nytheatre Archive
FringeNYC 2003
SHOW REVIEWS ON THIS PAGE: The David Dance, Booted, Say You Love Satan, Cats Can See the Devil, One Hit Wonder, Captain Gravy's Wavy Navy, Muse of Fire, Bob Brown Puppets' Carnival of the Animals, Madonna in "The Title", Daddy Kathryn, Musical Chairs, Rumi's Math
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THE DAVID DANCE by John Jordan |
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Via well-written flashbacks and fascinating transitions which take the audience from present to past and back again, The David Dance tells the beautiful story of the relationship between a whiny, insecure gay man and his more "worldly" older sister.
David Patrone is the host of "Gay Talk," a local radio show in Buffalo. His sister, Kate, is a successful banker, married and divorced three times and preparing to adopt a 10-year-old Brazilian orphan. The play opens after Kate’s unexpected death, en route to meet her new daughter. David has lost his sister, his job and is about to lose his boyfriend. The outcome is a bit predictable, but the journey to that end is more than worthwhile. Teresa Kelsey is outstanding as Kate, providing a well-rounded performance as a caring, fun and sincere older sister. With great comic timing and subtle humor, she helps ease the uncomfortable tension of the more melodramatic moments in the play, and, at the same time, handles the "drama" with a polished grace. James Bozer is also very adept at his role of David’s boyfriend, Chris. Bozer shows off his range extremely well, mostly underplaying moments, which only makes them stronger. Monica Steuer is very convincing as June Handly, the anti-homosexual, Jesus-loving radio host whom David confronts on the air. In brilliant contrast, Steuer also portrays a nun and Mrs. Paradowski, the Head of Pediatrics at a local Buffalo hospital. Chloe Glickman is delightful and mesmerizing as Margaret, the Portuguese-speaking orphan with a rough past who shuts herself off from the rest of the world. Don Scimé wrote the play and stars as David. He does a capable job as the protagonist, but takes the character a pinch over the melodramatic line at times. He has written a wonderful play. The direction by Karen Case Cook is very solid. The transitions between flashbacks are flawless. The set is simple, the sound design matches the overall mood perfectly. Overall, The David Dance is a nice slice of life. Grab a piece while you can. |
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BOOTED by April Nugent |
The Washington Square United Methodist Church is an
impressive space with its vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows and
the mild perfume of incense. It makes you feel as though you are going
to see something important. And when the evening’s performance is by the
highly esteemed Eva Dean Dance troupe, it is not likely that you will be
disappointed. Sadly I have to report that I cannot give any real critical feedback about the quality or overall effectiveness of the performance because, due to the seating limitations of the space, I could not see the performance. Neither for that matter, could any one else who was not sitting in the front row. The troupe was further plagued by the distraction of audience members who were constantly moving their chairs or getting up to switch seats and whispering as they vainly attempted to get a clear view of the dancers. It is unfortunate because, based on the glimpses that I could catch, it’s obvious that Dean and her nine dancers are very talented and highly skilled. Performers Jessica Calhoon, Mandy Sau-Yi, Eva Dean, Rachel Frank, Cassie Mey, Laura Nash, Meghan McCoy, Lynne Schlesinger, Emily Todras and Brooke Welty should all be commended for their committed, energetic, and professional performance under difficult conditions and in stifling heat. What I can tell you is that Booted is an hour and twenty-minute production featuring four dance suites, three of which are world premieres. Highlights include "Welcome Back," which is the most successful piece of the evening, beautifully integrating physicality, relationships, and story, and the keynote and title dance "Booted," which sets high-heeled shoes against combat boots. As choreographed and conceived by Dean, the dances display strength, grace, and a sense of humor. If FringeNYC could have managed risers for the Church it could have provided an inspiring backdrop for this production but as it is, it is literally impossible to view the performance. So while I can not recommend seeing Booted at FringeNYC, I would certainly encourage you to catch this critically acclaimed company under better circumstances. |
| SAY YOU LOVE SATAN by Garth Wingfield |
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Dating is hell. Been there, done that, right? Yet when this sentiment is taken literally and to its most extreme (as in "dating is hell when your boyfriend is SATAN"), all bets are off, as Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa proves mightily in his endlessly clever, wonderfully fresh and truly hilarious new comedy, Say You Love Satan. Andrew, played with a sweet charm by Joe LaRue, is a twentysomething gay guy stuck in today’s dating trenches. He’s got a best friend named Bernadette (a very funny Courtney Dickerson), who is in dating hell herself (please see for reference: her two weekly personal ads). He’s also being pursued by Jerrod, an adorable med student who is the goodest of good guys. Played with a winning sensitivity by Greg Felden, Jerrod is the kind of guy who not only returns Andrew’s videos for him, he rewinds. But when Andrew and Jack (John Patrick Higgins) meet cute at a laundromat on a Friday night, Andrew can’t help yielding to his own darker longings. In short order, he finds himself whisked off by this devilishly handsome stranger for a night of clubbing. But hold on. Why do they keep zipping past the bouncers and long lines? And what to make of Jack's collection of DVDs (including Rosemary's Baby and The Exorcist), let alone the "666" on his forehead? Sure enough, Andrew soon finds he’s dating the demon spawn of Satan (or is it the Big Bad Guy himself?). More troubling still is the fact that Andrew actually likes it. Playwright Aguirre-Sacasa knows how to keep the surprises coming, helped by some well-placed plot devices. And under Claire Lundberg’s savvy direction, the action clicks right along as we’re pulled onto this journey as swiftly as Andrew is. Say You Love Satan features many recent grads of the Yale School of Drama, the playwright included. A word to the wise: At the performance I attended, they turned away at least 30 people from the waiting list. Get your tickets right away if you want to say you love Satan. I know I did. |
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CATS CAN SEE THE DEVIL by Jeff Lewonczyk |
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Tom X. Chao’s Cats Can See the Devil is, in part, a Fringe
show about Fringe shows. It starts out as a parody of/homage to
the cheaply thrown-together, seat-of-the-pants spectacles that
any FringeNYC aficionado has seen in abundance: in this case, a
snarky puppet show starring abstract geometric shapes on sticks,
which eventually expands its scope to include such immortal
characters as Mr. Pile of Unread Magazines (Mostly Old New
Yorkers) and Mr. Contents of My Pockets. Soon there is the obligatory gratuitous nudity, and, when the actress in question rebels, Chao—who has been performing voice-over duties in his smooth, cheesy baritone—has a loud, violent breakdown, after which he disappears. The remaining actresses seize the dead stage time as an opportunity to further their own careers with supposedly self-written monologues, stand-up comedy, and a movement piece entitled "Freakout… Under the Apple Tree." When Chao returns, they take him to task for being a lascivious geek, an accusation against which he has precious little defense. The narrative takes several more twists and turns before the show is through. The beauty of the piece is that Chao and director John Harlacher never let anything stick around too long—just when the audience thinks they know what’s happening the show hitches up its skirt and scrambles somewhere completely different. Yet it retains a certain consistency, connected through all its permutations by the self-loathing nerdiness of Chao’s writing and his stage persona—which are both, thank God, awfully damn funny. It is the account of a self-absorbed loser who knows the full measure of his self-absorption, and this awareness liberates the show to span great comedic heights. It also helps that he has a crack supporting cast of young comediennes whose collective pulchritude is no accident, I can assure you. Employing a slew of verisimilitude-boosting references to the downtown scene and its denizens, the show is concerned with what it’s like to exist on the kamikaze lunatic periphery of theatre, where it’s difficult to make anyone care about your petty, insignificant work and pettier, even more insignificant ego. It is the show’s genius that in the end, against your better judgment, we do. |
| ONE HIT WONDER by Lee Ramsey |
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A wide-eyed innocent from Texas, Jack Harmony (Matthew D. McCallum), wins
a television contest and gets his chance to appear in a video with his
idols, an untalented pop group called Sexxx Machine (Ben Medley and
Raquel Hecker). Jack's parents (Charlotte Booker and Craig Baldwin) are
not thrilled, to say the least, that their impressionable son is going
off to Japan to join in the wild rock scene. He also has a neighbor
Nicci (Marguerite Stimpson), a poet/performance artist who is
desperately in love with him (but can he return her affections?) and
there's a VJ named Monkey Man (Alex Finch) thrown in apparently just to
provide exposition That is the basic premise of One Hit Wonder, now playing at the Kraine Theatre. I'd love to be able to say something positive or even something constructive about the production, but I can't. Unfortunately, this new musical fails to succeed on any level. The book, music, and lyrics (by Ben Medley with musical arrangements by Mike Shaieb and Brent Lord) are at best sophomoric and repetitive and the staging and overall direction (by Dan Rigazzi) just makes matters worse. The cast is (with the exception of Charlotte Booker, who does very nice work as Jack's Texan mother and an Angel Airlines flight attendant) amateurish. The press release says: "This over-the-top coming of age story is the theatrical lovechild of Showgirls, Beautiful Thing and Hedwig!" One Hit Wonder should be so lucky. |
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CAPTAIN GRAVY’S WAVY NAVY by J Grawemeyer |
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Captain Gravy’s Wavy Navy, a new musical, is the story of a
superhero captain with super-intelligence and Technicolor dream hair. He
is ably assisted by the Wavy Navy, a potpourri of comic characters
including a pigeon who thinks he is a parrot, a clam who is always
happy, and an ancient manatee who is basically Barry White. Also on
board are the Captain’s Mama, the bayou-dwelling Blues the Frog, and Mu
Pallu, the Captain’s arch-nemesis. Backing them is a well-choreographed
ensemble who morph into everything from fish in the sea to Mu’s minions.
Oh, and how could I forget Rayadar, the Captain’s lovely assistant—the
soul of an Indian princess who has more than navigating the River of
Life with the Captain on her mind. CGWN’s songs are fun and catchy, strung together evenly by comical dialogue (credit co-creator/writers David Cooper and Jeff Katz). The set is non-existent, inviting the audience to imagine it through the use of well-designed props (by Kim Boriin, Carolyn Bakula, and George Collier), such as a blue sheet that represents the River of Life and a truly nasty-looking brown sheet that defines the Dirty Empire, Mu’s secret hideout. The costumes (uncredited) are top-notch in defining the characters for adults while wowing kids with bright colors. All in all, this hodgepodge musical is fun, but at times I was lost. The show cannot decide whether it wants to be for children or a randy send-up for adults. Several jokes rely heavily on sexual humor, but most of them are, uh, literally toilet humor, which appeals mainly to children. The songs have a pop feel, which kids like; but they don’t explain anything, which parents would find useful. I was confused by the Wavy Navy themselves—their special powers, being happy for example, do not seem to assist the Captain in saving the world in any way. Only Rayadar seems to provide a real service to the Captain, and it’s not the one she would prefer. Mainly, I wanted to know why the Captain is named Gravy, how he formed the Wavy Navy and what it is exactly that they do. Also, why did the writers think it was a good idea to have Mama spank someone? Spanking has no place in a children’s musical (and there were children in the audience!). Regardless of some inconsistency, CGWN is fun and funny. The cast is great and seem to really enjoy working together—a sign that they worked hard to get somewhere. Where?—FringeNYC, silly! |
| MUSE OF FIRE by Martin Denton |
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Muse of Fire, the new play by Kelly McAllister (author of last
year’s FringeNYC hit Last Call), is wise, warm, and wonderful. It
tells the story of two muses, Dion and Paulina, who are sent to earth by
their boss Carlos to encourage a young college student named Emily to
write the world-changing novel that is apparently her destiny. So Dion
and Paulina, who are as different as night and day, or yin and yang—he’s
a spontaneous, life-affirming, live-in-the-moment kind of guy; while she
is the hard-headed, hard-hearted, logical, pragmatic kin of her
Shakespearean namesake from The Winter’s Tale—head down for a 40-day
sojourn on Earth. What an eventful and important forty days they turn out to be! Eventful because Dion and Paulina assume human form as students at San Jose State College, where they join Emily in the cast of a cockeyed production of As You Like It, which is being directed by an enervated, extroverted lunatic named Cassandra, and whose cast includes a young man named Mick with whom Emily is in love, his current (very jealous) girlfriend Jessie, and a clownish young charmer named Lenny. Complications—of all kinds—ensue. Important because, well, everything’s important, which is in fact the essence of this gorgeous, profound play. McAllister mines Shakespeare, pop culture (everyone from The Banana Splits to Keyser Soze), theatre lore, and the collective wisdom of the ages to create a beautiful and thoughtful paean to life, death, love, and memory. Within his own little wooden O, McAllister (who is also Muse of Fire’s director) reminds us what it means to be human, in all its foolish, painful, glorious glory. He’s also brought together an ensemble of nine actors whose equal we would be lucky to see on any stage, let alone elsewhere at FringeNYC. Jack Halpin and Sara Thigpen are excellent as Dion and Paulina—Halpin’s goofily hilarious, yet somehow anchored by disarming goodwill, while Thigpen, in solid counterpoint, is tightly wound, smart, with overflowing heart just beneath the surface. R. Paul Hamilton is delightfully sly as their superior in the afterlife, Carlos, while the extraordinarily assured Heather McAllister is a force of nature as the play’s other parent figure, Cassandra. Jackie Kamm centers the play sweetly and firmly as Emily. Brett Christensen (Mick), Christine Goodman (Jessie), and Vinnie Penna (Lenny) are all splendid, and Jerry McAllister is terrific as Cassandra’s put-upon assistant/stage manager, Phil. All in all, a feast for the heart and soul, all about shape-shifters and liars and broken hearts and sheer happiness and, yes, a muse of fire. It’s the loveliest new play I’ve seen in quite a while; don’t miss it. |
| BOB BROWN PUPPETS’ CARNIVAL OF THE
ANIMALS by Hope Cartelli |
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When I was taking music appreciation classes back in elementary
school (we’re talkin’ mid-1980s here), my teachers’ efforts did
not enlighten or entertain me half as much as Bob Brown Puppets’
adaptation of Camille Saint-Saens’ Carnival of the Animals. The friendly narrator, who introduces himself as Todd Robbins, along with two puppeteers (the precise and energetic Krista Brown Robbins and Peter Brown) and a host of foam-bodied creatures great and small, encourages the audience to pay close attention with both eyes and ears to the simultaneously sweet, humorous and beautiful music of Saint-Saens. It is explained early on that Saint-Saens composed the Carnival pieces as a means of providing interesting fodder for his young students’ music lessons. Clocking in at a toddler-friendly 45 minutes, the piece opens in a child’s bedroom replete with toybox, drawing easel, and small piano. From here, our guide Todd introduces us to the puppet Nicky, a wonderfully larger-than-life-size, sweet-natured little boy who likes to practice tickling the ivories before bedtime (his favorite exercise is Saint-Saens’ "The Pianist") and will only fall asleep to the strains of Carnival. It is when Nicky is in full slumber that the bedroom becomes center stage for Saint-Saens’ animals and Todd’s observations on what instruments play the role of each. The audience is treated to a donkey with a violin "hee haw," a cat hunting a clarinet-voiced cuckoo, and a school of fish in an underwater paradise primarily created with a harp. There are also numerous fantastical, imaginative interpretations of the music, including a majestic figure-skating swan (who seems to be saying "Eat your heart out, Disney on Ice!" with every triple lutz), a bedside table that transforms into an elephant, a magician kangaroo and—my personal favorite—a ballerina turtle dancing to what Todd describes as one of Saint-Saens’ fruitful attempts at a "musical joke": a wittily slowed-down can-can. Bob Brown Puppets successfully excites the young ones in the audience with Saint-Saens’ music and magical puppetry. Their greatest success, though, is that they excite the adults as well. If you have a child to bring along, do so, but don’t shy away if you don’t. |
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MADONNA IN "THE TITLE" by Jonathan Warman |
| First things first: She's not in it.
Madonna's not in this show, she's only in the title of the show. Thus,
um, the title. The show tells the comic story of pretentious femmy
director Jaxx (Gene Dante) and his drugged-up producer lover Ger
(Anthony Mario Gelsomino, who wrote the show) trying to trick a
FringeNYC audience into buying tickets to a show that seems to star
Madonna, but actually only has her name in, you guessed it, the title.
That's the one big joke in this one-joke show. Well, that's not quite
fair: In an effort to make this a little more that a one-joke show,
Gelsomino throws about 20 puns per minute into the script. It's the
"throw it all out there and see what sticks" theory of comedy—and
amazingly enough a little under half of the show is gut-bustingly funny.
The downside: A little over half the time, the show is tiresome and obvious. There are a lot of lame jokes about sex and drugs. There's a pointless, unfunny subplot about the producer trying to get his wife (yes, his wife, don't ask) to commit suicide to finance the production. There are also avant-garde clichés galore; for example, at one point the director vomits—the cheapest shock tactic in the book. Maybe Gelsomino is trying to make some sly comment about Madonna's propensity for the shocking. If so, there's got to be a more direct and comic way of doing it. Director Eric Pilner keeps things moving at a breakneck "Ray of Light" speed, though he also seems to have coached his actors well about holding for laughs. And these actors give their all, especially Jane Aquilina as Ger's boozily bitter wife Sis, who's blessed with a riveting comic presence. Madonna in "The Title" is at its best when it’s not afraid to be goofy, at its worst when it’s trying to be edgy. It’s a fun lark that gets weighed down trying to take on too much. I can't recommend it wholeheartedly, but I wouldn't warn you not to go either: Its fun, but not big-time fun. |
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DADDY KATHRYN by Paul Hagen |
| Imagine one of your favorite eccentric
female characters of the theatre (a Mame Dennis or Dolly Levi, for
example) in all her effervescent glory: especially her penchant for
taking leaps of faith and dealing with the unconsidered consequences
with a glamorous sense of optimism reserved for the truly fabulous. Trap
this person in the body of a man and you've got Kathryn. Make her
already scandal-weary family deal with his sudden transformation from
family man to tranny man and you've got Daddy Kathryn. The play is at its strongest when it goes for the jokes—classic personality clashes amongst a typically atypical Southern Family, rip-roaring insults and deliciously irreverent abandonment of political correctness (Kathryn's alcoholic daughter at one point introduces her newborn, "I was jumping on the bed trying to have a miscarriage, but I'm so glad it didn't work.") However, I'm happy to say that playwright James McGuire challenges himself to play more than just his strongest suit by confronting the realities of his characters' situations. At times this leads to missteps (the narrator, Kathryn's son Mark, has a tendency toward tedious confessional monologues); but at other times McGuire finds breathtaking clarity (Kathryn's confession that she used to rent a hotel room, dress in drag and try to work up the courage to go fill her ice bucket is particularly stirring). But one walks out of the play remembering the delicious bites far more than the sour bits. Any trouble one might have with the contrived-sounding mafia vs. FBI plot early in the play (although apparently the play is based on a true story) is amply made up for by the belly laughs to follow as Kathryn charges full-steam ahead through her transformation into womanhood. Kudos to Laura Poe for her pitch-perfect (and laugh-out-loud funny) portrayal of Kathryn's daughter, and to Robert English, whose fantastic energy keeps one trying to continually unravel the chaotic storm of transsexuality and determination of Kathryn him/herself. |
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MUSICAL CHAIRS by Eric Winick |
| Here’s a show that probably sounded
really interesting on paper. Take five characters, devise a bunch of
scenes that portray the ever-shifting relationships between them, and
leave the order of these scenes up to chance. Each night, a new order
will emerge, and the story will be told in a different way. We’ll learn
new things about the characters, and new connections will solidify. And
the actors will determine which scenes will appear, and in what order,
by playing… you guessed it, Musical Chairs. While one can't fault the producing company, Yankee Rep, for trying something new, one wishes they'd chosen a play, and a writer (Michael D. Rock) with slightly loftier intentions. The story, which involves a married couple coming to terms with infidelity, and the effects of such on their friends and lovers, is told in increasingly broad strokes, and director Chris McGinn does little to discourage her actors from playing up the script's more ham-fisted moments. What’s most disturbing about this misguided affair is the fact that, buried somewhere within, there might be a real play. There’s a bitter sting to the scenes between the married couple (Michelle Marlowe and Daniel Kaufman) that brings out the script’s only hint of realism. If only Rock had chucked the gimmick and focused on these two, he might have had something. As it is, with each scene ended abruptly by a DJ who prompts the actors to careen spasmodically about the stage in search of an empty seat, one never has the opportunity to sympathize, empathize, or identify. The game might be the point, but it’s also the production’s biggest stumbling block. According to the program, the mission of Yankee Rep involves the production of work that "offers insight about the American nation and its people." While Musical Chairs will never be accused of offering insight about the nation, it goes out of its way to portray its people as shallow, sex-obsessed philanderers who can't wait to jump into bed with the first piece of ass that happens along. A valid point, perhaps, but one cannot say it makes for compelling theater. |
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RUMI’S MATH by Kimberly I. Kefgen |
| Rumi’s Math is a dream
play, inspired by the 11th century poet and Islamic philosopher, Mevlana
Jelaluddin Rumi, and his friendship with Shams, an Iranian outcast. Rumi
and Shams reportedly were inseparable friends until one day, Shams was
called to the back door and was never heard from again. Through a
combination of poetry (Rumi’s, I assume), dance, song, and video,
Rumi’s Math explores the search for and the loss of an intense
friendship in which two people "are of two bodies and one soul".
Performed nicely by an all female cast (Jessica Marie Smith, Sinem
Balkir, Nina Waluschka, Cathy Richards, Mercedes Vazquez, Őzlem Topez
and Gulcin Hatihan), and beautifully staged by Handan Ozbilgin,
Rumi’s Math is a high concept performance piece that never feels
pretentious or insincere. At its strongest, the piece is a wash of images and poetry that make sense in the surreal way a dream makes sense until you think about it. The problem is that Ozbilgin (who also wrote the piece) thought about it. A narrative is imposed with unlikely and unmotivated lines of exposition that ultimately do more to confuse than clarify. The old adage to show rather than tell could have been heeded here. In fact, the company does an admirable job of creating for us their weird and haunting world; I just wish they would resist explaining it to us. Overall, there are many beautiful moments throughout Rumi’s Math. The performers are strong and committed; the material is unique; the poetry is fascinating. It was obvious from the program and the curtain call that this was a labor of love, and the passion that was brought to the project was reflected in its performance. |
