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Blu-rays of the Week
Disclosure and Striptease
(Warners)
Back in the mid 90s, Demi Moore tried to resuscitate a moribund career by starring in Andrew Bergman’s Showgirls-lite disaster, Striptease (1996), in which a sullen Moore sleepwalks through a risible melodrama about a single mom turned stripper.
Moore fares better in 1994’s Disclosure, Barry Levinson’s crackling adaptation of Michael Crichton’s hot-button bestseller about reverse sexual harassment, which co-stars Michael Douglas. Both movies look quite good on Blu-ray; no extras.
Elite Squad
(Flatiron)
From the maker of Bus 174 comes an equally taut cop drama which dismantles the notion that kid gloves are the best way to deal with Brazil’s rampant crime wave.
Director Jose Padilha dives into the muck of police corruption and political inefficiency with vividly shot and edited action sequences that showcase an unraveling society that makes ours look spotless. The Blu-ray looks spectacularly sharp; the lone extra is an hour-long making-of featurette.
Immortals
(Fox)
Tarsam Singh Dhandwar uses CGI to hide storytelling and character deficiencies in his unoriginal telling of ancient mythology, with fantastical episodes flying by so quickly that any initial excitement wears off and a pall takes over.
Also, the movie is so dark that it’s hard to discern just what’s going on, which takes away the luminousness of his Phaedra (a gorgeous Frieda Pinto) and the chiseled warriors (played by Henry Cavill and Stephen Dorff, among others). At least there’s Mickey Rourke’s hamminess as King Hyperion for occasional laughs. The hi-def image looks slightly artificial thanks to so many special effects. Extras include a making-of, deleted scenes, alternate opening and ending.
Jack and Jill
(Sony)
I’m no Adam Sandler fan, so two Sandlers--a “normal” Adam and one in drag--is too much to take in this would-be comedy. Playing twin brother and sister, Sandler is unfunny and unappealing as ever. Even with cameos by Norm Macdonald, David Spade, Christie Brinkley, Dana Carvey, Shaquille O’Neal and Johnny Depp and with an always likeable Katie Holmes as his wife, its 90 minutes are nearly unendurable.
The only reason to watch is Al Pacino’s over-the-top but amusing work as himself: his ranting on a cell phone onstage while playing Shakespeare is the best scene by far. The Blu-ray image is good; extras include featurettes, interviews, deleted scenes and bloopers.
Mandrill
(Magnet)
This fast-moving, flimsy Spanish thriller stars Marko Zaror as a hired killer as good with the ladies as he is knocking guns out of enemies’ hands with fancy footwork.
Despite the silliness, Zaror and Celine Reymond (as the beautiful daughter of his intended target) together have a frisky sex appeal that perks up a movie otherwise bent on endless routine showdowns between our antihero and the even badder guys. With an excellent Blu-ray transfer, the disc’s extras are making-of featurettes.
9-1/2 Weeks
(Warners)
Adrian Lyne’s 1986 study of a lonely art dealer degrading herself in a sexual relationship with a walled-off Wall Street broker isn’t nearly as naked psychologically as it is physically.
Lyne’s gauzy, Vaseline-lensed style doesn’t lend itself to gritty filmmaking, but thanks to Kim Basinger and Mickey Rourke’s immersion in their characters and down-and-dirty, mid-80s Manhattan, the movie succeeds at showing the depths of sexual depravity. The image--with the perfect amount of grain--is very film-like.
Recoil
(Vivendi)
If you like Stone Cold Steve Austin, be warned that not only has he dropped the first half of his moniker, but he proves that his acting is also “stone cold.”
Although he’s amazingly stiff as a bounty hunter against an array of sleazy bad guys, the relentless action and colorful support by Danny Trejo as his wife and child’s killer and the bright, sexy Serinda Shaw as the woman he protects. The hi-def transfer is first-rate; extras include a making-of featurette, interviews and deleted scenes.
Scarlet Street
(Kino Classics)
One of his best American films, Fritz Lang’s 1945 character study stars the always reliable Edward G. Robinson as a company cashier embroiled in a dead-end love affair with a streetwalker (Joan Bennett at her alluring best).
Lang creates an unnerving atmosphere of undeniable dread and uncontrollable destiny on stage bound Manhattan streets. The movie, despite the flickers of age in the print, has an immediacy and vibrancy on Blu-ray; extras are commentary and photo gallery.
DVDs of the Week
Above Suspicion
(Acorn)
This commanding British TV series combines the talents of writer Lynda La Plante (Prime Suspect), director Gilles MacKinnon and outstanding acting by Ciaran Hinds and Kelly Reilly, who comes into her own as the novice detective who learns on the job.
The tension between Hinds and Reilly isn’t exclusively sexual, but their plausibly fraught relationship compels us to keep watching as the cases they’re working on become gorier and stranger. MacKinnon’s sharp direction holds the stories together as his actors create nuanced characters. Extras include on-set footage and interviews.
London River
(Cinema Libre)
This touching and intimate study of two parents desperately trying to uncover information about their missing children after the 2005 London bombings is distinguished by director Rachid Bouchareb’s refusal to sentimentalize, even as the story--Guernsey mom and African dad slowly come to an understanding after piecing together that her daughter and his son were in love--settles for inflated melodrama.
Great acting by Brenda Blethyn and Sotigui Kouyate contribute to making this modest soap opera a must-watch.
Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg
(Coviello)
At its Nuremberg “home,” Wagner’s lone comic opera--all 4-1/2 hours of it--gets a spacious staging by director D. Mouchtar-Samorai and an excellent musical performance by orchestra and chorus under the baton of Marcus Bosch.
In such a lengthy opera, stamina is all--it always is in Wagner--and the leads give it their best, despite the occasional vocal hiccup: Albert Pesendorfer (Hans Sachs), Jochen Kupfer (Beckmesser), Michael Putsch (Walther) and Michaela Maria Mayer (Eva) are superb singers all.
The Myth of the American Sleepover
(MPI/Sundance Selects)
David Robert Mitchell’s sometimes incisive glimpse at American teenagers, circa the 1970s, deals with a group of school kids dealing with one another on the last night before the school year begins.
It’s too bad Mitchell’s script starts to meander after awhile; the early, funny yet melancholy and intimate scenes succumb to wishful thinking by the end. Still, it’s well-acted by a cast of mostly unknown young performers, and so worth seeing.
Octubre and The Sky Turns
(New Yorker Video)
These distinctive films give a good impression of what revamped New Yorker Films has to offer. Peruvian directors Daniel and Diego Vega’s Octubre is a quietly droll character study with shades of Bresson and Jarmusch in its deadpan style; in The Sky Turns, Mercedes Alvarez eloquently records her impressions of the Spanish region she returns to after 35 years away, and finds her small village literally disappearing: only 14 people remain.
Both films look striking in their transfers; bonuses include earlier short films (on both discs) and an interview with Daniel Vega (Octubre).
CDs of the Week
Penderecki: Sinfoniettas
(Naxos)
Polish master Krzysztof Penderecki, now age 78, has been through several stylistic changes in a lengthy career; this disc concentrates on his string music spanning 35 years, from 1963’s baroque-influenced Three Pieces in Old Style to the modernist intensity of 1997’s Serenade.
In between, Sinfoniettas 1 & 2 (1992, 1994) are captivating orchestrations of chamber works, while the Capriccio for Oboe has a lightheartedness atypical of the usually overwrought composer. Antoni Wit conducts the fine Warsaw Philharmonic Chamber Orchestra, and soloists Artur Pachlewski (clarinet) and Jean-Louis Capezzali (oboe) shine in the spotlight.
Rautavaara: Cello and Percussion Concertos
(Ondine)
The greatest living composer (he’s 83) is a vital Finnish modernist, and this disc premieres two recent compositions and a revised early work.
The moody, introspective but vibrant Cello Concerto No. 2 has a perfect advocate in soloist Truls Mork; the propulsive Percussion Concerto, titled Incantations, is played by another Rautavaara advocate, soloist Colin Currie. 1957’s Modificata, with an opening movement added in 2003, bridges his early 12-tone work and his later, staunchly post-romantic style. Conductor John Storgards ably leads the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra.
Zwicker: Death and the Maiden
(Musiques Suisses)
Obscure Swiss composer Alfons Karl Zwicker wrote this opera based on Ariel Dorfman’s play--and subsequent Roman Polanski movie--about an Argentine woman revisiting her earlier torture when the man who was behind it shows up on her and her husband’s doorstep.
Cleverly interpolating Schubert’s famous string quartet into his aggressively dissonant score, Zwicker never stoops to sentimentality but fails to find the drama underlying the material. The cast of three and choir perform exceptionally well.
The Lady from Dubuque
Starring Jane Alexander, Catherine Curtin, Michael Hayden, Peter Francis James, Tricia Paoluccio, Laila Robins, Thomas Jay Ryan, C.J. Wilson
Written by Edward Albee; directed by David Esbjornson
Beyond the Horizon
Starring Rod Brogan, Patricia Conolly, Lucas Hall, Jonathan Judge-Russo, Aimee Laurence, Joanna Leister, Wrenn Schmidt, David Sitler, John Thomas Wait
Written by Eugene O'Neill; directed by Ciarán O'Reilly
Assistance
Starring Michael Esper, Sue Jean Kim, Virginia Kull, Lucas Near-Verbrugghe, Amy Rosoff, Bobby Steggert
Written by Leslye Headland; directed by Trip Cullum
Like most Edward Albee plays of the past 40 years, The Lady from Dubuque (which lasted a mere dozen performances on Broadway in 1980) is vulgar, trivial and oh so familiar: we meet six unpleasant people at a party in an upscale suburban house where getting drunk is the game. Well, one of the games: the play opens with these three couples playing “20 Questions” (with its insistent refrain, “who am I?”), as Albee sledgehammers home his play’s themes of loss of identity and fractured relationships, for starters.
As alcohol-induced insults fly, the evening’s hostess, Jo, takes shots at everyone, including her weak-willed husband Sam. But since Jo has a terminal disease, it’s apparently OK for her to be nasty to her guests and spouse. When the party finally breaks up, the others leave, Jo and Sam go upstairs to bed, and Act I ends with the arrival of two elegantly attired gate crashers: the title character--why she’s from Dubuque is simply so Albee can shoehorn in Harold Ross’s famous quip about New Yorker magazine not being for “the old lady in Dubuque”--and her black sidekick, Oscar.
Act II, the next morning, becomes even more vicious, as the new arrivals first stage an interminable conversation with Sam, who rightly (and repeatedly) asks, “who are you?”; after the other couples improbably return, Elizabeth--who insists she’s Jo’s mother-- comforts Jo while Sam (a properly ravaged Michael Hayden) is beaten down and tied up merely for trying to protect his dying wife from two strangers: even if no one believes him.
Albee was influenced by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross’s book On Death and Dying, which explained the five stages of death. Aside from naming the angel of death after the author, there’s very little Kubler-Ross here; but there’s a lot of Albee. The vulgarity, casual racism and sexism, shaky tonal shifts (here in the form of asides to the audience) and arbitrary character actions: Albee’s done it all before, from The Zoo Story and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf to A Delicate Balance and Seascape. Even Albee’s infamously bitchy dialogue, while occasionally amusing, palls quickly.
David Esbjornson directs spiffily on John Arnone’s sparkling set, while the cast makes Albee’s caricatures more intensely felt than they deserve. If Laila Robins evokes too well the shrillness and pain of Jo, she’s beautifully balanced by Jane Alexander’s masterly underplaying as the calm, cool Elizabeth. But neither they nor the others can save The Lady from Dubuque from stewing in its own vacuousness.
The creaky dramaturgy of Eugene O’Neill’s first full-length play, 1920’s Beyond the Horizon, never erases the dramatic power of a story that, though familiar, feels fresh thanks to its author’s seriousness and the Irish Rep’s respectful production.
Robert Mayo decides to join his uncle, Captain Scott, on a lengthy ocean voyage, leaving his parents’ Massachusetts farm: his less-bookish brother Andrew shoulders the bulk of the heavy work anyway. At the last minute, however, Robert and local gal Ruth admit their love for each other and agree to marry, so he decides to remain. Now it’s Andrew-- whose unspoken love for Ruth is now unattainable--agrees to leave with his uncle. When the play ends nine years later, this broken family will have been irrevocably changed.
O’Neill compensates for his overexplanatory dialogue (if audience members take drinks every time the play’s title is mentioned, a lot of people will be plastered) with skillfully depicted relationships and Ruth’s tragically downward spiral. The humanity marking O’Neill’s best plays is present; if his poetry is spotty, there are signs of the master he would become.
Under Ciaran O’Reilly’s intelligent direction, a warmhearted cast is led by Rod Brogan’s Andrew and Wrenn Schmidt’s Ruth, who perfectly--and powerfully--portray the ambivalence contained in O’Neill’s daring final lines.
In Leslye Headland’s Assistance, minions working for A Great Man (likely modeled on movie mogul Harvey Weinstein, once Headland’s boss) deal with his impossible demands and unthinking way of treating them. At first, it’s amusing to watch these breathless young men and women field countless phone calls and smooth over missed appointments and other blunders made trying to keep an unhappy boss happy.
Soon, however, the fun ends: not because Assistance turns serious (it doesn’t), but because Headland has nowhere to go. There are simply more instances of assistants trying--and failing--so in desperation, the playwright and her canny director Trip Cullman resort to diversions such as a few phone-call monologues and an absurdist dance finale that concludes by destroying the hated office (clever set design by David Korins).
While these two-dimensional office workers aren’t real people, Virginia Kull is able to pinpoint Nora's trajectory from eager novice to burned-out veteran in the space of a few scenes. Assistance would play much better if it was shorter--by an hour, at least.
The Lady from Dubuque
Previews began February 14, 2012; opened March 5; closes April 15
Signature Theatre, 480 West 42nd Street, New York, NY
http://signaturetheatre.org
Beyond the Horizon
Previews began February 15, 2012; opened February 26; closes April 8
Irish Rep, 132 West 22nd Street, New York, NY
http://irishrep.com
Assistance
Previews began February 3, 2012; opened February 28; closes March 11
Playwrights Horizons, 416 West 42nd Street, New York, NY
http://playwrightshorizons.org
Aside from its cultural, historical and sociological value, the film also records that horrible day in 2006 when 10 Amish schoolgirls were shot by a non-Amish madman (five were killed): that tragedy takes on a poetic turn when we hear how the Amish community responded. The Blu-ray looks splendid; lone extra is a brief making-of featurette.
La Boheme
(Opera Australia)
Giacomo Puccini’s operatic warhorse remains affectingly melodramatic, especially when such talented young leads star in this refreshingly straightforward Opera Australia production: tenor Ji-Min Park is a good Rodolfo, but Takesha Meshe Kizart as Mimi is the real deal, with acting ability, sensuality and a booming voice in equal measure.
There’s a solid pit performance from the orchestra and conductor Shao Chia-Lu, but Kizart--whose first video this is, with many more surely to come--runs away with it.
The Cinema of Jean Rollin
(Redemption/Kino Lorber)
The five films collected here--all available separately on Blu-ray--show the macabre talent of the French director who combined Hammer horror with soft-core titillation.
With titles like The Nude Vampire (1970), The Shiver of the Vampires (1971), The Iron Rose (1973), Lips of Blood (1975) and Fascination (1979), you know what you’re getting: B-movie thrillers with copious amounts of blood and sex. Rollin’s unique style looks realistically grainy on Blu-ray. Extras include interviews and deleted scenes.
Unforgiven
(Warners)
Clint Eastwood’s downbeat--and overlong--western was 1992’s Best Picture Oscar winner, combining old-fashioned revenge with blatant moralizing about it.
Although he’s a clearheaded director, Clint is nevertheless as stiff as always onscreen as the aging cowboy; at least he gets colorful support from Gene Hackman, Richard Harris and Morgan Freeman. The new Blu-ray release features a clear, sharp picture; extras include various featurettes and a commentary by critic Richard Schickel commentary.
Urbanized
(New Video)
Our 21st century world must deal with the inevitable overcrowding of cities, particularly in slum-laden places like Asia’s Mumbai. Gary Hustwit’s documentary account of what should be done is beautifully shot, taking full advantage of the widescreen space and added clarity of the Blu-ray image.
This visual tour de force with an important message includes interviews with city planners, urban designers and architects, who mostly come to the same conclusion: our very lives--and futures--are affected by the designs of cities. Extras include over an hour of additional interviews.
Vanya on 42nd Street
(Criterion)
Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya doesn’t translate to Mametian language and downtown New York theater acting, as Louis Malle’s loving 1994 record of Andre Gregory’s flaccid “staging” starring Wallace Shawn as the least likely Vanya ever.
There are non-embarrassing performances by Larry Pine, Brooke Smith and Julianne Moore, but the delicate balance of tragedy and human comedy at the heart of Chekhov’s art is missing; at least the crumbling Amsterdam Theater--now renovated and housing Disney’s Mary Poppins--looks spectacularly rundown. The film looks decent on Blu-ray; the lone extra is a featurette containing new interviews with the principals (sans Malle, who died in 1995).
World on a Wire
(Criterion)
Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s three-hour sci-fi epic, made for German TV in 1973, is as deadpan and cerebral as his other films, which is good or bad, depending on your point of view. For those who don’t genuflect before every piece of celluloid Fassbinder shot, Wire has its mind numbing stretches, as the low-key drama often enters the realm of camp.
The film has gotten a superior upgrade to Blu-ray, looking as clean as it can considering the 16mm source. Bonus features include a documentary on the film’s making and an interview with film scholar Gerd Gemünden.
Zaat
(Cultra)
One of the silliest low-budget horror movies ever follows a mutant monster--half-man, half-fish--that terrorizes unsuspecting victims.
The directorial, writing, acting, makeup and special effects ineptitude is truly something to behold--and obviously why it’s become a cult fave over the years, akin to the wretched celluloid by Ed Wood. Even with a thorough restoration, the movie’s cheapness still shines through. Extras include a commentary, radio interview and restoration demo.
DVDs of the Week
French Fields: Complete Collection
(Acorn Media)
The Fields, a perfectly respectable middle-aged couple living in suburban London, decide to move across the Channel to France for hubby William’s new job with wife Hester keeping house at the new home.
Their adventures with their new Gallic neighbors make for a pleasantly engaging Britcom. Anton Rodgers and Julia McKenzie are a devastatingly funny couple, and the British-French stereotypes are good fodder for humor that’s done fairly restrainedly without many obvious or cheap laughs.
No Subtitles Necessary: Laszlos & Vilmos
(Cinema Libre)
Two influential cinematographers--Laszlo Kovacs and Vilmos Zsigmond--are profiled in this entertaining, even touching documentary that follows their friendship in Communist Hungary (from which they escaped following the failed 1956 revolution, which they filmed) through their superbly successful careers in Hollywood.
Along with discussions with both men (Kovacs died in 2007), there are ample film clips and welcome comments from colleagues like Dennis Hopper, Bob Rafelson, Mark Rydell, Owen Roizman, Sharon Stone and Peter Fonda, who all hold them in awe. Extras include added interviews.
That Show with Joan Rivers
(Synergy)
In 1968, Joan Rivers hosted an interesting half-hour New York-based talk show in which she discussed a topic with an expert and a celebrity. The results, based on the 18 episodes on three discs, are a funny insider’s look at what was going on in the late ‘60s.
The first episode, Nudism, features Johnny Carson, who later banned Joan from The Tonight Show after she began her own talk show. Other guests include Steve Lawrence, Carol Lawrence, Soupy Sales and Shecky Greene, all quite popular back then. This entertaining time capsule is also historically enlightening.
Tim Marlow at the Courtauld and
Marlow Meets…Series One
(Seventh Art)
British TV host Tim Marlow’s pair of timeless “art appreciation” entries first walks viewers through the wonderful Courtauld Gallery in London for a three-part series showing its rich holdings from Botticelli to Van Gogh.
He then meets a handful of celebrities in various disciplines, from Michael Palin and Mike Leigh to Tony Bennett and Renee Fleming, at different art museums to discuss their love for certain paintings. Fleming at New York’s Neue Gallerie is the standout in a series of provocative episodes.
Track 29
(Image)
One of Nicolas Roeg’s most risible concoctions is this 1987 black comedy, which makes mincemeat of Dennis Potter’s script about a young man who befriends a lonely, unhappy married woman and announces that he’s her long-lost son.
Gary Oldman and Theresa Russell do what they can--not much--but Roeg’s mania for time scrambling makes no psychological or narrative sense, and his movie remains blissfully unaware of--or simply ignoring--the juiciness in Potter’s clever script.
CDs of the Week
Anne Akiko Meyers, Air: The Bach Album
(e one)
Like all the best violinists, Anne Akiko Meyers finds her way--after playing modern and romantic music--back to Bach. This CD features her luminous tone and eloquent phrasing on the master’s two Violin Concertos, which alternate between heartbreaking loveliness and quick-paced rhythms.
A trio of “bagatelles” comprises the famous “Air,” the “Largo” from the F minor Harpsichord concerto (Woody Allen fans remember it from Hannah and Her Sisters) and a mash-up of Bach and Gounod’s arrangement of “Ave Maria.” Meyers is superbly backed throughout by the English Chamber Orchestra under Steven Mercurio.
Gershwin: Concerto in F, etc.
(Naxos)
Woody Allen’s Manhattan (1979) pulsated to George Gershwin sounds lushly played by the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra; over 30 years later, conductor JoAnn Falletta leads the current Buffalo ensemble in more scintillating Gershwin, with pianist Orion Weiss the nimble-fingered soloist in the brilliant Piano Concerto.
Falletta’s fine forces also charge through the delectable Rhapsody No. 2 and I Got Rhythm Variations. You can almost see the smiles as they perform Gershwin’s lustrous merging of popular and “serious” music.
Honegger, Melodies et Chansons
(Centaur)
Swiss composer Arthur Honegger, despite success in orchestral and chamber music, was at his considerable best in vocal forms, whether large scale--like his masterpiece, 1938’s oratorio, Joan of Arc at the Stake--or small scale, like the songs and cycles that make up this enticing two-CD set.
Soprano Claudia Patacca and baritone Sinan Vutal pass Honegger’s elegant melodies back and forth, including poem cycles by Jean Cocteau, Paul Claudel (Joan’s librettist) and Guillaume Apollinaire, along with settings of Shakespeare texts from The Tempest and Psalms from the Bible. Pianist Nick Ross is their prime collaborator, but there are estimable contributions by violinists Jana Ross and Nicholas Szucs, violist Joseph Nigro and cellist Wesley Baldwin.
How I Learned to Drive
Written by Paula Vogel
directed by Kate Whoriskey
Starring Norbert Leo Butz, Elizabeth Reaser, Kevin Cahoon, Jennifer Regan, Marnie Schulenburg
Paula Vogel’s How I Learned to Drive, which debuted off-Broadway in 1997, was hailed by many (including winning the Pulitzer Prize) as an insightful comic exploration of pedophilia, incest and manipulation. But now, after seeing its first revival, I’m sorry to say that the original was propped up by two magisterial performances: Mary Louise Parker as L’il Bit and David Morse as her Uncle Peck.
Kate Whoriskey’s handsome new staging (on Derek McLane’s smart but spare set) stars Elizabeth Reaser as L’il Bit and Norbert Leo Butz as Peck, both impressive but not transcending the material as Parker and Morse did. The result is that the play now seems vulgar and quite crude, with its “driving” metaphor for sexual awakening dealt with blatantly through the chorus (an actor and actress who also double as L’il Bit’s grandparents and others), which speaks driving terms like “neutral,“ “first gear” or “reverse” to ensure everyone gets it.
For a play that deals with the thin lines separating controller and controlled, How I Learned to Drive has surprisingly little persuasive psychology or character development, with coarseness substituting for insight or illumination. L’il Bit’s very nickname, like her uncle’s, has blatant sexual connotations that allude to the big-busted teen she became.
Narrating as an adult with the benefit of hindsight, L’il Bit lays out her convoluted relationship with Peck, an alcoholic army veteran from the South who is the ultimate outsider in her family: his own wife, L’il Bit’s Aunt Mary, admits to his “problems” but excuses him by accusing her niece of wielding power over her weak husband.
Vogel shows both L’il Bit and Peck as damaged characters: there’s scene of an adult L’il Bit, now a teacher, taking a pimply-faced student to bed (like uncle, like niece?), while Peck is seen telling a young nephew--after teaching him to fish--that they can spend some quiet time in a secret tree house, but no one can know about it. Too bad such scenes never feel authentic; instead of shedding light, they seem shoehorned in.
By allowing L’il Bit to explain away her uncle’s molestation (which begins when she’s 11 years old) and winkingly thank him for teaching her to drive--the single moment of exhilaration she feels--Vogel cheapens her own premise. The playwright further indulges herself in such cheap laughs as L’il Bit’s mother explaining how a woman should drink while on a date or L’il Bit, her mom and grandmother discussing sex on two separate occasions, with her grandfather popping in for more lowbrow humor. Despite its pedigree and Pulitzer, Paula Vogel’s play never matures.
Hurt Village
Written by Katori Hall
directed by Patricia McGregor
Starring Marsha Stephanie Blake, Amari Cheatom, Nicholas Christopher, Corey Hawkins, Ron Cephas Jones, Joaquina Kalukango, Tonya Pinkins, Saycon Sengbloh
Unlike The Mountaintop, her confused fantasia about Martin Luther King, Katori Hall’s Hurt Village is a relatively straightforward screed against an uncaring “them” (faceless government bureaucracy, epitomized by the inept Bush administration) that allows poor neighborhoods to fester until there is no hope for young or old.
The title refers to a slum area of Memphis, Hall’s hometown, which is falling apart at the seams as drug deals, assaults and shootings become everyday occurrences; meanwhile, developers are watching and waiting to raze the entire place after families are pushed out of their homes to make way for “better” housing and businesses.
The family Hall shows comprises Big Mama, who works in a local VA hospital cleaning up after sick vets; her grandson, Buggy, just returned from 10 years in the armed forces, the last few in Iraq; his former girlfriend, Crank, who hopes to become a hairdresser; and Cookie, Buggy and Crank’s daughter, a precocious, preternaturally wise teen.
Despite difficulties that feel less organic than piled-on--Buggy’s post-combat nightmares, Crank’s heroin problems, Big Mama being refused for aid because she made 387 dollars over the limit, and outside forces like drug dealers--Hall’s family perseveres. The first act--which opens with Cookie’s rousingly defiant rap number--unsparingly depicts this world: the outpouring of profanity (more ‘N’ and ‘F’ words are heard than ever) is justified by the context. The second act, straitjacketed by a standard melodramatic drug deal gone bad, merely treads water.
But under Patricia McGregor’s finely-tuned direction, a magnificent cast of nine breathes ferocious life into Hall’s people, particularly Joaquina Kalukango as Cookie and Tonya Pinkins as Big Mama. Thanks to them, Hurt Village is a place worth visiting.
The Broken Heart
Written by John Ford
directed by Selina Cartmell
Starring Bianca Amato, Annika Boras, Jacob Fishel, Saxon Palmer
John Ford, a near-contemporary of Shakespeare, is best known for ’Tis Pity She’s a Whore, a bawdy incest tragedy that’s occasionally revived (it comes to BAM in March). Ford’s other plays are more obscure, including The Broken Heart, an ancient Sparta-set tragedy that receives its off-Broadway premiere with a dutiful, uninspired staging by Selina Cartmell.
Incest is wrongly charged in The Broken Heart by a jealous husband barging in on his wife, embracing her twin brother; otherwise, the plot follows these and other characters’ relationships and their inevitably fatal consequences. Mixed in are songs, blank verse and a finale in which the characters--including those killed off--return to recite the moral.
The nearly three-hour The Broken Heart is a long slog rarely leavened by humor whose ancient setting and declamatory dialogue puts its characters at a further remove. Cartmell, while inventively moving her performers around the Duke’s small stage, is let down by Annie-B Parson’s ill-fitting choreographed movements, which are more distracting than distinctive. Marcus Doshi’s ethereal lighting, Susan Hilferty’s monochrome costumes and Antje Ellerman’s suggestive scenery are more on the mark.
Too bad that most of the actors are hampered by their earnestness: the exceptions are Annika Boras, who brings sensitivity and intelligence--and a superbly-wrought mad scene--to Penthea, and Bianca Amato, a sympathetic Princess Calantha, owner of the title heart.
How I Learned to Drive
Previews began January 24, 2012; opened February 11; closes March 11
Second Stage Theatre
307 West 43rd Street
New York, NY
http://2st.com
Hurt Village
Previews began February 7, 2012; opened February 27; closes March 18
Signature Theatre Company
480 West 42nd Street,
New York, NY
http://signaturetheatre.org
The Broken Heart
Previews began February 4, 2012; opened February 10; closes March 4
The Duke on 42nd Street
229 West 42nd Street
New York, NY
http://tfana.or
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