrong for fighting with Henry in his own home, I guess that’s rude, but is it as rude as someone actively making the world worse? I think not. Just go out on the sidewalk and fight the monster. This scene was well done, with Henry at least offering the arguments that aren’t ‘because I hate everyone who isn’t a white man’, and showing how Eric’s sense of morality is disappearing as he spends more time in the billionaire’s world. But it was so frustrating to have to listen to any republican apologists and to think about the diaper genie during my theatre time. Ughh the frustration at Eric for standing by this patently immoral man made me long for the craziness of Toby.
And then we get hours of craziness from Toby (Andrew Burnap)! Like I said before, if Burnap doesn’t win an Olivier and a Tony, then the awards truly don’t mean anything. We already know awards don’t mean anything but they REALLY won’t extra extra. Toby tries to feel something and escape his problems not by getting direly needed therapy or rehab, but by partying on Fire Island with the prostitute Leo (played by the same actor who plays Adam, Samuel H. Levine). The Fire Island club scenes are literally my nightmare, with all the unce unce unce music and the flashing lights and just all the noise, guys, can we keep it down. I was surprised that the focus seemed to switch from the role of Adam in Part 1 to the role of Leo in Part 2, with Adam barely in it anymore, but the actor doubling shows how important both men were for Toby in different ways. Leo’s character was fascinating and heartbreaking, and while Toby still wins the prize for Most in terms of both of those things, the ways they help and hurt each other made both characters more compelling.
Leo gets some of the most spellbinding reveals in Part 2, from the riveting wedding appearance and all the multitudes that can be said by saying just one word, to the ending when we come back to the framing device and it all makes sense. But it’s Toby this time around whose heart you worry about the most, whereas in Part 1 I was concerned most with Eric’s well-being. Eric, though misguided with Henry, shows he can remain standing on his own two feet when things get hard. Toby, on the other hand, is fragile, and even though someone who can be so horrible to others and to himself can seem tough and resilient, he’s really the one most in need of help. I find myself still worrying about Toby and heartbroken at his strife, and mad at playwright Matthew Lopez, Boy Genius, for causing him so much sadness. Oh Toby.
Interestingly, one of the aspects of Part 2 we were most keenly aware of was not the presence of something but the absence: we missed Walter (Paul Hilton). It’s remarkable how he managed to create such a warm, wise, beloved character in Part 1, so much that his absence was deeply felt, creating in our minds a semblance of what Eric and Henry must have been going through. We grieved with them.
Amid all the anxiety I had about Part 2 and where the various stories would go, I had excitement for one specific aspect: to see Vanessa Redgrave onstage. And while I mean no disrespect to this living legend, they should cut her entire part out for Broadway. They won’t, because you can’t fire Vanessa Redgrave, but they should. It’s the same exact situation as with Meryl Streep in “Mary Poppins Returns” – sure she’s a g-d ledge and you’re lucky to have her in your thing, but neither her character nor her scenes do anything to augment rather than detract from the story you’ve built. It didn’t serve the story well, and although she shares some emotional moments as she talks about her past, they weren’t anything novel and so it wasn’t enough to outweigh their feeling out of place in this play. Shame.
There’s so much I want to talk about and cry about and rant about, but I’ll avoid any more spoilers in case some of you decide to see The Inheritance when it opens on Br’dway. Suffice it to say, the total work was one of the best theatrical events ever, and I’m so glad I finally got to experience it. As my last show of 2018, it was fitting to end a stupendous year of theatre with this masterpiece.
INFORMATION
Trying to rush this show on TodayTix is pretty much impossible – they’re gone in a matter of seconds, not minutes. Luckily, the grand circle (that’s the second mezzanine) is still as good a view as the royal circle (that’s the first mezzanine) and slightly cheaper, so affordable tickets are still to be had. Although this Part is five minutes longer than Part 1, there is only one full intermission and one 5 minute ‘pause’, whereas Part 1 had two full intermissions. However, the pause is more than long enough for a sprint to the bathroom if you sit on the correct side – house right (stage left) is closest to the women’s. YOU’RE WELCOME.
The American Clock at London’s Old Vic: What was the Depression Like? Depressing.
| It’s Theatre Wednesday! Aren’t we lucky! It’s the height of the season and we have a lot of shows to talk about so they’re coming at you fast and furious. Today’s show is The American Clock, playing at the Old Vic until March 30. Not only was he married to Marilyn Monroe, Arthur Miller wrote some plays, babies! We’ll see another one of his celebrated works later this season (you’ll have to wait to see which one) but first up is his vaudevillian look at the Great Depression, his play The American Clock. Turns out, Miller and I have (had, RIP) a lot in common: We’re of Polish Jewish descent (all for him, part for me), we both went to Big 10 schools for undergrad (and I bet neither of us had to bribe our way in!), and I’m guessing we both love theatre. Best of all, we both can be guilty of writing too much and not editing the final work enough! This show was HELLA LONG. I would never complain about running times if they use the time wisely; I have a great attention span (although I did just have the urge to shouttype SQUIRREL). But nothing bothers me more than when shows should have been edited and would have been much better off had they been. Like that sentence! The first act of The American Clock is an hour and a half, the second is just over an hour, so with the interval it’s three hours of your day. Given what works in this play and what doesn’t, they could have easily cut an hour. A whole hour! That’s why I’m opening this by talking about length. There were some moments of brilliance, but they would have shone much brighter had they not been sandwiched by dullness. Surprisingly, I haven’t had a great experience at the Old Vic since Groundhog Day (the show, not the day). And the last time I was there, the show (Sylvia) suffered a similar problem (I think that one was like 3 ½ hours and had fewer moments of brilliance). I wish there was a required Editor job in the theatre, although with them being cut from journalism I guess that’s a pipe dream. Anyway, when you enter the Old Vic right now, you’re first shocked by the mess. It’s under renovations – a much needed development given the horrible toilet situation (only in the basement level!) – but instead of closing up shop, they are making do with a construction site vibe. And good for them, I guess, the show must go on and all that. It’s a little rough for winter, though, given that now the only toilets are outside (like big concert venue portables (or as Jeopardy would call them Potent Portables (pray for Trebek))) at street level so kind of crazy. Oh man, I’m off on a toilet tangent again! as I do! Luckily, the production onstage is the smooth, professional opposite of the current look of the theatre. With one of my favorite directors, Rachel Chavkin, at the helm, it’s a good looking production, although there seems to be no reason for it to be in the round (a way overused ploy recently). Early on, the show seems to really click, due to a few important facts: The narrator is featured heavily; the setting of the Depression about to dawn is established; the set, especially the chalkboard stock lists and high ladders, seems well used. The narrator is a smooth and fantastic Clarke Peters, who I am ashamed to say I knew best as the actor in the Julia Roberts space movie-within-a-movie in “Notting Hill”, when Hugh Grant is pretending to be a journalist from Horse & Hound and he asks Clarke if there were any bits of the movie he especially enjoyed filming and Clarke says to Hugh “Why don’t you tell me the bits you liked and I’ll tell you if I enjoyed making them” which is like so something a tired actor would snarkily say to a journalist at the tail end of a junket. Anyway, Giles Terrera, the original Burr of London’s production of Hamilton, was supposed to play this role, but at the last minute he pulled out (so he won’t get preeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeegnant) (no it was like for a family thing and I hope all is well) and Clarke swapped in. I honestly can’t imagine Terrera in this role, as it was perfect for Clarke. When he was onstage, the show worked, if only for his charisma and command of the stage and your attention. After the first few scenes, the narrator role ended up being too small for that kind of power Clarke has, and the show falls the flattest when he isn’t leading the brigade. But then the flat moments outshine the great moments, mainly because there is no real chance for emotional connection with the characters. Since it’s a series of Depression-era vignettes, showing how far-reaching the personals traumas were, you don’t get to really live with any of the characters enough to care as deeply as you want to in a play. The only characters you follow and return to are the mother, father, and son of the Baum family. Presumably, since you see a lot of them, you’d obtain the necessary emotional connection through them. However, in a rare misfire from Chavkin, the Baum family was triple-cast, meaning three different sets of actors played those three characters, rotating scene by scene. Although the sentiment – showing that the Depression was Depressing for an endless stream of people, of all ethnicities and walks of life – is understandable, the effect was that we didn’t get to connect with anyone as we should have. As a result, the action feels extra removed and eventually extra dull. Only a few brilliant moments come when Clarke isn’t onstage, like when Ewan Wardrop appears as a tap-dancing CEO about to quit his job (seriously, in this economy?), and when Golda Rosheuvel (not a little old Jewish lady buying the last babka! I know!) appears both as a communist activist and a forking BOOMING-voiced singer. For a non-musical, there are a lot of great musical moments like these producing the magic, perhaps because that’s what Chavkin’s best at. But the vignettes continuously disappoint, perhaps because of the missing link of the Baum family, perhaps because a lot of them are simply unnecessary. The best one comes thanks to the talents of Abdul Salis, who I also only knew because he was also in the movie “Notting Hill” but when it was “Love Actually”, as Tony, the friend of Colin (Colin being the bellend who goes to America and is the worst character and storyline in the whole movie). Abdul plays a café owner in Mississippi, who, as a black man, can do little to protest the exploitative actions of the local sheriff. Abdul gets the biggest line in the whole thing, when he comments that “The main thing about the Depression is that it finally hit the white people.” When he said that line, a black lady across the way from me clapped and shouted ‘yes!’ and nudged the white girl sitting next to her and pointed at the stage and honestly that was the best moment of my week. I would have loved more of Abdul’s café owner, seeing what happened to him, following him long enough to forge a connection, but that wasn’t going to happen. And then there was just too much filler and fat. I don’t understand the entire near-end scene with all the ladies playing cards. It was the kind of moment in a play where I’d almost stand up and say “oh THIS is the bad place!” Why was that in there? And why did they have Francesca Mills play EVERY SINGLE FEMALE CHARACTER? Flora Dawson, another actor onstage in the ensemble, had literally one line, but Mills, I just checked her bio, played SEVEN different named characters in this? I don’t get ittttt. It is great, however, that Mills was cast (she is a little person), in this theatre town that desperately needs more diversity in casting. Chavkin’s productions continue to be the most diverse in the game, across ethnicities, body types, everything. She’s really paying attention to the changes that need to happen when there’s no need for cookie-cutter interchangeable chorus girls. Overall, it’s a decent play, with some great performances (and yes Clarke Peters was my favorite but his run is now over; his role is played by Sule Rimi) but there were just too many overly long, often dull moments. Fortunately, at the very end the power of the stories came together a bit, when they reminded us that this wasn’t just a wee look at the past; it was a warning for what’s likely to hit us soon with Brexit (slash fill-in-your-country’s-turmoil across the world). A shame they saved the majority of the emotional heft for the last minute, but that is what you walk away remembering. Like I said, Depressing! INFORMATION We were notified a few weeks before the show that our seats had been relocated, possibly due to the change in staging or the construction. I was now in Row H in the center, which sounded like a claustrophobic frequent pee-er’s nightmare (I always need aisles) but it ended up being the front row on the main side of the stalls (the good side, right by the exit to the outdoor toilets) and there is HELLA legroom in that front row so it didn’t matter that it was central, I could easily run past the rest of my row with my arms fully extended to the sides. It ended up being an amazing Best Seat Ever situation, except for the jackass lady behind us who refused to shut off her phone (and we weren’t even the ones who asked her to turn it off! Other people cared for once too! Yay other people who care!). Because the whole outdoor loo sitch is inconvenient, there are two staff workers outside them with buckets of candy, which is hilarious and adorable. No vegan candy but still, I love that they tried to be nice. |
