Rare is the musical that begins with an undescended testicle. But that’s the opening parry of Fixing Frankie, by Joe Langworth (book and lyrics) and Steve Marzullo (music). More than the troubled hero’s scrotum needs fixing, and Langworth and Marzullo take him down some curious byways, piling on unnecessary details and side stories. Ultimately, though, Frankie’s healing is a touching little story, if one that could use a little touching up.
Actor Ari’el Stachel commands the stage in Other, his uproarious and vulnerable one-man show about the lifelong struggle to fit in. Directed by Tony Taccone, Stachel mines identity and anxiety for both laughter and truth.
Holocaust historians have documented how heroes and heroines, Jews and Gentiles, put themselves at mortal risk to rescue others—but of those who have escaped, how many would re-enter a war zone and twice court danger? Hannah Szenesh, the Folksbiene Yiddish Theater’s one-woman musical drama, written and directed by David Schechter, is a sweeping testimony to the talent and courage of one such heroine.
“Art,” Oscar Wilde pithily postulated, “is useless.” Susannah Dalton’s The Importance of Doing Art directly challenges this aesthetic maxim. Far from being futile, the comedy asserts, art’s true purpose is to serve as an allurement for single-male schlubs and slacker underachievers to attract beautiful, sexually available women. Simply put, art is a chick magnet.
“You’re on earth, there’s no cure for that!” The sentiment, bellowed by Hamm to his servant Clov in the Druid Theatre’s revival of Samuel Beckett’s postapocalyptic Endgame, is freshly relatable to a U.S. audience. Under Garry Hynes’s direction, this Endgame is full of laughs—both she and the ensemble fully grasp the idea expressed by Hamm’s trash-bin-residing mother, Nell, that “nothing is funnier than unhappiness”—but it achieves this tone by leaning into, rather than shying away from, the play’s relentless bleakness.
When former President Harry S Truman agreed to be interviewed by young attorney Bella Abzug, he must have been oblivious to her reputation as a force with which to reckon. In William Spatz’s Truman vs. Israel, directed by Randy White, a retrospective that alternates between Abzug’s 1950s encounter with Truman and her post-Congress years, a still feisty Abzug unapologetically reminisces about that meeting and its outcomes.
Rarely does a play get off to such a torturous start for its audience like Art of Leaving. The first scene of Anne Marilyn Lucas’s feeble comedy is a portrait of emotional abuse played for laughs, and interrupted only by a tedious monologue about shopping for lunch. Humor in the rest of the play draws on such worn-out sources as Yiddishisms, stereotypes of feminists and Jewish mothers, and mishearing by old people.
The flirtation between theater and television has turned serious in recent seasons. Small-screen favorites Stranger Things and Smash were adapted for Broadway, and Schmigadoon! is on tap for next spring. Meanwhile, Off-Broadway satires of The Office and Friends have settled into long runs. Now add to the lineup Not Ready for Prime Time, a new play by Erik J. Rodriguez and Charles A. Sothers. Neither an adaptation nor a parody, this likable, free-flowing piece is more a biographical comedy, albeit an unauthorized one.
In Heaux Church, writer-performer Brandon Kyle Goodman turns the traditional sermon on its head, transforming sex education into a joyful act of healing and self-acceptance. Directed by Lisa Owaki Bierman, and with DJ Ari Grooves and Greg Corbino backing a gospel of pleasure and pride, Goodman delivers a rousing, tongue-in-cheek service that’s part confession, part celebration.
Sea Dog Theater’s 90th-anniversary production of Clifford Odets’s Awake and Sing! features a multiracial cast that makes the Depression-era drama feel contemporary and highlights the universality of the play’s themes. Set in the 1930s, the play focuses on the Bergers, a Jewish family who live in one room in an apartment in the Bronx, and the impact of economic hardship, unfulfilled dreams, and the tension between idealism and survival.
In her all-too-brief life, British author Sally Carson, who spent time in Germany prior to and after the Nazis’ rise to power, discerned a creeping fascism that would consume the country. Her 1934 novel Crooked Cross, and the stage version, produced in 1935 and 1937, echo Carson’s prescient warning of the hate and aggression that would propel Nazism into Europe.
In a spirited revival of John Patrick Shanley’s Italian American Reconciliation, director Austin Pendleton brings fresh verve to the tale of Huey, a lovelorn dreamer who enlists his best friend Aldo to help win back his fiery ex-wife, Janice. The production captures the play’s blend of romantic folly and heartfelt yearning that first endeared it to audiences decades ago.
Mad scientists and power-hungry robots have for generations warned about the perils of new technology and the consequences of messing with Mother Nature. The Glitch follows suit, though in a decidedly romanticized and optimistic fashion. Playwright Kipp Koenig, a former tech worker, has created not a Dr. Frankenstein but a nerdy scientist dealing with a little emotional baggage. And his invention is not a homicidal HAL à la 2001: A Space Odyssey but a cynical Siri who toys with her mortal underlings, though for the greater good.
Ali Keller’s (un)conditional, directed by Ivey Lowe, takes an unflinching look at two heterosexual marriages tested by sexual desires, shifting boundaries, and the uneasy bargains couples make in the name of love. With sharp writing and intimate staging, the play probes what one is willing to give—or give up—in relationships meant to last a lifetime.
Anonymously penned scripts are rare—and rarer still when the identity of one of its two characters is obscured. In Murdoch: The Final Interview, a multimedia drama/farce directed by Christopher Scott, that actor portrays both an enigmatic interviewer and media magnate Rupert Murdoch.
“You don’t need to be better. I like how you are.” In a story about a trans child, this line is something one might hear from the parents of that child, as they learn to adjust and accept. But in Caroline, trans playwright Preston Max Allen defies expectations for a story about a trans child. It is the trans child in Caroline who speaks this line to her mother, an eight-years-sober alcoholic talking about her recovery.
Jonathan Spector’s This Much I Know is an erudite, ambitious, and wide-ranging play in the vein of Tom Stoppard. Three actors play dozens of parts, spanning nationalities and time periods; historical events and personages alternate with the everyday problems of people trying to navigate 21st-century life; and questions of cognition, epistemology, and politics are interrogated.
Leo McGann’s The Honey Trap, tautly directed by Matt Torney at the Irish Rep, probes memory, violence, and reckoning in Belfast. What begins as a seemingly ordinary night in 1979 reverberates across decades, forcing one soldier to confront the shadows of his past.
Brian Watkins’s Weather Girl is a state-of-the-nation play that delivers 70 minutes of theatrical fireworks and a dire warning. No names of politicians or officeholders get mentioned; no political parties or ideologies are discussed. Yet Weather Girl is unmistakably about our nation’s well-being (or lack thereof), with special attention to the lethal effect we’ve had on the earth and its atmosphere.
In Morgan Lloyd Malcolm’s The Wasp, two women—Carla (Amy Forsyth) and Heather (Colby Minifie)—meet at an outdoor café. Carla arrives first. Heavily pregnant, she lights a cigarette and, even seated, has a swagger about her. When Heather enters and sees Carla, she launches into nervous small talk, which Carla swats away with silence. The initial tension seems to stem from Carla’s dour and angry demeanor, but as the play unfolds, the core conflict revolves around their shared past, future consequences, and a morally difficult proposition.