the traveler's resource guide to festivals & films
a FestivalTravelNetwork.com site
part of Insider Media llc.

Connect with us:
FacebookTwitterYouTubeRSS

Reviews

Broadway Play Review—“Between Riverside and Crazy” with Stephen McKinley Henderson

Stephen McKinley Henderson, Victor Almanzar and Common in
Between Riverside and Crazy (photo: Joan Marcus)

 
 
Between Riverside and Crazy
Written by Stephen Adly Guirgis; directed by Austin Pendleton
Performances through February 12, 2023
Hayes Theatre, 240 West 44th Street, New York, NY
2st.com
 
 
If there’s a reason to see the Broadway revival of Between Riverside and Crazy, the less-than-scintillating play by Stephen Adly Guirgus, it’s Stephen McKinley Henderson. This superlative actor, who has too often been relegated to secondary roles or as part of ensembles in August Wilson plays—where he’s stolen countless scenes—returns to his most substantial role yet as Pops, a widowed NYPD retiree living in an enormous rent-controlled Upper West Side apartment. Once again, Henderson dominates the proceedings with his gravelly voice, formidable frame and an affecting twinkle in his eye that invites the audience to share in the grand old larcenous time he’s having.
 
Pops—first seen at his kitchen table with Oswaldo, his son Junior’s convict friend, soon followed by Junior’s bimbo girlfriend Lulu, and finally ex-con Junior himself—is mad at the world, and himself, for how his life has gone. He was shot a few years ago by a rookie white officer, which forced him into retirement, and his ensuing squabble with the city is not going his way; in the mean time, his landlord is hoping to get him out of his incredibly cheap apartment and his former partner, Audrey, and her fiancée—and NYPD lieutenant—Dave are trying to talk him into finally settling with the city. Through all of this, he might as well be hosting a halfway house for Junior and his shady friends. 
 
As usual with Guirgis plays, this is a world not often seen onstage: the multiethnic diversity of his characters, most of whom are living on the margins of society, bursts into vivid life thanks to his unerring ear for their authentically slangy talk. However, although his grasp of the language of these marginal people is convincing, he often goes too far just for laughs: early on, for example, Pops has to ask who Ben Affleck is, while later, he nonchalantly tosses off a Justin Bieber reference. Would Pops really know about Bieber but not Ben?
 
Guirgis is also on shaky ground when putting his characters through their paces. When the supposedly sterile Pops is seduced by a Brazilian church lady hoping to get money out of him, he ends up having a miraculous orgasm; later, when he finally agrees to the city’s settlement, Pops wants Audrey and Dave to throw in something personal as their part of the bargain: her $30,000 engagement ring. 
 
And everyone gets a relatively happy ending—even Oswaldo, who earlier cold-cocked Pops when he wouldn't give him his credit card—underlining Guirgis’ desperate stratagems in getting from A to B, with the contradictory behavior on display less like the messily real complexity of life and more the improbable contrivances of the playwright.
 
Still, the play is never less than entertaining in Austin Pendleton's generous and well-paced production, which allows the terrific cast the ample breathing room that Guirgis’ breathless torrents of dialogue rarely do. The single newcomer, rapper Common, plays Junior with occasional hesitancy but plausible bemusement. 
 
Walt Spangler’s outstanding apartment set, which provides a comfortably lived-in backdrop to the fuzzy goings-on, also doubles as a frame through which to watch the acting genius of Stephen McKinley Henderson, whose characterization has deepened and darkened in the years since he last assayed it, bringing onstage the baggage of so many victims of police shootings.

December '22 Digital Week III

Blu-ray Releases of the Week 
The Banshees of Inisherin 
(Searchlight)
In Martin McDonough’s newest blackly comic fable, two longtime friends have a falling-out: Colm decides one day that he doesn’t want to be best buds with Pádraic ever again, and he goes to extremes to ensure that that happens. McDonough’s dialogue is always clever and colorful (lots of “fecks”), the performances of Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson as the former friends are wise, authentic and full of feeling—and Kerry Condon, as Pádraic’s devoted spinster sister Siobhán is just as good—and the locales look breathtaking.
 
But it’s all at the service of a strained metaphor for how relationships—whether personal or geopolitical—can easily fray and it never rises above the allegorical, to its ultimate detriment. The film looks lovely in hi-def; extras include deleted scenes and an on-set featurette.
 
 
 
Death Game 
(Grindhouse Releasing)
Rescued from obscurity, Peter Traynor’s 1977 slow-burn thriller—originally made in 1974 but held back due to Traynor’s legal troubles—stars Colleen Camp and Sondra Locke as crazed young women who make husband Seymour Cassel pay for letting them into his house while his family’s are away: they tie him up and abuse him psychologically and physically.
 
This has been both touted as feminist and derided as exploitative, and it’s a little of both, although Traynor only occasionally crosses from gratuitous violence and sex to a meaningful study of aberrant behavior. The film’s new hi-def transfer has nice grain; extras include new Camp, Locke and Traynor interviews, audio commentaries and a similar-themed, equally obscure 1973 feature, Little Miss Innocence.
 
 
 
A Fish in the Bathtub 
(Cohen Film Collection)
Joan Micklin Silver’s 1998 screwball comedy surveys the ultimate dysfunctional Jewish family: Jerry Stiller can’t believe that longtime wife Anne Meara is leaving him—his insistence on keeping a fish in the bathtub is the last straw—beginning a domino effect of recriminations among the rest of the family.
 
Silver has assembled a top-flight cast—including Mark Ruffalo at the beginning of his career, Missy Yager, Jane Adams and Doris Roberts—but the humorous situations are middling and mild, with little observational insight. There’s a fine hi-def transfer; lone extra is a Q&A with Silver and scriptwriters John Silverstein and David Chudnovsky.  
 
 
 
On the Yard/A Walk on the Moon 
(Cohen Film Collection)
Joan Micklin Silver’s husband, Raphael Silver, was also a director, and this set collects two of his features, scruffy films distinguished by their authenticity. 1978’s On the Yard, set in a prison, follows the daily interactions of prisoners and those guarding them, while 1987’s A Walk on the Moon follows an idealistic American trying to save the world as a Peace Corps volunteer in Central America.
 
There are moments, but the low budgets have their limits; best are performances by John Heard (Yard) and Patrice Martinez (Moon). Both films have good hi-def transfers. 
 
 
 
Stravinsky’s Mavra/Tchaikovsky’s Iolanta 
(Bayerischen Staatsoper)
Two operas by Russian composers written three decades apart—Stravinsky’s Mavra in 1922 and Tchaikovsky’s Iolanta in 1892—are uneasily stitched together in Axel Ranisch’s fitfully satisfying 2019 Munich staging.
 
While visually interesting and musically lovely, the ultimate point of Ranisch’s conceit remains opaque. Beautifully singing the heroine roles are Anna El-Kashem in Mavra and Mirjam Mesak in Iolanta, while the scores are sumptuously performed by the orchestra, chorus and children’s chorus under conductor Alevtina Ioffe.
 
 
 

4K/UHD Releases of the Week  
Highlander 
(Lionsgate)
Russell Mulcahy’s original 1986 fantasy—filled with violence and time-travel—has become a tremendous cult hit over the decades, so it’s a no-brainer this has gotten a UHD release.
 
As clunky and even risible as the movie often is—and, with Christopher Lambert in the lead, extremely wooden as well—there’s an undeniable sheen to the visuals that is matched by Queen’s soaring music as in the best MTV videos (which was Mulcahy’s first job). It all looks spectacular in 4K; the Best Buy-exclusive steelbook includes an accompanying Blu-ray disc, bonus interviews and featurettes (with new featurettes on the 4K disc) and postcards.
 
 
 
The Polar Express 
(Warner Bros) 
The first feature to entirely utilize motion-capture animation, Robert Zemeckis’ 2004 holiday movie is as much a slog as it is uplifting: the characters are often irritatingly fake-looking instead of capturing their true essence.
 
There are stunning images galore, but this is an unavoidably repetitive adaptation of a beloved—and short—children’s book. And giving Tom Hanks five roles is four more than he can handle without leaning on his usual tics. The 4K/UHD transfer looks dazzling; extras include making-of featurettes on the accompanying Blu-ray.
 
 
 
In-Theater Release of the Week
Going All the Way
(Oscilloscope) 
Mark Pellingon’s 1997 adaptation of Dan Wakefield’s novel about GIs Gunner and Sonny returning to small-town middle America in the conservative ’50s has been recut by the director himself—the result is a marginally better but still fairly superficial movie about an era that’s been covered many times.
 
Still, there are enjoyable performances by Jill Clayburgh (R.I.P.!) and Lesley Ann Warren as Sonny’s and Gunner’s moms, respectively, and Rachel Weitz, Amy Locane and Rose McGowan are excellent as the women they bed down. Ben Affleck is unfortunately one-note as Gunner, but Jeremy Davies gives a sensitive, thoughtful portrayal of Sonny. 
 
 
 
DVD Releases of the Week 
And Just Like That ... 
(HBO)
The long-gestating sequel to Sex and the City came and went just like that without making much of an impression—except for killing off Carrie’s main squeeze, Mr. Big (and just in time too, for actor Chris Noth got cancelled after sexual abuse allegations).
 
The main problem is that, without Kim Cattrall’s Samantha, the dynamic balance among the main characters is severely out of whack: Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte are just not that interesting without her, and that came through in this series’ 10 watchable but forgettable episodes. Sarah Jessica Parker and Cynthia Nixon seem bored, but at least Kristen Davis has a little energy left.
 
 
 
The Invisible Witness 
(Distrib Films US) 
Director Stefano Mordini’s twisty, Hitchcockian thriller recounts the events leading to the murder of a big wig’s mistress from various points of view, including that of the lawyer trying to make sense of what happened to ensure he gets a fair trial—or is she up to something else?
 
For its first 90 minutes, the fast pace imaginatively suspends viewers’ disbelief as we get caught up in the various possibilities that led to the killing, then it’s all ruined in a final reveal that simply makes no sense. It’s too bad, because it’s done so thrillingly and enacted brilliantly by Riccardo Scamarcio as the suspect and Miriam Leone as his mistress. 
 
 
 
The Student and Mister Henri 
(Distrib Films US)
The late, great French actor Claude Brasseur—who died in 2018—is the main reason to watch this 2016 dramatic comedy about a crusty old widower who, after an independent young woman rents out a room in his apartment, begins to slowly build a relationship with her filled with friction but, later, mutual admiration.
 
Although director Ivan Calberac’s film does little original with this umpteenth iteration of some sort of odd couple that’s thrown together, both Brasseur and Swiss actress Noemie Schmidt do their best to keep this afloat.
 
 
 
CD Releases of the Week
Nico Muhly—The Street 
(King’s College, Cambridge)
In this work based on the Stations of the Cross, composer Nico Muhly pares the music to the bone, literally, as a solo harp intones the magisterial drama of Jesus’ final walk toward Mount Calvary before his crucifixion. Alice Goodman’s libretto for these 14 movements provides short meditations of hope, and the two discs do present two versions of the work itself.
 
First, following a Bach partita played by harpist Parker Ramsay, is strictly instrumental; the version on disc two, nearly twice as long in length, includes a narrator and plainchant chorus. Ramsay plays gloriously throughout, with Rosie Hilal as a sensitive narrator and the striking sounds of the Choir of King’s College, Cambridge.
 
 
 
Hans Pfitzner—The Little Elf of Christ 
(Orfeo)
German Hans Pfitzner (1869-1949), a conservative composer best known for his dour, stately opera Palestrina, also composed this straightforward music drama about an elf who sacrifices himself to the Christ child to allow a sick child to survive Christmas Eve.
 
As holiday music spectacles go, this might not win many converts—at least on CD; perhaps a colorful staging seen on disc would help—but this 1979 recording has a classy cast (Helen Donath as the Elf, Janet Perry as the Christ) along with the accomplished Munich Radio Orchestra and conductor Kurt Eichhorn to put it over musically.  

Zen & Mahler with the Philadelphia Orchestra

Xi Wang (L) with Yannick Nézet-Séguin. Photo by Steve Sherman

At Carnegie Hall, on the evening of Tuesday, December 13th, I had the privilege to attend an excellent concert featuring the Philadelphia Orchestra under the direction of Yannick Nézet-Séguin.

The event opened promisingly with a superb account of the New York Premiere of contemporary composer Xi Wang’s remarkable, impressively orchestrated Ensō. Sean Colonna, in an informative program note, provides some useful background:

Xi describes Ensō as a “sister piece” to her 2021 double concerto for violin, trumpet, and orchestra titled Year 2020. Written as something of a musical and emotional journal of Xi’s observations of the global tumult during 2020, she describes Year 2020 as “full of struggle, pain, crying, memory, and, eventually, hope.” She explains that she “felt emotionally and physically exhausted after writing [Year 2020] and decided that [her] next piece had to be a ‘healing’ piece.”Ensōis the result of this compositional process of self-healing and is in many ways more introspective than its outwardly oriented predecessor.

The title Ensō refers to a sacred symbol in Zen Buddhism that takes the form of a hand-painted circle. The circle is traditionally drawn in a single, unbroken gesture that is understood to both represent and enact the experience of total spiritual enlightenment. Painting an ensō is therefore both a creative and meditative practice, as is the process of assembling the ink, brushes, and paper. In addition to the form and symbolism of the ensō, Xi also drew inspiration from the life of the historical Buddha, Siddhartha Gautama. Having grown up as a wealthy prince whose family attempted to isolate him from deprivation and pain, Siddhartha’s spiritual journey began with his first encounter with the suffering of others outside of the royal palace. Xi describes Ensō as a piece that tells the story of the spiritual seeker; she explains that the music “can be considered as representing the journey of looking for answers or enlightenment, the journey of freeing and understanding oneself, the journey of looking for the Buddha within oneself.”

Equally admirable was a sterling rendition of the immaculately constructed Clarinet Concerto of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, executed by the exceptionally accomplished Ricardo Morales, principal clarinetist of the ensemble. (According to annotator Christopher H. Gibbs, for this performance he played “a basset clarinet in a reconstruction of Mozart’s original concerto.”) The complex, initial Allegro is mellifluous and largely ebullient while the awesome Adagio is lyrical and exalting. Thefinaleis sprightly at the outset but more serious in places.

The second half of the evening was even more memorable—a presentation of Gustav Mahler’s marvelous Symphony No. 4. Gibbs says the following on the context for the piece:   

Mahler addressed the issue of the differences among his early symphonies while composing the Fourth. As he resumed work on the piece in 1900, he confided to a friend his fears of not being able to pick up where he had left off the summer before: “I must say I now find it rather hard to come to grips with things here again; I still live half in, half out of the world of my Fourth. It is so utterly different from my other symphonies. But thatmust be;I could never repeat a state of mind, and as life progresses I follow new paths in each new work.”

He adds:

The Fourth Symphony has a rather complicated genesis that is important for understanding its special character. For more than a decade, beginning in the late 1880s, Mahler was obsessed with Des Knaben Wunderhorn (The Youth’s Magic Horn), a collection of folk poetry compiled in the early 19th century. One of the poems, “Das himmlische Leben” (“The Heavenly Life”), relates a child’s innocent idea of blissful existence in heaven. Mahler first set the poem for voice and piano in February 1892 and orchestrated it soon thereafter. A few years later, he decided to end his Third Symphony—destined to be the longest symphony ever written by a major composer—with that song as its seventh movement. He eventually changed his mind and chose to divert it to conclude his next symphony instead.

Mahler originally planned for the Fourth Symphony to have six movements, three of them songs, leading to “Das himmlische Leben.” Although he eliminated the other vocal movements, and suppressed as well most of the programmatic elements he had initially envisioned, the heavenly Wunderhorn song remained and in fact helped to generate the entire symphony. Mahler called attention to this on a number of occasions, such as when he chided a critic that his analysis was missing one thing: “Did you overlook the thematic connections that figure so prominently in the work’s design? Or did you want to spare the audience some technical explanations? In any case, I ask that that aspect of my work be specially observed. Each of the three movements is connected thematically with the last one in the most intimate and meaningful way.”

On Mahler he records:

He told his friend Natalie Bauer-Lechner: “I know the most wonderful names for the movements, but I will not betray them to the rabble of critics and listeners so they can subject them to banal misunderstandings and distortions.” She also reports Mahler remarking: “At first glance one does not even notice all that is hidden in this inconspicuous little song, and yet one can recognize the value of such a seed by testing whether it contains the promise of a manifold life.”

And:

Mahler remarked on the mood of the Fourth being like “the uniform blue of the sky … Sometimes it becomes overcast and uncanny, horrific: but it is not heaven itself that darkens, for it goes on shining with its everlasting blue. It is only that to us it seems suddenly sinister.”

The first movement begins charmingly but eventually becomes more ominous in character before recapturing its more affirmative spirit. The ensuing Scherzo has an eery quality but is playful and pervaded by ironic humor. The haunting, slow third movement is mysterious, enchanting and ethereal but not without its darker moments. The concert reached its pinnacle with the gloriousfinale,gorgeously sung by the amazing soprano, Pretty Yende, who wore a sumptuous floral gown. The artists received an enthusiastic ovation.

Nézet-Séguin and the ensemble return to this venue—with the incomparable soloist, Yuja Wang—on January 28th for a program devoted entirely to the celebrated piano music of Sergei Rachmaninoff.

Broadway Musical Review—“Some Like It Hot”

Some Like It Hot

Book by Matthew López and Amber Ruffin; music by Marc Shaiman
Lyrics by Shaiman and Scott Whitman
Directed and choreographed by Casey Nicholaw
Opened December 11, 2022
Schubert Theatre, 225 West 44th Street, New York, NY
somelikeithotmusical.com
 
The cast of Some Like It Hot (photo: Matthew Murphy)
 
Some Like It Hot, Billy Wilder’s 1959 crossdressing farce, is one of the classic movie comedies, with music, romance, gunplay, Marilyn Monroe and one-liners galore, including one of the great closing lines ever. So why turn it into a Broadway musical?
 
The entertaining but way overlong Broadway version answers that question…sort of. Much of the skeleton of Wilder’s film remains with a few notable departures. This isn’t bad in itself, especially if one remembers that slavishly copying the movie did the recent Almost Famous no favors. 
 
Book writers Matthew López and Amber Ruffin have made saxophonist Joe and double bassist Jerry—musicians in Prohibition-era Chicago who are on the run after witnessing a mob hit, disguised as women in an all-female touring band—brothers from another mother: although Joe (the indefatigable Christian Borle plays the Tony Curtis role) is still white, but Jerry (the imposingly talented J. Harrison Ghee stepping into Jack Lemmon’s heels) is now Black, leading to occasionally amusing jokes about their long friendship.
 
Lopez and Ruffin have also moved the band’s destination from Florida to San Diego, which lets them pivot toward Hollywood in the back-story of Sugar Kane, played by Marilyn Monroe in the movie as the ultimate dumb blonde. Instead, the musical’s Sugar is a self-possessed, no-nonsense performer with her sights set on the silver screen, and she falls for Joe while he’s in the guise of a German scenarist with writer’s block. Adrianna Hicks makes Sugar a fiery femme fatale with a soaring voice to match, but there’s little romantic chemistry between her and Borle, who affects an intentionally horrible Teutonic accent as opposed to the tongue-in-cheek Cary Grant impression Curtis did in the film.
 
The plot is more convoluted onstage than onscreen, and even though the show sprints along in its first half—adroitly assisted by Scott Pask’s exquisite sets, Gregg Barnes’ sparkling costumes and Natasha Katz’s snazzy lighting—the second act bogs down with a few clunky songs. (All of the tunes, by Marc Shaiman with lyrics by Shaiman and Scott Whitman, are proficient big-band pastiches, though less of them would be more.) And when we get to a tour de force of literal door-slamming and tap-dancing in the final chase scene, “Tip Tap Trouble,” choreographed by director Casey Nicholaw with the frenzied determination that marks all of his work, it’s simultaneously breathtaking and exasperating.
 
And where are the movie’s classic lines? The second-most famous, buried in the lyrics to “Vamp!”—“this fellow won’t be mellow/more like jell-o that’s on springs”—describes Joe and Jerry in women’s attire rather than, in the movie, how Sugar moves as she walks past them. It’s a minimally clever repurposing of a great, but objectifying, line. Then there’s that last bit of dialogue, which is completely MIA since the musical’s final scenes move the plot in a different direction than the movie—there’s really no room for it in this context.
 
For all its hyperkinetic busyness, Some Like It Hot the musical only fitfully succeeds at fusing old-fashioned show biz with new-fangled gender attitudes. Well—to paraphrase that immortal line in Billy Wilder and I.A. L. Diamond’s original script—no show’s perfect.

Newsletter Sign Up

Upcoming Events

No Calendar Events Found or Calendar not set to Public.

Tweets!