All About Eve: Fasten Your Seatbeats, It’s Going to be a Bumpy Night Because This Show is Terribleby Randi / March 28, 2019Six the Musical: Divorced! Beheaded! Live! And Here to Save British Musical Theatre
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is the new musical Six, playing at London’s Arts Theatre.
Longtime Laughfrodisiac readers (or people who have spoken to me in real life for more than five minutes) have heard me bitch and moan about the sorry state of British musical theatre before, and often. The only great shows for literally decades came courtesy of Andrew Lloyd Webber (and he wasn’t immune to some straight-up horseshit), and a random few from Elton John (Billy Elliot) and Tim Minchin (Matilda). Matilda premiered in 2010, so that’s almost a decade without a great new British musical. And people wonder why I always say musical theatre is better on Broadway. While that’s still true, finally, forking g-d FINALLY, a new, original, fantastic musical written by Brits has arrived. It seems what the world of British musicals needed wasn’t another old white man (honestly when has that ever been the answer), but two young Cambridge students ready to make their mark before even graduating (I know, I hate them too). Six the Musical is a girl-power retelling of the stories of Henry VIII’s six wives, a concert-style show that is fast and furious in its remarkable ability to share history through modern pop music that is funny, inspired, and absurdly catchy.
From just the tagline – “Divorced, Beheaded, Live!” playing on the famous rhyme for remembering how the wives died – I knew this was going to be fun, but I was not ready to be blown away by the brilliant music. The six wives, onstage with their all-female band, are outfitted in the coolest of costumes, a shiny modern slant on medieval garb, kind of like it’s Halloween and they decided on ‘sexy Tudor.’ They’ve gathered now to have a sort of contest, to see which of them suffered the most and ‘wins’ that dubious title of most unfortunate of the six wives, kind of like how Monica won the title of giving the best bad massages. As soon as they begin singing “Welcome to the show, to the histor-remix” I was like OH DIP (because I speak like Jason Mendoza as a rule now), WORDPLAY, this is going to be spectacular. And from that opening number, “Ex-Wives”, I was enthralled and honestly elated at how good the music was.
From the opening onward, the lyrics are clever and the music is fun and memorable. Throughout all of it, there are amazing nerdy history jokes peppered in, which, as nerds, we adored, and straight up historical lessons on things we never knew. Since English people are super nerdy about knowing and loving their history (would be cool, America!), there’s an immediate sense that everyone is sharing inside jokes, which is a surefire way to solidify audience engagement and enjoyment, and guarantee positive word of mouth. In fact, this is the first show in a while where the audience was so engaged that there wasn’t much extraneous chatter or phone use, which is a g-d miracle.
Pretty much every musical number – and since it is a concert-style show, it’s a series of musical numbers with limited dialogue in between – delivers, with the badass energy of “Ex-Wives” continuing into the first solo, Catherine of Aragon’s (Jarneia Richard-Noel) “No Way”, about how she was not about to give this jackass the annulment he wanted. “No Way” is one of the catchier songs, one I could see being played on the radio (it’s even on my running playlist). It is a forking great time and Richard-Noel has a blast with it. The girl-power vibe remains into the second wife’s solo, but in a much different way. If you know your history, you know that second wife is the most famous one, Anne Boleyn. Where Catherine #1 had self-assurance, Anne goes for cheeky and trades in on innocent-seeming adorableness to gloss over anything she may have done wrong in the funny “Don’t Lose UR Head”. Definitely the millennial character of the bunch, Boleyn (Millie O’Connell) sings how she’s “sorry not sorry bout what I said…I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, lol.” It’s a bold move to show Boleyn as a naughty young girl trying to make her actions seem cute, and I liked that even though she’s the most famous wife, she doesn’t get the most attention or development. We have more interesting wives to learn about.
Like Wife #3, Jane Seymour, or as the other wives mock her, “the only one he really loved.” To have a needed break from all the loud fast songs so far, Jane gets the slow Adele-like power ballad about her “Heart of Stone”. Natalie Paris does a fantastic job with this well-placed song and gets to really show off, while selling a convincing and honestly heartbreaking take on why she wasn’t lucky just because Henry loved her. I love that this show makes you reconsider all of your assumptions about these women. Like Wife #4, Anna of Cleves. First of all, I always thought it was Anne. Second of all, obviously liberties were taken, but I adore thinking of her as having made out like a g-d bandit after Henry divorced her. In her hilarious song, “Get Down”, Anna (a great Alexia McIntosh) says since Henry divorced her rather quickly because she wasn’t actually as hot as she looked in her profile pic (erm, oil painting), she put up with a few months of his crap until he divorced her and then she got to live like a queen for the rest of her life. Not a bad deal at all, she admits, taking herself out of the competition with her proud acknowledgement that her life post-Henry was theeee shit. And nothing is funnier and more perfect than the group number introducing Anna – “Haus Of Holbein”. In it, we learn how Henry turned to Germany for his next wife, and what better way to tell us than in a spot-on spoof of a German club anthem, absolutely hysterical and perfect.
Of course, Anna was the lucky one, and after he divorced her he was right back to treating his wives horribly. Next came Katherine Howard, my favorite of the bunch, with her incredible number “All You Wanna Do”, which has her channeling Ariana Grande while bragging about her promiscuous past in the beginning and then turning it into a devastating post-mortem on how her whole life was about being used and abused by men. Aimee Atkinson, with this show since the beginning, was the standout for me, and in one song she achieved the kind of character development most shows dream about. It doesn’t hurt that this song has some of the cleverest lyrics, and the greatest use of the phrase ‘birds and the bees’ maybe ever.
With all these truly amazing songs, it was inevitable that there would be a slight dip in quality, and that happened when we got to the sixth wife, Catherine Parr (Courtney Stapleton, on as alternate). She didn’t get to really shine as the others did, because her song is the weakest. It also ends abruptly as she decides to change their focus, so it’s not as crucial to have strengthened since it segues into a group number. And that group number is pretty moving, as the wives decide to change their perspective, and ours. Maybe instead of regarding them as being famous just because they were married to Henry, they say, maybe we should consider that hewas only famous because he was married to them. Whenever you have a show that sets out to be ‘girl-power’, it runs the risk of pandering for applause, and while they came close to that line, the way they presented this discussion saved it.
The downsides are few: For one, the sound in the Arts Theatre isn’t great. It’s a tiny almost-black box of a theatre, with acoustics that do not measure up to what a West End theatre should have. It was often hard to make out the extraordinarily clever lyrics, which is a shame, because they are extraordinarily clever. Whether it was solely due to the sound engineering or a mix of sound issues plus enunciation needs, I don’t know, but it would be wise to shore up the clarity on either front. My only other issue is that, because it is so strong, it’s a shame it’s not a full-fledged book musical. With equal focus on six different characters, you’d think they would have had trouble cutting it to a suitable length for modern audience’s attention spans. Instead, it presents the opposite situation, with an adoring audience eager for more. At 75 minutes, it’s great that it never overstays its welcome – always leave them wanting more, I guess – but it could easily take another 15 minutes, flesh out a few of the more superficial characters, and still be a breezy show. But I guess it’s best to count our lucky stars that there is nary a weak moment in this show, and that the audience was fully rapt (and off their phones, praise be) the whole time, so who am I to dare risk all that magic? Six is a joyous, provocative, inspired show and I will gladly see it again and again, which is something I have never said about a British musical.
INFORMATION
The Arts Theatre is tiny, so it is a madhouse in the lobby. The bathrooms are tiny so get in line early. This is one show where it’s fun to be super close.
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Moby Dick at the A.R.T: An Epic that No One but Dave Malloy Could Attempt
It’s the first Theatre Thursday of the year! What better show to celebrate with than this monster opus, playing at Boston’s American Repertory Theatre until January 12.
The long-anticipated musical version of the classic book Moby Dick is exactly what we expected from Dave Malloy, one of our favorite modern composers: it’s riveting, interesting, unique, too long, needs to be edited, and contains real brilliance. Telling the well-known tale of the for-sure nuts captain obsessed with the white whale and hell bent on killing it even if he takes his whole crew down with him, Moby Dick contains, as Ron Swanson said, “no frou frou symbolism; just a good honest tale about a man who hates an animal.” Just kidding, it’s all symbolism baby, some of the most well recognized symbolism in all of American literature, and Malloy and director Rachel Chavkin have presented a wild and weird, completely unexpected telling of the story. While the second act needs work (and I don’t expect Broadway audiences to happily sit through a two-hour long first act (yes we will talk at length about the peeing situation later)), the first was absolutely giddily brilliant, and the show as a whole is, like its titular whale, a special beast.
And yes, I did say the first act is two hours long. The show as a whole is 3 hours 25 minutes, which is Long but feels Right for such an epic tale. That first act is one of my favorite things I’ve seen at least this year. It feels magical, like a privilege to be there. By having the actor playing Ishmael, Manik Choksi (“Dolokov was in the Caucasus and he killed the shah’s brotherrrr”), talk to us as himself first, commenting on how he feels today in America as a person of color and wanting to see a stage filled with who he considers his America, it did two things: a) it confirmed that Chavkin productions are the most consciously diverse in the entire world, and b) it sealed this experience as one we were all in together, as did further breaking of the 4th wall in other instances, and the fact that the house lights were up for so much of it. This show is an adventure that the team makes sure the audience feels an important part of, making the whole thing extra meaningful. (Although Choksi’s little introduction to us feels out of order, since Dawn L. Troupe has already sung a prologue in character by that point.)
Like the book, this musical is an epic journey, although there are no exceedingly boring bits. Even things that should be cut are still interesting, and the show as a whole is special. But the magic is in that first half. Malloy throws everything into the pot and stirs it with some incredible music, new but still sounding like him, along with straight vaudeville scenes, as well as stand-up comedy. There’s everything going on, and somehow it all feels like part of the same whole. The scientific lessons about whales are done with a humorous touch, meta-critiquing how boring it is in the book. I could have done without the “The Whale as a Dish” song, a ‘funny’ cooking show sort-of take about eating whale meat which is so unnecessary that cutting it wouldn’t change anything, despite how incredible a performer Stubb (Kalyn West) is, moving like a gumby-sort of cartoon character the whole time. The greatest segment of this vaudeville section is the character- and 4th wall-breaking stand-up from Fedallah, Eric Berryman, who takes the opportunity to decry how this ‘exotic foreign’ character was treated in the book AND to call out Malloy and Chavkin’s extra wokeness with their commitment to diversity onstage. It’s a sort of timeout for everyone, and it is absolutely brilliant, giving everyone both a breather and a challenge to their perspective.
Some of the music is magnificent, especially Ahab’s first song (when the band starts picking up, wow), early movements I don’t know the name of because unlike the jackwagon next to us we don’t read the program the entire time??, and the lovely, calm “A Squeeze of the Hand”. Others need work, like Starbuck’s big song before the act break, “Dusk”, which needs to be moving and big but feels lackluster despite her performance. The line about “something ties me to this man and I’ve no knife to cut the line” is okay, but not strong enough to be repeated so much and to hang everything on.
During the first act ‘pause’, about 15 audience members are recruited to join the cast onstage for the rest of the act – in ponchos, and then put in onstage boats and used in all sorts of hilarious amazing ways. Volunteer for this. Do not be like me and get scared and put your hand down. It looked like the funnest, funniest thing ever. There are some blood spurts as they kill a whale (you have to put your vegan blinders on for this one, p.s.) with the abstract representation seeming shockingly real, but that’s what the ponchos are for.
The second act lacks the magical spark that we felt in the first act, even though it’s objectively well done. The first section after the break is entirely about the child castaway character Pip, and it is heart-breaking and moving (with a great performance from Morgan Siobhan Green), though it seems inconsistent with what came before. The second part is the climax as the Pequod sets upon the white whale, and this is where everything – except Tom Nelis’s literally flawless performance as Ahab – falls short. This is the big exciting exhilarating climax – or it should be, but the only staging to show the electrifying action is flashing the lights almost a dozen times. It’s tiring, this blinding flashing, and pretty annoying actually, and doesn’t accomplish any of what these moments should be showing. The ending needs to be bigger and bolder. And having the two sailors, often shown chatting at their lookout up the mast, having another tête-à-tête at the end did not work (along with all but their first such scene). It was very randomly and suddenly The Good Place, with their acknowledging they will die but giving a very ‘why not still try?’ vibe, which felt misplaced and didn’t fit the rest of the show at all. (Also, that line about whale sounds’ different rhythms coming together ‘like West African polyrhythms’ is a REAL clunker, oof.)
But overall, this was one of the most interesting, ambitious projects I’ve had the privilege of seeing. It strives for so much, maybe too much, and definitely needs to be refined before Broadway, but man alive if this isn’t some of the coolest, boldest theatre. It feels right that Malloy be the person to musicalize this epic story, and it can, and should, become an epic in its own right.
INFORMATION
The first thing in my notes: “21:24 intermission I DID IT!”
So the first act is just shy of two hours, with the 5-minute pause coming at the 50 minute mark. That pause is when they pick the audience volunteers. You can’t leave during the pause, but even if you did, even if you have the aisle seat next to the door, you couldn’t hit the bathrooms and back in that time because they are DOWNSTAIRS. It’s a very high school setup. The bathrooms are unassigned gender-wise, open to be used as one sees fit, which should be fine with everyone but caused a lot of conversation among the older crowd (mostly confusion about where to go). The line at intermission went all the way up the stairs and past the bar and just about back to the doors to the theatre, so, yeah, run.
Happily, there is a water refill port downstairs with the bathrooms.
The second half is just about an hour 10 minutes, with the show ending at 22:54. There is merchandise for sale from this show as well as ART’s big successes in recent years, including Malloy’s Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812 and my favorite Pippin revival of all time.
Daniel Radcliffe in “The Cripple of Inishmaan”, One of the Best Plays of the Season
In Martin McDonagh’s fantastic, heartbreaking comedy “The Cripple of Inishmaan”, Daniel Radcliffe proves that he’s got more in him than Harry Potter. With great respect for the humorous yet depressing subject matter, Radcliffe and an insanely talented ensemble cast give this play its best imaginable incarnation.
Radcliffe plays a poor crippled lad named Billy living on the island of Inishmaan, Ireland in the 1930s or thereabouts. His parents died when he was a baby – some taunt Billy (really ‘Crippled Billy’, as this town primarily full of assholes calls him; Inishmaan didn’t get the memo about bullying) by saying his parents killed themselves to get away from his poor crippled babiness. Billy was taken in by his two ‘aunties’, played by Gillian Hanna and Ingrid Craigie, who are freaking hilarious Irish perfection. Seriously, the play opens with the two of them deadpanning near nonsense and if that went on for 2 hours, with Radcliffe never showing up, the audience probably would have been ok with it.
One of the aunties looks exactly like Marla Hooch and the other talks to stones when things get rough. The aunties get more than their fair share of gossip from Johnnypateenmike (Pat Shortt), who has the worst name since I thought Conchita Wurst was a real name. JPM comes by the aunties’ shoppe (which is overflowing with canned peas) every day, sharing bits of ‘news’, including such winners as whose cat bit whose rabbit or some such, and in return demands eggs and what not.
One of the bits of news he shares is that a Hollywood film crew is filming on the nearby island of Inishmore and wants to cast locals!! Squee! says the whole town. We all want to be in the Hollywood moving pictures! This kind of random turn of events sets the main ‘plot’ in motion, thought the play isn’t really plot-driven so much as character-driven and it would have been equally effective without this whole, well, plot. Anyway, the Crip hears this news and believes it to be his chance to make something of himself.
Johnnypateenmike seems pretty darn annoying, and not just because of his name, and kind of assy, but of course our first impression is super wrong because this is a play and we have to learn that we’re not always right about red-nosed greasy-haired Irish men who drink a lot. Our first impression is also wrong, though moving from the opposite direction, of Babbybobby, another unfortunately named male considering babby = baby in Ireland speak. He seems pretty sensitive and kind at first, helping Billy get to Inishmore to try out for the film crew. But he shows himself to be a crazy kind of sensitive in that when he is offended he beats the shit out of crippled boys. But he does agree to stop calling him Crippled Billy (before he cripples him even more), so that’s something.
Babbybobby takes Billy across the sea or whatever body of water is legendarily difficult to cross but reasonably doable in a handmade canoe. Although the other characters were laughing at Billy’s desire to try out for the film crew, they actually end up wanting him to come to Hollywood for a proper screen test. Yay Billy! He goes without telling his aunties what he’s up to, and rumor spreads (that Billy himself may or may not have started) that he is dying and left to die in solitude. Prettayyy dire. But then he comes back. But then he probably is dying anyway. There’s a lot of great dramatic irony. You should read or see the play.
The most electric member of this superb ensemble (freal) is Sarah Greene as Helen, who is pretty much the Irish ginger lass version of Reese Witherspoon’s Melanie Spooner from “Sweet Home Alabama”. (Actually, whichever one of these came second may have stolen the character from the other.) Melanie was famous for attaching dynamite to a cat to blow up a bank; Helen kills a neighbor’s cat for money. (Kind of also like Angel Dumott Schunard BUT NOT NEARLY AS AWESOME.) At first, as Helen’s first scene features her recounting how she hit or egged some priests for inappropriate touching, I was like, oh wow this chick ROCKS! Beat those priests! But as we observe Helen, her ballsiness evidences its tendency toward sadism. Maybe it’s a result of her being treated as women were and still are, but like you could adapt to be more Daenarys and less Ramsey Snow.
Anyway, this total crazy bitch eggs things and people any chance she gets. To demonstrate this, the production destroys at least a dozen real eggs during every performance. I almost leapt down from my box to stop her. Ok, so having a young girl throw eggs a lot shows that she is ‘fun’ and ‘rambunctious’ and ‘confident’, but really it’s just sad and wasteful and unnecessary to use real eggs when we already understand the character. They were going to be chickens! And instead of at least being used as eggs so the many lives lost in their production wouldn’t be completely in vain, they are cracked upon another ginger’s head and thrown at bedsheets acting as movie screens. UGH anger. Between this and the eggs Andy Karl drinks every show in “Rocky”, this Broadway season is not cruelty-free.
ANYWAY. That other ginger being egged so much is Helen’s brother Bartley, who is kind of lovable and sweet, but he’s completely incapable of deflecting his sister’s constant need to beat the shit out of someone. All this kid wants is American candies, or in a pinch any candies, which he persistently asks the aunties for in hilarious bits. The best such bit is when Auntie Marla Hooch just keeps repeating “We have what you see!” in tones of increasing impatience. (He calls candies ‘sweeties’ but we will not stoop to such low levels because it’s a terrible, awful, no good word in that awful trend of taking the defining trait and making a noun of it WHICH IS BULLSHIT. Add to my list of verboten words ‘tasty’, ‘brekkie’, ‘choccy’, ‘biccie’, and more we will get to at some point in the future.)
For some reason, Billy is crazy so crazy in love with Helen, which I don’t get unless he believes that shit about how the meanest kids in elementary school really just had crushes on you or something because otherwise he is just a glutton for punishment. I mean she treats him so terribly, making fun of his ailments and telling terrible stories about his parents. God she’s the worst (but the actress is amazing. And looks exactly like Emma Stone.).
Radcliffe’s affectations of the deformities are so well done that, while at first they are shocking, they become so accepted and you get used to it. It’s an amazing physical performance, as he swings one of his legs around and keeps one arm bent at his shoulder. Very strange. Anyway, Crippled Billy goes to Hollywood, and in the second act we wonder if he made it, or if he’s actually dying, or dead. Then we think the question is answered, as Radcliffe’s performs the show’s biggest “Watch Me Acting” scene, in which he convulses and coughs and prays and cries out to his deceased parents and clutches things, as he dies. It’s pretty heartbreaking…yet it seems like a manifestation of a playwright’s manic excess and not like anything the character would do. It was like someone exclaiming in Shakespearean monologues when a train is late (which I do but still). But it all makes sense when we learn later that this ‘scene’ we saw, Billy’s death, was actually Billy’s screen test! And it went badly and caused the producers to send him back home! So, like, knowing this is even more impressive on Radcliffe’s part. He had to act this big huge scene as dramatically as all get out, and expertly do it poorly. No easy feat.
For about two minutes everything seems hunky-dory, with the aunties and Billy reunited, but being a dark Irish play, everything goes to shit soon after. In the span of maybe five minutes, we learn from Johnnypateenmike the truth about Billy’s parents, and it is a doozy. Possibly the saddest thing ever and reminiscent of a part from Benjamin Button. And in that moment JPM becomes like the greatest man alive. Aw. Then, just as the rumors about Billy’s terminal illness are revealed as lies he introduced himself, we learn that lying about having bad diseases angers the gods or something and will lead them to give the liar in question the very disease they lied about having, in an ironic twist of fate. Pretty f-ing sad, Ireland. But none of it seems overwrought or theatrical. The play, so expertly produced and acted, leaves you not feeling dejected but feeling lucky to have witnessed such insight into human emotion and the randomness of fortune. It’s definitely one of the best of the season.
One of the aunties looks exactly like Marla Hooch and the other talks to stones when things get rough. The aunties get more than their fair share of gossip from Johnnypateenmike (Pat Shortt), who has the worst name since I thought Conchita Wurst was a real name. JPM comes by the aunties’ shoppe (which is overflowing with canned peas) every day, sharing bits of ‘news’, including such winners as whose cat bit whose rabbit or some such, and in return demands eggs and what not.
One of the bits of news he shares is that a Hollywood film crew is filming on the nearby island of Inishmore and wants to cast locals!! Squee! says the whole town. We all want to be in the Hollywood moving pictures! This kind of random turn of events sets the main ‘plot’ in motion, thought the play isn’t really plot-driven so much as character-driven and it would have been equally effective without this whole, well, plot. Anyway, the Crip hears this news and believes it to be his chance to make something of himself.
Johnnypateenmike seems pretty darn annoying, and not just because of his name, and kind of assy, but of course our first impression is super wrong because this is a play and we have to learn that we’re not always right about red-nosed greasy-haired Irish men who drink a lot. Our first impression is also wrong, though moving from the opposite direction, of Babbybobby, another unfortunately named male considering babby = baby in Ireland speak. He seems pretty sensitive and kind at first, helping Billy get to Inishmore to try out for the film crew. But he shows himself to be a crazy kind of sensitive in that when he is offended he beats the shit out of crippled boys. But he does agree to stop calling him Crippled Billy (before he cripples him even more), so that’s something.
Babbybobby takes Billy across the sea or whatever body of water is legendarily difficult to cross but reasonably doable in a handmade canoe. Although the other characters were laughing at Billy’s desire to try out for the film crew, they actually end up wanting him to come to Hollywood for a proper screen test. Yay Billy! He goes without telling his aunties what he’s up to, and rumor spreads (that Billy himself may or may not have started) that he is dying and left to die in solitude. Prettayyy dire. But then he comes back. But then he probably is dying anyway. There’s a lot of great dramatic irony. You should read or see the play.
The most electric member of this superb ensemble (freal) is Sarah Greene as Helen, who is pretty much the Irish ginger lass version of Reese Witherspoon’s Melanie Spooner from “Sweet Home Alabama”. (Actually, whichever one of these came second may have stolen the character from the other.) Melanie was famous for attaching dynamite to a cat to blow up a bank; Helen kills a neighbor’s cat for money. (Kind of also like Angel Dumott Schunard BUT NOT NEARLY AS AWESOME.) At first, as Helen’s first scene features her recounting how she hit or egged some priests for inappropriate touching, I was like, oh wow this chick ROCKS! Beat those priests! But as we observe Helen, her ballsiness evidences its tendency toward sadism. Maybe it’s a result of her being treated as women were and still are, but like you could adapt to be more Daenarys and less Ramsey Snow.
Anyway, this total crazy bitch eggs things and people any chance she gets. To demonstrate this, the production destroys at least a dozen real eggs during every performance. I almost leapt down from my box to stop her. Ok, so having a young girl throw eggs a lot shows that she is ‘fun’ and ‘rambunctious’ and ‘confident’, but really it’s just sad and wasteful and unnecessary to use real eggs when we already understand the character. They were going to be chickens! And instead of at least being used as eggs so the many lives lost in their production wouldn’t be completely in vain, they are cracked upon another ginger’s head and thrown at bedsheets acting as movie screens. UGH anger. Between this and the eggs Andy Karl drinks every show in “Rocky”, this Broadway season is not cruelty-free.
ANYWAY. That other ginger being egged so much is Helen’s brother Bartley, who is kind of lovable and sweet, but he’s completely incapable of deflecting his sister’s constant need to beat the shit out of someone. All this kid wants is American candies, or in a pinch any candies, which he persistently asks the aunties for in hilarious bits. The best such bit is when Auntie Marla Hooch just keeps repeating “We have what you see!” in tones of increasing impatience. (He calls candies ‘sweeties’ but we will not stoop to such low levels because it’s a terrible, awful, no good word in that awful trend of taking the defining trait and making a noun of it WHICH IS BULLSHIT. Add to my list of verboten words ‘tasty’, ‘brekkie’, ‘choccy’, ‘biccie’, and more we will get to at some point in the future.)
For some reason, Billy is crazy so crazy in love with Helen, which I don’t get unless he believes that shit about how the meanest kids in elementary school really just had crushes on you or something because otherwise he is just a glutton for punishment. I mean she treats him so terribly, making fun of his ailments and telling terrible stories about his parents. God she’s the worst (but the actress is amazing. And looks exactly like Emma Stone.).
Radcliffe’s affectations of the deformities are so well done that, while at first they are shocking, they become so accepted and you get used to it. It’s an amazing physical performance, as he swings one of his legs around and keeps one arm bent at his shoulder. Very strange. Anyway, Crippled Billy goes to Hollywood, and in the second act we wonder if he made it, or if he’s actually dying, or dead. Then we think the question is answered, as Radcliffe’s performs the show’s biggest “Watch Me Acting” scene, in which he convulses and coughs and prays and cries out to his deceased parents and clutches things, as he dies. It’s pretty heartbreaking…yet it seems like a manifestation of a playwright’s manic excess and not like anything the character would do. It was like someone exclaiming in Shakespearean monologues when a train is late (which I do but still). But it all makes sense when we learn later that this ‘scene’ we saw, Billy’s death, was actually Billy’s screen test! And it went badly and caused the producers to send him back home! So, like, knowing this is even more impressive on Radcliffe’s part. He had to act this big huge scene as dramatically as all get out, and expertly do it poorly. No easy feat.
For about two minutes everything seems hunky-dory, with the aunties and Billy reunited, but being a dark Irish play, everything goes to shit soon after. In the span of maybe five minutes, we learn from Johnnypateenmike the truth about Billy’s parents, and it is a doozy. Possibly the saddest thing ever and reminiscent of a part from Benjamin Button. And in that moment JPM becomes like the greatest man alive. Aw. Then, just as the rumors about Billy’s terminal illness are revealed as lies he introduced himself, we learn that lying about having bad diseases angers the gods or something and will lead them to give the liar in question the very disease they lied about having, in an ironic twist of fate. Pretty f-ing sad, Ireland. But none of it seems overwrought or theatrical. The play, so expertly produced and acted, leaves you not feeling dejected but feeling lucky to have witnessed such insight into human emotion and the randomness of fortune. It’s definitely one of the best of the season.
1 Comment
Can’t wait to see this especially now after this wonderful review