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Film and the Arts

Off-Broadway Reviews—Two at the Public: “Antigone (This Play I Read in High School)” and “Public Charge”

Antigone (This Play I Read in High School)
Written by Anna Ziegler
Directed by Tyne Rafaeli
Performances through April 12, 2026
Public Theater, New York, NY
publictheater.org
 
Celia Keenan-Bolger and Susannah Perkins in Antigone (This Play I Read in High School)
(photo: Joan Marcus)


It’s apparent from her subtitle that Anna Ziegler is not in the mood for nuance. Her Antigone (This Play I Read in High School) suggests an unconventional retelling of Sophocles’ classic, and Ziegler’s fiery, angry take drags it through the mud (and blood) in impressively tumultuous fashion.
 
Ziegler begins with Dicey, a woman who doubles as the Chorus and (maybe) the writer’s stand-in, someone who was deeply affected by Sophocles’ play in school. Now 40 and pregnant, Dicey meets a young woman named Antigone on a flight. Dicey ends up narrating Antigone’s story, set in a place both ancient and modern—early on, Antigone hooks up with a dive bar bartender named Achilles (no, not that one).
 
Pregnant by her first cousin and fiancé, Haemon, Antigone decides on an abortion to end her family’s incestuous lineage: her father, Oedipus, had four children with his own mother Jacosta. But her uncle Creon (Haemon’s father), who reluctantly became king of Thebes following Oedipus’ death, decrees that abortion is illegal; hence, his beloved niece could get the death penalty if she goes through with her decision.
 
Ziegler cleverly conflates Antigone’s and Dicey’s pregnancies, right up until the excessively—but necessarily—bloody climax. It’s simultaneously unnerving and bracing to watch Zeigler’s poetic polemic, aided by Tyne Rafaeli’s vigorous direction. Standing out in the cast are Celia Keenan-Bolger, truly heartrending as Dicey/Chorus; Haley Wong, a sadly fragile Ismene, Antigone’s sister; and Tony Shaloub, whose Creon mixes appealingness with appallingness. At the center in the treacherous title role, Susannah Perkins lets it all hang out, physically and emotionally, as she provides the human heart of this traumatic but touching tale.
 
 
Public Charge
Written by Julissa Reynoso and Michael J. Chepiga
Directed by Doug Hughes
Performances through April 12, 2026
Public Theater, New York, NY
publictheater.org
 
Zabryna Guevara in Public Charge (photo: Joan Marcus)
 
Julissa Reynoso’s story is an admirable and inspiring one. Born in the Dominican Republic, she came to America as a young girl, grew up in the Bronx, attended Harvard, Cambridge and Columbia, and became a Wall Street attorney. She was tapped to work in the Obama administration as one of Secretary of State Clinton’s diplomatic aides, taking part in the normalization of relations with Cuba as ambassador to Uruguay. However, on the basis of Public Charge, the play she wrote with Michael J. Chepiga, her fascinating life and unselfish public service does not fully translate to the stage.
 
The problem is not so much a matter of importance—which Reynoso’s life story has in spades—but rather its lack of urgency, even as it unfolds and covers plot threads of varying heft. Even a resourceful director like Doug Hughes can’t satisfyingly navigate threads that jump back and forth in time and move among a large cast of characters. It’s both too much and not enough, since there are a lot of intriguing ideas and complicated personalities that come and go—especially in the foreign service arena Reynoso moves around in—but it’s been sanitized to make it less messy than Reynoso’s time in government surely was. 
 
That’s too bad, for Reynoso’s is a story that needs telling. Here is the classic American tale of an immigrant making it good, living her American dream of working for the state department and trying to effect positive change. At least Reynoso and Chepiga never make her overly heroic; if anything, she’s made almost too naïve, seemingly always surprised at her own diplomatic career trajectory and the important roles she plays in so many difficult political episodes. That might have to do with Zabryna Guevara’s acting as Reynoso, who accentuates that naiveté too broadly, making our heroine wide-eyed more often than necessary.
 
There are interesting moments in Public Charge, especially when it shows that idealistic officials’ effecting positive change happens very slowly—if at all. But diplomacy is even more chaotic than we see onstage, as witness the insanity we hear about every day. 

"United in Sound: America at 250" at Carnegie Hall Part 2

Photo by Chris Lee

At the wonderful Stern Auditorium, on the night of Tuesday, March 31st, I had the exceptional privilege to attend an amazing concert—presented by Carnegie Hall as part of its festival, United in Sound: America at 250—featuring the renowned Philadelphia Orchestra under the outstanding direction of Marin Alsop.

The event started thrillingly with a masterly realization of the New York premiere of John Adams’s brilliant The Rock You Stand On from 2024, which was co-commissioned by this venue and this ensemble. About the piece, the composer says: “The title, The Rock You Stand On, is non-specific and is not meant to suggest anything other than perhaps hinting at the qualities—loyalty, determination, devotion—that make Marin Alsop so very special to me.” He adds that “there is a certain ‘big band’ quality to the ensemble writing, with the full orchestra at times executing irregular, bouncing figurations that are driven by an underlying jazz-inflected pulse.”

An astonishing soloist—and evidently a rising star—Hayato Sumino, then joined the musicians for an enthralling performance of George Gershwin’s marvelous Piano Concerto in F, from 1925. The composer commented with reference to his earlier, celebrated work for piano and orchestra, Rhapsody in Blue

Many persons had thought that the Rhapsody was only a happy accident. Well, I went out, for one thing, to show them that there was plenty more where that had come from. I made up my mind to do a piece of absolute music. The Rhapsody, as its title implied, was a blues impression. The Concerto would be unrelated to any program.

Gershwin’s friend, the talented composer Morton Gould, described the concerto as “a unique and highly original piece that bypassed all the fashions and trends.” Gershwin wrote the following program note for the work:

The first movement [Allegro] employs the Charleston rhythm. It is quick and pulsating, representing the young, enthusiastic spirit of American life. It begins with a rhythmic motif given out by the kettledrums, supported by other percussion instruments, and with a Charleston motif … The principal theme is announced by the bassoon. Later, a second theme is introduced by the piano.

The second movement [Andante con moto] has a poetic nocturnal atmosphere which has come to be referred to as the American blues, but in a purer form than in which they are usually treated. The final movement [Allegro agitato] reverts to the style of the first. It is an orgy of rhythms, starting violently and keeping to the same pace throughout.

The initial movement opens ostentatiously and rather busily but the piano enters moodily, recalling the works of Maurice Ravel, and this quality recurs throughout even as it is sometimes eclipsed by showier passages—it reaches a grand climax which precedes many more virtuosic measures before closing rapidly. The ensuing slow movement is more lyrical at first but in the main is more frolicsome and jazzy at times, although the introspective impulse returns even as the music intensifies before concluding softly. The finale begins exuberantly and continues propulsively and dazzlingly until it ends forcefully. Enthusiastic applause elicited a fabulous encore from the pianist: his own, jazz arrangement of Gershwin’s classic song, “I Got Rhythm.”

The second half of the evening was at least equal in strength: a glorious rendition of selections from Sergei Prokofiev’s magnificent ballet score, Romeo and Juliet, Op. 64, which was finished in 1936.

The composer originally envisioned concluding the piece happily but later recalled: “After several conferences with the choreographers, it was found that the tragic ending could be expressed in the dance and in due time the music for that ending was written.”

A standing ovation drew forth another delightful encore: Dmitri Shostakovich’s  "General Dance of Enthusiasm and Apotheosis" from his ballet score, The Bolt.

"United in Sound: America at 250" at Carnegie Hall

Gerald Clayton at the piano. Photo by Jennifer Taylor.

At the wonderful Stern Auditorium, on the night of Thursday, March 26th, I had the privilege to attend a splendid concert—presented by Carnegie Hall as part of its festival, United in Sound: America at 250—featuring the Orchestra of St. Luke’s under the superb direction of Louis Langrée.

The event started promisingly with an exceptionally compelling version of the powerful The Unanswered Question by Charles Ives. In useful notes on the program, Ryan Prendergast comments on the composer thus:

Most of his scores remained unperformed for many years, and he often undertook extensive revisions before their eventual premiere and publication. Such is the case with one of Ives’s most popular works, The Unanswered Question. Originally composed in 1908, the composer revised it in the early 1930s. Its debut did not come until 1946, its publication in 1953. The Unanswered Question shows all the hallmarks of the Ives sound: stylistic plurality, multivalent harmony, and rhythmic complexity. The score dictates three instrumental “units,” all of which play against each other’s tempos and rhythms. There is an offstage string orchestra, representing what Ives called “The Silence of the Druids.” Onstage, a solo trumpet poses the “Perennial Question of Existence” while a noisome flute quartet hunts in vain for the “Invisible Answer.”

A fabulous jazz pianist, Gerald Clayton, then entered the stage to admirably perform two excellent, infrequently heard works by Duke Ellington, beginning with Night Creature from 1955, transcribed by David Berger. The annotator explains:

Cast in three movements, the score depicts the activities of various “night creatures,” who, in the composer’s words, “unlike stars, do not come out at night—they come on, each thinking that before the night is out he or she will be the star.”

This preceded New World A-Comin’ from 1943. Prendergast reports that “The composer drew his title and his inspiration from journalist Roi Ottley’s book of the same name about Harlem life, published earlier that year,” adding that “This performance features the version by Ellington’s regular arranger, Luther Henderson, the piano part transcribed from Ellington’s 1945 recording.” Enthusiastic applause elicited a delightful encore of improvised jazz from Clayton.

The second half of the evening was even more impressive beginning with an outstanding interpretation of George Gershwin’s marvelous An American in Paris from 1928. The annotator records that “Orchestra of St. Luke’s uses the new critical edition by Mark Clague for this performance, which restores music cut before the premiere and Gershwin’s original scoring, which was heavily altered in the early published versions.” But the highlight of the evening was a magnificent rendition of Leonard Bernstein’s extraordinary, seldom played Symphonic Suite from On the Waterfront, completed in 1955. With perfect justice, the artists were rewarded with a standing ovation.

Musical Review— Michael John LaChiusa’s “The Wild Party” at Encores

The Wild Party
Music and Lyrics by Michael John LaChiusa  
Book by Michael John LaChiusa and George C. Wolfe; based on the poem by Joseph Moncure March  
Directed by Lili-Anne Brown; choreographed by Katie Spelman  
Performances March 18–29, 2026
New York City Center, 131 West 55th Street, NYC
nycitycenter.org
 
The cast of The Wild Party (photo: Joan Marcus)
 
Joseph Moncure March’s 1928 poem The Wild Party is a strange choice as the basis for a musical—but two shows based on March’s poem both premiered within months of each other in the 1999–2000 season: Andrew Lippa’s off-Broadway version and Michael John LaChiusa’s Broadway version. City Center’s Encores—which has been bringing back obscure and neglected musicals for 30 years—tackled Lippa’s version in 2015 with a game but miscast Sutton Foster as the heroine Queenie and Broadway stalwart Stephen Pasquale (most recently onstage in Encores’ High Spirits last month) as her lover Burrs. This time, Encores does LaChiusa’s adaptation: perfectly cast and energetically staged by director Lili-Anne Brown and choreographer Katie Spelman, its two hours are a frantically entertaining journey into hell.
 
The Wild Party centers on the volatile relationship between vaudeville dancer Queenie and her lover Burrs, a clown who performs in blackface. Always at each other’s throats, literally and figuratively, they decide to host a party in their Manhattan apartment one evening. Among the array of friends, acquaintances, hangers-on and other theater people, Queenie has invited Kate, her best friend who is a famous name now and with whom she has always had an explosive relationship. Kate has brought her latest beau, the strapping Black, which sets up a night filled with jealousy, recriminations, sex, drugs, music and—fatally—more. 
 
The book by composer and lyricist LaChiusa and George C. Wolfe (who directed the original Broadway production) presents this evening of debauchery as a series of blackout sketches for Queenie, Burrs and their guests, who all get showstopping spotlights in the midst of arguing, drinking, drugging or pairing off for trysts. These increasingly dark scenes are certainly arresting, but there’s little dramatic arc to the whole thing—instead, it’s a parade of desperate characters acting desperately, and a little of The Wild Party goes a long way. 
 
Despite that, the acting, staging and music making at City Center are peerless. Mary Mitchell Campbell conducts the superb Encores Orchestra, which gives LaChiusa’s alternately jazzy and dissonant score a full, sumptuous sound. Director Brown and choreographer Spelman make great use of their terrifically agile cast, which includes a legend in Tonya Pinkins—the original Kate on Broadway—who, as fading star Dolores, kills it in her two solo turns, “Moving Uptown” and “When It Ends.”
 
Then there’s the sublime trio at the heart of the show. Jordan Danica is a quietly insinuating Burrs, Adrienne Warren is a powerhouse Kate, and Jasmine Amy Rogers is a spectacular Queenie, singing, dancing and acting up a storm. If this staging transfers to Broadway, at a minimum Danica, Warren and Rogers should go with it.

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