Bigger Isn't Always Better

It’s no wonder that with a cast of 35, the production of Nicholas Nickleby, A New Musical was forced to skimp on quality in other areas. This musical was based on Charles Dickens’ 1830’s novel and was presented by the Crummles Troupe as they tell the story of the Nickleby family. Young Nicholas Nickleby, played by the not-so-teenage looking Douglas McDonnell, is left penniless when his father passes away. Soon after, his cruel Uncle Ralph (William Broderick) sends him away to earn a living as a teacher at The Squeers’ boarding school. This “boarding school” is reminiscent of Miss Hannigan’s orphanage — poor conditions and cruel owners (played by Luba Mason and David F. Slone) shock Nicholas, and leave him with no choice but to escape with crippled boy Smike (Jonathan Fox Powers) and return home, where the family bands together against Uncle Ralph.  

Unfortunately, for every strength of this production (which are quite a few), there was a disappointment. The story itself is strong, and I found myself, quite possibly for the first time ever, wanting to pick up a Charles Dickens book. However, the melodramatic way that the Crummles Troupe prides itself on presenting the plot is over the top and often downright annoying. The play within a play premise also works to make the characters one-dimensional, as you are constantly reminded that the actors on stage are playing two roles — they are not only acting as their role in Nicholas Nickleby, but acting as actors from the Crummles Troupe acting in Nicholas Nickleby.

With such a large cast, one would think the staging and choreography would have been less dull and wooden. Distracting throughout the performance were the six children who looked like they had been asked to perform the show after learning it that morning. But perhaps the most distracting weakness of the production was the make-up. Poor William Broderick. The make-up applied to make him look older was a disaster. The production also skimped on scenery and props.

The production featured original music and lyrics by Alaric Jans that worked for the time period of the show, as well as with the book by Robert Sickinger. That being said, you won’t find yourself humming along to any of these songs days later. With an ensemble of 35 strong voices blending together, the songs were often extremely enjoyable to listen to during the musical.

Though not a perfect piece by any means, Nicholas Nickleby, A New Musical, succeeds in entertaining audiences with a strong story, score and cast. Although 35 cast members may have been taking on too much, there’s something to be said for the fact that every seat in the theater was filled. 

Nicholas Nickleby, A New Musical ran at the Theater for the New City (155 First Avenue at East 10th Street) through May 5. 

Top Photo Credit: Peter Welch Photography

The Mighty Hath Fallen

"The younger rises when the old doth fall." So describes one of William Shakespeare's most dramatic plots to ever grace the stage. Based on ancient Celtic legend, the Bard's King Lear is considered one of the most tragic of his plays; its original intended ending had been altered for centuries up until the mid- to late-eighteenth century for this very reason. For many, the story is familiar: an aging king seeks to pass on his estate to the daughter who professes her love the most. However, the king goes mad by the betrayal and greed that quickly engulfs him. Titan Theatre Company's production, now playing at the Queens Theater, keeps this legend of King Lear alive with its signature contemporary take on the classic.  

The company's King Lear is turned into an intense, action-packed conspiracy thriller; instead of the overthrow of a kingdom, here corporate greed reigns supreme. At the top of the ladder, undoubtedly, sits King Lear (Terry Layman) himself, with an array of characters on the lower rungs eagerly awaiting his downfall. Among them are his daughters, Regan (Laura Frye) and Goneril (Leah Gabriel), with their respective husbands Cornwall (John Taylor Phillips) and Albany (Greg Oliver Bodine), in tow. Upon Lear's announcement that his estate shall go to whomever amongst his daughters declares her love the most, the two scheming daughters immediately shower him with excessive flattery, eager for a share in the estate. When it comes time for Cordelia (Susan Maris) to speak, she refuses to act as her sisters do, opting a more honest approach in regards to professing her love. This upsets the old king, who decides to disown Cordelia and divide the share between his two other daughters. Meanwhile, Gloucester's (Michael Selkirk) illegitimate son, Edmund (Tristan Colton), resenting his status, seeks vengeance upon Edgar (Brendan Marshall-Rashid). He composes a letter which is sent to their father, leading Gloucester to think Edgar is plotting against the estate. The string of events which follow lead to various acts of betrayal, greed, madness and cold-blooded murder.

Like many of their previous productions (such as their off-Broadway-bound Midsummer Night's Dream, reviewed here), Titan's King Lear is a perfect amalgamation of the classic and modern. Jasmine Nicole Roberts' ethereal and abstract set design contrasts against the blunt lines of Scott Frost's suit-and-tie costumes for many of the principal characters. The black-and-white motif which runs through the two production elements — from the curtains to their costumes — is an interesting way to represent the world of King Lear, which is not so cut-and-dry, and in which there are many gray areas in terms of friend versus foe. There are instances of pops of color, many for symbolic use: both Regan and Goneril can be seen wearing blue blouses, as opposed to Cordelia's plain white; ensemble members of the cast (such as Kent and Edgar) are decked out in more earthy colors. Other design elements such as Weston G. Wetzel's lighting and sound design make already powerful scenes all the more dramatic. In addition, the idea of various company members doubling as stagehands and changing set pieces between scenes is an effective device that should be used more often in the theater. If scenes in real life changed as as dramatically as they did in King Lear, then real life would definitely be more interesting.

It is Titan's ensemble, as evidently demonstrated in A Midsummer Night's Dream earlier this season, that remains a strong presence onstage — as a group and individually. Layman's Lear was anything but one-note; he was humorous, commanding and moving to watch and when he met his tragic end, you felt his sadness, too. As his scheming daughters, Frye and Gabriel were deliciously devious, and played great foils to Maris' forthright but loving Cordelia. As Edmund, Colton gave off a rebellious edge opposite Marshall-Rashid's equally noteable performance as the wronged brother. Other honorable mentions include R. Scott Williams as the wonderfully flamboyant and witty Fool, and Brad Makarowski as the gallant Kent.

If everyone's downfall played out with as much suspense and thrill as it does in Titan Theatre Company's King Lear, then we should all be glad to go — honor still intact, and guns ablazing.

King Lear is playing at The Queens Theatre (14 United Nations Avenue South) in Flushing Meadows Corona Park until May 11. For tickets and more information about this production, visit www.titantheatrecompany.com or www.queenstheatre.org. 

O'Neill, Completely Condensed

The stalwart Irish American playwright Eugene O'Neill is well known by theater practitioners for his neurotic stage directions, which are meticulously detailed and famously ignored by contemporary directors of his plays. The New York Neo-Futurists, experimental darlings of the East Village, have seized upon this absurder side of O'Neill by again staging only his stage directions in their latest project,The Complete & Condensed Stage Directions of Eugene O'Neill, Volume 2. In this second installment of the Complete & Condensed project, four actors from The Neo-Futurists enact the stage directions from five of O'Neill's lesser known plays: Recklessness (1913), Warnings (1913), Fog (1914), Abortion (1914), and The Sniper (1915). Unapologetic in its literalness, Complete & Condensed is a theatrical exercise that deftly illuminates the constructs and fallacies of theater and performance, though not without moments of long-windedness.

Known by New Yorkers for their long-running signature show, Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind (in which the actors attempt to present 30 plays in 60 minutes), The Neo-Futurists are a mainstay in New York City's downtown theater scene. The manifesto of Neo-Futurism promotes an anti-illusory brand of theater in which performers can only play themselves, generating dramatic material from their actual lived histories; furthermore, performers' actions must be honest and complete (no fake-sleeping, no prop weapons, and only real alcohol is drunk onstage). Though Complete & Condensed does not adhere strictly to these Neo-Futuristic performance criteria, it shares the same goal of calling attention to the presentational strategies used in traditional stagings of theatrical realism.

Like most Neo-Futurist productions, the ensemble of Complete & Condensed is majorly in-tune. Reading the stage directions from a lectern on the side of the stage, the solid and recognizable voice of Cecil Baldwin (of podcast "Welcome to Night Vale" fame) is a constant reminder of the tomes of language often rendered invisible by the staging and directorial process. The elasticity of Cara Francis' face is awe-inspring, as is the physical humor of Dylan Marron. At times, the actors' choices are obvious, while they are delightfully surprising at other moments. Like Volume One, the experience of watching staged stage directions is mercurial: at times hilarious, and at others a bit lackluster. When stripped of their dialogue, O'Neill's plays disengage viewers' focus from the play's plot and characters, and focus them instead on a present moment of interpretive action.  

While Complete & Condensed certainly manages to blow the dust off of O'Neill's elaborate and largely ignored stage directions, it may leave you wondering: so what? Less than homage, but more than an acting exercise, the meta-theatrical construct of Complete & Condensed is not inexhaustible. Viewers who are returning for a second helping of Complete & Condensed after seeing Volume One should expect a very similar performance to the first volume. The production is recommended especially for viewers who have yet to experience Complete & Condensed.

The Complete & Condensed Stage Directions of Eugene O'Neill, Volume 2 runs at Theater for the New City (155 First Avenue at East 10th Street) through May 11. Performances are Wednesday through Saturday at 8 p.m. and Sunday at 3 p.m. Tickets are $25. For tickets, call OvationTix at 1-866-811-4111 or visit www.nynf.org.

Living Rough in London

British actor Harry Melling, best known as Dudley Dursley in five Harry Potter films, has taken a leaf from his famous co-star, Daniel Radcliffe—or perhaps he just found himself on a parallel path. Both actors are currently doing stage work in New York, yet Melling has done Radcliffe, who is starring on Broadway in The Cripple of Inishmaan, one better. Melling’s solo performance in Peddling for the Brits Off-Broadway festival at 59E59 Theaters also marks his playwriting debut.

Certainly, the likable young author has a gift for language with an inclination to the poetical—the script looks like pages of modern verse, with phrases broken into lines of rough poetry and no capitalization, in the style of e.e. cummings. Unfortunately, the language sometimes obscures the clarity of the thought, or the thought itself.

never, eat, shredded what,
(and I’m) never, eating, shredded wheat.
—
trying to
get my bearings on the sweet—
but before I can…
bossman,
already shouting at from the van…
“you better do me proud today boy, otherwise…”
and the gunshot go off…

One might detect a rap-like repetition of rhymes such as can/man/van, but the determined poetic impulse also includes near-rhymes that are common to rap—or, if your inclination is more highbrow, William Butler Yeats. Still, Melling evokes the seamy side of London, the loneliness of an orphan, and the self-destructiveness of many British youth.

Playing a 19-year-old character known only as Boy, the actor is first seen nearly naked inside a square scrim surrounded on all sides by seats. The floor is dirt with a spot of grass, and there’s a telephone pole at the center with lights on it. As the title suggests, the Boy knocks on doors, working as a salesman as part of a social work program and carrying a box of household items. To those who answer the doors he announces, “I’m from Boris Johnson’s young offender’s scheme, and I was wondering whether or not you’d like to buy something.” (Although director Steven Atkinson has helpfully added the surname Johnson to the script’s plain Boris, most Americans still won't connect the name to the mayor of London. But Atkinson has staged the play superbly.)

Melling plays not only himself but gives voice to other characters using a closely held microphone. When he does, Azusa Ono’s colored lights indicate another speaker: a green light may intensify for one person, or a red for another. Some are in the pole, some above the playing area. (At one point the Boy climbs up the pole, as Atkinson uses every bit of the constricted space.) The lighting is expertly coordinated with George Dennis’s outstanding sound design—city traffic, door shutting, doorbell.

One day, by accident, the Boy knocks on a door and recognizes the woman who answers as his own social worker, although she doesn’t recognize him. He tries to engage her young daughter through the home’s speaker system, and at one point he lashes out at the impersonality of the social system, but eventually he bonds with the child, who helps him by locating a crucial piece of evidence about his heritage. Although Atkinson never lets the energy flag, the language periodically gets in the way of an easy comprehension of the plot and becomes a source of frustration.

On the program cover the actor’s photograph gives him a slightly thuggish air of a rugby player, but Melling displays warmth and sensitivity as the hero, abandoned by his mother and wanting a family connection, although the character has his faults. He shows a youthful cockiness, a temper, a drinking habit, and a flash of homophobia along with his yearning. For a writer who is only 25 not to have his gifts completely under control yet is not surprising. The good news is that Melling hasn’t had his play staged because he used to hang out with a boy wizard. He has his own talents to capitalize on.

A Biblical Medley: 50 Plays

The Mysteries is a theatrical and musical journey through most of the love, violence, power struggles, betrayals, and miracles from the Bible. The show is a compilation of short plays from 48 different playwrights that rework themes and stories chosen from both the Old and New Testaments. Every element of the performance works to take the audience through a closer experience of the Bible. Spectators sit in two rows of chairs on two sides of a long passageway, where most of the action takes place. The relatively small area is surrounded by transparent vinyl strip curtains, just as those used in meat lockers, stained with blood. These curtains work as walls to confine the audience within a space of religious myth and give an ingenious visual clue about the bloody events that they will witness. Yet Jason Sherwood’s scenic design does not only emphasize the violence since it also opens the possibilities for beautiful moments, as when performers's heads holding apples in their mouths come through the vinyl curtains tempting Adam and Eve with the forbidden fruit. Seth Reiser’s lighting design works harmoniously alongside Sherwood's designs. Reiser’s effects range from the intense red light that drowns the performing space in blood to the softer lighting that engulfs in shadows the more intimate moments.

Some of the plays are more directly linked to the source material, such as that of Noah, Abraham, and the life of Jesus, among others. That is not to say that these were performed in a traditional way. For example, in Mallery Avidon’s The Flood, humanity reacts in unison to the coming of the deluge with a resounding “fuck!,” while in Nick Jones’s Fruitful and Begettin’, the characters in Abraham’s story come from the deep South and seem to be directly related to the Duck Dynasty family. Most of the plays included in the second act, such as those by José Rivera, Jeff Whitty, and Gabriel Jason Dean, depict various moments in Jesus’s life. Most of the plays portray Jesus as a polyamorous and pansexual leader who is seriously conflicted about the decisions he must make, which will lead him to his ultimate sacrifice. Nevertheless, Whitty’s The Last Supper also underscores Judas Iscariot’s secret sacrifice since he was not only Jesus’s most loved disciple, but he is also persuaded by Jesus himself to betray him thereby laying the foundations for the new church. These playwrights throw new light on these familiar stories.

Other playwrights, such as Max Posner, Bill Cain, and Lloyd Suh, anchor their plays on certain themes; yet depart from the source material. Posner’s The Woman Taken in Adultery focuses on the hypocrisy of those who judge others when a man discovers his neighbor’s adulterous secret as he was coming to ask for some butter. While Cain’s Resurrection proposes that Jesus resurrected as a homeless person in Brooklyn, Suh’s The Next Supper explores the meeting between Jesus and his father, Joseph/God, after he died in the cross. These plays illustrate the smaller moments that escape the epic proportions of the more familiar stories.

The Mysteries has a cast of 54 great actors who are able to muster very energetic performances throughout a show that lasts five hours and a half. All performances shine as part of the ensemble. Matthew Jeffers’s tyrannical God works marvelously together with Asia Kate Dillon’s defiant yet tender Lucifer. At the same time, Rory Kulz’s nosy neighbor is fun to watch as he squirms when accused of being a hypocrite by Janice Amaya’s strong woman. The director, Ed Sylvanus Iskandar, does a great job of weaving together the different short plays into one mostly cohesive show. Yet this is also one of its main downfalls since some of the pieces do not quite come together and the audience is confused when going from one play to the next. The director must pay closer attention to those transitions. Nevertheless, in the end, the audience is made part of a truly communal experience that is not religious, but human at heart.

The Mysteries is playing at The Flea Theater until May 25. The performance has two intermissions and includes nudity. Tickets range from $15 to $125 and include dinner and dessert.

In the Name of Redemption

Religious themes are nothing new in theater; this is an art form, after all, that has boasted the likes of Jesus Christ Superstar and Godspell as product of such themes. At the Gene Frankel Theatre this past Easter Sunday, religion once again took center stage with a production of August Strindberg's To Damascus, Part I. The first of Strindberg's trilogy, On the Road to Damascus, is under the helm of the August Strindberg Repertory Theatre. The company, which holds a residency at the Frankel, was founded in commitment to keeping Strindberg's work alive through productions, particularly of his lesser-known plays.  

Like all biblical fables, Damascus begins and ends at the same place: a lonely corner on the streets of Harlem in the early 1960s. Here, we meet our story's unlikely hero, only known as The Stranger (DeSean Stokes), an Amiri Baraka-like wandering writer figure. On the verge of a spiritual crossroad, he meets The Lady (Kersti Bryan), the wife of a childhood friend known as The Doctor (Victor Arnez), whom The Stranger had wronged in the past. Sent by her husband to lure the wanderer into their home, The Lady soon finds herself spellbound by the tortured writer and his ideals. They arrive at The Doctor's house shortly thereafter, only to have their host slip a rather unhealthy dose of LSD into The Stranger's drink, prompting horrific hallucinations. Subsequently, the young couple seek refuge in a cottage in the woods, where her mother (Victoria Blankenship) and grandfather (Allen Kennedy) reside. Distrustful of The Stranger their progeny has brought into their home, they pronounce a curse upon him. This ultimately drives him into madness, and he wakes up to find himself in what seems like a convent, only to later find out it was an asylum.

Throughout the play, each scene is punctuated with blackouts, perhaps in an effort to signify the different "stations" the youthful hero visits. Modeled after the station dramas of the Medieval era, Strindberg's expressionistic trilogy is rife with religious symbolism, both in its dialogue and characters. However, despite its updated time setting, the production seems to get lost in its own ambitions; it does not find a way to properly reconcile the play's religious themes with the tumult of 1960s America. After all, in the wake of the likes of James Baldwin and Ralph Ellison, it is a time period that seems right for the story of an unnamed pilgrim of sorts in search of redemption and truth. Certain aspects of the production feel right, such as music from the period, which punctuate each scene's start and finish. Donna Miskend's projections of impressionistic images and Angelina Margolis' sets both effectively paint an image of the various stations the nameless Stranger and his mistress visit. All the elements are there, yet they do not coalesce into a singular cohesive vision, and this is the production's flaw.  

The show's own redemption lay in its performers; Stokes makes a strong leading man, believable as a young thinker on the verge of madness and plays against leading lady Bryan well. The rest of the ensemble deliver equally memorable performances, particularly Blankenship and Arnez in their respective roles as The Mother and The Doctor. Still, despite the praise-worthy performances, it was not enough to prevent one to seek salvation elsewhere.  

To Damascus is running until May 11 at the Gene Frankel Theatre (24 Bond Street between Bowery and Lafayette Street) onThursdays through Saturdays at 8 p.m. and Sundays at 1:30 p.m. Tickets are $18 for general admission and $12 for seniors and students. For tickets, call 212-868-4444 or visit www.smarttix.com. 

Prisoners

For some, loneliness is a subject better left to the existentialists. For Concrete Temple Theatre, it is a subject worth exploring. In Alone in Triptych, the company's production for the SubletSeries at HERE Arts Center, we meet three seemingly disparate characters, whose lives are slowly revealed to be more connected than at first glance. The play (which may just as well be called Alone, in Triptych) is very much an examination of loneliness, and its power to connect those yearning to, well, connect. Written by Renee Philippi, Alone in Triptych is an abstractly-rendered and lyrical piece of theater. As the title suggests, Triptych presents a series of snapshots in the lives of three characters — our first glimpse of whom is at the show's opening. The trio stand in an nondescript location, described in the script as "a dense, forest-like place...where confusion and angst live. The air is alive; it is thick, electric, anxious." There is Leann (Vera Beren), a middle-aged musician in Eastern New Jersey; then, at an army base in Bavaria we meet Lori (Catherine Porter), whose sergeant husband routinely abuses and exploits her. Finally, there is Remi (Michael Tomlinson) in the Forest of Bowland in Lancashire, England. They are each separated by distance but connected by fate. 

The story, which weaves in and out of each character's scenes seamlessly, takes a literally heart-pounding turn when the police show up in her driveway, on the lookout for Leann's boyfriend, Sean, whom she had brought with her to her home in New Jersey, presumably to meet the parents. As the story unfolds, we begin to see that each person is a prisoner of their own solitude. We revisit Leann, who discovers that Sean is charged with raping a young teenage girl. We then move on from the horror of this revelation to Lori, who meets a stranger. Here, she provides some much-needed comic relief with some witty lines about her sexual past — but the humor dissipates all too soon when her new friend, offended with her candor, reveals that his daughter had been raped in the very park in which they sit. Rounding out the third in the triptych of scenes is Remi, who has kidnapped his childhood friend's 12-year-old daughter and brought her to the forest. 

The production design of the play provides just as abstract a landscape as the characters in it. It is a world that is vast and sprawling, spanning continents and cultures; yet is so individual to each of the characters. In helping to bring the play's dark themes to life are scenic designer Carlo Adinolfi and sound designer Vera Beren. In dressing the small black box in which the play was performed, Adinolfi kept the stage sparse, in keeping with the imagery of the wilderness. Beren does a great job of punctuating Philippi's poetic prose and conversely painfully tense silences with booming noises off-stage throughout the show. Stefan Hagen's projections of a bird flapping its wings are reminiscent of watercolor artwork, engulfed in bleak, cloudy colors — perhaps representative of the characters' yearning to escape the murky emotional waters in which they are held captive.  

While the play's ending felt unresolved, perhaps this is Philippi's intention — that nothing in our lives is ever truly resolved; that we are all in one way or another held captive in our solitude. And yet, in knowing this, we are never alone.

Alone in Triptych ran from March 13–30 in a limited engagement at HERE Arts Center (145 6th Avenue) in New York City. 

The Heathers’ Wrath

Before there were “The Plastics” of Mean Girls’ fame, there was another cruel clique prowling high school halls and making life a living hell for anyone who wasn’t "in": The Heathers. The 1988 Daniel Waters’ cult film has been reimagined as a musical stage show by Laurence O’Keefe and Kevin Murphy, and brings Heather Chandler (Jessica Keenan Wynn), Heather McNamara (Elle McLemore) and Heather Duke (Alice Lee) to life at New World Stages.

"Beautiful," the opening number performed by the show’s lead character, Veronica (Barrett Wilbert Weed), immediately transports the audience back to the hellish high school halls everyone is sure to remember complete with over the top, high school musical-esque stereotyped characters, and names like “Stoner Chick” and “Young Republicanette” in the cast list. During the song, you’re introduced to Ram and Kurt, typical high schools jocks on the football team, as well as Heather, Heather and Heather -- rulers of Westerberg High. With clever lyrics and laugh-out loud funny lines (the term “smartest guy on the football team” is compared to “the tallest dwarf”), the show instantly sets the stage for an enjoyable evening full of laughter.

Heathers tells the story of misfit Veronica who suddenly finds herself accepted by the hottest, hippest group of girls in her school. Things are looking up for Veronica, with her newfound popularity and a new love interest -- the mysteriously dark and sexy new kid, Jason “J.D.” Dean (Ryan McCartan). But eventually things turn sour, and while Veronica resigns herself to fading back into obscurity or begging for forgiveness at the Heathers' feet, J.D. has other, more sinister plans for the Heathers. He wants them dead.

With subject matter including date rape, suicide, murder and eating disorders, this show certainly deals with a lot. A comedy through and through, there were times when laughing at these topics seemed a little off -- but the writing was so great and the joke delivery so spot on that the audience was left with little choice but to laugh along.  That’s not to say that there weren’t beautifully acted serious moments as well, like when Veronica sings pleadingly, “Can we be 17?” or the haunting way that Wilbert Weed can go from bitch mode to crying with the flip of a switch.  McCartan’s J.D. is eerie, which is exactly what the role calls for. And as the Heathers, Wynn, McLemore and Lee are simply delightful.

The show moves along wonderfully, with no dull stretches to be spoken of. Complex costumes, sets and designs are unnecessary due to the strength of the script and lyrics of the songs. Though the music isn’t anything life-changing, there are some that you’ll find stuck in your head, like “Seventeen” and “Dead Girl Walking.” The cast sings the songs well, though at times Wilbert Weed can get dangerously close to screaming the lyrics instead of belting them.

The entire show is over the top in its premise, yet the production manages to avoid becoming ridiculous and overly dramatic. A strong cast delivers hysterical lines that you’ll remember for a long time while still leaving you with some moving moments. Heathers is a wonderful 2 hours and 10 minutes where audience members can remember those high school insecurities and hormones and be thankful that they never have to go back!

Heathers: The Musical plays at New World Stages (340 West 50th Street) on Monday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday at 8 p.m., Saturday and 2:30 p.m. and 8 p.m. and Sunday at 3 p.m. and 7:30 p.m. For more information, visit http://heathersthemusical.com. 

As God As My Witness...

Movie stars of yesteryear weren’t bombarded with today’s paparazzi and tabloids, leaving fans to often speculate their personal lives, full of movie premieres and fabulous parties. But behind closed doors, they’re humans with flaws and abrasive character traits.  Written and performed by Bettina Lohmeyer, "Bette Davis...Fasten Your Seatbelts!" takes a look inside the dark and lonely world of one of the largest Hollywood stars in history: Ms. Bette Davis.

For its second running under Susan Batson’s direction, Lohmeyer’s one-woman show follows the life and career of Davis from 1936 to 1985 -- beginning with her infamous battle with Jack Warner at Warner Brothers Studio.  Accused of being spoiled and overpaid, Davis wishes for more money, claiming she’s just as good, if not better than Audrey Hepburn. Lohmeyer channels Davis’s rage in what would be an interesting conversation -- Warner hypothetically offering Davis the leading role in his book option, Gone With the Wind, and her dramatic mocking of it being a flop. 

“I wanted to capture very private moments, behind the scenes,” says Lohmeyer, “moments in her life that inspired and touched me through my research of her films, interviews and movies. Gone With the Wind seemed to always be a reference through her career.”

From the outset, the viewer can sympathize and feel empathy for Davis; she was being underpaid in comparison to her fellow, male co-stars and Gone With the Wind is a timeless classic, how tragic- she could have been Scarlett O’Hara! Surely, that’s a grief that followed Davis throughout her entire career -- one that was a constant reminder. 

Lohmeyer does an excellent job mixing fiction with facts of the time, referencing an era where actresses were rallying for more lucrative contracts that mirrored their counterparts.  During the last scene, Davis wants to leave her apartment and stay at the Plaza Hotel after reading excerpts from her daughter's tell-all book, but there’s a hotel strike -- the New York Hotel Strike of 1985.

When asked what sparked her interest in Davis, Lohmeyer smiles and attributes the credit to Batson, “Susan Batson saw something in me that related to her.”

While describing her preparation and writing of the script, Lohmeyer reflects on how just how relatable they are, “When I was still in Europe, a friend of mine died in Germany, I was very emotional and wanted to portray the same energy of fragility.  At the same time, I wanted to show Bette extremely happy -- her win at Cannes.”

Lohmeyer’s acting is quite impressive, proven by her ability to switch from a rambunctious Davis, to an elderly, fragile version of Davis in the last scene -- after the publication of her daughter’s book, Davis still harbors anger and resentment, resonating from beginning to end. She is able to create a dialogue with absolutely no one but the audience in attendance, at times compelling them to reply to and interact with Davis. Lohmeyer’s unmistakable accent begs the question, “Was Bette Davis German?”       

Seatbelts is quite long, but certainly necessary when chronicling 49 years of what Lohmeyer describes as a “tragic flaw.” Buckle up and prepare for an emotional, wild and exciting ride. 

Bette Davis... Fasten Your Seatbelts! is playing at The Susan Batson Studio (300 W. 43rd St, 3rd Floor) through April 27th each Friday at 7 p.m. and Sunday at 3 p.m.  For tickets and other information, contact 212-226-4630.  

Hades by Design

Clusters of cloudy mirrors crowd the exposed-brick walls of The Club at La MaMa Experimental Theatre Club, which The Nerve Tank has transformed into Hades' euro-trashy underworld for their latest production, The Maiden. Although it is an experimental reboot of the Persephone myth, The Maiden does not narrate this classic mythological tale in a traditional sense. Rather, Nerve Tank has abstracted the myth's latent poetry, its signature characters, and the motif of lightness and darkness and remixed these elements into a sexy multimedia spectacle. The result is a visually and aurally stimulating experience supported by the infrastructure of a familiar myth. While the audiovisual design is most certainly resplendent, The Maiden is not hollow; Chance D. Muehleck's script concept and Melanie S. Armer's choreography bring up basic questions around the potential of performance and the politics of gender and power, providing just enough thematic weight to give the production some (albeit abstract) meaning.

Grasping a mason jar of blood-red wine in his slender fingers, a dark and dazzling Hades (Mark William Lindberg) surveys the audience from his perch atop an golden tricycle-cum-chariot. Designed by Greg Henderson and Melanie S. Armer, this curious and towering contraption nods to Victorian-era "penny-farthing" bicycles, with their huge front wheels and intricate steering mechanisms. Pedaling and steering his chariot contraption with intimidating control and grace, Lindberg floats past the audience towards a bound and blindfolded Persephone (Robin Kurtz), who awaits his approach in obscurity. The whole scene is teeming with sexuality and underscored by an indulgent score expertly written by the production's lead Chorus member, Admiral Grey. Like Grey, the other two members of the chorus -- James "Face" Yu and Brandt Adams -- are wholly committed to their choreography. Instead of being "too-cool," the intense dedication and well-trained movements of the chorus makes their presence an element of power, rather than a silly device.

While the performances were fantastic, major kudos for this dark gem of a production should also go to its designers. Apparently working closely in collaboration, all design elements synthesized beautifully. Miodrag Guberinic's costumes, notably Hades' sumptuous leather cloak and bullet-studded patent leather hat and Demeter's full-body black veil, looked delightful on the performers' bodies. Solomon Weisbard's lighting was on cue, changing tones just in time to maintain the viewer's interest. 

Equal parts performance art, dance, and theatre, this multimedia production is a wild bricolage of found text, poetry and visual splendor. While for some of us it might seem a bit gratuitous in its reliance on the visual, this production is nonetheless "design porn" at its very best. For audience members seeking a play-by-play narration of the Persephone myth, this show will probably disappoint with its non-narrative conceit. For the more adventurous viewers -- those willing to be consumed by the experience of a performance and those unafraid to not "get it" -- The Maiden is a one-hour downtown adventure worth taking.

The Nerve Tank’s The Maiden runs until April. 13 at The Club at La MaMa E.T.C. (74A East 4th Street). Performances are Fridays and Saturdays at 10 p.m. and Sundays at 5:30 p.m. Tickets are $18 and $13 students and seniors. Tickets can be purchased by visiting www.lamama.org, calling 212-475-7710, or visiting the La MaMa box office.

Woman is the Future of Man

What do you get with a play that infuses all the elements of a classic farce with a modern soundtrack and an all-female cast? You get complete and utter hilarity. Much of this hilarity is owed to the wit of English playwright Aphra Behn, known to many as one of the first female dramatists and therefore a key figure of Restoration-era theater. Who better to mount a modern production of one of Behn's most ridiculously raunchy plays, Sir Patient Fancy, than all-female troupe The Queen's Company? Founded in 2000 by director Rebecca Patterson, the company is dedicated to introducing classic works to a contemporary audience through the use of gender-blind casting.

It is the late 1600s in England, a time when fiscal inequity meant marrying for money, and not for love. As a result, in the director's words, "all hell breaks loose and hearts get broken." Sir Patient Fancy, though written in the 17th century, feels a lot like something one would read in today's gossip rags: Lady Fancy is married to the titular Sir Patient Fancy, but really fancies Charles Wittmore, who is friends with Lodwick Knowell, who is in love with Isabella Fancy, who is betrothed to Sir Fainlove who actually is Charles Wittmore. Needless to say: the plot thickens and madness ensues, with a lot of laughs along the way. In a modern-day context, Behn's female characters here are not passive pretty little things, but rather active, doing most of the scheming. This is made even more interesting with an all-female cast, where the men answer to the women.  

As for the actors themselves, their onstage antics are well-timed, comedic perfection. The distinct personalities of Behn's characters combined with the irreverent kookiness of each cast member creates a bubbly atmosphere not unlike the fizzy champagne one would have in Sir Patient Fancy's court (if one had time to drink in the midst of all that scheming and meddling). The pacing and delivery of lines is never tired, maintaining a consistent rhythm, much of which is due to the company's evident chemistry with one another. One pairing with such notable chemistry is that of Tiffany Abercrombie and Elisabeth Preston, who play Lady Fancy and Wittmore, respectively. Each complemented the other with quick and natural ease; their expressions and mannerisms only helped to heighten the comedy in which they were immersed. Other standouts include Virginia Baeta as the bumbling but eager Sir Credulous Easy and Natalie Lebert as the clueless Sir Patient Fancy himself. While Matthew J. Fick's set design maintains the play's classic roots, Kristina Makowski's costumes are a fusion of both modern and period elements, providing the perfect visual representation of the company's performative style.  

Boasting a chuckle-enducing, genre-bending soundtrack and a plot with more twists than a daytime soap opera, it is clear that The Queen's Company has put their own unique stamp on classic Restoration comedy with Sir Patient Fancy.  

Sir Patient Fancy runs from March 15 – April 5 in a limited engagement at the Wild Project (located at 195 East 3rd Street between Avenue A and Avenue B). Performances are Wednesdays-Saturdays at 8 p.m. and Sundays at 3 p.m. Tickets are $18 and can be purchased online at www.queenscompany.org or by calling 1-866-811-4111. Tickets are 2-for-1 on Wednesday nights.

One-Trick Warhorse

John van Druten is enjoying a mini-revival this season in New York. The Mint Theater has staged his 1931 play London Wall, a glorious rediscovery typical of the Mint's work, and the Roundabout is producing a revival of Cabaret, based on van Druten’s play I Am a Camera (itself drawn from the Berlin Stories of Christopher Isherwood). The Transport Group’s production of I Remember Mama, van Druten’s 1944 play that introduced Marlon Brando to the theater (as son Nels) thus seems to arrive at an opportune time. Unfortunately, it proves disappointing.

Jack Cumming III’s production features 10 actresses playing all the roles. All are over 50, and several a decade or two older than that. Although their credentials are impeccable, and their abilities are undimmed, the concept of casting looks more like a calling card for producers to notice how talented and underused the performers are. The gimmick puts one in mind of the classic skit in Beyond the Fringe where a one-legged actor clomps into an audition for the part of Tarzan. A suspension of disbelief is all well and good, but there are some obstacles that are insurmountable.

When Phyllis Somerville enacts Dagmar, the youngest daughter of a Norwegian family living in San Francisco circa 1910, one notices the physical agility of the gray-haired actress more than the character’s journey. When the marvelous Lynn Cohen inhabits either of her two male roles—Uncle Chris and the ne’er do-well boarder Mr. Hyde—one strains to envision the petite actress with the long disheveled hair as a man, and, in the case of Uncle Chris, a figure who inspires fear. Age may not wither them, nor custom stale their infinite variety, but it (along with the gender-bending) is a distraction to seeing the characters whole.

The actresses who come off best play closer to their real ages. Barbara Andres is Mama, and she is terrific: serious, skeptical, guiding, loving, agonizing. Among her three sisters is Rita Gardner (the original Girl in The Fantasticks back in 1960), playing middle-aged Aunt Trina. Their other sisters, Alice Cannon as the stern Aunt Jenny and Susan Lehman as caviling Aunt Sigrid, are fine (though all three aunts occasionally double as younger supporting characters) as well, albeit on the far side of middle age.

Perhaps Cummings’s casting was meant to refocus attention on an old warhorse, although this warhorse is so rarely staged that it cries out for a straightforward rendering. Van Druten’s play is one of those heartfelt family sagas that used to be a staple of theater. Its heroine is a young female writer growing up as a first-generation American in an immigrant family. The warmth, gentle humor, character quirks and small-town observations are of the same order as The Andy Griffith Show. It begins as a memory play, with the writer in advanced age, Katrin, played by the superb Barbara Barrie, quoting her published work, then stepping into her story to play herself at 18.

Dane Laffrey’s striking scenic design transforms the Gym at Judson into a rectangular playing area with the audience at the perimeter. Concept also prevails here: inside the area are 10 different dining tables, each with a particular focus. There is a writer’s table with drafts and typewriters for Katrin; a table covered with recipe boxes for Mama; a table full of letters where Nels (Heather MacRae) sits; and books on the table representing the educated Mr. Hyde’s room in the boarding house.

Once you figure out who is playing who—and it takes awhile—there are scenes that are quite moving, as when Mama pretends to scrub hospital floors to visit Dagmar, who has had an operation and must not be visited for 24 hours, according to hospital rules, or when Mama learns a hard truth about her boarder. The second half moves along better than the first, probably because it’s easier to follow the story. But the effect is still of a gilt-edged staged reading. The unorthodox casting puts up too many barriers to serve van Druten’s play well.

I Remember Mama will play through April 20, with evening performances at 7 p.m.Wednesday and Thursday (but 8 p.m. on Thursday, April 17) and at 8 p.m. on Friday and Saturday. Matinees are at 2 p.m. Saturday and 3 p.m. Sunday. Tickets go up to $69 and may be obtained by calling OvationTix at (866) 811-4111 or visiting transportgroup.org.

Harsh Wordsmiths

The title of Brian Richard Mori’s new play, Hellman v. McCarthy, will ring bells for anyone with memories of the early 1980s. It is the case of libel brought by playwright Lillian Hellman (The Little Foxes, The Children’s Hour) against novelist Mary McCarthy (The Group) after the latter, in an appearance on The Dick Cavett Show taped on Oct. 23, 1979, called Hellman “dishonest.” Pressed by Cavett as to why, McCarthy said, “Every word she writes is a lie, including ‘and’ and ‘the.’” Hellman, sick, arthritic and chronically irascible, saw the broadcast and called her lawyer.

The prolonged suit for libel over the next several years was one of the most notorious literary feuds of the 20^th century and drew in scores of intellectuals. Those whom Mori mentions in passing include Norman Mailer, a friend of Hellman until he urged her to drop her case; Philip Rahv, founder of Partisan Review and McCarthy’s ex-lover; and Stephen Spender, the British poet who spent time in Berlin in the 1920s with Christopher Isherwood and W.H. Auden and invited the women to a cocktail party in 1948—where, in their first meeting, McCarthy challenged Hellman in front of student admirers about her glib defamation of novelist John Dos Passos in the Spanish Civil War.

Hellman v. McCarthy sticks to the timeline of the lawsuit, although Mori occasionally touches on longstanding political friction as a source of the women’s mutual loathing: in the 1930s Hellman was a Stalinist; McCarthy, a Trotskyite. Hellman was famous for telling the House Un-American Activities Committee: “I cannot and will not cut my conscience to fit this year’s fashions.” But she was also an apologist for Stalin long after the dictator’s purges of the 1930s had revolted most left-wingers.

Mori’s script is up to the juicy story, encompassing re-enaction, legal documents, and speculation, but director Jan Buttram has added an extraordinary coup of stunt casting. Dick Cavett himself re-enacts his interview with McCarthy, his own deposition in the case (he was a co-defendant, with PBS), and a run-in with Hellman at a cocktail party. He also serves occasionally as narrator, and his wry, self-deprecating humor helps blunt Hellman’s toxic presence. (Cavett has also apparently made minor alterations to his dialogue. When explaining why he prefers policemen to lawyers, the practiced comic provides a better-phrased punch line than in Mori’s script.)

As Hellman, Roberta Maxwell displays the charisma of a basilisk (Hellman's appearance in an ad for Blackglama mink coats didn’t need to mention her name; the tagline read “What Becomes a Legend Most?”). More important, Maxwell conveys Hellman’s arrogance and casual lying, the self-loathing she felt as a Jew, and the bogus sincerity she affected when it suited her. “Such a shame it was cancelled,” she purrs to Cavett about his ABC interview show—but she flashes a crocodile smile. Maxwell doesn’t neglect the physical either: one sees Hellman’s fingers gnarled from crippling arthritis.

Marcia Rodd as McCarthy finds both smugness and wit in the less financially secure author, and a bit of humor in her loquacious deposition. She’s attractive and elegant, as the real McCarthy was, and she displays McCarthy's confidence in herself, gained from being orphaned at an early age and surviving a brutal marriage to critic Edmund Wilson.

Jeff Woodman and Peter Brouwer play the women’s lawyers, providing contrast with their brisk, businesslike demeanors. Mori has added the character of a gay nurse for Hellman, Ryan (Rowan Michael Meyer), who endures her abuse but remains loyal to her, and their interplay includes a lovely scene that gives Maxwell a chance to show a brief flash of humanity. Mori also takes a leaf from Friedrich Schiller’s Mary Stuart: near the end McCarthy and Hellman meet so that McCarthy can offer a personal apology, though no such meeting ever took place.

To defend herself in the suit, McCarthy questioned everything Hellman ever wrote, exposing the falseness of the episode in Pentimento that became the film Julia. Hellman’s reputation was torpedoed, but her detestable personality guaranteed that sympathy for her was in short supply. As Cavett recalls, the night she died in 1984 he was working at the Williamstown Theatre Festival in the Berkshires. He heard a stagehand on the phone. “What? Lillian? She’s dead? Tell them to be sure to drive the stake through!”

Hellman v. McCarthy plays at the Abingdon Theatre Company, 312 W. 36^th St., to April 13, with evening performances at 7 p.m. Tuesday through Thursday and at 8 p.m. Friday and Saturday. Matinees are 2 p.m. on Saturdays and Sundays. Tickets are $40.

Nora Today

When staging plays from the theatrical canon, contemporary directors are confronted with the question: why should audiences care now? While Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House is undeniably a classic, its relevance always demands redefinition. Although Ibsen claimed the play was humanist rather than feminist in its politics, his protagonist Nora has been touted as a theatrical harbinger of feminism; theater critics have long been denoting the parallels between Nora’s struggles as a wife and mother and those of contemporary women. In the Young Vic’s latest production of Simon Stephens's adaptation of the play, however, A Doll’s House takes on a fresh relevance for audiences at the BAM Harvey Theater. Director Carrie Cracknell resists taking any particular stance on capitalism, gender roles, marriage, or other institutions – but instead focuses on hitting and maintaining a shrill note of anxiety produced by such oppressive institutions. In an economical and political climate that seems more precarious than ever, this mood of institutionalized anxiety is certainly something most of us can relate to right now.

In an endeavor to mimic reality, a traditional box set for a 19^th Century piece of realism consisted largely of a drawing room (or kitchen, as in August Strindberg’s Miss Julie), with doors leading to other rooms in the house or to the outside. While intricately decorated, this one-room design emphasized the claustrophobia felt by the characters, who are often entrapped within the oppressive structures of society. For the Young Vic's production, Ian MacNeil’s rotating set defies traditional realism’s claustrophobic designs in favor of a cinematic view of Nora and Torvald’s middle class flat. To watch the characters move inside this dizzying and fascinating carousel is a true marvel to behold. It gives the audience an unfolding panoramic view into the daily lives and private moments of the characters, allowing us to see Nora’s face when she drops the façade – a privilege not afforded by box sets.

Though MacNeil’s set offers a cinematic peek into the characters’ personal spaces, the acting is not cinematic at all. While Hattie Morahan’s bravura performance as Nora certainly stood out as breathtakingly original and honest, Cracknell clearly encouraged the entire cast to be unafraid of bold choices. When eliciting money or favors from Torvald (played compellingly by Dominic Rowan), Morahan’s Nora became as cute, shivery, and saucer-eyed as a baby Disney animal. In a room by herself, however, and left alone to her own inner demons, we can watch Morahan melt into an inner world of anxiety and tension that we begin to understand belies her cuteness.

Audiences of A Doll’s House have come to expect the play’s final note: Ibsen’s famous slamming door. As Nora leaves her home, her family, and the only world she’s ever known, we hear her slam the door behind her. In the Young Vic’s production, Nora does slam her door, but it makes more of a clatter or click than a slam. While possibly disappointing for those of us who want a nice loud slam!, the more subtle departing sound of Morahan’s Nora concludes the production on an ambiguous note. A loud door slam might suggest that Nora is liberated and on to bigger and better things, but Cracknell does not give us this satisfaction. Indeed, Nora steps forward with the same anxiety-ridden-confidence that a college graduate steps forward into today’s precarious job market. It is this raw, situational anxiety that makes Cracknell's production a timely rendition for today.

A Doll's House is playing at the BAM Harvey Theatre (651 Fulton St. in Brooklyn) and has been extended to run through March 23. Performances are Sunday at 3 p.m., Tuesday-Friday at 7:30 p.m., and Saturday at 2 p.m. and 7:30 p.m. Tickets start at $25 and can be purchased by calling 718-636-4100 or by visiting bam.org.

Château de Versailles

Richard Ploetz’s Versailles is a raw glimpse into a true girl interrupted. Sharon, a single mother and pole dancer at The Golden Lady, will either drown from her excessive whiskey consumption, or in the swamp where she resides in North Florida. From the outset, the theater is pitch black, a clock begins to tick, and the audience is introduced to Sharon (Charise Greene) — eyes filled with tears and sitting Indian-style at the feet of an elderly gentleman, Mr. Mason (Charlie Moss). There are a few toys scattered in the corner, a hint that a child may also reside in the apartment. Confirmation arrives in the form of Bob (Eric Chase), a neighbor returning a stuffed animal forgotten from a play date with his daughter. Brandon (Drew Ledbetter), Sharon’s boyfriend and could-be father of her daughter, stumbles in the scene, slurring his words, interrupting their flirtation — asking, “where’s the kid?”  

Bob later returns with his wife, Beth (Elizabeth Bell), who uncomfortably goes into a tale about an accident where she slipped and fell “down there” on top of a fire hydrant, as Sharon and Brandon have a full-on grope session mere inches away. Bob quickly shushes her. Sharon’s father, Harmon (Nick Ruggeri) drops by frequently to pick up his granddaughter, only to be told she’s at the babysitter. Ploetz and Director Ian Streicher proved they are wild boys by introducing Nick (Ron Bopst), the manager of The Golden Lady, during a sex scene with Sharon, where Nick experiences some shortcomings, but he’s damn proud of it.  

Under Streicher’s direction, the play’s style is cinematic, darting from scene to scene; a bit difficult to follow during the initial introduction to the characters, but makes watching the seedy train wreck that is Sharon’s life so much better — a refection of the individuals who pop in and out of Sharon’s life, leaving just as quickly as they came. While Sharon’s the central character and the surrounding characters migrate to her, Ploetz creates stories for each individual, all of which are looking to escape Versailles Estates. 

Brandon brings most of the wit, an auto mechanic and unintelligent Southern boy who only wants to love Sharon and her daughter, but can’t compete with the many men and options under Sharon’s belt. He’s actually smarter than he lets on, quickly catching wind to Sharon’s trysts with Bob and Nick, but still sticking by her, constantly mentioning marriage. After beginning his affair with Sharon, Bob becomes infatuated, visualizing Sharon while sleeping with Beth, referencing Sharon as a black hole. San alcoholic stripper to his sober, prudent wife.

When Beth meets Sharon, she was a recovering alcoholic, but when confronting Sharon about the affair between her and her husband, she’s confused about how nonchalant Sharon handles what should be shameful. Girl chat over a few drinks becomes a sexual experimentation between the two. Once a straight-laced, traditional housewife, Beth finds she can’t stop thinking of Sharon and wants to be her. From the way Bob talks to her, Beth has lost who she really is during their marriage and Sharon brings her to life.  

Nick is a smooth talker, the only one who doesn't seem to love Sharon, but he’s the one she truly desires. He’s convinced her to dump Brandon, buy her apartment, and get rid of her daughter. The reality and irony — the only thing he wants and loves is The Golden Lady. Harmon, Sharon’s father, is accused and later admits that he molested Sharon when she was a little girl. As a result, Nick has become the quintessential father figure Sharon’s never had. In an effort to fix his wrongdoings, Harmon is trying to gain a relationship with Sharon’s daughter, but is it innocent? 

Sharon and her father's friend, Mr. Mason, compete for her subconscious — Mr. Mason is Sharon’s reality.  Sharon’s in love with being in love and being loved, and willing to give herself to anyone who will have her — anyone except her own daughter. Ploetz makes it clear Sharon loses track of her daughter; she’s always “at the babysitter’s,” wherever and whoever that may be. Mr. Mason allows Sharon to ask herself if being sexually abused by her father is the cause of her exquisite pain. When she’s willing to sleep with Mr. Mason, is Sharon seducing herself and opening up to her own psyche? 

Versailles is sure to offer a few chuckles and definitely some gasps, but the intensity and realness of Sharon’s desperation opens a different type of emotion. There's also something to be said about a production that isn’t afraid of on-stage, awkward-sex scenes.  

Versailles ran until March 9, 2014 at Theater for the New City (155 First Ave.).

Heavy on the Ham

The cast and crew of Untitled Theatre Company #61 have gone to great lengths to create a festive, Czech-culture infused atmosphere around their production of The Pig, or Václav Havel’s Hunt for a Pig. Upon entering the space at the 3-Legged Dog Art & Technology Center, the first thing to greet audience members is a bar serving Czech Pilsner-Urquell beer as the scent of delicious Langos wraps by Brooklyn eatery Korzo wafts through the air. A traditionally-dressed maiden weaves among the spectators peddling fresh pretzels as the New York-based Cabaret Metropol sets the tone with their pre-show music. Indeed, music proves to be the central element to this production of The Pig, a play that was originally written by Václav Havel and Vladimír Morávek. While this production certainly succeeds in showcasing Czech traditions and the vocal talents of the cast, its ultimate downfall is that Havel's political message gets lost in the noise — buried beneath a heavily-produced evening of food, drink, elaborate technology, and hammed-up song and dance.

Written in 2010, The Pig is Havel's only work in which the playwright himself appears on stage as one of the characters. As a playwright, dissident, revolutionary, and eventual president of Czechoslovakia, many of Havel's plays conceal acrid critiques of the Communism party. While Edward Einhorn's English adaptation of The Pig seeks to make Havel's play accessible to an American audience, it feels like too much has been lost in translation. This adaptation follows Havel (Robert Honeywell) as he tries to obtain a pig for a zabíjačkais (a rural Czech tradition in which a pig is slaughtered and eaten as part of a feast) for a group of dissident friends. Havel's quest is narrated through interviews with a ditzy American news reporter (Katherine Boynton), footage of which is live-fed through a "news" camera and projected on screens surrounding the audience. The camerawork and technology is impressive, thanks to the brainpower and resources of 3-Legged Dog, who specialize in digital technologies for performance. There is also an array of projected images accompanying the show, and while these projections are visually interesting — evoking things like setting, weather, history, or emotionally evocative images — one wonders what this technological element actually adds to the production.

As if this wasn't enough for an audience to handle, Havel's journey and his interviews with the journalist are further peppered with a sequence of cabarets from the famous Czech operetta, Bedřich Smetana's The Bartered Bride. While the musical talent and voices of the cast are impressive and well-trained, it is unclear why the production takes the musical subplot of The Bartered Bride so far as to obstruct (aurally and thematically) the play's deeper meaning.  

In a relatively small performance space, the over-the-top characterizations, cheesy gags, and overdone facial expressions in this production read way too large for a small venue. While the overdone stylization evades subtlety, it is also not sharp enough to be parody. Overall, the stylistic choices guided by director Henry Akona do the talented cast a disservice. 

The Pig, or Václav Havel’s Hunt for a Pig, is playing at the 3LD Art & Technology Center (80 Greenwich St.) until March 29. Performances are Thursdays through Saturdays at 8:00 p.m. and Sundays at 7:00 p.m. Tickets including dinner are $45 and $20 without dinner. Patrons who wish to order dinner must book 24 hours in advance. For tickets, call Ovationtix at 866-811-4111 or visit www.3ldnyc.org. 

Office Hours

Until the 20^th century was three-quarters spent, television and movies were strictly censored. Writers in those media pulled their punches, skirting tough social issues and playing naïve on matters of sex and politics. But playwrights didn’t face nearly as many content restrictions as their colleagues in film and TV, and audiences went to the theater for grown-up entertainment. 

In an era of rigid content taboos, dramatist John Van Druten (1901-1957) supplied Broadway with intelligent plays in which characters talked forthrightly and with wit about the things that made Hollywood censors squirm. The English-born Van Druten, who became an American citizen in 1944, may not have been a household name, but many of his beautifully crafted plays – among them, Old Acquaintance, The Voice of the Turtle, and Bell, Book and Candle – enjoyed long engagements in New York and were performed all around the United States. He lives on, most prominently, in Cabaret, the endlessly revived musical and landmark Bob Fosse film, based on his comedy-drama, I Am a Camera (which, in turn, was based on The Berlin Stories of Van Druten’s good friend, Christopher Isherwood). This winter New York is having a sort of Van Druten fest, beginning with the Mint Theater Company’s engaging revival of London Wall, an unjustly mislaid West End play from 1931 (to be followed by the Transport Group’s all-female revival of I Remember Mama, which opens March 30).

Van Druten studied law and clerked for a firm of solicitors before transforming himself into a full-time writer. London Wall takes place in a law firm; and the play’s title refers to a thoroughfare in the City of London where the office is located. On the evidence of London Wall, it’s safe to say that Van Druten observed the inhabitants of the legal world, especially the women, with care and empathy. The play depicts four typists, employed at a pittance, with little prospect for social mobility other than fortuitous marriage. These women are of different ages with differing romantic prospects.

The hardboiled Miss Janus (Julia Coffey) has invested 10 years in her job and seven in an unrewarding relationship with a low-level Dutch diplomat. She's fed up with the law firm and on thin ice with her beau. Pat Milligan (Elise Kibler) is a 19-year-old, alone in the world, just entering  the workforce. Miss Janus, a graduate of the School of Hard Knocks, wants to steer Pat away from the fates of Miss Hooper (Alex Trow), a dewy-eyed romantic who may be putting too much trust in a married man, and Miss Bufton (Katie Gibson), a good-time girl who's about to age out of the romance market. 

In addition to the typists, London Wall involves two lawyers – Mr. Walker (Jonathan Hogan), the firm’s senior partner, and the much younger Mr. Brewer (Stephen Plunkett), a roué who can’t stop himself hitting on newly hired typists. The cast is filled out by a client, the exasperatingly eccentric Miss Willesden (Laurie Kennedy); an office boy, Birkenshaw (Matthew Gumley); and Hec (Christopher Sears), who is employed elsewhere in the building and is besotted with Pat.

The plot of London Wall includes some creaky, old-fashioned turns, but these are outweighed by Van Druten's elegant, believable dialogue and his intricately drawn characters. Under the able direction of Davis McCallum (lauded last season for The Whale at Playwrights Horizons), the cast of nine forms a remarkably balanced ensemble. The actors, most of whom are American, navigate the distinctly British text and its antiquated locutions with assurance and dialectal consistency. Amy Stoller, the Mint's long-time dialect coach, deserves special recognition.

Scenic designer Marion Williams has created a sturdy, eye-appealing set that the actors reconfigure between scenes to move the action swiftly from one room in the firm to another. Joshua Yocom has found period props, including antique telephones and telephone switchboard, that enhance the production's verisimilitude. And Nicole Pearce's lighting plot contributes significantly to the professionalism of the enterprise. To find fault with the Mint's London Wall, one would have to quibble about a couple of bad wigs. And who cares about the occasional bad wig?  

London Wall is running through April 26 at the Mint Theater Company (311 West 43^rd St.). Performances are 7 p.m. on Wednesday and Thursday, and 8 p.m. on Friday and Saturday, and 2 p.m. on Saturday and Sunday. Tickets are $55 and can be purchased at www.minttheater.org or by calling 866-811-4111.

The Power of Love

What happens when a god falls down to Earth and a mortal ascends to the heavens? You get one of the most enduring stories of love wrapped in a myth — Cupid and Psyche, a story from Apuleius's Metamorphoses, which was recently presented by Turn to Flesh Productions at TBG Theatre (312 West 36th St.). Under the helm of playwright and artistic director Emily C.A. Snyder, the theater company re-contextualized a classic legend about Cupid's fabled experience of the trials and agony of love. 

We first meet the titular God of Passion when his mother Aphrodite (Goddess of Love) notices the hearts of men are turned away from her and towards Psyche, a mortal woman who would not love. The goddess urges her son Cupid (also known as Eros) to put a spell on her so as to win the world back to love. Determined to carry out his mission, Cupid swoops down to Earth with an arrow poised on Psyche. However, the winged archer soon finds himself falling for the mortal being and kisses her. This riles the gods and before Cupid knows it, he has killed Adonis. As punishment, he walks the Earth as The Beast, forced to kill all lovers in his path, forever searching in vain for Pysche's heart. 

Playing gods and mortals is itself not an easy task and only one that Turn to Flesh could achieve with an energetic ensemble: charming leading man James Parenti as Cupid; Erin Nelson as the cerebral Pysche; Kelly Laurel Zekas and Laura Iris Hill as scheming sisters Livia and Dareia, respectively; the sensuous Laura Hooper as Aphrodite; Stan Buturla as their regal father Thanos; Patrick Marran as the confused Chrysos; as well as Parker Madison and Gwenevere Sisco as the deliciously devious duo, Adonis and Persephone. This eclectic cast of characters helped flesh out what those unfamiliar with the mythological texts would view as ancient relics, truly carrying them into the 21st century.

Indeed, it was this vision of modernizing an old fairy tale that even carried over into their costumes. Costume coordinator Emily Rose Parman injected some anachronistic flair into the earth-bound Gods' apparel. For the Goddess' self-proclaimed "rags," Parman had Aphrodite donning lots of lingerie-inspired shift dresses, as well as sexy camisole-and-shorts nighties — replete with a matching silk robe, of course. As Goddess of Death, Persephone was in full-on Victorian dress, with a Gothic twist, making her seem like something out of a production of Sweeney Todd. The mortal lovers wore contemporary clothing, as did Gods Adonis and Cupid: the former in a bomber jacket, wallet chain and heavy boots that would make any punk rocker proud; the latter, dressed simply (as any respectable Winged-Archer-God would), in a streamlined, hipster jacket and jeans combo that would not be amiss in ol' Billyburg. As for young Psyche, she sported free-flowing dresses throughout — ensembles that looked modern, and yet also recalled the simplicity and elegance of Ancient Greek dress. 

Furthering the play's modern twist was the music, which punctuated each act with a sweeping, guitar-driven indie soundtrack. As for the staging, Michael Hetzer's multi-purpose two-story set-up represented the worlds of the Gods and the Mortals: upstairs, not only provided entrance for various characters — God or Mortal — but also represented Heaven later on. Similarly, downstairs were the grounds that stood in for the gardens where Cupid and Psyche would meet, which also later provided Persephone's domain, Hades' Underworld. Though simple, the set looked as if it did not coalesce with the play's romantic themes. However, this is more than made up for in Zephan Ellenbogen's beautiful light-bulb fixtures and lighting cues, which were moody and stark, especially during the Underworld scenes in the play's latter half. 

They say "love is blind," and this much is true in the case of Cupid, a God who fell for a mortal. As Turn to Flesh's production shows, sometimes falling in love is worth all the pain. If there's anything the story Cupid and Psyche has given us, it is the gift of forever reminding us of the perpetuity of love and its ability to make every one of us — even a God — fallible.

Cupid and Psyche opened at the TBG Theatre (312 West 36th Street) ran from February 13-16. For more information, visit TurnToFlesh.com.

Dire Family Dynamics

“People can be barbaric,” says Mother in The Open House—a supremely ironic remark given the poisonous familial atmosphere in Will Eno’s new play. The matriarch has gathered with her family in their living room, but it’s Father (Peter Friedman), in a wheelchair, who dominates with his malignity. Visiting Son and Daughter are sitting on the sofa, unsettled; and Uncle (brother to Father) is standing uneasily to the rear.

In the long following scene, Father belittles and insults those around him. For example, recollecting the day he met Mother, he relates a story of a beautiful girl he saw in his youth, then turns it on its head: “On the way home I met your mother here.” Though it occurs early, Eno has so firmly established Father’s nastiness that one can see the twist coming. The man enjoys belittling others; it’s no wonder his family frequently retreats to speechlessness. Director Oliver Butler gives Pinteresque weight to the silences, and Friedman modulates the patriarch’s passive-aggressive attitudes with aplomb.

His influence has unexpected comic effects. Presented an anniversary present from her two children—a third, Richard, is absent, and no wonder—Carolyn McCormick’s Mother thanks them and then puts it unopened on the floor next to her. Is it a reflexive recognition that its opening will only give her husband an opportunity for more abuse?

Midway through the play, a turnaround begins, as the family characters leave and are replaced by a new set of people (played by the same actors). Father has put the house on the market, and the real estate agent, Anna (Hannah Bos, who was Daughter), arrives to prep it.

Soon a possible buyer, Tom, arrives (Michael Countryman, who doubles as Uncle). Then a workman named Brian (the Son reinvented) and eventually Melissa (McCormick), Tom’s wife. They are busy, cheerful, actively involved in life. Father has no power over them, and he is no longer the center of attention; he is, in fact, often ignored. The arrivals have their own preoccupations; they are chatty and outgoing and alive, and the door, closed at the start, is left wide open.

When Father tries to throw his weight around, Tom calls him on it, refusing to let him play the disability card. “I might threaten an asshole who’s a bully in a wheelchair,” he says. “Don’t you use language like that in here,” Father snaps. “I’ll say any word I know,” responds Tom. Friedman’s character gradually shrivels in his chair until he’s rendered helpless by the turn of events he has instigated.

Eno seems to be making the point that emotional abuse can only exist if one allows it to and mollifies the abuser, but the play suffers from its schematic structure. As soon as Bos reenters as Anna, one suspects where things are heading. It is cathartic to see Father get his comeuppance, but one wishes the play didn't rely so much on the actors’ skillful doubling, and strained credibility just a bit less.

Will Eno’s The Open House plays through March 23 at the Pershing Square Signature Center, 480 W. 42nd St. From March 3-9 the evening performance schedule is Monday at 7 p.m.; Wednesday through Friday at 7:30 p.m.; Saturday at 8 p.m. From March 11 through 23 the evening performance schedule is Tuesday through Friday at 7:30 p.m.; Saturday at 8 p.m. Matinees throughout the run are at 2 p.m. Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday. Tickets are available by calling the Signature Theatre Company at (212) 244-7529 or online at www.signaturetheatre.org.