At the outset of Ife Olujobi’s Jordans, a surreal comic-horror satire of racial capitalism and its effects on Black bodies, Jordan (Naomi Lorrain), a Black receptionist at a fashionable event space/production facility, essentially builds the stylish, gleaming set (designed by Matt Saunders). This activity is one of many moments in director Whitney White’s sleek production when Jordan’s unceasing labor in the face of disregard or outright hostility from her all-white co-workers is highlighted. Later, when Jordan’s colleague Emma (Brontë England-Nelson) says in a presentation to their wicked boss, Hailey (Kate Walsh), that the women at the firm are “slaving away,” she explicitly does not include Jordan in her statement.
The title of Lia Romeo’s play Still, it must be clarified, is unrelated to manufacturing moonshine in the mountains of Appalachia. Rather, her wistful two-hander is about seniors reconnecting—the kind of story that pops up periodically in bridal pages about two spouses whose longtime partners have died and who have somehow reconnected with their youthful heartthrobs. The stories carry an inherent charm, one that is aided immeasurably by two superb performers, Jayne Atkinson and Tim Daly.
In addition to introducing the word robot to the English language, Czech writer Karel Čapek’s 1920 sci-fi drama R.U.R. depicted a dystopian world in which scientifically manufactured laborers gradually eradicate humans. The play perfectly captured the anxieties of the burgeoning Machine Age and was a big hit on Broadway in 1922. S. Asher Gelman’s Scarlett Dreams attempts to tap into similar uneasiness as the former Information Age settles into the current Age of Intelligence. With the meteoric advancement and sudden ubiquity of artificial intelligence (AI), the play suggests that it may be just a matter of time when people will be controlled by digital avatars, and the difference between reality and virtual reality (VR) will become purely conjectural.
Philadelphia, Here I Come, written in the 1960s by Irish playwright Brian Friel, poignantly captures the anticipation, fear, and excitement of emigrating to a new place. Set on the eve of departure, Friel’s play focuses on Gar, the would-be émigré, in both his Public self (played with subdued melancholy by David McElwee) as he struggles with his decision to leave, and his Private self (played with exuberance by A.J. Shively), screaming to get out. It’s deadly boring in Ballybeg, a tiny little corner of County Donegal, Ireland, where the most exciting things are a game of checkers and memories of teenage shenanigans.
Theatergoers yearning to see a new spin on Macbeth need look no further than Zinnie Harris’s Macbeth (An Undoing). Written and directed by Harris, it is a feminist version of Shakespeare’s original that puts Lady Macbeth at its center. But while Harris succeeds in expanding Lady Macbeth’s presence in the story, ultimately the playwright is defeated in increasing the character’s agency, given Shakespeare’s clear-cut trajectory of the doomed Queen.
The title of Lia Romeo’s play Still, it must be clarified, is unrelated to manufacturing moonshine in the mountains of Appalachia. Rather, her wistful two-hander is about seniors reconnecting—the kind of story that pops up periodically in bridal pages about two spouses whose longtime partners have died and who have somehow reconnected with their youthful heartthrobs. The stories carry an inherent charm, one that is aided immeasurably by two superb performers, Jayne Atkinson and Tim Daly.
American playwright J. T. Rogers, the author of Oslo, tackles political issues again in Corruption. At first glance, the play’s subject matter looks parochial: the phone-hacking scandal in London in 2010 and 2011. That scandal, in which newspapers belonging to Australian media tycoon Rupert Murdoch were found to have hacked private phones as well as those of public officials, engulfed newspapers, prime ministers, investigative reporters, and members of Parliament. In Bartlett Sher’s thrilling production, the immersion into British politics comes with numerous parallels to American politics.
Charles Busch has frequently used old films as fodder for his comedies: Red Scare on Sunset, Shanghai Moon, and The Lady in Question all draw on silver-screen melodrama for a knowing send-up of Hollywood tropes. But his latest play, Ibsen’s Ghost, is a marked change. Busch has steeped himself in the life of Norwegian playwright Henrik Ibsen and fashioned both facts and fiction into a charming and funny Improbable Biographical Fantasy, as he calls it.
Pericles, the first of Shakespeare’s late romances, is the only play not in the First Folio. Most critics agree that the first two acts are by someone else, possibly the work of George Wilkins, who wrote the “prose narrative” on which the play is based, and from which Fiasco Theater’s galloping production sometimes borrows. But the last three acts are the Bard, and this play, even though Ben Jonson called it “a mouldy tale,” has proven resilient.
Deadly Stages, a new murder mystery–melodrama by Marc Castle and Mark Finley, is a strange pastiche. It follows backstage shenanigans that involve a temperamental grande dame of the theater, a younger, theatrically untrained movie star, and assorted hangers-on: the reliable supporting actor, the producer, the director, and possibly a scheming upstart. Anyone who hasn’t seen All About Eve should begin to prepare now.
Tennessee Williams’s The Night of the Iguana is often considered his last great play, but the 1961 milestone was created amid stress and anguish. The role of Hannah Jelkes was written for Katharine Hepburn, but Spencer Tracy needed her care; Margaret Leighton played it and won a Tony. Bette Davis, difficult to imagine as the sensual Maxine Faulk, was at her most tyrannical during tryouts; she left the production after three months. Elia Kazan didn’t direct, though he lauded the work of Frank Corsaro, who did. In the end, however, the play survived, but La Femme Theatre Productions’ revival, the first in 28 years, demonstrates that pitfalls abound.
The ambitious and curious Ruth Stage has resurrected Lone Star by James McLure, a one-act that was first presented Off-Broadway in 1979 on a double bill with McLure’s Pvt. Wars. The play Lone Star is not to be confused with John Sayles’s 1996 movie Lone Star, although, by a strange coincidence, the late character actor Leo Burmester appeared in both the play and the film.
When Samuel Beckett’s own production of Waiting for Godot—in German—toured to London’s Royal Court theater in 1976, Guardian critic Michael Billington noted that the actors playing Estragon and Vladimir were “physical and temperamental opposites.” Vladimir was huge and ungainly; Estragon was “short legged, crab-gaited … and moonfaced.” In Arin Arbus’s strong production of Beckett’s despairing modernist masterpiece, Paul Sparks and Michael Shannon aren’t so physically distinct, but their individual temperaments land where they need to.
For decades the Harold Rome–Jerome Weidman musical I Can Get It for You Wholesale has been known primarily for putting Barbra Streisand on the map. In 1962 many critics found protagonist Harry Bogen, a young Jewish hustler in New York City’s garment trade in 1937, too unlikable, even though Pal Joey and its caddish hero had succeeded in various Broadway productions. But timing also played a part. John Chapman in the Daily News noted that “his success, unlike Robert Morse’s genial villainies in How to Succeed [at a nearby theater], leaves a bad taste.” In the New York Times, Howard Taubman complained that the book was not “uplifting.” Now that antiheroes are commonplace, however, Wholesale deserves another look, and the Classic Stage Company’s loving revival (with a book updated by Jerome’s son John Weidman) provides evidence that it’s an overlooked gem.
Geoff Sobelle’s Food at BAM Fisher is performance art of the most engaging kind. It provokes rumination about man’s relationship to nature, to the use of the environment, and to the distance between tilling the earth with dirty hands and the meal that arrives on a plate at home or in a restaurant. If that implies an overly serious purpose, it is brightened by Sobelle’s interactivity with his audience, his deft sleight of hand, and slapstick that veers into carnival sideshow.
Bioadapted, a new theater piece created and directed by Tjaša Ferme, and written by James Yu and Alexis Roblan, is a hybrid play drawn from sources as disparate as a 2020 article in Britain’s Guardian newspaper that was written by ChatGPT; transcripts of panels of scientists discussing the subject; and scientists interacting with artificial intelligence (AI). Turning transcripts into drama has been around a long while—from Emily Mann’s Execution of Justice and Moisés Kaufman’s Gross Indecency: The Three Trials of Oscar Wilde to the recent Is This a Room, which took dialogue verbatim from FBI interviews with Reality Winner.
Tennessee Williams’s Orpheus Descending is a play not frequently revived. Although it has many of the themes and elements of the major works, its premiere in 1957, directed by critic Harold Clurman rather than Elia Kazan, was short-lived. The production at Theatre for a New Audience throws into relief some of the problems. As interesting as the play may be for fans of Williams, one comes away with a sense of dissatisfaction. Williams described its theme as “more tolerance and respect for the wild and lyric impulses that the human heart feels and so often is forced to repress, in order to avoid social censure and worse.” Variety, however, judged it “a murky tale of inbred, hard-eyed people in a Mississippi village.”
Opportunities to see the British actress Juliet Stevenson on this side of the Atlantic are too rare to pass up. Robert Icke’s play The Doctor—Stevenson has the title role in this loose adaptation of Arthur Schnitzler’s Professor Bernhardi—is a welcome reminder of this actress’s enormous talent. It’s unmissable for any theater lover.
In his new play, The Comeuppance, Branden Jacobs-Jenkins checks in with his generation of Americans nearing 40. The five principals in this world premiere are gathering for their 20th high school reunion, and Jacobs-Jenkins, 38, draws his structure from notable plays that involve excessive drinking after sundown: Long Day’s Journey into Night, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and The Boys in the Band. In addition, those who have read Booth Tarkington’s The Magnificent Ambersons may recall that comeuppance figures heavily in that novel. There’s also a smidgen of The Big Chill and a larger scoop of John O’Hara’s Appointment in Samarra.
Nikhil Parmar’s relentlessly kinetic solo show Invisible is an impressive hourlong workout for the actor. The words tumble out, the situations are plentiful, and he breaks the fourth wall time and again. If he had not written the piece for himself, one might regard the movement as a mistake by a novice, but Parmar intends to show what he can do, vocally and physically, and with a vengeance.
Beginning with a chance meeting, David J. Glass’s new play Love + Science traces the lives of two gay medical students amid the AIDS crisis of the 1980s. After a 1981 welcoming ceremony for medical students at Columbia, Jeff (Jonathan Burke) asks another student, Matt (Matt Walker), to take his picture. Soon they are revealing intimacies that suggest personal minefields: “My mother sent her best wishes,” says Matt, tentative and reserved, while the forthright Jeff announces, “I got, ‘Get out of my house, you faggot,’ when I was 17 … been on my own ever since.” Jeff also registers that Matt is a whiz kid—he’s only 20 (though he’ll be far older by the end).
Waiting in the Wings is the sort of show that materializes every June with a gay-themed subject to celebrate Pride Month intentionally or obliquely. This adaptation of a 2014 movie, in which Sally Struthers, Christopher Atkins and Shirley Jones appeared, stars Jeffrey A. Johns, who wrote the screenplay and reprises his writing and acting roles for the stage.
The veneer of civilization is thinner than one hopes for in Yasmina Reza’s 2009 Tony-winning black comedy God of Carnage, admirably revived by Theater Breaking Through Barriers. The set-up is simple. Two couples are meeting after Benjamin, the 11-year-old son of one couple, hit Henry, the son of the other, with a stick and damaged two teeth. Henry’s parents, Michael and Veronica Novak (Dave Fazio and Christiane Noll), pressured him to reveal Benjamin’s name, and they have invited Benjamin’s parents, Annette and Alan Raleigh (Corey Cox and David Burtka) to their well-appointed home to exchange “statements” about the incident.
The great poet W. H. Auden had notable success working on the stage—he collaborated on choral works and an opera with Benjamin Britten and on plays with Christopher Isherwood. But Auden as a character has had a lively theatrical life too. Paul Godfrey’s 1990 play Once in a While the Odd Thing Happens examined Britten’s friendship with Auden in the 1940s. In 2012 the Off-Broadway musical February House featured them living in Brooklyn in the early 1940s, in a house with Gypsy Rose Lee and Carson McCullers. And now comes Alan Bennett’s play The Habit of Art, written in 2009 but making its New York debut as part of Brits Off-Broadway. It shows a declining Auden meeting his old friend Britten after a 30-year estrangement.
The anonymously written 1592 play Arden of Faversham is just the sort of thing that Red Bull Theater specializes in: plays of Shakespeare’s contemporaries that have been overshadowed by the Bard. But even the best of Shakespeare needs pruning, and Arden has received a new adaptation by Jeffrey Hatcher and Kathryn Walat for artistic director Jesse Berger’s production. The result is a mixed bag: necessary condensation of characters and cutting obscure lines, but also some wholesale rewriting.
