"Mother Courage And Her Children" in London: War is Terrible, Theatre is Fantasticby Randi / December 7, 2017
When I told people I was seeing The Band’s Visit on Broadway, they asked what it’s about, and I’d say “remember that little Israeli film from like 9 years ago about a group of musicians that gets stuck in a nothing town in the middle of nowhere and then, like, they have to leave?” The answers would invariably be ‘no’ or ‘um…what, no’. Then they’d ask me what else happens in the movie, maybe to jog their memory, and I would say, ‘um…I don’t remember…I don’t think anything.” Having seen the final preview (the last performance before official opening night) of the new musical version of this work, I am pretty sure the same conversation will happen for it too. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, this show so unbelievably makes ‘pretty much nothing’ seem like the most beautiful thing about life that it’s going to win Best Musical this year. And so far, it should. The Band’s Visit can sometimes be a bit boring – some people near me were sleeping – but like, in a glorious, magical way.
Based on the 2007 Israeli movie of the same name, TBV is about Israelis and Egyptians with boring lives but it will resonate with most people today about their own lives and whether or not they are also boring. Even non-boring people with non-boring lives will have experienced at least some light anguish or fun-sized depression at some point, and so will connect with what’s happening on the stage. And what’s happening is a kind of special, fragile magic that is rare on Broadway. It’s about normal people in the 1990s, living quiet lives, just everyday people, no one special like in any other show. These everyday people are Israelis living in a little town, it’s a quiet village, called Beit Hatikva in the middle of the Negev desert. Beit Hatikva is not to be confused with Petah Tikva, a town with an Arab Cultural Center where a group of Egyptian military band musicians were supposed to perform, but, considering there’s no ‘p’ sound in Arabic and they naturally substitute the ‘b’, you can see how the musicians did indeed confuse the two and ended up getting bus tickets to Beit Hatikva by accident. In the middle of the dusty Negev, in a village with maybe dozens of people, instead of at an official performance, the musicians are stuck for the night until they can catch a rare bus out of town the next day. While there, they befriend the locals and connect deeply with some despite the hindrance of time.
We meet the Israelis, kind of dawdling through their long, humdrum days, when the sing the opener literally about how they are waiting, just waiting, whether for something new and strange (they all want some strange) to come along, or just for the sky to go about changing its color. About how they stare into the distance expecting what they see to change but knowing that it never will. Luckily, the something new they dream about does come around to jolt their routine, and they are happy to feed and house the lost Egyptian musicians in their homes. Were people still nice and hospitable in the ‘90s? Maybe Israelis were? This show is so good it will make everyone love Jews! Anyway the villagers sing a few funny-sad-sarcastic songs about how nothing happens there and how time just passes and isn’t that sooo great. I love the line “Sometimes time is an ocean/This sofa is my boat and I’m just drifting right along.” I mean sure this might be happening in the Negev but show me one person in America who hasn’t had that exact thought, albeit much less poetic I’m sure, at some point? That’s why this show is so good and so beloved already – it doesn’t matter that it’s about specific people in a specific place; it’s genuinely just reflecting basic humanity, as most theatre tries to do but rarely so poignantly.
And that basic humanity includes the yearning to connect with others, in any way – romantically, with friends, with family, as a parent, everything. The visitors want to find this connection, the villagers want to find this connection. John Cariani, that lovable nerd from Something Rotten, plays an unhappy husband and new father who wants his marriage to be happier so they can raise their child better. He is adorably goofy, like with his parts in “Welcome to Nowhere”, but also brings such sad hope in “Itzik’s Lullaby”. Adam Kantor plays a guy who literally spends the entire show standing at a payphone, pathetically and pitifully waiting for his girlfriend to call. He finally gets to show off with the closer “Answer Me”, which is one of the songs that will stay with you probably forever. I love both these guys and though they have a small amount to do (it’s a 90 minute show! and nothing happens!) they manage to do it so well it breaks your heart. So will Ari’el Stachel as one of the musicians, making friends with the yoots in the town and teaching one hapless one in particular, Papi (the adorbs Etai Benson), about love. His song “Haled’s Song About Love” had me absolutely riveted, because his voice is out of this world. (It’s unfortunate that his is the only song on the cast recording that doesn’t show just how wonderful he is, but he still sounds great.)
But no one will break your heart like Tony Shalhoub and Katrina Lenk. I know, SHALHOUB! Monk! He plays the king of the Egyptians, okay that’s not really a thing, he’s the band leader and a general I think but king of the Egyptians is a bonkers amazing title. His name is Tewfiq, which has replaced ‘toe-pick!’ as a fun thing my brother and I like to shout now. He’s polite enough, and reserved, which is hard to maintain when faced with the unabashed, relentless flowing energy of Katrina Lenk as the local café owner Dina. Lenk is spellbinding in this role, where she doesn’t have much to do in a traditional musical theatre sense but she makes every moment feel like it’s a universe condensed into a movement or a sound. One of the most mesmerizing performers in every aspect, she moves like a dancer while she sings, and sometimes you are more riveted by how she gestures with one graceful arm moving like a ribbon than by what she’s saying. But what she’s saying also feels like the most vital words ever put to music, like you need them in order to breathe. It’s a revelatory performance, completely mesmerizing. If you don’t believe me, go below and listen to ‘Omar Sharif’ and try not to repeat it 50 times in a row.
Dina and Tewfiq both recognize what the other presents – a complete stranger, sure, but someone they didn’t think they’d have the opportunity to meet. It’s not like it’s love at first sight or something, it’s literally just like ‘hey you are…of age…and seem nice…and I have zero options.’ But it’s a beautiful kind of forlorn hope you feel arise. Dina, the unstoppable energy force, takes Tewfiq out to dinner and they eat and then they sit in a park and that’s the extent of what they do for most of the show, just sit and talk and it’s not right how moving it is, it doesn’t make any sense that it can be so heartbreaking and exquisite but it is. They’re all trying to get through life, get through their day, and maybe find someone who cares that they’re getting through it. It’s all kind of sad and wonderful and at several points you’ll do what I did, which is look around and say, ‘this is happening on Broadway??!!’ Fragile magic.
Not just the short amount of time hinders the budding relationships – in friendships, mentorships, and maybe romantic ones – from flourishing. The reality that makes this show so special is also what hinders the characters from hoping for anything more than mediocre: they know that nothing really happens in life like you see in the movies. This is most evident in the song ‘Omar Sharif’, which will send chills down your spine the entire time Katrina sings it, or more accurately, the entire time the force of this music uses Lenk as a vessel to convey its message in an otherworldly sort of way. ‘Omar Sharif’ is an outstanding song and Katrina’s performance during it may win her the Tony, so far away but almost a certainty. She and Tewfiq create pure magic in the park with ‘Something Different’, and despite seeing this opportunity they’ve gotten, we all know and they know that nothing in their lives is really ever going to change. Katrina really steals the show, but it’s in this scene where Shalhoub shows you why he so famous. I really almost went onstage to give him a hug when he shared what keeps him from trying or hoping for anything great, and I didn’t even watch Monk.
I wanted more music, because what there is is truly wonderful and different – it is SO Israeli with that middle eastern rhythm and tones of klezmer music – but I realize that anything more would harm the delicate thing happening onstage. David Yazbek has created a masterpiece. And David Cromer’s masterful direction lets the play happen, seemingly on its own, unfolding so naturally that it feels like a giant body of water, moving ever so slowly with no way of stopping it, slowing it down, or speeding it up. It just happens. There’s so much restraint on everyone’s part to keep the show small and subtle and natural, and that’s what makes the result so special and somehow enormous. It’s like it’s happening in spite of itself, in spite of audience expectations, in spite of being in a Broadway theatre. (I bet this was even more magical when it was downtown in a small theatre, but apparently it still works.) That the unfolding of the action (what little there is) and the monotonous pace of these characters’ lives seems unfettered and unfussed and so natural is really a tribute to everyone involved, letting there be such a subtle result. Like they sing in the show, “nothing is as beautiful as something that you don’t expect.”
This show will stay with you after you’ve seen it, staking permanent space in your mind so you think about it constantly. There’s more silence happening on this stage than in any other theatrical experience I’ve ever seen or heard of. Pure silence. That’s weird right? An often silent, quiet and still show? And yet that silence is a revelation. It’s not the kind that’s filled with unease, that makes you think okay can someone just do something? No, you’re content to just sit with them in that silence, to let it wash over you so you enjoy it all together, and to think with them about their nothing town and their predictable lives, and just, be. Just be in that space with these characters. With such a realistic portrayal of regular people in an unspecial town, silence and boredom and nothing is required. Normal life has those moments, and since realism and honesty are honored here, the experience reflects real life. And that never really gets to happen in musical theatre. I’ll admit at some of those moments I was itching for a song to begin, but that wouldn’t have had the same effect. The restraint evident here is part of why it works. It languishes, it flows like a lazy river, and to tamper with that would throw off the sense of realism, the sense that we are just getting a peek into actual people’s lives. And honestly I feel so lucky that I got to see into these people’s lives, and that this little show for grown-ups with absolutely zero commercial promise on paper is so wonderful.
STAGEDOOR
I went to the very last preview before opening night, so the cast may have just been extra excited to share the love, but everyone came out and took pictures and happily talked to everyone waiting. The crowd is different from usual, because it’s a lot of Israelis and Jews and Arabs who want to talk and it’s so freaking awesome. The title of this post has HABIBI!! in it because that’s the first thing I think of when I think about this show – the Israeli woman in the crowd at stagedoor who I think every time a cast member came out would scream HABIBI! in excitement. It was the best. It’s telling such an important story and it’s rare to get Middle Eastern people presented in a show where they are just average people with regular lives. So everyone is excited about that and you should be too.
INFORMATION
It’s a short 90 minutes with no intermission. If you’re like me and you already have to pee just reading that, don’t run to the toilets as soon as it ends because the musicians play a little amazing concert at curtain call.
The most important information? The cast recording is now finished, and it’s streaming on soundcloud. Entertainment Weekly has it here for you to listen to for free RIGHT NOW. Like I said above, try not to repeat “Omar Sharif” over and over and over and over…
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The Jungle: London’s Best New Play Will and Should Break Your Heart
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is The Jungle at London’s Playhouse Theatre, running until November 3.
Boy, if you didn’t hate Theresa May already, this incredible play will definitely do the job. But while it will make you shake with rage against everyone in positions of power – the ones with the ability to make decisions that will help instead of hurt, but don’t – it won’t only leave you feeling sad and impotent. It will make you want to step up and help as well. And though it was kind of suuuper bougie that we were these middle class white people seeing a play about the Jungle while our do-gooder friends have actually volunteered there, it really is an important play to see, because theatre can and often should create real change in the world, and this is the kind of play that embodies that goal.
Boy, if you didn’t hate Theresa May already, this incredible play will definitely do the job. But while it will make you shake with rage against everyone in positions of power – the ones with the ability to make decisions that will help instead of hurt, but don’t – it won’t only leave you feeling sad and impotent. It will make you want to step up and help as well. And though it was kind of suuuper bougie that we were these middle class white people seeing a play about the Jungle while our do-gooder friends have actually volunteered there, it really is an important play to see, because theatre can and often should create real change in the world, and this is the kind of play that embodies that goal.
“The Jungle”, by Joe Murphy and Joe Robertson, and directed by the great Stephen Daldry and Justin Martin (never seen a play directed by two people before, I don’t think, so that’s interesting), is unlike anything I’ve seen before (and not even because of the two director thing). It doesn’t feel like a play at all. Dropping you smack in the middle of the action in the Calais migrant camp in 2016, you quickly forget that someone wrote these lines or directed these people or that these people are actors. I fully was immersed and believed that the passionate, beleaguered people around me were truly refugees from Afghanistan, from Syria, from Sudan, from Lebanon, from anywhere but definitely not actors from London. It usually takes a lot of effort to make that jump into accepting what you’re seeing in the theatre as truth, but here it was like there was no alternative, this was real. I was a witness to this incredible human rights atrocity. These poor people had been through so much and I was witnessing their efforts to get through even more.
The setting of the Calais migrant camp was in the news a lot a few years ago, for dern good reason, and even though the human rights violations are still occurring over the water (over to France, I mean, not the USA, although we all know the many violations of all sorts happening over that water but that’s not what I’m talking about for this one moment in time), the news has dropped the ball on covering it. Refugees and migrants trying to flee from many different countries for many different reasons have been coming into Europe for a long time, but in 2015 the number rose substantially. The huge numbers of migrants set up an encampment near Calais, France, from January 2015 to October 2016. With little assistance from activists and organizations, they built temporary housing, places of worships, restaurants. They dealt with sanitation problems (like lack of sanitation), food shortages, unaccompanied children, and the kinds of abuses that occur in any large group. People were hoping to get to the UK, and would risk their lives over and over and over by hiding in trucks, jumping ferries, or stowing away on trains heading to their believed salvation. They would really risk everything to succeed on this journey, evidenced in large part by the record number of people who died at sea trying to cross the Mediterranean in unsafe, terribly crowded small boats. Everyone remembers the picture of the poor little boy who drowned, a fact that this play reminds you of.
Despite the growing number of migrants camped out here, the French authorities began carrying out evictions. They would clear the camp by force, quadrant by quadrant, always promising that each eviction would be the last, forcing the migrants into smaller and more cramped living situations, before returning shortly thereafter and clearing another section. Now, the camp is gone, but the migrants still remain. They just aren’t allowed to have any sort of shelter in place or even bedding. Kids are burying blankets underground when the sun rises so officers won’t confiscate them. Their treatment is a disgusting stain in human history, one that is getting bigger and darker.
The play drops us into the action full swing, and when I say drops us in, I really mean it. Most of why the full immersion was easy to plunge into was because of the spectacular set and staging of this show. Inside the Playhouse theatre, there’s no theatre left really. The stage is gone, and although there’s a small balcony section for audience members, the entire floor is now a makeshift café in the middle of the migrant camp, with flags of represented countries, wooden benches, and dirt floors. The whole floor is this restaurant, and I was seated at one of the central wooden benches in the café while the actors swirled around, through, and right on top of the audience. The actors walked along the tables where our drinks were (a nice Afghani refugee will give you tea upon entering the café). They leaned on my shoulder when trying to talk to their friend standing at the next table. They threw dirty dish towels at us to clean our tables. They brought the guy next to me some freshly baked bread (seriously, I saw the guy kneading and rolling it out in the kitchen area) and then they brought him a whole curry platter (better him than me, thank goodness). I’ve seen immersive staging before, but this was unique, and it was so effective in making you care about what was happening.
And what was happening was chilling. The play begins right when the French authorities are beginning their ‘eviction process’, by forcibly, violently clearing an occupied part of the camp. You hear names of people who have died. Everything is loud, terrifying, and just when you’re starting to get short of breath, a calming presence interrupts and says we better start at the beginning of the story instead of the end. It’s unsettling storytelling, and incredibly powerful.
This calming presence is Safi, played by Ammar Haj Ahmad though I still can’t believe he was an actor who got to go home safe after the show. Quickly, and then continuously over the two acts, Safi will become someone we and the other refugees learn to trust and value, which is always a dangerous thing to do, as he demonstrates. A refugee from Syria, he becomes a leader of this camp, along with the Afghani restauranteur Salar (Ben Turner, remarkable) and Mohammed from Sudan (Jonathan Nyati), both giving their characters a sincere sense of gravitas and earnestness. It makes sense that the rest of the camp looks to them for guidance, even though they are just as lost and defeated.
There are a few other standout performers who are given time to shine, like John Pfumojena’s Okot, a Sudanese teenager who tells us how he has died and keeps dying deaths over and over in a somber, slow scene that was given remarkable amount of time to grow in an otherwise fast-paced show. But the entire cast is top-notch, and if I could give an award for best cast or ensemble (different from the theoretical Best Ensemble Tony Award that people are clamoring for that I object to (that would be for the unnamed chorus members only and so dancers who happen to be cast in top shows frequently could be like 10-time Tony winners and that’s just nonsense)), I would award this phenomenal cast. Not least the little girl Amal who barely says anything but breaks your heart into pieces so effectively that at the end I was like DO YOU NEED A HOME???
Everything about this play feels pitch perfect because it is all so accurate, from the Eton-educated British lad whose heart is in the right place but has no idea what he’s offering to deal with, to the infighting among migrants, to the condescending French authorities who lie with no compunction. Of course, the most staggeringly distressing part was the end, when we see actual footage of what has happened and how atrociously the media has handled it. The poor coverage and sometimes outright lies put out there about the camp led directly to Brexit, I believe, and I wonder just how many of the Brits in my audience voted for it, and whether they regret their decision. I hope they are doing something to help make amends for their actions. And if any theatre could produce that extraordinary result, it’s this extraordinary play, a theatrical event that you should run to see.
INFORMATION
The Jungle runs two hours and 45 ish minutes, in two acts. There’s lots of smoke, mainly non-cigarette ‘explosion’ smoke that I almost choked on and had to breathe through a paper towel for a minute, so be warned if you have asthma that like, you should bring your inhaler. Also, it’s pretty gritty, both in subject and in physical being. I picked the wrong show to wear a fancy dress to, I’ll tell you that. If you are sitting downstairs in the café, wear shoes you don’t mind getting dirty and clothes you can move in (to get on the bench) and try not to let them throw the dirty towels at your head.
Our seats right in the middle of the action at the Afghan Café were originally $25 (that’s pounddollars) and now are apparently $100! So you should run faster!
The setting of the Calais migrant camp was in the news a lot a few years ago, for dern good reason, and even though the human rights violations are still occurring over the water (over to France, I mean, not the USA, although we all know the many violations of all sorts happening over that water but that’s not what I’m talking about for this one moment in time), the news has dropped the ball on covering it. Refugees and migrants trying to flee from many different countries for many different reasons have been coming into Europe for a long time, but in 2015 the number rose substantially. The huge numbers of migrants set up an encampment near Calais, France, from January 2015 to October 2016. With little assistance from activists and organizations, they built temporary housing, places of worships, restaurants. They dealt with sanitation problems (like lack of sanitation), food shortages, unaccompanied children, and the kinds of abuses that occur in any large group. People were hoping to get to the UK, and would risk their lives over and over and over by hiding in trucks, jumping ferries, or stowing away on trains heading to their believed salvation. They would really risk everything to succeed on this journey, evidenced in large part by the record number of people who died at sea trying to cross the Mediterranean in unsafe, terribly crowded small boats. Everyone remembers the picture of the poor little boy who drowned, a fact that this play reminds you of.
Despite the growing number of migrants camped out here, the French authorities began carrying out evictions. They would clear the camp by force, quadrant by quadrant, always promising that each eviction would be the last, forcing the migrants into smaller and more cramped living situations, before returning shortly thereafter and clearing another section. Now, the camp is gone, but the migrants still remain. They just aren’t allowed to have any sort of shelter in place or even bedding. Kids are burying blankets underground when the sun rises so officers won’t confiscate them. Their treatment is a disgusting stain in human history, one that is getting bigger and darker.
The play drops us into the action full swing, and when I say drops us in, I really mean it. Most of why the full immersion was easy to plunge into was because of the spectacular set and staging of this show. Inside the Playhouse theatre, there’s no theatre left really. The stage is gone, and although there’s a small balcony section for audience members, the entire floor is now a makeshift café in the middle of the migrant camp, with flags of represented countries, wooden benches, and dirt floors. The whole floor is this restaurant, and I was seated at one of the central wooden benches in the café while the actors swirled around, through, and right on top of the audience. The actors walked along the tables where our drinks were (a nice Afghani refugee will give you tea upon entering the café). They leaned on my shoulder when trying to talk to their friend standing at the next table. They threw dirty dish towels at us to clean our tables. They brought the guy next to me some freshly baked bread (seriously, I saw the guy kneading and rolling it out in the kitchen area) and then they brought him a whole curry platter (better him than me, thank goodness). I’ve seen immersive staging before, but this was unique, and it was so effective in making you care about what was happening.
And what was happening was chilling. The play begins right when the French authorities are beginning their ‘eviction process’, by forcibly, violently clearing an occupied part of the camp. You hear names of people who have died. Everything is loud, terrifying, and just when you’re starting to get short of breath, a calming presence interrupts and says we better start at the beginning of the story instead of the end. It’s unsettling storytelling, and incredibly powerful.
This calming presence is Safi, played by Ammar Haj Ahmad though I still can’t believe he was an actor who got to go home safe after the show. Quickly, and then continuously over the two acts, Safi will become someone we and the other refugees learn to trust and value, which is always a dangerous thing to do, as he demonstrates. A refugee from Syria, he becomes a leader of this camp, along with the Afghani restauranteur Salar (Ben Turner, remarkable) and Mohammed from Sudan (Jonathan Nyati), both giving their characters a sincere sense of gravitas and earnestness. It makes sense that the rest of the camp looks to them for guidance, even though they are just as lost and defeated.
There are a few other standout performers who are given time to shine, like John Pfumojena’s Okot, a Sudanese teenager who tells us how he has died and keeps dying deaths over and over in a somber, slow scene that was given remarkable amount of time to grow in an otherwise fast-paced show. But the entire cast is top-notch, and if I could give an award for best cast or ensemble (different from the theoretical Best Ensemble Tony Award that people are clamoring for that I object to (that would be for the unnamed chorus members only and so dancers who happen to be cast in top shows frequently could be like 10-time Tony winners and that’s just nonsense)), I would award this phenomenal cast. Not least the little girl Amal who barely says anything but breaks your heart into pieces so effectively that at the end I was like DO YOU NEED A HOME???
Everything about this play feels pitch perfect because it is all so accurate, from the Eton-educated British lad whose heart is in the right place but has no idea what he’s offering to deal with, to the infighting among migrants, to the condescending French authorities who lie with no compunction. Of course, the most staggeringly distressing part was the end, when we see actual footage of what has happened and how atrociously the media has handled it. The poor coverage and sometimes outright lies put out there about the camp led directly to Brexit, I believe, and I wonder just how many of the Brits in my audience voted for it, and whether they regret their decision. I hope they are doing something to help make amends for their actions. And if any theatre could produce that extraordinary result, it’s this extraordinary play, a theatrical event that you should run to see.
INFORMATION
The Jungle runs two hours and 45 ish minutes, in two acts. There’s lots of smoke, mainly non-cigarette ‘explosion’ smoke that I almost choked on and had to breathe through a paper towel for a minute, so be warned if you have asthma that like, you should bring your inhaler. Also, it’s pretty gritty, both in subject and in physical being. I picked the wrong show to wear a fancy dress to, I’ll tell you that. If you are sitting downstairs in the café, wear shoes you don’t mind getting dirty and clothes you can move in (to get on the bench) and try not to let them throw the dirty towels at your head.
Our seats right in the middle of the action at the Afghan Café were originally $25 (that’s pounddollars) and now are apparently $100! So you should run faster!
The Lehman Trilogy on the West End: Incredible Acting in an Early Draft Play
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is The Lehman Trilogy, currently playing in London’s West End at the Piccadilly Theatre until August 31.
When you walk away from a 3+ hour play thinking, “why didn’t they accomplish anything with that amount of time?”, you know something’s wrong. With The Lehman Trilogy, ostensibly about the Lehman Brothers global financial services firm but mostly about the family dynamics of the previous generations, you learn zero about what this company did in the modern age. You learn tons, tons about the three founding brothers and their marriages and their interactions with their kids (fictionalized of course) and how the kids acted in school and who their kids married and why…but literally nothing about why this behemoth financial company failed in the 2008 market crash. And so this shockingly well-received play feels like an early draft that needs work. If you wanted to write a family drama, why frame it as being about the Lehman Brothers? Why not just write a family drama instead of suggesting it’ll have to do with the financial world at all? They could have easily swapped this family for any other family’s story and had the same effect.
Perhaps that was the goal of Italian writer Stefano Massini: to show the inner workings of the Lehman family’s personal lives and struggles instead of sharing any substance about their infamous company. But then I ask with even more urgency, why?! What do we care why billionaires had to divorce their wives, or why one billionaire spent a lot of time betting on horses? Were we supposed to relate to their troubles, because I don’t. Why choose the Lehmans if not to talk about the last incarnation of the company and its 2008 collapse? The huge financial crash we all lived through felt like the elephant in the room for Acts II and III, like ‘um, guys, why aren’t we talking about that, or seeing what’s going to cause it?’ It’s such a strange choice, to focus the play on what the various Lehman generations were personally like yet to skip over everything relevant to our lives.
I discuss play length frequently, because it’s so interesting to see what different people can do with different amounts of time. Despite what you’d assume from the writing on this site, in my regular life I cherish efficiency. With more than 3 hours, you assume a play can make its point, yet here it was so much wasted time. We had endless jokes about the youngest brother being a potato; we had too much time wasted on one of the descendant’s annoying wife; we had a long, slow list of names of bankers (unrelated to the characters) who committed suicide; we had literally 10 minutes of Adam Godley doing the twist through the 20th century, instead of telling us what the company was doing to bring about its downfall. This play feels like the second draft, a work in progress that needs a dramaturge to help find its purpose.
Clearly the play wanted to be about the family, especially the three founding brothers – and the part that was about them, the first act, was the most compelling part. In the beginning, they managed to successfully portray the brothers’ dynamics while also showing what the actual company was like at the start, what kinds of financial decisions they made and why. So it can be done. (And as we’ve seen in superior plays like Enron, you can have interesting characters (who actually interact and don’t just narrate to the audience, a wearying trend) while simultaneously teaching about the financial industry, the company’s role in it, and how it all went to shit. Enron even had dinosaurs help us learn.)
But then the following two acts feel like a battle between the playwright’s objective – wanting to stick with the family biography – and everyone else’s expectation that the action was ‘supposed to’ get to the later incarnations of the company as a financial giant and, of course, the 2008 crash. I kept thinking ‘surely now they will get to the relevant part? Surely…now?’ By the time it did, it was too late to do anything worthwhile, and so they simply didn’t. They didn’t really mention what the work was even like in modern times. In fact, the last 5 minutes of the show felt like a mad dash of the entire creative team to the finish line, like everyone was shouting “OH SHIT WE ONLY HAVE A FEW MINUTES LEFT AND WE’RE IN 1980 QUICK LET’S SAY DECADES ARE PASSING AND THEN OH NO IT’S 2008 WE CRASH THE END.” I’m pretty sure that’s the ending verbatim. It felt that sudden, that unplanned. The surprise of a dozen otherwise unused actors standing in a boardroom sadly at the end felt equally misguided.
I have to believe that other critics are raving about this play entirely because of the acting. With the stellar trio of Simon Russell Beale, Ben Miles, and Adam Godley, the acting is absolutely top-notch. Sam Mendes inventively directs them not just as the three founding Lehmans, but as their wives, their kids, their grandkids, as they seemingly effortlessly weave in and out of various personas with the bat of an eye, a slight change in voice. Their acting skills were as impressive as it gets, but they deserve a play that delivers too.
INFORMATION
The Lehman Trilogy runs just under 3 hours and 20 minutes, with two 20-minute intervals (which is the best way to do long shows). As is the despicable trend among London theatres these days, they held the curtain for latecomers to arrive. MY DUDES. Stop holding the g-d curtain for latecomers. If they’re late, let them wait till the late seating time. If there is no late seating, then actually respect your own policy and don’t forking let the latecomers dictate the schedule for everyone else. It’s so rampant now, this issue, that we all may as well take our sweet ass time getting to the theatre 5-10 minutes late because it doesn’t matter anymore, there are no rules, they will hold it for you. APPARENTLY. SMDH.
It was also one of the smokiest rooms I’ve ever been in, and I was seated in the stalls. This is because the main lobby’s entrance doors were open and there’s a bar next door and no staff gives a good g-d that people were smoking literally in the doorways, to such an extent that the smoke traveled through all the stairs and hallways and into the stalls at full strength. That is inexcusable. Aren’t there RULES?!
