Broadway Reviews

WICKED

Who can say what is good and what is wicked?  Wicked addresses this question without answering it.  The answer lies buried somewhere in context, and Wicked presents us with rich context which is at the same time both familiar and strange.  The familiar territory, at least for women, comes in the relationship between two young schoolgirls, popular Glinda and outcast Elphaba.  Glinda discovers the humanity of Elphaba hidden under her hideous green skin and undertakes to give Elphaba a lesson in becoming "popular."  She proceeds to give Elphaba instructions in how to provocatively toss her hair.  Is popularity shallow? The two young women become best friends, a relationship tried and broken when they vie for the affections of a young man.

The strange (and yet, strangely familiar) comes from the placement of the story in the very, merry land of Oz, one of the few landscapes that is shared by all American generations.  It seems the Emerald City, where the predominant color is green (green--a lush and verdant color of growth--and money) , should provide a natural refuge for green-skinned Elphaba.  We even discover that the Wizard of Oz is her natural father; surely, she has reached an environment in which she will thrive; but, it is not to be.

(Spoiler alert.)  So, does good conquer evil or does evil prevail?  Neither.  Essentially, the green-skinned high-school outcast runs off with the good-looking guy, and the popular girl is left behind to fight for right and justice.  That part I didn't exactly get, but all-in-all, it was a very pleasant evening.  The production was stunning; the music was interesting and tied to the story; the acting and singing were high quality; the choreography was entertaining.  The theatre was comfortable (although without enough women's restrooms). What's not to like?  It was Broadway at its best.

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VANYA AND SONIA AND MASHA AND SPIKE

Laughter is known as the best medicine, and this play handed out a good dose.  Laughs came from the first line and never stopped.  Author Christopher Durang created an interesting sister-brother-sister combination.  Family relationships never fail to make for interesting drama, as Chekov knew and Durang reminds us. Vanya (David Hyde Pierce) and adopted sister Sonia (Kristine Nielsen) were left to care for the old folks while flashy, globe-trotting movie-star sister Masha (Sigourney Weaver) pays the bills with proceeds from her five hit movies in which she starred as a sexy serial killer.  When Masha comes to visit the family homestead bringing with her a young stud lover, old family conflicts take over.  Fueled by an invitation to a costume party and the predictions of voodoo-practicing housekeeper named Cassandra, events proceed, not according to plan but according to destiny.

 

It was my first time in the Golden Theatre, a beautiful, intimate venue that seats only 850.  Built in 1927, it contained all the columns and gilt and curlicues typical of the Victorian style.  My seat, which I purchased just an hour before the performance, was 7th row center.  This play deserves all the accolades it will be getting at the Tony awards.  The writing was spot-on; the set was impeccable; and the cast was perfect, both as an ensemble and as individuals. 

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THE NANCE

I really wanted to like this play, but I didn't.  "Nance" is a pejorative term used to refer to an effeminate male performer in Vaudeville.  This play took place in 1937 when Vaudeville was a dying animal and homosexuals were persecuted.  The "Nance" role of Chauncey was played by...drumroll...Nathan Hale, and the story alternated between scenes from his Vaudeville performances and from his life.  The Vaudeville scenes, with their perky female strippers and constant gay innuendoes, won the day.  Chauncey's life became increasingly sordid and bitter. 

The play began in an Automat noted as a pick-up spot for New York gays.  Chauncey picked up a young homeless man and the scene switched to Chauncey's Hell's Kitchen apartment where, of course, the couple moved from sexual relationship to love.  The remainder of the play was spent lamenting the closing of the Vaudeville era and Chauncey feeling increasingly sorry for himself.  Eventually, Chauncey sent the young man away and returned to the Automat for another pick-up, only to be arrested by the vice police for kissing his young man goodbye.


For me, the relationship between the two men never became real enough, and their break-up didn't move me to tears.  Maybe bitterness is just not attractive enough to evoke pity or empathy, and bitterness was all Chauncey could muster from his situation.   I only mustered relief that I could rise from my overly hard chair and call it the end of a long day.