nytheatre Archive
FringeNYC 2003
SHOW REVIEWS ON THIS PAGE: Arsat, Penny Penniworth, Globalicities, Third Floor, Second Door on the Right, Diagnosis: Jew Pain, Meaningless Sex, Belly, Tuesdays & Sundays, Wondering in Aliceland, Smoke, A Very Special Sketch Show, The House of Merry
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ARSAT by Lynn Marie Macy |
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Arsat, presented by The Fluid Motion Theatre, does not live up to
its tempting and intriguing offer of a staged version of Joseph Conrad’s
short story "The Lagoon." Set in 1898 and incorporating movement,
traditional Malaysian dance, and Japanese Taiko drumming, the experience
is not unlike the anticipation of a delicious meal—and only getting one
little bite. Co-directors Christine Simpson and Jesse Jou have put
together what amounts to an outline of a theatrical event which holds a
great deal of promise if the characters were more fully developed, the
story fleshed out, and more imagination and creativity were committed to
the many ways dance, movement, and theatrical invention could serve the
plot and propel the story forward. For example, a traditional candle dance is incorporated in the staging—obviously the candles were not lit because there are fire laws, but I imagine part of the beauty of the dance is the movement of light, which could be suggested in a multitude of ways. More thought could also be given to ways to better meld the "realistic" narrative with the more physical aspects of the piece. A talented and very watchable cast of performers, Pan Bandhu, Jovinna Chan, Eric Hanson, and Kurt Uy, do their best with the material they’ve been given but ultimately we learn very little about their characters. I left the theatre having almost no idea what the relationship is between the play’s two central figures, Arsat and the Englishman Sebastian, other than at one time they were soldiers together. A lack of attention to detail may be the root of the problem: at one point, a photograph is shown described as the "two" of them together, but the picture actually has only one person in it. Possibly the creative team has lost sight of the fact that most people coming to see the play will not have had the prior advantage of reading Conrad’s work. It is my hope that this group will continue to ask themselves questions and find ways to better convey to an audience this story, which has clearly captured their passions. |
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PENNY PENNIWORTH by Terri Galvin |
Imagine if FringeNYC shows were listed in the
personals. "Uproarious, but exceedingly articulate comedy seeks audience
who appreciates all things literary, theatrical, and farcical.
Well-tuned literary sensibility a plus, but not essential to enjoy the
'eccentricities of genius' which abound. You: a fan of brilliant
writing, extraordinary acting, and impeccable staging. Me: an
irresistible gambol combining 19th-century literary allusions with broad
physical comedy and cheeky social satire. Let's have 'the best of
times,' not the 'worst of times' together." What a package! And where is this little gem listed? Well, since this is TOSOS II Theatre Company, under: "Men Seeking Women," "Women Seeking Men," "Men Seeking Men," and "Women Seeking Women." Of course. Are you swooning yet? If so, then book a date with the dazzling Penny Penniworth. Chris Weikel's thoroughly original tale is a parody of such exquisite detail that one must check the program to ensure it isn't an actual Dickens adaptation. Through thwarted romance, descent into penury (the family manor is descending too—into a bog), and melodramatic reversals of fortune, Penny's eponymous plight gleefully exploits every novelistic convention while featuring an assortment of vivid characters whose names alone prompt giggles. The poor but honorable Hochkiss Spit, the corpse-obsessed Miss Havasnort, and the hunch-backed cockney Malodorous Dump are but a few. Now add TOSOS' own unique touch: naughty double entendres that Mr. D. would have blushed to pen, impish inside jokes that generously include the audience in the winking-and-nudging, and a thoroughly modern approach to gender role reversal that never seems anachronistic. The cast of four impressively delineates each character only by their outstanding command of accents and physicalities, and their glittering comic timing makes the most of the many sly puns and arch references. Structuring it all is Mark's Finley's pitch-perfect staging, modulating the mayhem from the subtlest aside to the most blatantly roguish sight-gag. All in all, this production is a rare and vigorous example of why we still need live theatre in this MTV age. It's no discredit to Weikel's script that a celluloid version would never be as transporting as the vital, three-dimensional miracle this production conjures. It's beyond literal, it's theatrical—in the purest, most "literal" sense of the term. Hmm… all this and a sense of humor too. No wonder I'm in love. |
| GLOBALICITIES by Brian Rogers |
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I wanted terribly for Andrea Assaf's one-person Globalicities to
succeed. Assaf's passion for her subject(s) is astonishing; and many of
her political ideas are undeniably compelling. As political discourse,
however, Globalicities fails to cohere. Assaf draws interesting
connections between the Robin Hood legend and a whole host of
contemporary situations related to globalization, violence, exploitation
and the capitalist ideal. As individual moments, Globalicities is
eminently watchable. As a whole, it's a bit of a mess. That's a shame,
because Assaf's performance—which juxtaposes documentary materials and
choreography with confessional monologues and fierce
characterizations—is so commanding. Globalicities is essentially the sum of two wildly divergent parts. The first, in which Assaf (decked out in period costume) delivers an extended monologue on the 12th century Robin Hood legend (recounting the signing of the Magna Carta and a host of other incidents) —is at times maddeningly impenetrable despite Assaf's devotion to the material. A second set of broadsides —all of them autobiographical, all of them vigorously told—detail everything from her first brush with capitalism (a lemonade stand) to her relationship with her mother to her emergence as a political activist. These pieces, smashed together, do not a puzzle make. Assaf's self-created choreography—simple and repetitive in the best way—is perhaps the only thing holding Globalicities together. As a band aid for dramaturgical confusion it's too little, too late. Assaf is preaching to the converted, and this is not a bad thing. But the multimedia elements—in which everyday Americans attempt to answer the question "what is capitalism?" to disturbingly humorous effect—make her argument seem simpler than it actually is. If there is a point to be found in Globalicities—and personally I'm at a loss—Assaf is keeping it to herself. Which is okay: politics are tricky. And the interweaving threads from which Globalicities is made—which are frustrating and tantalizing by turns—provide ample food for thought. |
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THIRD FLOOR, SECOND DOOR ON THE RIGHT by Pamela Butler |
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This production is a collaborative effort from members of a famous
family. Amy Arbus initiated the idea, Doon Arbus wrote the play,
Marieclare Costello Arbus and Arin Arbus are assisted by Jake
Hirzel in directing, and Allan Arbus stars. The opening tableaus and music set the mood perfectly—of a lonely old man, living in a small, dingy room, waiting. Pools of light (Charles Foster created the excellent lighting) catch him in his space; musing, restless, moving aimlessly. The Man, as he is called, was once the constant companion, alter ego and soul mate of another, very famous man who has just died. The old man broke off with him suddenly twelve years ago, and the media is out hunting up the stories, digging in the closets of the very famous man's past. Arbus' character is ambivalent about being interviewed, perhaps driven by desire for company more than anything else. A young female reporter finally arrives, professionally dressed, with a tape recorder, a bag full of pads and notebooks, pencils etc., and they begin the interview. The play stumbles along from here, taking a compelling and complex script that looks at fame and what it is to be sucked in close, moth-like, to its brilliant light . The language is rhythmic and builds the story beautifully, but Allan Arbus, a very talented actor (widely known as Dr. Sidney Freedman on M.A.S.H.) is under-rehearsed and often had to call for lines. Since the play is a long monologue and the reporter mostly witness, Arbus has trouble keeping an emotional flow. The reporter, supposedly there to get a story, seems unsure of what she's doing, taping or writing. The recorder is ill-placed on the floor where all it might pick up is the sound of shoe traffic. She plays with a pencil and flips pages of pads and notebooks, but writes nothing as she listens to The Man tell the painful, wonderful, often humorous story of this relationship, how it transformed his life and perhaps ultimately broke him. There are surprises throughout. The production may be in chrysalis form, needing fine-tuning, sharpening and maturing. I still want to recommend it—it has much room for improvement and the writing is the highpoint of the evening. |
| DIAGNOSIS: JEW PAIN by Jonathan Warman |
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I’m discovering that I’m a sucker for biographical or autobiographical
one-person shows. I think my fascination stems from an interest in
social and historical circumstances that I inherited from my father, a
history professor. Or maybe it comes from my Literature teacher mother’s
love of character studies. In any event, I was thoroughly captivated by
Michael Feldman’s autobiographical one-man show, Diagnosis: Jew Pain
which details his struggles with growing up bisexual in a conservative
Jewish Brooklyn family. Like many other people, Michael thought that bisexuality didn’t exist, until confronted head-on with a growing attraction to men that did nothing to abate his sexual fantasies about women. As the title suggests, the primary subject of the show is the pain of dealing with the dysfunctional, traditional Jewish family. Coming to terms with his bisexuality, he also comes to terms with the expectations that weigh on him to be a "good Jewish son." Despite his own pain, Feldman still portrays his family with more compassion and wit than bile (that he reserves for a particularly unhelpful therapist). The show is a little rough around the edges—for example Feldman delivers one bit from the floor in a space where 90 per cent of the audience cannot see the floor—but Feldman’s honesty, humor, and charm win the day. His sexy, wiry, athletic, youthful stage presence certainly doesn’t hurt, either. Feldman also includes two musical numbers in the piece, "I’m Your Sexuality" and a title song. Sung to lo-fi, hurdy-gurdy-like backing tracks, neither of these ditties is going to enter the Great American Songbook any time soon. They do, however, compress Feldman’s wry humor into tight little packages that have more distinctive character than any song I’ve heard from other shows in FringeNYC this year. Feldman’s not a first-class singer either, but that kinda helps to give them a very human, every-day, accessible quality. All in all, Diagnosis: Jew Pain is an entertaining, intimate glimpse into one young man’s unique story. |
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MEANINGLESS SEX by Kelly McAllister |
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Seth Bisen-Hersh is a promising composer of musical theatre, as his new
show, Meaningless Sex, demonstrates. Meaningless Sex is a
small musical about what happens over the course of an evening when the
cast of a fictitious musical called "Love Story" gather on closing
night. The four main characters are Matt the undersexed straight guy,
Carla the promiscuous diva, Joey the love-starved gay boy, and Beth, the
virgin of the group. The story revolves around Matt and his search for happiness. Matt is played by Ari Butler, who brings a fantastic voice to the role, as well as considerable talent as an actor. His was my favorite performance of the evening. The character Matt is torn between Beth, the virgin, whom he says he loves, and Carla, the slut of the group, with whom he has been having an affair. As Beth, Amelia Morgan-Rothschild reminded me of a young Shirley Jones, which I found perfect for the role. As Carla, Courtney Markov is tall, dark, and sexy. The fourth main character, Joey, is played by Brian T. Hamilton, who has a beautiful voice. I hope he continues to grow as an actor so that his acting talent can one day match his voice. Stand-out songs include "If Only I Were Gay," "Small Parts" (which isn’t about anatomy), and "Little Surprises" (which is about anatomy and other oddities). Bisen-Hersh has a unique voice, musically speaking, and his numbers rise out of the dialogue naturally. I only wish the book by Brendan Clifford was more effective. The characters teeter on the brink of stereotype, and the dialogue is at times wooden. On top of that, the acoustics at the Great Hall at Cooper Union, where the show is playing, are terrible. At times, it is very difficult to understand what is being said and/or sung. As I see it, there are at least two compelling reasons to go see Meaningless Sex: The music of Seth Bisen-Hersh, and the performance of Ari Butler. I hope that this show continues to develop—there is potential for greatness in it, waiting to burst forth. |
| BELLY by Fred Backus |
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Upon watching Julie Tortorici’s Belly one is suddenly struck by
just how seldom a real connection is made between the audience and the
performers of most one-person shows. Rarely does one feel that it is you
who is actually spoken to, or that it is anything more than a theatrical
device. That’s what makes Belly such a rare gem. Tortorici not
only really speaks to the audience, but really listens as well, and she
does it with astonishing simplicity and grace. Tortorici, who both wrote and stars in this wonderful piece, has created a character who is neither particularly intelligent nor should be particularly interesting. Frannie’s life story is not remarkable, and while she is recovering from a heartbreaking tragedy, that tragedy is not unique or even all that rare. On the surface there is really no reason to take much interest in her at all. But by establishing a true and reciprocal connection with her listeners, Tortorici is able to make you empathize with Frannie on a level that catches you by surprise. You find yourself understanding what makes this ordinary woman quirky, fun, and special. And unlike most one-person shows, this is no retrospective on how she got to where she is, forever to remain that way once the lights go down. Instead, this is a person whose journey is not done, and we are asked to help in her attempt at a spiritual rebirth. By the end of the show we are praying that she succeeds because the world would be a better place with her in it. That you end up laughing with Frannie’s joy and empathizing with her sorrow is not for me what makes Belly so special. What is so exceptional is that by being invited into the piece so directly, a connection is formed not just between audience and performer, but also between every person in the room. Belly not only leaves you pondering your humanity and compassion, but actually challenges you to elevate them both, in the room and in the moment, thereby creating a theatrical event shared by all. That Tortorici and director J. Brandon Thompson achieve so much more than most others with seemingly so little is due to their talent, integrity, and courage. This is true theatre magic of the most rare and profound kind. Everyone involved with Belly should be very, very proud. |
| TUESDAYS & SUNDAYS by David Hilder |
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Tuesdays & Sundays arrives at FringeNYC with a history
behind it—three years’ worth of award-winning productions across
Canada. Writers/performers Daniel Arnold and Medina Hahn clearly
know this material in their bones; their skillful telling of
this brief tale of young love is executed with an exactitude
that never, miraculously, seems stale or tired. Their timing, in
a play with myriad instances of overlapping dialogue, is ideal.
They are winning actors who have given themselves a solid,
though underwritten, showcase. Tuesdays & Sundays centers on William and Mary, he 18 years old, she 16, who fall in love in the rural village of Margate on Prince Edward Island in 1887. Their courtship is brief—after a sexual interlude, they do not see each other for months, as William lives in fear of reprisal from his strict family. That the story ends in tragedy is not surprising, but does not need to be. Tuesdays & Sundays owes a rather enormous debt to Brian Friel’s Winners and Thornton Wilder’s Our Town. Arnold and Hahn have no props (nor do they require any) and designer Catherine Mudryk’s set consists solely of a series of stepping stones and a small, low platform. This is story theater, both enacted and narrated by Arnold and Hahn. They ride an extremely fine line between heartfelt emotion and twee preciousness, and happily they avoid oversentimentalizing what is, fundamentally, a sentimental tale. The world Arnold and Hahn have constructed is beautifully realized, but incomplete; this is a 45-minute play that wants to last an hour. Arnold and Hahn occasionally give voice to other characters; unfortunately, they are few, and as a result Tuesdays & Sundays feels unfinished. Never seeing or hearing William’s parents is troublesome, as they are indirectly responsible for the tragedy. There is also room for the couple at whose party William and Mary meet; they are reported to stay invested in what happens to the young lovers, but they’re never heard from. And the play’s ending is rushed—the tragedy itself is the climax, but there is no subsequent denouement. Hopefully Arnold and Hahn will continue to develop Tuesdays & Sundays, because what’s there is very strong, and very moving. |
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WONDERING IN ALICELAND by Robin Reed |
| Alice Spritz is god. That’s what she discovered in January 1995. At the height of the OJ Simpson trials, Alice, a Baltimore transplant in the City of Angels, learned that she was the chosen one. At least that’s what the voices in her head kept telling her. Wondering in Aliceland is Spritz’ personal tale of mania and madness. It’s a ride on the crazy train filled with anti-depressants, hallucinations, and a bad job (which would not seem so bad were it just a hallucination). Spritz spent much of the mid-nineties in what she calls "numb disbelief," most likely thanks to the lithium. She had a lot on her plate and what she serves up here in FringeNYC is a clever dish of universal insanity. Alice had all the ladies in the audience nodding along in agreement with her dating horror stories that make the Sex and the City girls look like virgins. The strength and weakness of this piece lay in the same place: the motley crew of zany sidekicks. Spritz paints a vivid portrait of the whackos that got her to the place where she has this story to tell. Her writing is strong, but the characters she steps into are too big for a cast of one. They’re so rich and full and funny that I wanted them there in the flesh. Nurse Ratchett, Niko, Carlos, that bitchy boss, and the messiah-prince Alice meets in the loony bin could give a bunch of actors some delicious stuff to dive into. It could also give Spritz a little break from the confines of the staid and rehearsed structure of the piece. Her resume and talents lean more towards improvisation, as was visible when she covered a few minor technical snags. It’s always in the error that we see the truth, and the real Alice was much more charming and engaging than the standup comic-ish Alice who was saying her lines and hitting her marks. Overall, Aliceland is a fun place to visit on your Fringe Summer Vacation. |
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SMOKE by Julie Blumenthal |
| KyoRyuKan Theater Company's
Smoke is an absolute delight. Melding accomplished dancing, clever,
scrappy characterizations and a sheer joy in performing with multiple
dance techniques and ingenious newsprint costumes, it charms on many
levels. From Kyoto under the direction and choreography of Detroit native Peter Golightly, Smoke is inspired by the Japanese Daimonji festival of the spirits, where the dead ride to heaven on the smoke of ritual fires. The piece opens with a confused-seeming young lady (Fumio Toyoda, Spirit One) exploring a newsprint-strewn limbo. Who is she? Where is she? When she is joined by a second (Sumie Sagami, Spirit Two), their simple but universal exchanges make the story clear: they are two spirits waiting to move on, either to heaven or hell. A winning duet follows which spins quickly through sisterhood, jealousy, insecurity, and catfights (and features more fun than I've seen anyone have with newspaper since Gene Kelly). A heavenly bus driver (Golightly, mixing sly wit and angelic prowess) enters to whisk the spirits off to heaven. Some lovely dancing, including a series of effortless lifts, dominates the next section, which simply and sweetly illuminates the pain of leaving the mortal world behind. Throughout, Smoke is suffused with humor, joyous performing, and committed choices. Its brevity (it is only 45 minutes long) and simplicity belie some deeply rooted statements about the ethereal nature of mortality and the pull to remain human. Kudos to Golightly and his talented cast, who are equally at home with comedic timing, modern choreography, and classical technique and fuse them all seamlessly. In addition, Adrian Lee and Toru Yamanaka’s original score adds just the right touch, as does Mary Briggs’ simple yet effective lighting. KyoRyuKan, who also have a second show in the festival (The Fisherman and His Soul), state their goal is "to promote international exchange and understanding through the arts." Smoke succeeds admirably here as well. Whether your interest is international dance theater or Asian culture, I recommend Smoke. In addition, its lightness and shorter length make it highly kid-friendly, and it would be a great introduction to both world performance and concepts of the spirit for younger FringeNYC-goers. |
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A VERY SPECIAL SKETCH SHOW by Alexander Zalben |
| Do you remember that episode of
"One of the Goys" when Benjamin joined the Hitler Youth? Or the episode
of "Shhh!" that dealt with both anorexia and bulimia in a
heart-wrenching and hilarious manner? Of course you don’t, because they
don’t exist in real life, only on stage as two of four sketches in A
Very Special Sketch Show. Using the format of a TV taping for the "WBS Network," A Very Special Sketch Show presents four issue-driven, 80’s style sitcoms, with varying results. Generally, they’ve nailed the genre pretty well. "Shhh!" which is set in a library, and "Make Room for Uncle," in which a single uncle takes in four wise-cracking nieces, have a good handle on what goes into making a cheesy sitcom. Jackie Clarke, the show's director, scores the biggest laughs of the evening playing a washed-up TV star hosting the taping. And Chris Butler, although essentially playing the same character in three sketches, is hilarious as the aforementioned Uncle. "Make Room for Uncle," also written by Butler, is the show’s best example of a well-made sketch. It doesn’t just present an effective, over the top, sitcom situation; it goes the extra step to add absurd jokes into the mix. There are more laughs in the first minute of "Uncle" than in the rest of the show combined. Technically, the show leaves a lot to be desired. They do manage to cover the set changes between sketches effectively with Clarke’s constant patter. But during the sketches, we get only an occasional bit of canned laughter and long stretches of darkness between scenes. This, I think, illuminates the main problem with the show. By only giving us one or two bits of laugh track and no sitcomesque music cues (except for the title sequences), we’re left with the feeling that they went half-way with the whole sitcom idea. Presentation of an idea is nothing without the execution of it, and it is, unfortunately, in the execution that A Very Special Sketch Show is lacking. |
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THE HOUSE OF MERRY by Jeff Lewonczyk |
| The house of Merry is a pile of
trash. I'm referring of course to the eponymous dwelling of Lindsay
Sullivan's play The House of Merry. The play itself is far from a
pile of trash, but a few fascinating moments, wonderful images and sharp
performances don't change the fact that it needs some tidying up. Merry (Ann Courtney), a very dirty girl in more ways than one, perches atop the summit of a prodigious pile of assorted garbage. Lou (Micah Bucey), a melodramatic goody-goody who resembles a shiny new action figure, has decided that he is in love with Merry and gingerly but determinedly scales her mountain. Upon arrival he meets Merry's lover Dirty Penny (Christian Bester)—a scurrilous beast with supernatural powers and long, nappy locks of golden hue—and her sister Pet (playwright Sullivan), a sassy little brat dressed all in wedding white. In a sense the play as a whole is crippled by its most successful moments. The first third of the play concerns itself with Lou's ascent to Merry, and director Paul Mazza employs a bewitchingly slow rhythm to help Sullivan's poetic banter seduce the audience. There is a singular feeling here of something unique transpiring, a perception aided by Bucey's hilariously overblown take on the play's chivalric hero, undercut at every turn by Merry's casual nastiness. The problem is that once action starts occurring, the language—and with it Bucey's artful performance—become a hindrance. One wishes either that the play continued its dreamy cadence to the finish or else introduced the supporting characters sooner. In the end, whatever statement Sullivan is trying to make about the necessary partnership of order and chaos remains unclear. But the performers (gleefully costumed by Sara Dunn) all have fine moments, and if Bucey's performance suffers from inflexibility at least it's true to his character. Bester's Dirty Penny strikes the most fruitful balance between artifice and fluidity; he is simultaneously comfortable with the play's gutter humor and its lofty linguistic heights. Despite my caveats, this show's presence in FringeNYC fills me with cheer. It is an experiment, meaning that it risks failure; but I'd much rather see a show so enthusiastically embrace that risk than smugly grasp for a tepid success. |
