Memoirs of Amorous Gentlemen, directed and choreographed by Rob Ashford, is a visually arresting musical whose dark, decadent atmosphere proves more compelling than its book. Though the production’s inventive design draws audiences into the seedy world of a Parisian brothel, the visual experience ultimately outshines the material it serves.
In the post–World War II U.S.S.R., and in its satellites in Eastern Europe, any way of thinking that did not conform to Communist—that is, Stalinist—ideology was considered treasonous. Suspected traitors were tortured, imprisoned, and executed. The most rudimentary rigged trials were conducted, and the outcomes were predetermined. Laura Zlatos’ Show Trial gives a satirical spin to the actual trial of Milada Horakova, a 50-year-old women’s rights activist and parliamentarian, in 1949.
King of the Yees, playwright Lauren Yee’s most recent play, packs a comic punch that rattles the mind into a state of confusion. If the objective is to pack as much comedy as possible into a two-hour play about a daughter’s appreciation of her father, then well done. However, Joshua Kahan Brody’s direction sets such a frantic pace that one frequently finds oneself asking: What is happening now, and who is that? And because three of the actors play no fewer than six characters each, the production has the feel of a madcap comedy. It is a silly and sentimental story.
No symbol is more overused in the arts than the human heart. Served cold, golden, or on one’s sleeve, it has been the stuff of countless theatrical metaphors, from the plays of Euripides to Larry Kramer. The Roundabout Theatre Company has, nonetheless, doubled down on the image for its plainly named yet surprisingly complex medical musical, The Heart. Happily, it is a gamble that pays off. Kait Kerrigan’s book mostly avoids sentimentality in favor of scientific facts and hard emotional truths, while the husband and wife team of Ian and Anne Eisendrath deliver a pulsating score, anchored in the realm of electronic dance music.
When there is a generation gap, when communication between children and parents goes awry, it often stems from divergent views, sometimes political, sometimes value-based, and sometimes both. Those parents who struggle to ease their children’s lives by providing them with material comforts that they themselves lacked are often disappointed when their kids reject affluence, and risk their financial or physical security for a greater “cause.” That is the case in playwright David Zax’s Aftermath.
Fish, written by Melis Aker and directed by Tatiana Pandiani, is a darkly comic coming-of-age drama inspired by true events about a teenage girl whose search for her missing brother takes a disturbing turn. Set in London in 2016, the play follows 17-year-old Karya as she tests her Turkish mother’s increasingly plausible theory about her brother’s disappearance by launching an online experiment with her best friend, only to discover that some games carry sinister consequences.
Doménica Feraud’s new play is set in a grief support group, where members reminisce about the “someone spectacular” they’ve lost and figure out how to cope without them. This should be very moving, but instead it seems trite and formulaic.
