Momma Rose is back and Audra McDonald's got her

I saw the last three Broadway productions of Gypsy, starring Tyne Dale, Bernadette Peters and Patti LuPone, but watching director George C. Wolfe’s current revival at the Majestic Theatre I often felt I was seeing it for the first time.  I wasn’t thrilled about seeing it yet again when I heard it was coming back this fall until I learned the casting included Audra McDonald and Danny Burstein.  True to form, they do not disappoint, which is a good thing because the running time is three hours.  That’s a big time commitment nowadays, and the time did not fly by.  I don’t remember the show being, or feeling, so long before. 

Another element I don’t remember from previous performances is Rose’s sense of humor about herself.  The audience has always been able to laugh at her singleminded bulldozer approach to life but McDonald humanizes her a bit by giving her this occasional sense of self awareness.  It makes it easier to understand why Herbie loves her.  Burstein’s portrayal of Herbie’s faithfulness is believable. 

In the last revival, in 2008, LuPone won a Tony for Best Actress in a Musical, Boyd Gaines won Best Supporting Actor for his Herbie and Laura Benanti won Best Supporting Actress for her Louise.  Although I loved Gaines’ performance I thought Burstein should have won for his Luther in the South Pacific revival that year.  His Herbie will certainly at least bring him a nomination. 

McDonald will surely will be nominated, although winning isn’t quite assured because this season already has offered strong leading actress performances from Nicole Scherzinger in Sunset Blvd., Megan Hilty in Death Becomes Her and Katie Brayben in Tammy Faye.  

I hope Joy Woods is nominated for her Louise.  For most of the show Louise is almost invisible, which is fitting for this shy child overlooked by her mother in favor of her younger sister.  But she shows her star power when she transforms into Gypsy Rose Lee.  Her dressers should receive nominations for how quickly they change her from one scanty, dazzling costume by Toni-Leslie James to another as she climbs the ladder of success in burlesque.  She holds the stage with the best of them. Camille A. Brown’s choreography gets its full play here.

In spite of excellent production values — Santo Loquasto (effectively minimalist scenic design); Jules Fisher, Peggy Eisenhauer (lighting design) and a score I have always loved — music by Jule Styne, lyrics by Stephen Sondheim under Andy Einhorn’s music direction—I wasn’t wowed by this revival in the way I was by LuPone’s and I can’t pinpoint why except I’m tired of the same shows being revived.  It has been awhile since LuPone’s show, although I was surprised how long ago it was.  It seems much more recent.  And three hours on a Friday night after a week of work is a long time to sit in an overheated space with no leg room.  I had seen a high-quality Broadway musical, for which I’m grateful, but it was still good to get out into the cold night air. 

'Swept Away' is compelling theatre

  

It makes me sad that all the talent, creativity and hard work behind Swept Away, the new musical at the Longacre Theatre, wasn’t rewarded with the healthy run it deserves.  It’s one of the best shows I’ve seen in this fall season that has offered the best shows of any fall season I can remember. 

It’s no wonder we get such a steady stream of formulaic jukebox musicals, the latest of which is this fall’s A Wonderful World, Louis Armstrong’s hits sung with spirit by James Monroe Iglehart in an otherwise mediocre show.  Originality is risky on Broadway.

Nothing is mediocre in director Michael Mayer’s Swept Away, a riveting 90-minute intermission-less story, perfectly scripted by John Logan.  It’s adapted from The Avett Brothers 2004 album “Mignonette,” which drew its inspiration from the shipwreck of a British vessel of that name that sank in 1884. The performances are award-worthy and the music is the best of the season.  It’s unfortunate that this show opened at a time when all of the 41 Broadway houses were full.  Too much competition, I guess, and no big name TV or movie stars to lure the tourists. 

Let’s start with the cast.  John Gallagher, Jr. (second from left in photo), Stark Sands (second from right), Adrian Blake Enscoe (right) and Wayne Duvall are the leads, backed by a strong ensemble of singer/dancers.  Choreographer David Neumann brings them together for lively numbers that, if we weren’t in a Broadway theatre, would have had us on our feet clapping and stomping our feet right along with them.  At least in the first half of the show.

That brings us to the Avett Brothers’ music, a blend of folk, country and Americana, music I love.  I listen to this kind of music for five hours on Sundays when I’m home — “Mountain Stage” from noon to 2 p.m. and “Common Threads” from 2 to 5 p.m. on WAER from Syracuse University.  I love standard Broadway fare — I wouldn’t be doing what I do if I didn’t — but I also love my Sunday country/folk music and I rarely get to hear it live in NYC.  The Swept Away band is fantastic under the direction of Will Van Dyke, with supervision, arrangements and orchestrations by Brian Usifer. 

As far as theatricality goes, you would have to go far to match the drama of the whaling ship’s capsizing and the four survivors’ transition into a lifeboat.  Neumann, scenic designer Rachel Hauck, lighting designer Kevin Adams and sound designer John Shivers work together for effects that are spectacular.

We’re introduced to the characters on the dock at New Bedford, MA, in 1888.  They are both individuals and archetypes.  Mate (Gallagher) was well educated but has become a wastrel and cynic.  Captain (Duvall) has a wife and children whom he has rarely seen since he has spent his life at sea.  This is to be the ship’s last voyage because kerosene and other products have replaced the need for whale oil. The 300-ton ship will then become scrap metal and Captain feels he might as well join it.  Little Brother (Enscoe) is in his late teens and is a classic innocent in search of adventure.  He loves his girlfriend and wants to marry her but escapes the farm to see the world first.  Big Brother (Sands) is a deeply religious Christian content with his life of farm and church who comes to bring his brother home but ends up heading out to sea as the ship sails with him still onboard.

All is lighthearted before setting sail as the cast fills the stage to sing a couple rousing numbers conveying their excitement.  “I’m a hard, hard worker everyday” and “Nothing’s going to change my mind” are fun and engaging.  But after all are dramatically swept away and only the survivors are left in a lifeboat, desperation builds.  After three weeks without a drop of water or bite of food and a scorching sun blazing down on them the conversation turns to ethical, moral and spiritual questions of what a person can do to survive. The climax is shocking in its speed. I left grateful for an afternoon of such compelling theatre and regretting that it was closing at the end of the month.

Swept Away began previews Nov. 14, opened Nov. 19 and its closing was announced for Dec. 15 until an unprecedented demand for tickets followed the closing announcement.  It was extended until Dec. 29.

I don’t know what the future will be for Swept Away.  I can’t imagine it going on a national tour.  Not after its short run and with its dark subject matter.  I do hope regional theatres will pick it up.  The capsizing will have to be scaled back but the show did begin in regional theatres, Berkeley Repertory followed by Arena Stage, and showed enough promise that it was moved to Broadway.  I would be happy to go see it again. 

Broadway actress Maryann Plunkett brings to life the sadness and joy of Alzheimer's

Backstage Conversation with The Notebook Star Maryann Plunkett

The black and white photo on the dressing room mirror is of a woman, shot from behind, looking out a window at a snow-covered yard, with the backs of two little stuffed animals on the windowsill beside her. It evokes a sense of tranquility and timelessness. For the owner of this photo, Tony Award-winning actress Maryann Plunkett, it represents the presence of her mother in a tiny nook in a large Broadway theatre. 

Plunkett’s mother is present to her as well in the much grander space of the stage at the Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre where the 72-year-old actress is starring as Older Allie in The Notebook, the musical based on the best-selling novel by Nicholas Sparks, which became a movie starring Rachel McAdams and Ryan Gosling.

“I try to enter the world she lived.” That world is dementia. Plunkett’s mother died at 91 after living with the condition for many years. Allie is played by three different actresses, representing youth, early adult life and elderly with Alzheimer’s. The story at all levels is about the love between Allie and Noah. It’s captured in a notebook Allie wrote in those earlier stages, and it’s what Noah reads to her after she no longer knows him, in the hopes that the times portrayed may break through to her.

For large parts of the show Allie and Older Noah, played by Dorian Harewood, sit to the side of the stage while the young and early adulthood couples play out the memories Noah is sharing. Plunkett is intensely in character the entire time as Allie tries to understand this story that is her life. 

Plunkett, who received a Tony nomination for her portrayal of Older Allie, was drawn to the show by Bekah Brunstetter’s book and Ingrid Michaelson’s music and lyrics, as well as the story, which she can relate to her mother’s experience.

“I was clearly drawn to that. Allie’s an artist and my mom was a musician and she liked to doodle,” she says, pretending to draw on a book on her vanity table. “It’s the creative force in a person. I think the script and music and lyrics are so spare and so deep. It makes me honest. I really feel it.”

While Harewood is only pretending to be speaking the notebook’s words, Plunkett stays in character by watching the younger actors. She imagines Allie’s reaction.

“I’m (Allie) hearing a story. What am I seeing? I’m seeing parts of me that I don’t know.”

She said her mother was often looking for something and was afraid she would run out of money so the family kept a wallet in a drawer in the buffet with 20 one dollar bills in it. The denomination didn’t matter. Her mother felt secure counting all those bills.

“I brought a couple of moments like that. I try to enter the world she lived.”

Plunkett’s father, who died three and a half years before her mother, is also present at the Schoenfeld. Beside the photo of her mother, Plunkett has written on a small piece of paper the Latin expression Ab initio, meaning in beginning or from the beginning. This is how he signed all his cards to her mother.

Plunkett shared caregiving with her father and four siblings, going to Massachusetts from New York once a month for a week or four days twice a month. In the final years caregivers and nurses assisted.

 “There was also joy in the years with my Mother.  She had a curiosity and a seeking.  As sung in The Notebook, ‘the sadness and the joy'.”

Besides this personal element of the show, Plunkett appreciates that the older couple, which is the one making audiences cry the most, is portrayed seriously and not for laughs or sentimentality as is so often the case with older characters. Both she and Harewood have had long marriages. She and her husband, actor Jay O. Sanders, celebrated their 33rd anniversary Oct. 1.

Plunkett says she is frequently met at the stage door by people sharing their stories of a spouse or parent who had Alzheimer's. Twice someone has told her they’ve just been diagnosed with the condition. One of them said the show had given him hope that he might have a spark of memory as Allie does at the show’s end.

The musical, which played Chicago before beginning performance in New York in February, is ending Dec.15. It will begin a national tour in Cleveland in September.

Asked what she would tell her mother now about her understanding of the experience of living with dementia, she pauses and her eyes fill with tears.

“I’m getting emotional. Simply, ‘thank you.’ It’s been a joy being with her again.”

 

Julianna Margulies is back on Broadway, where she shines

 

Julianna Margulies is a marvel as she commands the stage at the James Earl Jones Theatre for nearly the entire 100 minutes of Delia Ephron’s Left on Tenth, the writer’s autobiographical play based on her best-selling memoir.  She’s absolutely radiant and a delight to watch as she portrays a middle-aged woman surprised to find love and romance six months after the death of Jerry, her beloved husband of 33 years, then is fully convincing as she lies in a hospital bed on the verge of death from leukemia, begging for release.  Why has she been away from the stage for so long?  She’s a natural.

Her last Broadway performance was in Festen in 2006.  I saw it but didn’t know who she was at the time so I don’t remember noticing her.  I loved her in her starring role as Alicia Florrick in the six-year run of “The Good Wife.”  She’s a natural for the small screen as well.  With one of the most expressive faces in the business, she was made for close-ups.

With only an awareness of her TV persona, I wasn’t prepared to be so wowed by her stage presence.  She’s a megawatt up there, looking fantastic in skinny black slacks and a large untucked shirt (costumes by Jeff Mahshie).  She gives that old workhorse, the romantic comedy, a brilliant shine.

Under Susan Stroman’s direction the story moves swiftly, and there’s a lot of story to reveal. Margulies as Ephron addresses the audience like a storyteller, unveiling her unusual background.  Born to “angry alcoholic parents,” a childhood in Beverly Hills, the second of four sisters, all writers.  “My childhood was scary, often violent.  With Jerry I found my first true home.  My first safe place.”

She was closest to her older sister, Nora, a writer, director and “reinventor of the romantic comedy.  We collaborated on screenplays for many of the movies she directed.  She often said we shared half a brain.”

Nora died of leukemia in 2012; Jerry of prostate cancer in 2015, “both with long illnesses before.”

For all of this she is alone on stage, except for a few minor characters coming and going.  Scenic designer Beowulf Boritt’s oval-shaped study with floor-to-ceiling books looks as if it could be behind the façade of the beautiful brownstones on Tenth Street in Greenwich Village.  It’s delightful not only to hear her tell her story, but to see her gracefully tap dance around the room as she relives the tap dancing she and Jerry used to do.

The seismic shift in her life, after so many seismic shifts, occurs after she writes an essay about her frustration dealing with Verizon, her phone and Internet carrier, that is published in the New York Times.  She receives an email from Peter (Peter Gallagher), a Jungian psychoanalyst and widower in the San Francisco Bay area who tells her they dated while she was in college after being introduced by Nora.  She has no memory of him but is intrigued enough to begin exchanging emails, followed by phone calls.  Then Peter comes to town and after a slightly awkward first date they continue getting to know each other until they both realize they can love again.  And survive Delia’s cancer, which they do together.  Peter flies back to San Franciso to let his patients know he will be gone for at least six weeks, then sleeps on a cot in Delia’s room.  Recognizing the fragility of her condition he proposes and they enjoy a hospital wedding, complete with friends.

The difference in locations is portrayed mostly by Jeanette Oi-Suk Yew’s projections set above and behind the wall of the study.  They portray the Empire State and Chrysler Buildings on the right and rain on the left.  In one playful scene Yew even gives us a white shadow man silhouette to dance beside Margulies.  The hospital is a sterile white with little more than the bed and cot.  Lighting designers Ken Billington and Itohan Edoloyi create the chilly atmosphere of a hospital.

Kate MacCluggage and Peter Franics James skillfully play about a dozen featured characters, doctors, a Verizon repair man and friends.  Left on Tenth runs through Feb. 2. 

The Notebook The Musical “Lights The Stage in Teal” On Friday, November 1

 

This Friday, November 1, The Notebook The Musical will join more than 1,300 sites around the world to “Light the World in Teal,” bringing awareness to Alzheimer's disease as National Alzheimer's Awareness Month continues throughout November. Teal is the Alzheimer's Foundation of America's Alzheimer's awareness color.

Following that evening's performance at the Schoenfeld Theatre on Broadway, cast members from The Notebook will deliver brief remarks to the audience as the stage is illuminated in teal. The event will honor the more than 55 million people worldwide who live with Alzheimer's or a related dementia.

AFA's Light the World in Teal initiative is designed to shine a spotlight on the growing, international health issue of Alzheimer's, which impacts more than 6.7 million Americans and more than 55 million people worldwide. The annual program, one of AFA's signature Alzheimer's awareness initiatives, takes place in November as part of Alzheimer's Awareness Month.  Last year, more than 1,000 sites around the world participated in the initiative, including sites in all 50 states in the U.S. and 13 foreign countries.

“Light the World in Teal aims to literally shine a spotlight on Alzheimer's disease and show support for the millions of people living with it,” said Charles J. Fuschillo, Jr., AFA's President and CEO. “Every site that signs up, whether it's a multi-story building or a single-family home, helps to highlight the issue of Alzheimer's disease. Sign up to shine up in teal for Alzheimer's awareness on November 1 by contacting AFA at 866-232-8484 or visiting www.lighttheworldinteal.com.”  

Based on the bestselling novel by Nicholas Sparks that inspired the iconic film, the new musical The Notebook is playing on Broadway through Sunday, December 15 before kicking off a 2025 national tour in Cleveland, OH, with other cities to be announced. Produced by Kevin McCollum and Kurt Deutsch, The Notebook features music and lyrics by Ingrid Michaelson and a book by playwright Bekah Brunstetter (writer and producer on NBC's “This Is Us,” The Cake). The production is directed by Michael Greif (Dear Evan Hansen, Next to Normal, RENT) and Schele Williams (Aida, The Wiz), with choreography by Katie Spelman (Associate Choreographer on Moulin Rouge! The Musical).

The cast of The Notebook features Tony Award-winner Maryann Plunkett as Older Allie, Dorian Harewood as Older Noah, Aisha Jackson as Middle Allie, Ryan Vasquez as Middle Noah, Anna Zavelson as Younger Allie, Benji Santiago as Younger Noah, Andréa Burns as Mother/Nurse Lori, Carson Stewart as Johnny/Fin. Playing various roles are Yassmin Alers, Alex Benoit, Chase Del Rey, Hillary Fisher, Jerome Harmann-Hardeman, Dorcas Leung, Happy McPartlin, Juliette Ojeda, Kim Onah, Charles E. Wallace and Charlie Webb.

Allie and Noah, two people from different worlds, share a lifetime of love despite the forces that threaten to pull them apart in a deeply moving portrait of the enduring power of love. The musical is based on the book that has sold millions of copies worldwide and a film that is one of the highest-grossing romantic dramas of all-time.

The Notebook features scenic design by David Zinn and Brett J. Banakis, costume design by Paloma Young, lighting design by Ben Stanton, sound design by Nevin Steinberg, hair and wig design by Mia Neal, and projection design by Lucy Mackinnon. The production's music supervisor is Carmel Dean, who also collaborated on arrangements with Ingrid Michaelson and on orchestrations with John Clancy, and the music director is Geoffrey Ko. Casting by The Telsey Office, Patrick Goodwin, CSA.

The revival of 'Sunset Blvd.' in one word: DARK

The atmosphere is set from the moment you enter the St. James Theatre where British director Jamie Lloyd’s revival of Andrew Lloyd Webbers’ Sunset Blvd. opened last night.  The house lights were so dim I couldn’t read the Playbill.  Even before the first note from the orchestra, the theme of darkness was pervasive. 

Banking on the success of his Olivier Award-winning London production earlier this year, Lloyd is taking the chance that American audiences will appreciate two and a half hours of bleakness.  In his desire to tap into the grim 1950 film noir of the same title, Lloyd recreates that sensibility as much as possible.  Past Broadway productions have not been this stark and dark. I saw the 2017 revival with Glenn Close, who also starred in the original 1994 Broadway production, but it was much more subtle and so not as depressing. 

Soutra Gilmour’s costumes are all black and white.  In the first act the chorus of dancers wear black T-shirts except for a couple of white ones, black pants and black sneakers. They look as if they’ve stepped out of a Gap ad.  The attire is an appropriate match for Fabian Aloise’s athletic choreography.  

In the second act the women wear black slip dresses although they fade into the background in comparison to the ultimate wearer of a black slip dress, Nicole Scherzinger as Norma Desmond, the former Hollywood silent film star now living in obscurity in her mansion with her ever-attentive manservant, Max (Olivier nominee David Thaxton).  Railing thin with straight shiny black hair that falls past her shoulders, the Olivier Award winner and Grammy nominee is the self-involved ice queen devoid of any humanity.  Her dancer’s body, in that clinging black dress for the entire show, is as flexible as rubber.  She is, as she should be, always the center of attention whether it’s as her fully dimensional self or one of the distracting projections.

Gilmour is also credited as scenic designer but not one speck of scenery is used.  It’s just the big, black stage and designer Jack Knowles’ appropriately joyless lighting and lots of smoke and fog. Not one drop of color appears until the final blood-streaked scene.  OK, we get the idea of a black and while film but just in case someone doesn’t, the actors appear in film projections behind them, some reaching as high as the proscenium.  It’s effectively eerie but overdone.  Nathan Amzi and Joe Ransom provide the video design and cinematography.

I did like their filming of Joe Gillis (Oliver winner Tom Frances), the down-on-his-luck screenwriter who ends up moving into Desmond’s mansion to write a script to bring about her “return” to Hollywood (she hates the term “come back”).  In a scene I don’t understand but enjoyed, Gillis is filmed, in black and white, of course, backstage in his dressing room, then walking through the Theatre District followed by the dancers and stared at by the mingled tourists and theatergoers.

The scenes without the filming and without the chorus were the most effective for me, thanks to Max who is the only one who truly loves Desmond.  With the three of them alone on the black stage and a spotlight focus on them -- Desmond in the middle with the men on either side of her -- he reveals that he is her first of many husbands and that he has been sending the fan mail that she is so proud to still be receiving and that he faked a call from Paramount Studios asking her to make a new film.  “I made her a star and I will not let her be destroyed,” he sings.  He’s a big bruiser of a man but he’s the heart of the show.

Were I not a Drama Desk voter I would have happily passed on seeing this show again.  The anxiety of our close election is too upsetting.  We need a little Jerry Herman, right this very minute.  Mame, please.

 

Patti LuPone and Mia Farrow are roommates

 I hadn’t expected to like The Roommate, the one act play by Jen Silverman at the Booth Theatre.  In fact, I thought I would  hate it.  As a critic I like to approach shows having read little about them.  What I knew was that it sounded like a 2024 version of The Odd Couple — a meek Midwestern divorcee living alone in an Iowa farmhouse who takes in a lesbian from the Bronx sounded pretty ho-hum to me. 

I expected 90 minutes of sitcom humor, which I dislike.  The play does start that way but before long it throws us a sharp curve that gives it a real plot, a funny one that twists with unpredictable turns and momentum.

The show, directed with precision by Jack O’Brien, is a two-hander featuring A-Listers Patti LuPone and Mia Farrow.  I know I don’t have to tell you which role each plays.  While I am not a Farrow fan (to put it politely), her character is so richly drawn for comedy that she manages to steal the show from LuPone, a powerhouse if ever there was one.  Farrow’s timing is perfect and she seems to be having a blast playing Sharon.  She just keeps going as her character veers deeper and deeper into craziness, using just the right amount of subtlety and necessary understatement.  LuPone, as Robyn, can do little more than look on.

I won’t reveal the plot because that would spoil your enjoyment.  You’ll love it, and watching these veteran actors perform together you can’t miss the chemistry.  That’s unsurprising because they have been close friends for more than 30 years and live in the same county in northwestern Connecticut.  Farrow was offered her role first and LuPone joined the show based on the opportunity for them to work together for the first time. 

I like the way O’Brien handles their fame.  Before the play begins he has them walk onstage together to get ahead of that annoying applause American audiences give to famous performers as soon as they appear, often interrupting the story.  Their names are projected large behind them.  He could have skipped that.  We knew who they were before we arrived.  But it was nice to get the exuberant applause out of the way and begin the play uninterrupted.

People more familiar with television than I, which is just about everyone, will recognize the voice of Sharon’s son who calls from New York.  That voice belongs to Farrow’s real life son, the journalist Ronan Farrow.  I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t read that little tidbit. 

As we were leaving I said to my friend, “that was cute.”  She begrudgingly agreed but said she wouldn’t elevate her praise beyond that.  But that’s all it needs to be.  On a Friday night after a long week of work 90 minutes of cute is enough.  I can see complicated dramas another time.  I left the theatre happy.