The Tempest

It looks like you kids are all as busy as I've been, but I'm finding that blogging can be entirely necessary in the valiant preservation of sanity, so I'm going to keep trying to move ahead with it.

All week, I've been trying to come up with a word to accurately describe Steppenwolf's production of The Tempest. I've come to the conclusion that there isn't one. A word has yet to be introduced into the vast English language that will appropriately describe this production. I'm thinking of making one up, for this very purpose. But I don't know if Merriam Webster is that into suggestions. But please understand before I go on that this word, whatever it is, would be positive, not negative.

I saw the show on Tuesday night, the one night a week I don't have class. And I find that if I go on a Tuesday, I'll have an easier time getting student tickets - boy, did I. I was in center orchestra row D, for $15. The folks sitting next to me probably paid at least $60. Would have been worth $60 though.

...Even as I'm sitting here typing, I'm having a difficult time reviewing this play. It's extraordinary, first of all. It commands your attention literally within the first second (it also may well be the loudest play I've ever seen - the woman beside me jumped a foot when it began). There should be a warning - this play is not for the weak of heart. It's certainly the most exciting production of a Shakespeare play I've even seen. And easily the most daring. The way it's done, it's almost a musical. A hip musical. There's a dance sequence in the second act that you really and truly need to see to believe. Even as I was watching it, I had to blink and remind myself that I wasn't experiencing some kind of tremendously entertaining acid trip.

If you're in Chicago, see this. That's about the best I can do. I recommend it, highly, though I'm having no luck at all conveying it. Just see it.

A weekend of theatre

Cynthia Nixon and Josh Stamberg, in Distracted.

I'm "home" in Philadelphia for spring break. Philadelphia means nothing to me. Its close proximity to New York City does. Thus, I spent the entire weekend there seeing shows. Three shows in two days.

First up was Roundabout's Distracted at the Laura Pels, starring Cynthia Nixon. I love the Laura Pels Theatre. So many good times there, seeing the great Blythe Danner in Suddenly Last Summer (twice!), and The Marriage of Bette and Boo last summer. I wasn't sure what to think of Distracted, because I had intentionally not checked out any reviews. I was stunned by it. It was fabulous. The set...cannot be described without pictures. I've never seen anything like it. Unbelievably high tech, and way too cool. Cynthia Nixon, as expected, was wonderful - and very unlike anything I'd seen her in. The entire cast was great, and the play was both thoughtful and funny. I highly recommend it.

Saturday night was 33 Variations, starring Jane Fonda, Colin Hanks, and Samantha Mathis. Well. I don't think I need to tell you about the brilliance that is Jane Fonda. That goes without saying. She was outstanding, as were Colin Hanks and Samantha Mathis. The set and the direction of the play - fantastic. Almost awe-inspiring. The play itself, I thought, was lacking however. I found my attention veering off now and then, which is rare for me in the theatre, and it seemed almost contrived in its attempt to align the life of Jane Fonda's character with Beethoven himself. The writing just seemed...lazy to me, reliant on conventions. That said, that's no excuse to miss this play. You don't miss Jane Fonda. You just don't.

Sunday, we took in a matinee of Exit the King, which officially opens later this week. The show starred Oscar winners Geoffrey Rush and Susan Sarandon (both of whom I have adored for years and years), as well as Lauren Ambrose (from one of my favorite shows, Six Feet Under) and the always hilarious Andrea Martin. With a cast like this, I was convinced the show couldn't fail. But the play is just one giant question mark. From beginning to end, you have absolutely no idea what's going on, or what the point is. It's an absolute farce, but there's no substance there. And the ending, while somewhat riveting (thanks to the nuanced acting of the play's two formidable leads), comes out of left field and is altogether baffling. I admire the effort - and the performances are all absolutely winning (I had no idea Lauren Ambrose had a flair for the melodramatic and nonsensical - she's fantastic) - but the play itself, unless I missed something somewhere along the way, is rather pointless.

I have been obscenely blessed by the theatre gods the last couple weeks, and I have to be thankful for that. But I do have to say that the shows I've seen in Chicago recently really do eclipse what I've seen in New York of late. I wonder what that says. As I noted to my mother this weekend, I wish Broadway was in Chicago and Chicago was in California. Then life would truly be perfect.