August 2014: New York City

Violet

We missed this new-to-Broadway revival in May do to Sutton Foster’s absence from illness so it was so obvious choice (and easy exchange) to see it on this trip. I have a mixed relationship with Foster, who I think is often miscast because of her incredible talent. Yes, she can do anything, but it hasn’t necessarily been right for her previous roles. That can’t be said here as she is perfectly cast as the title character and has never been better! I was a fan of this score since it’s Off-Broadway recording from years ago and it’s still delightful in this supposedly heavily truncated, one-act version of the show. The story of a young lady with a hideous scar running across her face definitely pulls at the heart strings even if the action isn’t always believable. Are we really supposed to buy that not one, but two handsome GI’s would fall in love with the bad-tempted Violet in the short course of a bus trip over a few days? Violet’s expectations of the televangelist she thinks will make her beautiful fall short as does the show itself somewhat, but her trip is still quietly uplifting and quite moving.

Rocky (or at least the last 1/5 of it)

I had no desire to see this film-to-musical adaptation with a tepid score (judging from the CD) except for one thing: the director is the brilliant Alex Timbers (Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, Here Lies Love)! Having heard that the show as a whole is indeed pretty lame, but the last 20 minutes are unbelievably thrilling led me to buy the cheapest ticket possible and race up Broadway after the relatively short Violet just so I could take in the finale. I made it in time to see the whole thing (and even a long and boring dialogue exchange between Adrian and Rocky in an apartment before it) and can happily report that it was well worth the $39.

The finale actually starts out a little slow since there is so much setup required, not all of it masked by stage action. Incredibly, the boxing ring lowers from the fly space into the stage and then moves out over the first ten or so rows of the orchestra. This takes a huge amount of time, but so does moving the audience members from those rows onto bleachers placed on the stage. During this time, broadcasters give us a breakdown of the upcoming fight and the rest of the theatre is turned into an arena, complete with four-sided jumbotron and banners proclaiming previous team championships. The two boxers eventually enter with their entourages through the orchestra’s aisles and the fight begins. Bravo to the fight choreographer and the two actors because the boxing rounds are incredible to watch. It totally looks like a real fight with very elaborate and seemingly spontaneous, non-repeating sequences and some theatrical slow-mo moments throw in for good measure. We see the between-round coaching exchanges up close on the jumbotron via ringside cameras and there are some great gore effects when the fighters need their facial hematomas lanced. During the final round, the stage amazingly starts spinning around while the fighters continue their “dance” and indeed, at this moment, the show is absolutely, goose-bump inducing thrilling! The other reason for me to see Rocky is because (thanks to the long-running Cats and Mamma Mia!) I had never been inside the Winter Garden theater. It’s a beautiful theater, but so odd with it’s super wide, low-ceilinged space.

Lady Day at Emerson’s Bar and Grill

Shocking, it is just shocking when Audra McDonald first opens her mouth to sing the beginning of this play with music and out comes Billie Holiday’s voice. It seems just unnatural to me because I know McDonald’s operatically trained voice so well through various cast recordings and her own albums. It’s an incredible performance that you can’t take your eyes off of. Thankfully, you can hear the whole thing since the 2-disc cast recording was taped live during actual shows. The play itself is decent (and nowhere as vulgar as the similar End of the Rainbow documenting the last days of Judy Garland), but depressing portrait of Billie Holiday during a concert at the eponymous club shortly after her release from prison and only 4 months from death. The character starts off strong, but her demons surface as she seeks comfort in booze and heroin (she thankfully shoots up discretely off stage). McDonald well-deserved her record-breaking sixth Tony with this haunting, exacting performance.

Hedwig and the Angry Inch (again!)

I just had to see it again!!! Especially once a choice seat popped up months before at a less than premium, but still expensive price. The seat was so choice that I actually had two exchanges with Neil Patrick Harris, one of which was getting “car-washed!!!” Harris’s performance during the penultimate Saturday late-night show was just as high energy and emotional as it was earlier in the run. He truly is a tour de force in this role. And, any hecklers calling out, “Neil,” are now quickly and hilariously silenced when he refers to them as Shia (after LaBeouf’s breakdown during a recent performance of Cabaret). After a second viewing, it really becomes apparent how choreographed (by cutie Spencer Liff) the amazing (and I’m sure exhausting for the actor playing Hedwig) stage movement actually is. This production is a marvel, a big Broadway splash that stays true to its off-off-Broadway roots. Lena Hall continues to dazzle as much as Harris, but bravo to all involved!!!

 

Jeff Koons: A Retrospective at the Whitney

I thought I was done with the “old Whitney” after seeing this past spring’s biennial, but I couldn’t miss this retrospective of Jeff Koons that nearly took over the entire museum. I had seen a smaller exhibit of Koons’s work at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago a few years ago, but this retrospective of the artist is all-encompassing with most of the work from each of his “series,” including his latest, featured instead of just select pieces. Koons is a contemporary Pop artist among the best of all (second only to Andy Warhol in my opinion). His brilliant mix of high and low clearly works best in his sculpture though I do find his pornographic paintings featuring him and Cicciolina, his Italian, porn-star, former politician ex-wife, captivating in an egotistically perverse way.

In coordination with the exhibit, a huge planter version of his Split Rocker piece has been erected in Rockefeller Center. While the scale is right, it doesn’t best the plasticity of the original, smaller sculpture inspired by his loss after his son was kidnapped by his ex-wife.

The Maids, Sydney Theatre Company at the Lincoln Festival of the Arts

The two-week NYC stint of Jean Genet’s The Maids starring Cate Blanchett and Isabelle Hubbert was the whole reason for this short trip. I had been mightily impressed with the Sydney Theatre Company’s previous touring productions of A Streetcar Named Desire and Uncle Vanya, both featuring Blanchett as well (her and her husband are the co-artistic directors). I was completely unfamiliar with this Genet play, which doesn’t have much in the way of plot, but features very fun parts for each of its three female roles (interestingly sometimes played by men). This adaptation is vulgar with a capital V. Never before have I heard the word “cunt” used so much or seen three female crotches so repeatedly exposed.

The story concerns two sibling maids (Blanchett and Hubbert) plotting the demise of their younger, but super wealthy employer (Elizabeth Debicki) with the maids taking turns playing their much despised mistress. Much has been written about how hard it is to understand Hubbert. I don’t think it is as much her French accent as it is her strange tonal quality that makes her sound like a deaf person speaking. Regardless, her very physical performance is a comedic delight that transcends verbal language. The whole proceedings are reminiscent of an episode of Absolutely Fabulous. There is quirky use of camerawork throughout the production with odd closeups, not only of faces, but seemingly random objects or body parts, projected onto a screen placed above the back wall of the set. It doesn’t amount to much and can be distracting since the stage action is enough to hold our interest. My favorite image is that of Blanchett (as the mistress) pulling the kneeling Hubbert around on the train of her evening gown. Fun stuff, but I suspect I would get even more out of this play on a repeat viewing now that I know its conceit.