High on the Buy

Shoes and Baggage is a wildly entertaining one-woman show that explores shopping, and life. Written and performed by stage veteran Cheryl Stern (whose Broadway credits include La Cage aux Folles and The Women) and directed by Joe Barros, both actor and director do a marvelous job of using the cell theater, a small space that is more of a theater in the rectangle than the round. Nonetheless, all seats are good, and musical director John Dipitino’s soundtrack, performed by a two-man band with drum, keyboard and guitar, adds pizzazz and drive to the performance, but don’t overwhelm the diminutively sized actress.

Stern hits the nail on the head when she reveals her conflicted relationship to shopping. She manages a delicate balance between revealing the inner turmoil as well as the ameliorating effects of shopping during some of life’s more difficult moments. The dialogue is intimate but not, as kids today say, TMI (too much information). A self-confessed connoisseur of clothing, shoes and baggage, she recalls her experiences buying her first Louis Vuitton bag and to “buy, or not to buy” a pair of Louboutins that cost as much as her weekly paycheck.

Weaving in past experiences that go all the way back to childhood with more contemporary experiences, Stern does a fantastic job. She touches on relationships that have influenced and informed her appreciation for clothing. Two in particular are with Rena and Karen, whom she remains fast friends with in life and shopping. When Stern first meets Rena in a college acting class, she is completely taken by her. Dressed in a rabbit fur coat, Rena is “urban-sexy in a Bianca Jagger sort of way.” It turns out Rena can’t act but the two form a bond. Akin to this relationship is the one she forms with Karen while out walking her dog one day. Karen is a former Ford model and disco queen and, when they meet, the ad director of Vogue. They embark on many shopping excursions and Karen verses her in the world of couture.

Stern’s play is also an autobiographical account of her experience as an actress. She hilariously renders her experience as a cast member of The Women, a Broadway production that included Cynthia Nixon, Jennifer Tilly and Kristen Johnston. She forms an unlikely bond with Tilly, who has a great appreciation for unusual jewelry and fashion. When Stern compliments Tilly on some rings she’s wearing, she captures Tilly’s relaxed and off-the-cuff cadence with her reply: “Super-cute, right?” They become friends with an appreciation for fashion, and after one particular shopping spree, nearly miss curtain call.

It’s not only the wild forays into shopping that Stern captures, but the addictive nature of it. While trying to return a sweater at a high-end retail store, she ends up leaving with a pair of pants and a top, in addition to the sweater she initially goes in to return. When she sings: “High, totally high from the buy…,” it explains the thrill of going home with new purchases. But then, when she feels compelled to hide them in the closet so her husband won’t see them, there’s the shame in knowing that they exceed her budget, and she failed in returning a sweater that wasn’t really perfect after all.

Stern outlines the way shopping can alleviate some of the stress that occurs in life. When friends get sick with cancer, or lose their jobs, or her father is in the hospital after a heart attack, shopping and an appreciation for clothing, shoes and baggage somehow make the moments more bearable. Yet, as Stern grows older, she comes to recognize that shopping is an addiction as serious as any other. She sings “High, totally hooked on the high, take another hit, like breathing air, oh the lure of what to wear.” Through Debtors Anonymous and self-help books filled with daily affirmations she comes to terms with the fact that shopping is only a high, and not a real antidote to life’s problems. It’s uncertain how she will live without the “high of the buy,” she says, but it seems like it’s time to try and face the music of her addiction, and let that “good buy” go.

Shoes and Baggage, is playing at the cell, 338 West 23^rd St. (between 8^th & 9^th avenues) through June 3.^. Take A/C/E train to 8^th Ave at 23^rd Street. Evening performances are at 7 p.m., Wednesday through Sunday, with matinees at 2 p.m. on Saturday and Sunday. No late seating is permitted. Tickets are $35. For more information, call (646) 861-2253, visit www.thecelltheatre.org.

A Stroll Down Memory Lane

The Marvelous Wonderettes, a 2008 jukebox musical that is being revived at Theater Row, shows how far women have come since the days of the Drifters, with naive bobby-socksers at the high school gym lost in crinolines and pink. Roger Bean’s playful show features a nostalgic storyline that spans the decade 1958-68 as it focuses on the lives of four women in high school and then, in the second act, at their 10-year reunion.

Christina Bianco plays the bossy, fiery Missy, who is in love with their teacher, Mr. Lee. Kathy Brier is Suzy, happily in love. Jenna Leigh Green is the vamp, Cindy Lou, and Sally Schwab portrays the ever-duped-in-love Betty Jean. Each character represents a different aspect of women’s issues, whether it’s marriage, work, or loyalty, and the story follows the evolution of women’s rights. As the girls weave their narrative of life since the high school prom around the lyrics of the old favorites straight from the American Bandstand Top 10 charts, the audience gets a sparkling overview of women’s struggles to make their dreams come true.

Under the direction of Tom and Michael D’Angora, the top-notch cast share a glimpse at that journey as they deliver the lyrics of the oldies but goodies, such as “Leader of the Pack” and “Son of a Preacher Man.” The production is full of color and glitz; it feels like memory—the way the mind’s eye makes it pretty and delusional about how simpler the times were then. It is not a thought-provoking, deep show, even though Bean hits on some serious themes, such as women coming together in sisterhood rather than being pulled apart by the social forces that have often oppressed them, though the themes are not fully realized yet.

The women sing with superb harmony (the musical director is William Wade) and dance, perfectly synchronized, to the choreography of Alex Ringler. The well-rehearsed moves work beautifully as the women swirl in their jelly-bean-colored prom dresses, created by Bobby Pearce. All the chiffon and crinoline in rhythm with the music makes an audience sway and bask in the joy of more innocent times. 

William Davis has designed a crisp, clean set of right angles and Day-Glo colors—exactly what is remembered of those halcyon days. With family-friendly slapstick, the direction is perhaps a bit too over-the-top in its pantomimed physicality, but at the same time it is faithful to the period variety shows like those of Red Skelton and Jackie Gleason.

The high school competition between Cindy Lou and Betty Jean over the unseen, two-timing Johnny has the potential to make some important points about women and how they are pitted against one another because of society’s codes, but as yet isn’t strong enough. This becomes more obvious in the second act, when the girls come back to perform at the 10-year high school reunion. A very pregnant Cindy Lou, crying her woes over a faithless husband, embodies the issue of staying committed to a marriage and raising a family in an unhappy union.

Meanwhile, Missy, who is still trying to catch Mr. Lee and yet hold onto her own identity, is a clear reflection of the issues of independence women faced during this period. As the girls rally around her and berate the unawares Mr. Lee (played by an audience member brought on stage), reminding him that “He doesn’t own her,” the ladies improvise terrifically.

This is a classy production with a group of very talented young women. Although it’s a fun blast from the past, we really have come a long way, baby.

The Marvelous Wonderettes is playing at the Kirk Theatre (410 W 42^nd St.) in an open-ended run. Evening performances are at 8:15 p.m. Wednesday and Thursday; matinees are at 2:30 p.m. Wednesday 3 p.m. Sunday. For tickets and information, visit http://www.theatrerow.org/kirknowplaying or call (212) 239-6200.

Tongue, Meet Cheek

Follow Nasty Drew (no not a typo) and the Harder boy (well, there is only one after all) as they attempt to solve The Mystery of the Family Jewels, a fun, sexy, raucous evening of tongue-in-cheek comedy, a little drag (hello, family jewels?) and some outrageous burlesque. What burlesque has to do with a spoof of the teen-mystery-novel genre is a good question, but somehow they seriously pull it all together and take it all off. 

The mystery is set up by Franklin W. Dixon and Carolyn Keene, respective authors of the super sleuths’ series, The Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew. Tigger! as Dixon and Fancy Feast as Keene are as colorful as their names, in a Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid kind of way, and create a playful, publishing-world rivalry. When Dixon attempts to engage Keene in a dialogue about the Hardy Boys, she dismisses him with, “Those two boys, always carousing around in that flashy convertible, always seeking to emulate and please the Hardy patriarch. Such strong father issues.” Dixon, not to be outmaneuvered, refers to Nancy Drew’s “questionable relations with those lady ‘cousins’ of hers…” The evening is filled with double entendres (“It’s even more colossal than my ‘Case of the Mysterious Hole in the Wall’”) and early Batman/Boy Wonder dialogue (“Jumpin’ catfish, what is it?”) Laughter, mixed with a ton of silliness and a whole lot of skin, will certainly chase the workday blues away.

Dixon and Keene introduce Nasty Drew (Nasty Canasta) and That Harder Boy (Chris Harder) who take on solving The Mystery of the Family Jewels, which is written and directed by Harder. In the course of the investigation, they meet with the buxom Lady Sussanah LaVeux De Cock; her bawdy cousin Mona Crackers; randy Police Chief McDaniels; the mechanic with lesbian tendencies Nadina North; and Cecilia “Sissy” LaVeux De Cock, Lady LaVeux De Cock’s estranged “twin” sister, among others. (The characters are played by a rotating cast of performers based on the show’s schedule.)

In The Mystery of the Family Jewels the puns, sight gags and extraordinary burlesque keep coming. Pearls Daily as Mona Crackers, who is purportedly from the wrong side of the tracks, delivers a 1920s style flapper number in a wonderful homage to the queen of burlesque, Gypsy Rose Lee. Nasty Canasta follows with a funny and entertaining undercover number employing a fake nose, glasses and mustache, which at first glance seems silly, but just wait.

Feast, who also plays North, Brookeville’s “semiretired, show-stopping sensation of stage and screen,” performs a most bodacious burlesque piece and steals the show with dialogue in the manner of legendary Mae West. Not to be outdone, the men have their own time baring all in the limelight. Ben Franklin as Police Chief McDaniels pulls off “You’ve gotta have a gimmick” burlesque that is straight—in this context used loosely—from Gypsy with hula hoops, the unbelievably limber Tigger! takes it down to a sock puppet, and Chris Harder woos the fans in his unforgettable, charming style, sock garters and all.

The show is sponsored in part by a few local businesses, and commercials are written into the script to promote them. It’s a fun gimmick that needs more attention to detail in the venerable, radio announcer style. Although issues with the show's sound and lighting may be attributed to the slightly random performance schedule, the biggest drawback is that some comic lines can’t be heard and sound levels overpower a few of the songs.

It’s evident that the Mystery of the Family Jewels has a following with a rowdy, adoring audience in attendance, and it’s easy to see why. The cast, taking their lead from Harder and Canasta, has a blast giving their all and baring all. If they break character or a prop doesn’t appear as expected, don’t be surprised, it just adds to the frivolity.

Performances of Mystery of the Family Jewels are 10 p.m. April 29 and  May 13 and 9:30 p.m. May 1 and 15 at the Laurie Beechman Theater inside West Bank Cafe (407 West 42nd St.at Ninth Avenue). The theater is accessible from the A,C,E,N,R,V,F,1,2,3 trains at 42nd Street. Tickets are $22, plus a $20 food/drink minimum. A $35 VIP ticket includes reserved seating, a gift bag and a meet-and-greet. To purchase tickets, call 212-352-3101 or visit www.SpinCycleNYC.com.

Young, Scrappy and Hungry

In the musky glory of The Kraine Theater, the March family spits crazy rhymes and self-professedly drops beats like a smooth silk ribbon. Although jaunty violins welcome us inside, it is the quick enticement of Lil' Theatre Company's hip-hop musical that soon settles us into our seats. Lindsay Taylor and Sara Stock are the writers of Lil' Women: A Rap Musical, which was inspired not just by Louisa May Alcott's novel but also by a certain popular rap musical that sends all who see it into fits of religious praise: Hamilton. The influence is too obvious to go unnoticed—sometimes to the production's occasional weakness. In an effort to reconcile the massive success of its progenitor with its own relative obscurity, Lil' Women drops hints of its inspiration while trying to break new ground with reasonable success. 

Originally from the show streets of Orlando, Taylor's production is one of the more standout shows at this year's FRIGID NY festival—she is credited as the director and producer of Lil' Women. Its concept invites apprehension and interest in equal measure: taking a beloved classic and subverting its white, all-American tradition is no easy task. Many already know the story: Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy March weather crises of faith, friendship and love as they grow up under the benevolent eye of their parents, mischievous Laurie (the boy next door) and John Brooke (his tutor). It reads like a soapy, sweet tale, promising an uncomplicated ending. But somehow Taylor's hilarious spin on the March family makes it easy to forget the all too well-known plot, and enjoy the droll, nudge-nudge moments of musical inspiration that slips and slides from the pens of Taylor and Stock.

Beth pulsates with witty energy; she isn't the dowdy, quiet angel that Alcott canonized in her book. Megan Borkes renders her active, self-aware and irrepressibly engaging. Croix Provence's Amy begins as a childish caricature of Alcott's character, but by the end of the play, she is brimming with womanly wit and charm. Even mature Meg, played by the highly entertaining Toni Bonaccorso, sneaks in some character development even as the show speeds through the plot. Her meet-cute romance with John (a disarmingly funny Gregory Coleman) is a delight to watch, and her command as a rapper, while seemingly incongruous for a dimpling redhead, is especially astonishing. But by and large, the play is carried on the very able shoulders of Rebecca Siegel, who plays the glorious spitfire that is Jo March. Siegel is perhaps the best rapper of all her sisters (although Meg might disagree; the two have a fantastic rap battle— mediated by her mother, played by writer Sara Stock—that helps the audience settle who the better rapper is), and her singing voice is quite agreeable too. Her most poignant, Jo-like moments come during her interactions with Beth, Laurie (a rib-ticklingly wonderful Adam DelMedico) and Friedrich Bhaer (played by a superb Justin Aldridge), the three most important agents in her life. 

The reigning star of the show is the music: rhymes and dialogues flow seamlessly from the actors. The cast does not for a second call into question its rapping abilities. A particularly enjoyable song (and one that refused to stop playing in one's head) is "Commander in Chief" sung by Mr. March, played by the supremely talented Jason Blackwater. The partnership between Taylor and music writer Isaac Folch renders even the most mawkish episodes from Alcott's book (namely Mr. March's return from the war) side-splittingly funny. If there is one avenue where they falter, it is in the story. For a tale as often told as Little Women, it might take more than a rap musical to refresh its well-known denouements. But even as the show whizzes past key scenes (Beth's passing, John and Meg's married life, Jo's publications and Amy's brush with death), the production leaves us quite content in its attempt to refurbish a beloved story. 

The costuming is subdued yet appropriate; it doesn't seem anarchic or anachronistic, as most period costumes do in intimate settings (costume is by Borkes, Siegel and Taylor). The set is an empty black box, and in some ways makes the action in front of it all the more colorful. The main star of the show, however, is the music. Hip-hop is a nascent musical medium, especially on the Broadway stage. Hamilton has made rap music palatable to the largely white, upper middle-class audiences of New York, with the same brand of spine-tingling newness that Lil' Women has successfully emulated. One could say that Miranda's juggernaut endeavor has just spawned the first (of its undoubtedly many) children, and no-one's complaining. Lil' Women, for all its overt obeisances to Lin-Manuel Miranda's genius, borrows the same penchant for envelope-pushing musical entertainment.

The last performance of Lil' Women: A Rap Musical at The Kraine Theater (85 East 4th St. between 2nd and 3rd Aves.) was March 5. As part of Orlando International Fringe Theatre Festival, Lil' Women will run from May 19-29 at the Orlando Shakespeare Theater (812 E. Rollins St.) in Orlando, FL. Tickets are $11 with the purchase of the Fringe button starting April 14 at www.orlandofringe.org.

A Queer Wonderland

Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland and Prohibition-era speakeasies in New York City may not seem like kindred worlds, but Danny Ashkenasi blends them together in his new musical Speakeasy: John & Jane’s Adventures in the Wonderland. Indeed, both Carroll’s wonderland and Ashkenasi’s queer underworld in Speakeasy are ruled by chaos, intoxication, and frenzy. For better and for worse, director Lisa Moira’s production of this new musical is similarly chaotic; but in spite of technical glitches and some awkward performance moments, the cast of Speakeasy offer some sparkling moments of musical theater.

The standout performances in Speakeasy often offset the production's technical creaks. Kayleigh Shuler as Jane and Matias Polar as John are the heartbeat of the show; they are the flawless young lovers, never missing a note or a cue. As Jane’s best friend, hooch-maker, and possible extramarital love interest, the fiery Bevin Bell-Hall charms the room as Roberta White. The characters of Duchess Bentley (Camille Atkinson) and Julian Carnation (Tim Connell) represent the struggles of Julian Eltinge and Gladys Bentley, queer denizens of Prohibition-era New York City. Atkinson and Connell portray their gender-bending historical characters with sensitivity and humor. 

Finally, absolutely knocking the Ziegfeld-girl aesthetic out of the park are Alice Radice and Anne Bragg as Dora and DeeDee Tweedle. Just try to keep from smiling as Radice and Bragg shuffle around the stage in their blonde bobs and lobster-claw hands. With their stellar comic, dance and musical skills, this vaudeville duo steals the show.

One moment of great synergy in Speakeasy is the song “All Hail the Maidens,” which most of the ensemble performs in drag. While the blocking in many of Speakeasy’s scenes fail to fill the large theater space, J. Alan Hanna’s choreography for “All Hail the Maidens” is exuberant and fun. Torian Brackett, Cody Keown, Sylvester McCracken III, Nick DeFrancesco and Brandon Mellette are gorgeous and fabulous in drag. This moment of the show gives a rare glimpse of the hidden safe spaces made available to queer and non-gender-normative people in Prohibition-era New York. 

Speakeasy tries to do a lot in three hours. It is at once a fantasy adventure, a sexual coming of age, a straight love story, a piece of historical fiction, a gay play and a musical. Songs like “Once I had a Friend,” “Shadow and Light,” and several other numbers probe human sexuality and the tension that exists between status quo and queer desire.  

Speakeasy gives short shrift, however, to the racial tensions that loomed large during this historical era (and in many ways, still loom today). In the song “Harlem,” the all-white ensemble sings of slumming uptown. Slumming was the practice of middle- and upper-class white people venturing into poor neighborhoods of New York to dance, drink, and have sexual encounters with people of color. As the ensemble for “Harlem” cavorts, Brandon Mellette sweeps up their mess upstage (and is the only person of color visible). The song gestures towards a larger issue of racial inequality, and the appropriative politics of slumming; but after “Harlem,” the issue is not further explored. With a bevy of songs exploring queer sexuality, it seems that historical racial tension deserves more attention from a show entitled Speakeasy.  

Finally, as a brand-new musical, Speakeasy needs a polishing of its more technical points. For whatever reason, there are many moments when Bri Malloy as Chet Cheshire is not off book, and his voice gets lost upstage. Furthermore, though Darcy Dunn’s powerful voice as Caroline Chrysalides can compete with the pianist, many other solo voices are lost in the din. Line flubs and costume malfunctions also threaten to take an audience member out of the experience. This is no surprise, because the show is huge in scope—with more than 30 musical numbers and a lot of scenic transitions. Perhaps a scaled-back version of Speakeasy, with fewer plot offshoots and shorter musical numbers, would result in a more polished final product.

This is not to say that Speakeasy lacks charm; it simply lacks polish. Speakeasy satisfies many interests, and might be enjoyed by fans of drag, lovers of Alice in Wonderland, and history buffs interested in Prohibition-era New York. It is a marathon of a show, but contains performance gems that are worth the wait.

Speakeasy: John and Jane’s Adventures in the Wonderland runs through March 13th at Theatre for the New City. Evening performances are Wednesdays through Saturdays at 8 p.m.; matinees are Saturdays at 2 p.m. and Sundays at 3 p.m. Tickets are $18. Visit TheaterForTheNewCity.net or call SmartTix at 212-868-4444.

Fairy Tale With a Thump

Energetic and well sung, with an electrifying rock score, The Wildness at Ars Nova is undermined by a book that cobbles together elements that don’t always blend fluidly. Written by Lauren Worsham and Kyle Jarrow (the latter composed the score), the story involves a group of millennials who come together every year for an event called “The Wildness” in order “to purge our doubts and fears,” says the bandleader, Kyle. (The character Kyle is played by Jarrow; all the actors use real first names for their millennial roles.) At this gathering the band and singers, a Brooklyn group called Sky-Pony, enact a fairy tale first related by one of their group, Michael.

This year, the fifth of “The Wildness,” Michael is not present. He has disappeared without explanation. His sister, Lilli, therefore, must play the part of Princess Ada in the fairy tale, which has 12 chapters. (Apparently Michael cross-dressed for the part.) Worsham plays Lilli’s friend Lauren and Ada’s “handmaiden,” Zira; other band members play characters in the story-within-a-story. For instance, David Blasher, a cellist, plays David and also the Ruler, Princess Ada’s father, who forbids the villagers to leave their city and enter the surrounding forest, a.k.a. the Wildness, because of dragons living there.

But the city also faces a crisis: the drinking water has turned brackish. (If this plot element existed before the events in Flint, Mich., it plays awkwardly now.) According to the ruler, “The spring turns foul when our faith falters/Only the blessed heir can make it pure again./On sunrise of the second day of the third week/of the fourth moon/Ada will lead us into a rapturous new era.”

If this sounds silly in the description, it is less so under Sam Buntrock’s excellent direction, using a traverse stage with terrific club lighting by Brian Tovar. Still, the script feels disjointed as it echoes a variety of sources. For instance, lyrics from the first song—“New to the city, nothing going how you planned/You’re lost and kind of artistic/So…you start a rock band”—may pinpoint millennial angst, but they also hark back to the Lost Generation of the 1920s, only with a more adolescent vibe.  

Venturing into the forest, Ada and Zira find an empty cabin with six “magical” objects: candy, a knife, a mirror, a gift-wrapped book, a boot and a coat. The cabin is empty, but they revisit it periodically to wonder about the Builder, apparently never having learned the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears.

Occasionally the fairy tale is interrupted for “oversharing” by cast members or two people chosen beforehand from the audience. The latter, dubbed the “Brave Ones,” spill the beans about some personal crisis as if they were in a psyche-building therapy session. When the performers overshare, they mopingly recall the missing Michael with a good deal more anguish and feeling than the audience can muster. At the end of each oversharing, the audience is encouraged to respond: “You’re not alone.” (It’s an echo that invites unfavorable comparison with Sondheim’s “No One Is Alone” from Into the Woods, which also involves magical objects and forays into a creepy forest.)

At other times the language takes on a strangely Christian revivalist tone, as when Kyle urges a call-and-response.

Kyle: “As Zira and Ada doubted themselves, haven’t we all?”
Audience: “Yes, indeed.”
Kyle: “As they struggled with temptation, haven’t we all?”
Audience: “Yes, indeed.”

The eclecticism of adolescent angst, millennial disaffection, team building, and fundamentalist Christianity gets a further twist from the punk outfits—miniskirts, frilly stockings with garters, and sparkling bodices—that Tilly Grimes has designed for the women.

Yet another shift in tonality occurs as Ada confronts her father with the truth that there are no dragons in the woods, and the fear he has instilled in the populace is just a form of control. In a trite scene, the king acknowledges the deception, but contends that the people can’t handle the truth. After Ada defies him and discloses the lie and the existence of the cabin, the violent uproar that ensues justifies her father’s view that a dictatorship along Stalinist lines is more stable than a democracy.

Topping it all off is a finale with the lyrics: “Everyone will end up with nothing, and though I don’t know why, it makes me feel better.” Seemingly intended as a communal affirmation, the song comes across rather as eleventh-hour millennial Schadenfreude. It only makes one wish that the collage-like book could match the quality of the music and performances in this respectable, if muddled, effort.

Ars Nova (511 W. 54th St., between 10th and 11th avenues) in collaboration with the Play Company presents The Wildness: Sky-Pony's Rock Fairy Tale through March 26. Evening performances are at 8 p.m. Monday-Saturday; with select Fridays at 7 and 10 p.m. Tickets are $35, with special $10 tickets for the 10 p.m. performances. Tickets are available by calling (212) 352-3101 or visiting Arsnovanyc.com.

Writer Madness

The Golden Smile by Yaakov Bressler and directed by Joey Stamp is an absurd, hilarious and energetic play that is sure to break the winter funk. The play opens with a group of characters, patients to be more exact, in a mental institution. The patients try to create a play that will save their privileges in the recreational room. Some patients have an ulterior motive to win the heart of their beloved Claude–who is never seen but heard about in songs. Theatergoers enter the patients’ world, which is filled with twists and turns, and witness what the patients will do to write their play.

The cast is fun and filled with energy. The audience gets to see a glimpse of the characters’ mental conditions and personalities. However, their personalities can be more diverse and more nuanced as the play provides the space for this type of character exploration. One actor that stands out is Sofiya Cheyenne (Group Leader). Cheyenne is captivating and delivers a strong and engaging performance. Cheyenne really puts a punch to the witty and sarcastic lines. The entire cast, Andy McCain (Writer), Jody Doo (Sarcastic Actor), Flynn Harne (The Messenger), Robert DiDomenico (Loathing Actor) and Isaac Boorstin (Angry Actor) are talented and versed in both acting and musical theater.

The songs are playful, graphic and wacky. Composer and Musical Director Zach Stamp matches the music with these wonky characters. The music moves along with the tone and nature of the play. Costume and Prop Managers Rivkah Spolin, Shelly Ben-Yshay and Carrie Pieper designed the set and costumes accordingly. The set and costumes coordinate with the vibrant personalities on stage. They do an excellent job alongside Stamp’s direction. The creative team piece this insane world together for audiences to be hooked for a whole hour!

There are two plots in this play: one of the actual play and the other of the characters’ creative play. The big plot flows and the audience clearly understands the wants of each character. They all collectively want to write this play but they have different ideas and direction on how to go about it. How they figure it out is the fun part for the audience. Eventually, the group comes to an agreement and they have a play. Their play’s plot gets a little sloppy when they begin their quest for the Golden Smile. Then again, they are mental patients so their level of coherence may be off. Bressler has to be very clear with his intention at this point. The patients show strength, courage and determination, and represent much of who they are as a group.

In the end, they create a tender story about preservation and happiness, which by the same token is ironic considering their circumstances. They find their “golden smile” as many writers or artists in general find theirs. Bressler seems to be drawing connections to how insane the writing process is for writers and what better way to show this than to have mental patients trying to write a play. It is a wonderful premise and one that many writers would agree with. This is Bressler’s first play–he has a knack for humor and sharp dialogue. Audiences will be excited to see how his work evolves.

The Golden Smile serves to be an exhilarating night at the theater. Watch it for the humor, energy, witty lines and music. It is sure to get everyone walking out with a smile and maybe even a golden one.

The Golden Smile is part of the Frigid Festival, which is showing over 150 performances in two theaters and over the span of three weeks. The festival is founded on the idea of providing theater artists the opportunity to produce their own work.

The Golden Smile runs until March 5 at The Kraine Theater (85 East 4 St. between 2 and 3 Aves.) in Manhattan. Tickets are $15. To purchase tickets, call (212) 777-6088 or horsetrade.info.

Tales of the Road to Freedom

Frederick Douglass said, “Slaves sing most when they are most unhappy. The songs of the slave represent the sorrows of his heart; and he is relieved by them, only as an aching heart is relieved by its tears.” It felt like the spirit of Douglas was downtown at the Gene Frankel Theatre, inspiring all who hear the call to go see Pappy on Da Underground Railroad. This heartrending one-man show, developed by cabaret performer Richard Johnson, under the direction of Keith Allan with musical accompaniment by Terry Wallstein is in honor of Black History Month. Johnson soulfully weaves the tales of trials and tribulations on the trail to freedom with Harriet Tubman on the Underground Railroad. With honest, down to earth direction and staging, this charming piece found its perfect venue at the Gene Frankel Theatre.

Raw, vulnerable, intuitive, fiery, wise, and out smarting, Pappy is the culmination of all the heroes of that dark time in American history. Soulfully singing some of the old classic spirituals such as “Wade in the Water” and “Steal Away” Johnson, as Pappy, explains how Harriet Tubman used song to guide runaway slaves to freedom. Through Johnson’s characterizations, we learn about the spirit of a people who were willing to pay the price for freedom and how it takes courage and determination to continue to fight for it.

Long-time cabaret performer Johnson authentically brings to life a part of our past that should never be forgotten. In the storytelling tradition of Haley’s Chicken George or Walker’s Celie, without overacted characterization, Johnson shows us the passion of a powerful survivor in his magnetic Pappy. With pathos, he comically impersonates his giggly first love, Mary, who pined for another. He mimics her obsession for, “Jacob! Jacob! Jacob!” and then tenderly reveals she killed herself by drinking lye after her lover was beaten to death for killing the master’s son who raped her. What hits to the core is how Johnson weaves Pappy’s memory with his heart-rending vocal of “Balm in Gilead,” accompanied by the mournful piano rendering of musical director Terry Wallstein.

Johnson’s subtle interpretation of Harriet Tubman is truly inspired. There is never doubt that Pappy is an authority on Tubman. He tells of his first meeting with the sassy Tubman and how she convinces him to come with her on the freedom trail. With hands on his hips, and a molasses sweet voice, he mirrors her command, to go back south to get her mother.

With assistance from technical crew, Stephon Legere, Luis Rivera and Cesar Perez, Allan uses a minimal set, allowing Johnson’s own energy to create the time and place. Small wooden platforms transform from tree stump to safe house cellar doors to a boat on the river, to train tracks to the north. Johnson guides us by the North Star and the sounds and signals along the riverbanks to freedom. The use of haunting sound effects enhances the menace in the moment, further heightening the historical significance of Pappy’s story.

As Johnson sings the doleful spirituals of those times and interweaves the stories of survival and escape to the Promised Land of Canada, he paints a clear picture of those heroes and villains he deals with along the way. Speaking to the audience as if they were his new group of runaways, Johnson creates the suspense and urgency of the time and place in a very internal and organic way, making his audience feel very much the eminent dangers of the ghostly swamps, in the pitch black night.

Perhaps one of the most suspenseful moments was when Johnson transforms into the racist slave hunter and his dog. As the slave hunter reveals his reasons for hating runaway slaves so much—his favorite boyhood mammy was sold off because of her runaway son—the crescendo of his anger rises with the sound of the barking of his dog. This brilliant direction really enhanced the danger of that moment in the journey to freedom.

Johnson really draws in his audience as his partners on the Underground Trail. When Johnson illuminates on the hidden meanings of the railroad terms, he also sheds light on how significant the building of the railroads were to the emancipation of slaves. Sitting comfortably Indian style, Pappy decodes the meaning of the symbols of the quilts and reveals the ingenuity and sophistication of a people intend on gaining freedom. With the eerie sounds of the river flowing in sync with Johnson’s rich vocalization of the classic, “Follow the Drinking Gourd,” he elucidates on how each symbol will be signs along the way to guide his motley runaways to safety in Canaan, which Pappy declares is the name for Canada. On reaching the Promised Land of Freedom, Pappy leaves us with a sense of hope for the future, as long as we never forget those champions of the past.

In these tumultuous times, Johnson’s exploration of the past is very significant. It encourages us to be as brave and determined as people like Harriet Tubman and all the unsung heroes of that time. In order to change history, we must learn from it. Johnson, in his poignant characterization of Pappy, leaves us with the great message that the heroes of yesterday can inspire the heroes of tomorrow. As Alice Walker said, “Harriet Tubman was not our great-grandmother for nothing.”

Pappy on Da Underground Railroad's last performance was Feb. 27 at the Gene Frankel Theatre (24 Bond St. between Bowery and Lafayette St.) in Manhattan. For more information, visit brownpapertickets.com.

81 and Still a Bawdy Broad

As the lights illuminate the scant set design on stage—a keyboard, table, chair, a white and gold embellished frock on the wall and ukulele—a man appears and begins to play an overture of music on the keyboard while a petite, 81-year-old woman arrives in a gold sequined beret adorned with an Eiffel tower sewed on top. This cabaret duo of singer D’yan Forest and her longtime friend and pianist Richard Danley then begin the one-woman cabaret stand-up comedy show, A Broad Abroad!

Forest’s show is a compilation of her personal memoirs. She jokes that she tells her age at the beginning of the show “just in case I don’t make it to the end.” She is not the typical, cookie-baking, grandmother figure. Instead, she recounts her travel experiences across the globe and “studies in men, life and pantomime.” Forest tells you every dirty detail down to cunnilingus and warbling about dying her hair and her lady bush that reflects her “I ain’t 20 either and I don’t care neither. And I dye my hair not just here, but there," mentality. As for her thoughts on the horizontal mambo, she says, “Most of my friends have given up on sex. Not me, my rule is it ain’t over until the fat lady is dead.” 

The solo entertainer is energetic in her delivery on stage. She strums the ukulele quite impressively as she sings in French, German and Italian. She shows off her still nimble body when laying down on stage and getting up with ease while telling the story of her escapades in a Turkish bath. When she sings the song, "La Vie en Rose," her eyes twinkle with emotion and vigor.

Forest is a skilled artist who delightfully played musical renditions of nostalgic classics. However, some of the jokes that she and her co-writer, Eric Kornfeld, have written as transitions are predictable and stale. These include references to the old joke (“My parents went to China, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.") and the inevitable math problem that happens when an older person hooks up with a younger person (“One thing I know for sure 25 goes into 76 many more times than 76 goes into 25.”). 

The out-of-date script shows Forest's lack of a fresh perspective on the common-life experiences of women. Instead, she teaches you the age-old lesson, “Nobody told you life would be easy but it doesn’t mean you can’t have fun.” In topics of divorce and her perceived inability to make her mother happy, Forest appears heartfelt and authentic. Despite this, the audience's biggest takeaway is that she runs off and avoids the problems at hand. She would much rather be having sex and learning a new language than diving into life lessons.

Clearly, Forest doesn't seem to care whether or not the audience is laughing with her or at her. Her pure love of cabaret is illustrated in her command of the stage. Although she has lived her life with gusto, perhaps it’s time for some deep philosophical reflection?

A Broad Abroad! is running in the 10th annual FRIGID Festival at The Kraine Theater (85 East 4th St. between 2nd Ave. and Bowery) in Manhattan. Remaining dates and times: Wednesday, March 2 at 5:30 p.m. and Friday, March 4 at 8:30 p.m. Tickets are $15 for adults and $10 for students, seniors and the military. Visit www.horsetrade.info to purchase tickets.

The Steps Before Marriage

For any couple—gay or straight—the road to marriage can be filled with potholes, breakdowns and driving down one-way streets in the wrong direction. David Auxier-Loyola’s semi-autobiographical The EnGaygement, follows the evolution of his relationship with Carlos (Seph Stanek) from dating to getting engaged in New York City. The EnGaygement was originally written to be a musical and is still being further developed. Its current version is being directed by Duncan Pflaster and performed as a cabaret show at the Metropolitan Room.

The production opens with the group song, “Just Another Night,” and David singing about spending another evening at a gay bar and longing for a soulmate. Carlos sings about looking for sex at a gay leather bar called the Eagle. David appears awkward, lonely and indecisive, and Carlos is determined and focused. After the group song, David cannot decide if he should call his diary a journal because “journal” sounds more masculine for a 35‐year‐old man. Instead of reading from his diary-journal entries, David suddenly performs the song, “Like a Perfect Song.” David sings about finding true love after having his heart broken and then being alone again in the end. There are 17 songs in this show with 12 A. being a reprise of “Like a Perfect Song.” Musical director and arranger, Mark York, plays the piano beautifully throughout this performance.

In scene two, Carlos starts by saying, “Once upon a time” and then distinguishes that he is not telling a fairy tale but a "manly tale" about a princely, handsome man. Carlos then sings about his many failed relationships and how he is content with dating himself in the song, “Single and Lovin’ It.” Next, David has dinner at the apartment of his friend Colleen (Colleen Harris) and her “southern, liberal, bisexual, agnostic, PC‐hating, musical theater lovin' son of a bitch” husband, Jason (Jason Whitfield). Lastly, cast members Chris-Ian (Chris-Ian Sanchez) and Elliott (Elliott Mattox) provide comic relief.

The value of this production is its characterization of gay culture and its ability to have the characters’ personalities relate with theatergoers. The cast brings high energy and makes the text come alive. Within this space, Sanchez’s remarkable singing and acting talents stand out brilliantly.  Sanchez’s facial expressions and his ability to naturally dive into his character makes this show worth watching. On the other hand, the characters and their challenges seem outdated—like they are all still stuck in the '90s. It is unclear if this production is supposed to take place during the 1990s in New York City. The legalization of same-sex marriage or the popular use of dating apps are not present in David and Carlos’ world.

The ensemble also does not effectively represent the ethnically diverse lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) community in New York City. In doing so, The EnGaygement feels more like it takes place in New Jersey or Long Island. A more conceivable representation of New York City’s LGBT community would be the addition of a transgender character. Colleen and Jason seem more like good friends, siblings or cousins than a married couple in love. Likewise, one of the weaker scenes is when Carlos divulges that a rock hit his neck and he was a victim of gay bashing on Gay Street and Christopher Street.

The larger challenge with the current evolution of this production is its inability to powerfully stand for something extraordinary. Much of the material in this production revolves around superficial antics and heartache that is shared between two grown men who are supposedly in love with each other. It is like spending an evening watching two gay men break up, get back together, break up again, and then sing about why they cannot find love. Some of the cast members also appear to be reading their lines from the script and it gives the impression that the production is more of a public reading. At times, The EnGaygement feels more like a vanity project than a potentially new, bold musical. This limits the production’s ability to travel outside of the New York City market and reach future audiences who are seeking this material. More dialogue between the songs can further develop the plot and characters. Most importantly, Auxier-Loyola can make a bold choice and commit to either having The EnGaygement live in New York City’s cabaret world or as an Off-Broadway musical. Right now, The EnGaygement lives somewhere as a work in progress—like a house that is starting to lose its original floor plan because it is always in a state of renovation.

The EnGaygement is recommended for theatergoers who enjoy listening to live singing while having a drink at a plush venue. It is not recommended for those seeking an accomplished musical or an innovative cabaret show that will leave them transformed. There is no doubt that this production has vast potential and a very talented cast, but its holes are showing because its overall aim and direction fall short.

The EnGaygement runs until June 22 at the Metropolitan Room (34 West 22 St. between 5th Ave. and Ave. of the Americas) in Manhattan. Evening performances are April 21, May 24 and June 22 at 7 p.m. with no matinee performances. Tickets range from $20-$115 (plus a two-drink minimum). To purchase tickets, call 212-206-0440 or visit metropolitanroom.com.

A Band of Big-Top Singers

The Extraordinary Fall of the Four Legged-Woman, a new musical being shown at the 10th annual FRIGID New York festival, is based on real-life human marvel Myrtle Corbin, a woman with four legs, two of her own and the other pair belonging to a Siamese twin sister, who was fully formed only from the waist down. The show does not go into a detailed historical account of Corbin, but one suspects that the creators have been inspired by Side Show, the Broadway musical about the Hilton sisters, who were conjoined twins.

Extraordinary Fall focuses only on a small part of Corbin’s story, during which she is a member of a traveling circus sideshow. On opening night, a mysterious man comes to see it. Corbin (Madeline Bugeau-Heartt) reveals her extra pair of legs in a sly manner, lifting the outer layers of her skirt slowly. The man, Dr. Clinton Bicknell (Justy Kosek), falls head over heels for Corbin and returns every night to pursue her romantically. 

The other characters have individual acts, though what they are and what oddities make these characters “freaks”—or even if all these characters are freaks. It may be that they just have unique talents to perform. The character of Oswald (Marcus Herndon), for example, has chosen to stop performing, but the reason for his decision is never made clear, nor is the type of act he used to perform. Is he the strongest man in the world? In a choreographed movement (by Kory Geller), during one of his solos, the actor makes circles on the floor with his foot. It's not clear whether it represents Oswald becoming some sort of man-bull when he gets angry or something else.

At one point in the musical the character of Lola (Lindsey Ackerman) explains to the character of Simon-Elizabeth that she finds it easier to expose herself fully to the audience each time that she performs. Again, it is not clear what Lola is referring to. In her act she seems to be a sword swallower and tightrope walker, and she also does a striptease. Does she mean exposure relating to the striptease act? Is Simon-Elizabeth exposing himself as a hermaphrodite or a transgendered male to female? Although the show has holes in it, the way it examines what it means to be “other" is powerful. 

Although the setting is Arizona—“The light was dark one night in Arizona./The brittle stardust sunk down low" goes a lyric—Michelle Rickert’s design doesn't really evoke the terrain. It's up to the dialogue to refer to dust, to the clear nights when stars can be seen for miles and miles, and to heat that warms the days in the cooler months but turns brisk at night. 

Lily Ali-Oshatz, who plays M the Ringmaster, also wrote the show’s book, music and lyrics. This 55-minute musical, sung a capella in its entirety, is an impressive endeavor. There are haunting melodies that are hard to forget. The cast of five all have a strong musical sense and individual singing styles and vocal qualities.They have been costumed by TDF Costume Collection with stunning clothes that give the show a sense of the 1800s time period. Especially notable are the ringmaster’s striped cropped pants.

The minimalist style of set design and props also works well for the show. Bright-colored umbrellas with interior lined white twinkle lights serve many uses. Not only are they umbrellas, but they become other elements in the musical. When spinning around they are train wheels. When the actors line up with them, they act as a “theatrical flat” to create a sense of privacy as the lovers Corbin and Bicknell sing their intimate love song. Stacked on top of one another, the umbrellas become logs in a campfire, as cast members sit around them to listen to Oswald’s storytelling.

Despite the flaws, the overall concept, vision, and music are good enough to win plaudits for Ali-Oshatz's maiden effort. 

The Extraordinary Fall of the Four-Legged Woman is playing at the Kraine Theater (85 E. 4th St.). Remaining performances are Feb. 22 at 8:50 p.m.; Saturday, Feb. 27 at 1:40 p.m.; and Wednesday, March 2, at 8:50 p.m. Tickets are $10-$18 and are available online at www.frigidnewyork.info or at the Kraine Theater box office.

A Classic Coming-Of-Age Tale

We all want to know what happened to Tiny Tim, don’t we? Did he grow up healthy and strong? What was his relationship with Scrooge? Did he meet a girl and live happily ever after? The award-winning combination of playwright Alan Knee and lyricist Andre Catrini behind The Astonishing Times of Timothy Cratchit create their concept of what might have happened to Tim and it is magically “astonishing.” Knee and Catrini have a unique and darkly ethereal view of the possibilities of our favorite childhood characters and what happens when they (and we grow up). With a beautiful set, seamless score, perfect casting, and truly inspired direction by Thomas Coté, this thoughtfully written musical brings us back to our favorite Christmas story. It is the grown-up version of the classic tale that reflects the real spirit of life with an authentic Dickens' flair. It is the tale of the true value of our lives and loves and the many lessons learned as we follow our destiny. 

As soon as attendees walk into the cozy, intimate Workshop Theater, we are transported into the era of Dickens. The set, designed by Craig Napoliello, was so specific in detail and every piece had its significance in creating the mood and tone of the play. Under the musical direction of Nathaniel Beliveau, a three-piece orchestra settled into their designated stage area. Consummate in their musical skills, the trio was very much a part of the story. One could imagine them accompanying Nancy in "Oliver Twist." It was a pure joy to watch them involved in the characters’ lives as much as we were, while also playing Catrini’s score beautifully. The costumes designed by Kimberley Jean Windbiel were eerily accurate from the colors to the flow of the fabric. Each costume fit the character perfectly.

While it is a big play in a small space, Coté's direction cleanly created a space for the actors to move and tell their story. It never lagged or wandered; we were always caught up in the moment and delighted by the revelry and magic. He let the actors play. Nathan Gardner was just what one expected Tim as a young man to be. Optimistic and hopeful—a mesh of Pip and Oliver. His wide-eyed wonder at the world and his vulnerability in contrast with his confident repartee with the audience make us believe in Tim. We want him to follow his dreams. His is a delightful yet painful coming-of-age story. Having been taken in by Scrooge after his father’s death, Tim has the option to take over his mentor’s business or go off in search of his own destiny. Of course, he chooses the latter, breaking the heart of Scrooge. While we are sad for Scrooge, we root for Tim in his journey and applaud his success as he grows from his experiences into a more mature young man who realizes his potential as an artist.

Robert Stattel was magnificent as Scrooge. We empathized with him in his sorrow over Tim’s departure. In his perfect timing as he banters with Mrs. Linden (Joanie Schumacher) in the charming song, "A Cup of Tea," he endears us and wins our affections. Through Stattel’s interpretation of Scrooge, we are provoked to think of issues for the elderly in this age, so often cast aside. The relationship between Scrooge and Tim really reflect these timely moral issues. A son must leave and a parent must feel the emptiness of being left behind with just the memories. This bittersweet lesson is enhanced by Stattel’s poignant and moving performance. For example, when Tim confesses, “I feel like a blank piece of paper/like an emptiness echoes inside me." Scrooge entreats: “Empty? How can you feel empty when everything about you is alive?” With these insightful lyrics and lines, we feel the young man’s lust for life and impatience for adventure, in contrast with the old man’s awareness of how fleeting it all is and his desire to just be with the person he loves.

Once Tim leaves the safety of Scrooge’s home, he finds himself in a cheap tenement—a real Dickens' Hot L Baltimore, complete with a dancing parade of characters played by a small ensemble who were hysterically versatile in their segue from role-to-role. Under the skillful choreography of Madeline Jaye, the rhythm and timing of move-to-move made transitions smooth and sleek. Mrs. Poole (played by Virginia Roncetti) as she bossily assures Tim in the song “A Clean Establishment"; Mr. Goldsmith (played by John Martello) always looking for his teeth; and Miss Tulips (played by Kendall Rileigh) pining seductively for her far away lover—all stay true to the spirit of Dickens, in a soiree of song that is classic yet relevant and original. We are as mesmerized as Tim at his new surroundings as they frenetically frolic around him and make him feel at home.

And, of course, there is a girl. When Tim shows interest in the maid, Lucy (played saucily by Hanley Smith), she retorts in her song to him, "Boys Like You": "Silly predictable boys/thinkin' 'cause they know books and art/that makes 'em grown 'n makes 'em smart." The chemistry between Smith and Gardner is felt right away and we look forward to watching their young love blossom. 

As Tim goes off to search for fame and fortune, he stumbles upon the rare opportunity to become the assistant to the great clown, Grimaldi. D.C. Anderson as Grimaldi was sublimely humorous and light on his feet. He was reminiscent of Bernardo Bertolucci in "Children of Paradise" with a bit of the Cowardly Lion comically sashaying around. The supporting cast were Federico Fellini-esque in their playful and skillful swirl of enticement—a fusion of all the motley bunch so wonderfully created by the imaginative lyrics and score. Smith with her lyrical twirling as the flirtatious Aria and Kendall Rileigh as the slinky and flexible Mo-Mo delighted us along with the rest of the quirky troupe (Andy Ingalls and Jeff Paul) in the song, “A Modest Man.”

A powerful musical incites an emotional tilt-a-whirl in the audience. From the heights of excitement at the possibilities of Tim’s success, the story takes us down to the dark abyss of loss as well. It is crushing when Tim returns to an ailing Scrooge. In the song, “The Attic,” Stattel sings reflectively,"The world had given up/but I saw you and I knew/in an endless sort of ways/when all my days are gone/my world could live on in you." His words to Catrini’s music hit at that universal core, really touching that place in our hearts where we feel how precious life and love are. 

While there is room for the expansion of characters—one was left a bit dissatisfied with the writer’s thin explanation to Tim’s family, nor was there any reference to Scrooge’s nephew and his wife. They could have been added to the story although Robert Meksin does a noteworthy job of bringing Bob Cratchit to life in Tim's flashbacks. There were sections in the play where Tim told us the story when we would have preferred to have seen the action, but economy of space was clearly mandatory, and the ensemble talent of the cast with an impressive setting made it work. Gardner’s finale song, “My World,” leaves us with hope for life and all it brings us, both sad and joyous. We see the possibilities of a wonderful world like we always dreamed of as children when we were reading or watching "A Christmas Carol."

This should become a yearly classic on Broadway for sure. Or at least a Tim Burton film. With a bigger cast and stage, it will entertain audiences for a long time to come. It will be one of the “to do for Christmas” traditions for any who have the pleasure of seeing it.

The Astonishing Times of Timothy Cratchit is running at The Workshop Theater (312 West 36th St., 4th Fl. between 8th and 9th Aves.) in Manhattan until Dec. 19. Performances are at 7 p.m. on Thursday and at 8 p.m. on Friday and Saturday; matinees are on Saturday at 2 p.m. and Sunday at 3 p.m. Ticket prices: $18 for general admission and $15 for students and seniors. For tickets, call OvationTix at 866-811-4111 or visit www.workshoptheater.org.

Sleep-Deprived Shenanigans

Back in 1959, the Off-Broadway musical Once Upon a Mattress made a star of Carol Burnett. It’s a broad, farcical show that one might not expect from the involvement of Mary Rodgers, the daughter of Richard Rodgers (the book is by Jay Thompson, Dean Fuller and Marshall Barer; the lyrics by Barer), though her music is as lush with melody as her father’s. For the Transport Group’s production, director Jack Cummings III has cast several notable “downtown” performers in major roles, and the result is goofy, spoofy, cartoonish fun.

 

The show is based on the Hans Christian Andersen fairytale “The Princess and the Pea.” It’s about a prince, Dauntless the Drab (Jason SweetTooth Williams), who is eager to marry but whose mother, the wicked Queen Aggravain, has an unhealthy inclination to keep him single for life. Dauntless’s father, King Sextimus (David Greenspan), sympathizes with his son but is mute, the victim of a curse that will last “until the mouse devours the hawk.” The prince, meanwhile, chafes at his bachelorhood, as do all the citizens, for nobody can marry till Dauntless does. And desperately in need to marry are heartthrob Sir Harry (Zak Resnick) and his pregnant-but-not-yet-showing girlfriend, Lady Larken (Jessica Fontana).

 

Since this is a fairy tale, the wicked queen (the towering drag performer John Epperson, a.k.a. “Lypsinka,” plays Aggravain) has pre-matrimonial tests. They vary, but they have baffled all comers, and no eligible princesses are left. Desperate, Harry and Dauntless prevail on Aggravain to let Harry seek out spousal possibilities far afield. When he returns from his quest, he has found one in a distant, bog-riddled kingdom: the Princess Winnifred—the part that launched Burnett's career.

 

As Winnifred, the typically freewheeling Jackie Hoffman employs her trademark sarcasm and brashness more sparingly than usual. Known for playing shrill, blowsy characters (e.g. in On the Town and Hairspray), she has a remarkably lovely singing voice and puts it to good use in a song called “Shy” (and she is persuasive as a shy person, even if one knows better) and the second act’s “Happily Ever After.” Although too old for the part (Williams is at least a decade younger), Hoffman conveys a persuasive winsomeness and easily makes one suspend disbelief. After all, a towering man in lipstick is playing the queen—and the juxtaposition of Epperson and Hoffman is a delight to behold.

 

The book isn’t top-drawer and bits are dated—there’s a chauvinist moment when Winnifred advises Larken to apologize to Harry even though Larken is not at fault—but the actors do well by it. Cummings has let Epperson play to and even with the audience at times, and it works, although some of the actor’s schtick wears thin and may depend on one’s tolerance for drag.

 

Rodgers’s score is lovely and varied; in addition to the strenuous dance “The Spanish Panic” and the tuneful “Normandy,” there is the comic number “Man to Man Talk,” when Sextimus in gestures tries to tell Dauntless about the birds and bees.

 

Most notable is “Very Soft Shoes,” a dance for the Jester that’s not really germane to anything. With a combination of ballet and soft shoe (the choreography is by Scott Rink), and Cory Lingner’s terrific performance, the number becomes the closest thing to a show-stopper in this production.

 

While classics by Tchaikovsky and Handel are among the familiar options for entertainment during the holidays, Cummings deserves a hallelujah for spotting the possibilities of Once Upon a Mattress for something a bit different and casting it with first-rate zanies. It fits right in.

 

The musical Once Upon a Mattress plays at the Abrons Art Center (466 Grand St. at Pitt St.) in Manhattan through Jan. 3. Evening performance are at 7:30 p.m. on Tuesday-Sunday; matinees are at 2 p.m. on Saturday and Sunday with the exception of Dec. 20, which has a 3 p.m. matinee). For tickets, call OvationTix at 866-811-4111 or visit the website.

Noble Jazz Masters

The Anderson twins, Peter and Will, are back with a new show at 59E59 Theaters, where two Decembers ago they brought Le Jazz Hot: How the French Saved Jazz, a revue about the attraction of Paris for jazz musicians; that show earned them a Drama Desk nomination. Their new creation, The Count Meets the Duke, has a narrower focus—the lives of jazz titans Count Basie and Duke Ellington—and it is more of a straightforward tribute. Created and directed by the brothers, it’s not only an evening of superb musicianship but as informative as their earlier works, which include The Anderson Twins Play the Fabulous Dorseys. 

Subtitled The Anderson Twins Play Basie and Ellington, the show focuses on Count Basie in the first half, with Will narrating; Pete takes up the honors later for Ellington. There’s some crossover—both jazzmen had great respect for each other and even played together. The twins have been typically rigorous in digging up rare interviews and stills to be projected behind them, so there’s a clip of Basie praising Ellington, for instance. Also hanging on the walls are several drawings of the subjects by the late New York Times illustrator Al Hirschfeld, himself a jazz enthusiast.

As hosts, Will, who plays alto saxophone, clarinet, and flute, and Pete, who is on tenor saxophone and clarinet, lack the polish of trained actors, but their unassuming charm hits the right note for the intimate setting, and their passion is infectious. Even if one isn’t a jazz aficionado, their recitation of players whose names mean nothing to a listener makes it clear that the people who own the names are important in their field. Although, as Will notes, Thelonius Monk once said, “Talking about music is like dancing about architecture,” the brothers manage to impart a good deal of fascinating information and draw one into their musical orbit.

There are plenty of jazz milestones mentioned: Duke Ellington’s appearance at the 1956 Newport Jazz Festival, when tenor saxophonist Paul Gonsalves played 27 choruses (six or seven was the usual number), a woman jumped on stage and discarded an article of clothing for each chorus, and a riot nearly ensued. There’s the story of Basie’s upbringing: born in Red Bank, N.J., he played piano for silent films and in bars as a teenager. Later he took to the road, finding musical work with traveling burlesque shows. Finding himself in Kansas City in the 1930s—a mecca for the best jazz in the country—he buffaloed bandleader Bennie Moten, a pianist, into believing that in New York it was all the rage to have a second piano, and he got himself hired for the job.

There are film clips such as Count Basie’s bizarre appearance with his band in the middle of the desert in Mel Brooks’s Blazing Saddles (1974), and Ellington alongside James Stewart in Otto Preminger’s Anatomy of a Murder in 1959, as well as his guest shot on What’s My Line in 1953. Or the Duke waxing humorous on rhythm: “One never snaps one’s fingers on the beat—it’s considered aggressive.” There’s even a rare clip of Billy Strayhorn at the piano; his orchestrations greatly enhanced Ellington’s compositions.

All that, however, is just the background to the main event: the playing. The show features Jeb Patton on a Steinway, Clovis Nicolas on bass and Phil Stewart on drums. Whether on swing numbers like Lester Young’s “Tickle Toe,” written for Basie, and Ellington’s “Main Stem,” or on slower, more languid ones like Neal Hefti’s “Li’l Darlin,” written for Basie, and Ellington’s “The Star-Crossed Lovers,” an excerpt of a 1957 album in which the Duke focused on Shakespeare’s plays, the five-man combo is terrific. Along the way, every performer gets to shine. Pete has a solo on the clarinet in “Ad Lib on Nippon,” in which Patton has a fine solo too. Patton also performs a piano version of “Corner Pocket,” written by Freddie Green for Basie’s orchestra. There’s even a holiday excerpt from Ellington and Strayhorn’s version of Nutcracker Suite called “Sugar Rum Cherry”—a jazzy version of you-know-what.

If you’re looking for high-quality musicianship skillfully interwoven with intellectual enlightenment for the holidays, then bop over to The Count Meets the Duke.

The jazz revue The Count Meets the Duke runs through Jan. 3 at 59E59 Theaters (59 E. 59th St. between Park and Madison Aves.) in Manhattan. Tickets are $25 through Dec. 20; $35 starting on Dec. 22. Evening performances are at 7:30 p.m. Tuesday-Thursday and Sunday, and at 5:30 and 8:30 p.m. on Friday and Saturday. Matinee performances are at 2:30 p.m. on Saturday and 3:30 p.m. on Sunday. For tickets, call Ticket Central at 212-279-4200 or visit 59E59.org.

Uganda Comes to New York City

In 2005, Griffin Matthews made the nearly 7,000-mile journey from the skyscrapers of New York City to the hills of Uganda to become one of the many American volunteers looking to “find themselves” and “change the world” by building schools in Africa. Now, Matthews stars in a musical about his journey and in doing so, brings the lives of those in Uganda to a New York City stage. Sound a little cliché? Perhaps it is, but Invisible Thread is a feel-good story brought to life by a clever script, catchy score, uplifting message and talented cast.

Co-written by Griffin Matthews and real-life partner/composer Matt Gould, Invisible Thread began as a piece titled Witness Uganda which won the Richard Rodgers Award for Musical Theater in 2014. Griffin was a struggling actor booted from his church’s choir for being gay when he made the decision to leave his boyfriend Ryan (Corey Mach) behind to sign on as a volunteer. Instead of simply extolling this decision, Invisible Thread calls into question the reason that people perform altruistic deeds in the first place. Is it to help others or to help ourselves feel good? And does the motivation really matter if there is good coming from it?

Through self-deprecating humor and witty lines, both Ryan and Griffin acknowledge their somewhat stereotypical problems. “Imagine, a gay in the tenor section!” Upon arriving in Uganda at the compound where he will be building a school, Griffin meets a woman who is ironically named Joy (Adeola Role). She has built up a wall to protect herself from the constant stream of volunteers who she has learned she will never see again despite their promises. Griffin also meets Jacob (Michael Luwoye), Joy’s brother who works at the compound. They quickly form a bond and Jacob reveals what is really going on with all the schools the volunteers are building. Pastor Jim, who we never meet, immediately sells them for a profit once the volunteers leave.  

Looking for answers, Griffin follows Jacob to the market, where he encounters and befriends four teenage orphans—Ronny (Tyrone Davis, Jr.), Grace (Kristolyn Lloyd), Eden (Nicolette Robinson) and Ibrahim (Jamar Williams). Discouraged by the news that his volunteer efforts with the school will result in no real change, Griffin decides that he will instead teach these four teens and Jacob in an abandoned library. As things progress, Griffin realizes that he may be in over his head. His relationships with the students and his determination to make a difference strengthen despite the obstacles.

Throughout the musical, contemporary songs mix with ones of a more Sub-Saharan styling but all are catchy and moving. The choreography by Sergio Trujillo and Darrell Grand Moultrie complements the music wonderfully and adds an energy and power to the performance that is further enhanced by stunning, soulful vocals from the ensemble. A dirt stage is slightly mismatched with the two projection screens, calling attention to the differences between New York City and Uganda.

Diane Paulus directs a talented cast with Role delivering a standout performance as Joy. Mach does what he can with the role of Ryan, though the character seems somewhat less developed than it could be and appears to be an evolving piece in the script based on previous iterations of the production. The climax in the second act seems somewhat muddled, though everything comes together in the end, perhaps too perfectly to properly portray the complicated topics addressed. Invisible Thread is a production which is clearly a result of passion and purpose but it manages to avoid becoming preachy or self-promotional.

Invisible Thread is playing at Second Stage Theater (305 West 43^rd St. between 8th and 9th Aves.) through December 27. Tickets range from $69-$125 and can be purchased by calling 212-246-4422 or visiting www.2st.com. 

Getting Down and Dirty

Over the years, musical theater has certainly seen its fair share of romantic comedies—from 1970's Company to 2011's First Date—the concept of young people finding love onstage seems almost as ancient and time-honored a ritual as love itself. However, none seem to match the irreverent and brashy style of Level II Theatre's Love is Like Mud. Presented as part of the 2015 New York International Fringe Festival, at intimate downtown venue Drom, Mud sets itself apart as a delightful, fizzy romantic comedy "cocktail"—heavy on the comedy.

At the show's open, we meet lovelorn Jon (Gavin Rohrer), as he, following a recent breakup, laments to his parents about the merits of love. In an attempt to comfort his son, Marshal (Jay Liebowitz) memorably dispenses this piece of wisdom: "It's pliable, dirty. Love isn't like a diamond. It's more like...mud." With this thought in mind, Jon enters once more into the breach, braving the city streets alone in search of that messy thing called love—until, like a clod of dirt in the face, it finds him. In what could only be described as a "Missed Connections" advertisement come to life and set to music, Jon meets Anne (Taylor Kate Manns) after recognizing her from their regular commute home ("Same Spot Again"). He asks her out, and after the success of their first date ("Excellent Choice"), they embark on a relationship together. For a while, all is well and at the height of their time together, even Jon's parents get in on the act, prodding them about taking that "next step" in their relationship ("Grandkids").

Soon afterward, the "honeymoon goggles" come off and their seemingly-blissful phase starts to wane. In a complete turnaround, Anne begins to recount Jon's faults ("The Little Things") and Jon, for his part, soon develops that ever-dreaded roving eye ("Wanderlust"). The two eventually part ways, and at the instruction of their friends, drunken metal-head Angelo and yoga health-nut Maya (also played by Liebowitz and Elise Raynard, respectively), try playing the field ("Revolving Doors"). But as the saying goes, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and after bumping into one another at a farmer's market, Jon and Anna both realize that they're only stronger together ("Other Girls [The Only One Ever]"). 

As far as romantic comedies go, Mud doesn't stray too far from the pack, plot-wise. However, its clever coupling of onstage antics—particularly those concerning plush genitalia—and campy song lyrics provide a much-needed offbeat kick. Writer-director Benjamin Folstein's band, Level II, lends much of Mud's comedic flair through its catalog of original songs, which references influences from jazz to 90s pop-rock. Both lyrically and structurally, the songs do not follow the traditional musical theater format, presenting a unique take on the genre that is ultimately much fresher than the show's "dirty" name implies.  

It is the aforementioned performances of the actors, however, which certainly add the "oomph" to the music's kick. As the two twenty-somethings at the center of the show, Rohrer and Manns demonstrate great chemistry with one another, both vocally and physically. The latter's solo performance in the middle of the show ("There You Are")—reminiscent of Karessa's solo in Jonathan Larson's Tick, Tick... Boom!, another off-Broadway hit— definitely brought the house down. For their part, Liebowitz and Raynard are the perfect foils to the more even-tempered lead duo, providing much of the show's comedic relief. 

Love is patient, love is kind; but what they never tell you is that it's also kind of a hot mess. Folstein and Level II Theatre's Love is Like Mud gets down to the nitty-gritty of it all, while also gettin' down to some good, ol' fashioned rock 'n' roll. The music may not always feature pretty little love songs, but they still get to the heart of the matter. That is, after all, what love's about.

Level II Theatre's production of Love is Like Mud ran at the DROM (85 Avenue A between 5th and 6th Street) in Manhattan from August 15-29 at the New York International Fringe Festival. For more information about this production, visit www.loveislikemud.com.  

Dressed to Cross

Matthew Lopez, best known for The Whipping Boy, an intense drama about slavery and the Civil War, could hardly have followed it with something more different than The Legend of Georgia McBride, a confection of spangles and sass at the Lucille Lortel Theatre. The new play is a farce in the vein of La Cage aux Folles and Tootsie, leavened with some obvious sermonizing about finding one’s inner self and celebrating the indomitability required to wear a dress and padding—sort of “Climb ev’ry mountain, find ev’ry frock.” It’s good fun, and there are plenty of laughs, but it’s also predictable. Uptown, for instance, an empowered drag queen saves a whole factory full of straight people by manufacturing irrepressible footwear.

Skillfully structured by Lopez, and well-directed by Mike Donahue for MCC Theater, Georgia McBride follows a young married man, Casey (Dave Thomas Brown), who can’t manage to support his wife, Jo (Afton Williamson), by performing as Elvis. When they’re about to be evicted from their home because they’re behind on their rent, and Jo is pregnant, the irresponsible Casey reassures Jo with “We’ll figure it out."

The bar in the Florida panhandle—Panama City, to be exact—where Casey is working is hanging on by a thread. Georgia McBride takes off when Casey’s boss, Eddie (Wayne Duvall), brings in a distant cousin to transform the club into a gay bar “destination.” The cousin, Matt McGrath’s tall, skeptical Tracy Mills, is a drag queen who arrives backstage resembling a Tennessee Williams character, turbaned and weary. She has another drag queen in tow, Anorexia Nervosa, aka Rexy (Keith Nobbs). Casey’s Elvis impersonation is eliminated, but Eddie is kind enough to let him stay around to tend bar. Rexy, however, has a drinking problem, and one night before her “Edith Piaf number,” she passes out. Quicker than you can say “bouffant hairdo,” Casey is put into a wig and dress and ordered to perform as Piaf.

 

“I don’t know anything about doing drag!” whines Casey. “Has that ever stopped anyone?” Tracy sensibly responds. Casey is initially disastrous—but Donahue has pitched the gradual transformations skillfully through a succession of scenes, until Casey fully inhabits the drag and finds his true persona, a country music diva named Georgia McBride. All the way along Brown is excellent, persuasive both as the straight husband and the feminized drag queen. Helpfully, he never registers as androgynous; he’s a masculine male, yet in women’s clothes his Y chromosome never shows.

Under Tracy’s tutelage, Georgia starts as an ugly duckling but becomes a star. In typical farce fashion, however, Casey doesn’t tell his Jo what he’s up to. He just hands her the increased income and explains that bookings of heavy metal bands have increased profits at the bar, which is 40 miles from their home. Eventually, of course, Jo finds out everything, and there’s some dramatic hand-wringing about whether she will leave him, but none of it rings true, and Williamson in the thankless role can’t do much to invest it with suspense. 

The cast is mostly outstanding. Nobbs plays two roles, and as Rexy he’s not really convincing as a woman, unless you think “roller derby.” (The idea that Rexy could pull off Piaf is ludicrous.) But as Casey’s henpecked neighbor Jason, the actor shows why he’s one of his generation’s outstanding artists. A highlight of the production is Jason’s recollection of his dating “a gender nonconformist” that Nobbs imbues with nostalgia, rue and gentle humor.

McGrath as Tracy has the showiest role, and he seizes it with relish, by turns sympathetic, caustic, disdainful, but most often indomitable. He has the fun of dropping most of the inside references: to Stephen Sondheim (Company, Sweeney Todd and West Side Story), What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?, and Auntie Mame, among many others.

Anita Yavich supplies all the explosions of color one expects from drag costumes—and there are plenty of them—and Ben Stanton’s lighting is sometimes subdued, sometimes garish, and always fun. Donyale Werle has contributed a set that screams “sleazy white trash.” (It’s a stereotype that Lopez indulges in as well, when Jason speaks of his wife and children: “There were rumors we had some cousins in common, and now I think that might have been true.”)

All in all, The Legend of Georgia McBride covers well-tilled ground, but has enough wit and wisdom of its own to make a visit pleasurable.  

The MCC Theater production of The Legend of Georgia McBride runs at the Lucille Lortel Theatre (121 Christopher St. between Bleecker and Hudson Sts.) in Manhattan through Oct. 11. Evening performances are at 7 p.m. on Tuesday and Wednesday, and 8 p.m. on Friday and Saturday, with Thursday evening performances at 7 p.m. on Oct. 1, and at 8 p.m. on Sept. 24 and Oct. 8. Tickets may be purchased by calling 212-727-7722 or visiting www.mcctheater.org.