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Film and the Arts

Broadway Musical Review—“1776” Returns

1776
Music and lyrics by Sherman Edwards
Book by Peter Stone
Directed by Jeffrey L. Page and Diane Paulus; choreography by Jeffrey L. Page 
Through January 8, 2023
American Airlines Theatre
227 West 42nd Street, New York, NY
roundaboutheatre.org
 
The cast of 1776 (photo: Joan Marcus)
1776, one of the unalloyed delights of American musical theater, won the Tony Award for Best Musical in 1969. The musicalized comedy-drama about the Founding Fathers' ratification of the Declaration of Independence at a low point in the colonies' fight for freedom from England remains a most entertaining history lesson, thanks to Sherman Edwards' delightful score and clever lyrics and Peter Stone's endlessly droll (if at times historically inaccurate) book. John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, John Hancock and all the rest come alive through song, dance, witty repartee and a tautly dramatic recreation of our country's birth.
 
Revivals of 1776 are infrequent, maybe because memories are forever wedded to the glorious original staging, which was followed by the equally delectable movie version in 1972: both starred the inimitable William Daniels as Adams, Howard da Silva as Franklin and Ken Howard as Jefferson. 
 
There was an impressive 1997 Roundabout Theater revival, a satisfying 2009 production at New Jersey’s Paper Mill Playhouse, and a buoyant 2016 semi-staging at City Center’s Encores. Only the Encores presentation nodded to multicultural casting, and mainly in minor roles. The current Roundabout revival, which originated at the American Repertory Theater in Cambridge, Massaschusetts, was codirected by Jeffrey L. Page and Diane Paulus, and is notable for being completely cast with female, transgender and non-binary performers. Whether such casting throws the more problematic aspects of the musical—namely, that all but two of the characters are white men, and several are slaveholders—into greater relief is still an unanswered question thanks to the muddled staging. 
 
Too many of the performers seem to have been encouraged to ham it up, to underline every line or reaction with unnecessary overacting or over-the-top singing, similar to what often happens to poor Shakespeare in Central Park. Stone’s superlative book—filled with dazzling dialogue and endlessly quotable one-liners—doesn’t need to any goosing up to get its point across: indeed, it could make a terrific play on its own. But Edwards’ droll songs complement the story, and neither the book nor the music need any additional nudging from performers to alert audience members how they should react.
 
There are intermittently powerful moments, but even these have the rug pulled out under them by baffling directorial decisions. For example, “Momma, Look Sharp,” the emotional soldier’s ballad sung by the courier who delivers General Washington's increasingly distressing dispatches to Congress, is given a quite beautiful rendition by Salome B. Smith—at least until the tune is turned into a loud, brash showstopper, complete with a chorus of grieving mothers and a shattering musical crescendo. Subtle it isn’t.
 
Another problem more generally with this distaff revival is that, since the timbre of these performers’ voices is higher than that of the male performers who have nearly exclusively sung these songs, the orchestra often drowns out some of Edwards’ best lyrics. But that might just be my ears.
 
In an energetic cast, best are Crystal Lucas-Perry as an unimpeachable John Adams, Elizabeth A. Davis as a quietly eloquent Thomas Jefferson (the performer’s very visible pregnancy says more about the impending birth of our nation than any of the obvious directorial touches) and Carolee Carmello as unapologetic loyalist John Dickinson. Indeed, Carmello’s leading of “Cool Cool Considerate Men,” that supremely cutting hymn to reactionary Conservative values, is the highlight of a well-meaning but confused production. 

October '22 Digital Week III

In Theater/Streaming Releases of the Week 
Call Jane 
(Roadside Attractions)
Director Phyllis Nagy and writers Hayley Schore & Roshan Sethi delve into the pre-“Roe vs. Wade” era as a network of women steer those in need toward relatively safe abortions. Elizabeth Banks is sympathetic as Joy, a stay-at-home ’60s Chicago wife whose difficult pregnancy forces her to turn in desperation to a group of “Janes,” led by no-nonsense Virginia (a forceful Sigourney Weaver).
 
 
Joy soon becomes a “Jane” herself, hiding it from her teenage daughter and lawyer husband as long as she can. Nagy effectively guides this social awakening story that’s also a document of a terrible era in our recent history, highlighted by powerful moments in the room where the procedures take place.
 
 
 
 
 
For Ever Mozart 
(Cohen Film Collection)
Jean-Luc Godard remained a provocateur throughout his nearly 70-year directing career (he died last month at age 91), and this muddled but striking 1996 film—screening at Manhattan’s Quad Cinema on October 26—shows him at his most provocative.
 
 
Exploring, through the disastrous Bosnian conflict, what art can, or can’t, do in response to the modern world’s atrocities, Godard gets on his soapbox to bemoan how the West ignores the tragedies happening under our noses by continuing to make—and watch (gasp!)—movies. He then halfheartedly introduces a rehearsal of a Mozart piano concerto in order to work in the title, but Gordard did this sort of thing far better and more poetically with Beethoven quartets in 1983’s First Name: Carmen.
 
 
 
 
 
Grand Jeté 
(Altered Innocence)
Isabelle Stever’s incest drama approaches the subject clinically, with mostly dire results that reduce what could have been a penetrating psychological study to the physical. Mother Nadja (played with astonishing nakedness—in both senses—by a remarkable Sarah Nevada Grether) is a dance teacher whose body is wracked by years of grueling practice, while her estranged teenage son, Mario (played stolidly by Emil von Schönfels), is similarly obsessed with his own body.
 
 
Their sexual relationship, once it begins, quickly becomes enervating, as Stever never deals with the possible moral or emotional consequences. That Nadja’s own mother raised Mario so she could concentrate on her career is brought up, but as presented by Stever, little in the film rings true, especially when Nadja finds herself pregnant. It’s admittedly audacious on a primitive level, with precisely intimate cinematography by Constantin Campean, but almost completely lacks basic insights into these people’s behavior.
 
 
 
 
 
Looking for Home 
(First Run Features)
Alan Govenar’s fitfully satisfying documentary is a glimpse at people in all walks of life and what the term “home” means to them—whether or not they are at home at the time of the interview.
 
 
Govenar talks to random people on the streets of New York as well as in far-flung places like Dallas, Paris (France) and Buenos Aires (to a young woman we first meet visiting Times Square). Interesting ideas are introduced and pithy observations are made—by both subjects and director—but March 2020’s COVID lockdown intrudes on the exploration: while moving back and forth between pre- and post-pandemic timeframes, Govenar seems to lose focus and his film blurs the concept it intends to elucidate. 
 
 
 
 
 
Voodoo Macbeth 
(Lightyear)
The fascinating true story of how actress Rose McClendon (Inger Tudo) shepherded a Black-cast version of Shakespeare’s Macbeth to the Depression-era New York stage through producer John Houseman and 20-year-old wunderkind director Orson Welles (Jewell Wilson Bridges, in his film debut), who gets the idea for a “Voodoo Macbeth,” set on a Caribbean island—it could either be a masterstroke or a laughing stock.
 
 
A conglomerate of 10 directors, 8 writers and 3 producers as part of the USC Originals project shepherds this dramatization effectively if unsurprisingly: it’s a credible reenactment with fine performances but nowhere near as earthshattering as what Welles and company created onstage (sadly, McClendon never played her dream role of Lady Macbeth, dying of pneumonia soon after the production opened).
 
 
 
 
 
Blu-ray Releases of the Week
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde 
(Warner Archive)
Frederic March won the best actor Oscar for his intense performance as the good doctor/bad monster in Rouben Mamoulian’s nervy 1931 adaptation of the classic Robert Louis Stevenson story (which, in keeping with Stevenson’s Scottish background, pronounces the deadly Jekyll’s name as JEE-kul, foreign to American ears).
 
 
If Mamoulian uses the skillful makeup artist Wally Westmore to show the doctor’s transformations, it’s March’s ferocity and the sympathetic portrayal by Miriam Hopkins of the club singer Ivy that’s the dramatic drawing card. The B&W film looks splendid in hi-def; extras are two commentaries, a Bugs Bunny Jekyll and Hyde cartoon and a 1950 radio adaptation.
 
 
 
 
 
Easter Sunday 
(Universal)
Standup Jo Koy’s debut starring vehicle goes about as exactly as anyone would predict—it’s a sentimental comedy, centered around Easter Sunday, where everyone in Koy’s Filipino-American family deals with resentments, recriminations and reconciliations throughout a fraught holiday weekend.
 
 
Koy isn’t much of an actor, but when he takes the mike (so to speak) and does standup—as in the amusing church scene—it doesn’t matter. There’s a fun supporting cast that includes old hands like Lou Diamond Phillips and Tia Carrere, but Elena Juatco as Koy’s sister makes the most of her too-few moments. There’s a good hi-def transfer; extras include a gag reel, deleted scenes, making-of featurettes and commentary by Koy and director Jay Chandrasekhar.
 
 
 
 
 
Monsieur Hire 
(Cohen Film Collection)
Another elegant, tense character study by French director Patrice Leconte, this 1989 chamber drama, based on a story by the great Belgian writer Georges Simenon, follows a loner who spies on his attractive female neighbor, only later to find himself a suspect in the murder of another young woman.
 
 
With Leconte’s stylish direction and sublime acting by Michel Blanc and Sandrine Bonnaire, you nearly forget that this minutely detailed film is just a 79-minute shaggy-dog story that hinges on an implausible plot point. Here's hoping that we also get re-releases of Leconte’s dazzling followup features, The Hairdresser’s Husband and The Perfume of Yvonne. The hi-def transfer looks immaculate; extras are new interviews with Leconte and Bonnaire and an audio commentary.
 
 
 
 
 
DVD Release of the Week 
The Time Traveler’s Wife—The Complete Series 
(Warner Bros)
Unlike the 2009 film adaptation of Audrey Niffenegger’s novel about an inadvertent time traveler’s relationship with his wife—whom he keeps meeting during different stages of her life, starting when she’s a young girl—which was turned into a tragic romance starring the delectable Rachel McAdams and charismatic Eric Bana, this six-hour mini-series is a far more self-important slog, with nudity and profanity thrown in, as if the creators knew this was stretching a slender concept fairly thin.
 
 
Theo James and Rose Leslie are good as the traveler and his wife, but the nonsensical conceit doesn’t help, especially when dragged out to interminable length—and the chemistry of McAdams and Bana is sorely missing. Extras include several featurettes.
 
 
 
 
 
CD Releases of the Week
Hilary Hahn—Eclipse 
(Deutsche Grammophon)
American violinist Hilary Hahn’s latest recording includes her usual scintillating performances of two classic violin works—Antonin Dvořák’s eloquent Violin Concerto and Pablo de Sarasate’s rollicking Carmen Fantasy—but the main reason to listen to her new CD is her extraordinary playing on a work that doesn’t get recorded that often: Argentine master Alberto Ginastera’s Violin Concerto.
 
 
In her program note, Hahn describes her “obsession” with the Ginastera piece, and it’s easy to see why: while technically demanding (something that Hahn dispatches effortlessly), the concerto is also weirdly mesmerizing from beginning to end. Listening to these pieces makes it obvious that Hahn marches in musical lockstep with the Frankfurt Radio Symphony and conductor Andres Orozco-Estrada.
 
 
 
 
 
Ralph Vaughan Williams—Symphonies Nos. 6 and 8 
(Hyperion)
British master Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958) composed a towering cycle of nine symphonies that rivals that of Beethoven in its impressive and wide-ranging musicality, and the two great symphonies so splendidly played here by the BBC Symphony Orchestra under conductor Martyn Brabbins are filled with fire and fury.
 
 
Vaughan-Williams’ sixth symphony, premiered in 1948, is a mournful postwar statement that despairs for a world shattered by the just-ended conflict, while his penultimate eighth—premiered in 1956—is the work of a still curious elder statesman, filled with variety and vigorousness. Rounding out this fine recording are short pieces sung by the excellent BBC Symphony Chorus.

A Sweet Time With American Ballet Theater’s "Whipped Cream"

Jonathan Klein in Whipped Cream. Photo: Rosalie O’Connor.

At the David H. Koch Theater at Lincoln Center, on the evening of Thursday, October 20th, I had the enormous privilege to see American Ballet Theater’s splendorous production of Alexei Ratmansky’s magnificent Whipped Cream—a work that I predict will endure as a classic—the opening presentation of its all too brief fall season here.

The ballet’s libretto was written by its composer, Richard Strauss, whose complex score is a very unusual one for the repertory. Ratmansky is Artist in Residence for the company and his inventive choreography here is amongst his near best. Another reason Whipped Cream ranks as one of the finest Ballet Theater productions is the fabulous set and costume design of Mark Ryden.

whipped2The event featured an impressive cast led delightfully by Jonathan Klein as the Boy, a role originated by the marvelous Daniil Simkin. The first act was dominated by Christine Shevchenko—who is becoming one of the most admirable ballerinas in the company—as Princess Tea Flower and her partner Calvin Royal III, who excelled as Prince Coffee, a role first performed by David Hallberg, one of the most graceful dancers in recent memory. Skylar Brandt, who has moved from strength to strength in recent seasons, was superb as Princess Praline.

The secondary cast was also exceptional. Joseph Gorak and Sung Woo Han as Prince Cocoa and Don Zucchero respectively were an especially charming duo. Roman Zhurbin was characteristically amusing in the dual character roles of the Chef and the Doctor. And dazzling too were the trio of Catherine Hurlin, Blaine Hoven and Connor Holloway as Mademoiselle Marianne Chartreuse, Ladislav Slivovitz and Boris Wutki. Notable performances in the tertiary cast were too numerous to cite while the enchanting corps de ballet was in superior form.

The second and final week at Ballet Theater this season will consist of two different mixed repertory programs, with one including Frederick Ashton’s amazing The Dream.

The Sounds of São Paulo at Carnegie Hall

Marin Alsop and the São Paulo Symphony Orchestra. Photo by Jennifer Taylor

At Carnegie Hall, on the evening of Friday, October 14th, I had the enormous pleasure of seeing the superb musicians of the São Paulo Symphony Orchestra—in their debut at this venue—under the brilliant direction of Marin Alsop, playing in celebration of the 200th anniversary of Brazil’s independence.

The concert began magnificently with a dazzling performance of Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s extraordinary Scheherazade. In his exemplary notes for this program, Jack Sullivan had this to say about the piece:

The sound of the modern orchestra owes a great deal to this 1888 work and the miniatures in its immediate orbit:Capriccio espagnoland theRussian Easter Festival Overture.(Important earlier pieces, such as the hauntingAntar,were rarely performed in the West and thus made little impact.) Rimsky-Korsakov repealed the thick, square sound of the standard 19th-century orchestra, liberating the brass and percussion, inaugurating a new shimmer and transparency in the strings, and creating coloristic effects often inseparable from the themes.

He added: “Rimsky-Korsakov conceived of his piece as a riff on the tale—each movement is one of Scheherazade’s stories, and the finale recaps the themes from each one in a blazing apotheosis—but he never meant for the work to be a literal narrative.” And: “The movement titles, according to the composer, were meant as ‘hints to direct but slightly the hearer’s fancy,’ leaving an impression of ‘numerous and varied fairy-tale wonders.’”

The opening movement, “The Sea and Sinbad’s Ship,” was sumptuous, while the succeeding “The Legend of the Calendar Prince” was both lyrical and dancelike. The third movement, “The Young Prince and the Young Princess,” featured march-like rhythms, and the finale was the most variegated of the sections in texture and mood, building to a rousing climax but concluding quietly.

The second half of the event—devoted to the marvelous music of the greatest Brazilian composer, Heitor Villa-Lobos—was also remarkable, starting exquisitely with a magisterial rendition of the glorious Prelúdio from Bachianas brasileiras No. 4. Sullivan comments: “Based on a hypnotic six-note theme, the Prelúdio fromBachianas brasileirasNo. 4 was originally composed for piano solo, but Villa-Lobos orchestrated it himself along with the other pieces in the set.”

This was followed by the intriguing Harmonica Concerto—nonetheless the weakest link in the program—with the impressive soloist, José Staneck, who has recorded it with this ensemble. The opening Allegro moderato, like the work as a whole, is more eccentric and modernistic and less melodious than the Prelúdio. The attractive, ensuingAndanteis more Romantic in character, while the finale is also quirky and is the most virtuosic movement, especially for its cadenza. Staneck rewarded enthusiastic applause with a charming improvisation on Scheherazade’s theme that transformed into Antônio Carlos Jobim’s “The Girl from Ipanema.”

The program closed exhilaratingly with a joyous account of the also unconventional, stunning Chôros No. 10, featuring the outstanding São Paulo Symphony Choir. Sullivan’s description is as follows:

Chôros No. 10, one of 14 compositions with the “Chôros” label, is one of Villa-Lobos’s most exuberant and original creations. It is also fervidly patriotic, an overt manifestation of his well-known characterization of himself as “very Brazilian. In my music, I let the rivers and seas of this great Brazil sing. I don’t put a gag on the tropical exuberance of her forests and skies, which I intuitively transpose to everything I write.”

He adds:

Its blazing originality was too much for the baffled audience at the 1926 Rio de Janeiro premiere conducted by the composer. A year later, after Villa-Lobos began a sojourn in Paris, a Parisian critic called it a “huge and alarming orchestral fresco … an art which we do not recognize but to which we must now give a new name.”

And:

Soaring above the dense bitonal texture, the sopranos sing a popular polka, “Rasga o coração” (“Tear the Heart Apart”) by Anacleto Medeiros, which unites, in Villa-Lobos’s words, the “Brazilian heart” and “the Brazilian land.” (Because of a long-fought copyright lawsuit, the text of the poem, by Catulo da Paixão Cearense, was replaced by a wordless vocalise, but the words have been restored in some recent performances.)

In response to a standing ovation, Alsop led the musicians in playing two fabulous encores: Clóvis Pereira and César Guerra-Peixe’s Mourão, recorded by this ensemble for an album of Brazilian dances, and an orchestration of Edu Lobo’s popular song, “Pe de Vento.”

I hope this will be the first of many local appearances of these accomplished artists.

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