Back in business and ready for publicity, the Bucks County Playhouse in New Hope, Pennsylvania recently housed the world premiere of William Goldman's stage adaptation of Misery (now closed). Based on the novel by Stephen King, as well as Goldman's screenplay for the 1990 hit movie directed by Rob Reiner, this three-hander adaptation of an adaptation aimed to please and move quickly. It's a condensed highlights version for undemanding fans.
Unfortunately, what works on film does not necessarily work on stage — particularly when it comes to violence — and, having attended the closing night performance, I had sincerely hoped Goldman would transform the material for the stage rather than simply export it. Is it a blessing or a curse that each scene runs approximately three minutes, with gripping music underscoring each moment to stretch for a link to its previous cinematic incarnation? The hobbling scene, depending on where you sit, looks awfully fake (and the blackout should come about two seconds earlier for maximum effect), and the climatic payoff involving a typewriter is too little, too late.
While the effects are purposefully broad, the characterizations are needlessly so. As the psychotic Annie, Johanna Day is crazy from the get-go, draining the piece of the mystery and relentless tension it needs when things really hit the fan. Day doesn't let us warm up to Annie, and since we never get to trust her version of the character, we don't feel betrayed or surprised when she flips. The other two actors fare better in far less complicated parts, considering it's not always easy to act amongst taxidermy and gunshot wounds. I hate to be lowbrow and note that you'd be better off watching the superior movie adaptation instead, but in a way, the play makes that claim for me.
A semi-revival of an underground hit (its original staging and cast recording having been circulated throughout the internet for a number of years), Bare, the pop opera about being a gay, affluent Catholic high school student, arrives at New World Stages with great energy, powerful performances, and a heavily revised but no less rocking musical score. The director, Stafford Arima, previously directed Carrie: The Musical at MCC earlier this year, a revival dealing with similar issues of outcasts and bullying. For some reason, his staging of Carrie was often crudely heavy-handed, hammering home the point that the ostracization of others is a despicable act which often leads to the outlashing of violence onto others and/or suicidal tendencies. Arima demanded that the production be topical and thus, relevant, and showed little faith in his "outdated" source material. With Bare, Arima tones down these instincts (although the collage-inspired set looks like an Instagram mash-up that wants to wrench hearts) and thankfully doesn't talk down to his audience. Armia's two lead actors are strong, and the entire supporting cast is game and give performances that prove they believe in the material (Jerold E. Solomon as Father Mike is the only one who's uneven acting doesn't mach his commendable vocal talents). Sure, some of the costumes often seem to accentuate type (the emo girl dresses stereotypically emo, the promiscuous girl looks promiscuous — I am however not sure what to make of the guy wearing the Lynchian Straight Story t-shirt), but it's a musical about a serious issue that at times is very funny and sincere; it also features a dream sequence as memorable as the one in Fiddler on the Roof. Rather than concentrate on one emotion, Bare surveys the opportunities provided by them all.
David Mamet's Glengarry Glen Ross has been around for about thirty years now, and I think I've been enamored with it for about ten. Having seen the 1992 film and both the 2005 and 2012 Broadway revivals, I've been told to go to lunch more times than I can now count. I can report that this new Broadway mounting, by 2010's The Merchant of Venice Daniel Sullivan, is by far the weakest, but the fact that it's Glengarry makes it still worth seeing. What all Mamet afficianados will instantly realize is that this production has been slowed down considerably. Each written-in pause and "...." is discovered, taken advantage of, drawn out, and meticouslousy savored. This bothered me more than it will others. "This isn't how Mamet dialogue is supposed to sound," I thought as the cadences I was so accustomed to were nowhere to be heard.
Bobby Cannavale, John C. McGinley, and Richard Schiff as Roma, Moss, and Aaronow respectively play the roles on the typical, much-appreciated wavelength. They all put in skilled work, but I can't say their performances had me seeing their characters in a new light. However, Jeremy Shamos as Lingk is excellent, for the first time allowing me to discover the character as the true victim of the piece, a man castrated by both his wife and blood-selling salesmen. And Dave Harbour as Williamson is also quite authentic, and he reminds us that Glengarry is as much a laugh-out-loud comedy as it is a cutthroat study of character. His freakouts in the second act (on a disappointingly designed office set) are hilarious.
As Shelley Levene, Al Pacino plays Al Pacino, wonderfully chewing the scenery and taking all the big monologue moments Sullivan grants him and morphing them into individual acting exercises. Pacino will always be a fascinating actor to watch, blending the theatrical largeness of his persona with the brilliantly dynamic line-readings that seem to roll off the tongue, but I don't think it's right for this production. His portrayal needs to be toned down and sped up; whenever Pacino gets a moment to go big (i.e., his description to Roma of a made sale, his final, dialogue-free seconds on stage,etc.), it's taken beyond its worth as the production stops in awe of him. I was in awe of him too — one of the great things about seeing Pacino on stage is that you can witness the offside reactions he has whenever other characters are speaking — but should I have been? The parts greater than its whole, this 2012 Glengarry features an uneven smorgasbord of styles ranging from A,B, and C. Much of it works outside of its context, outside of the Glengarry script at hand.
Bare: Highly Recommended
Bobby Cannavale, John C. McGinley, and Richard Schiff as Roma, Moss, and Aaronow respectively play the roles on the typical, much-appreciated wavelength. They all put in skilled work, but I can't say their performances had me seeing their characters in a new light. However, Jeremy Shamos as Lingk is excellent, for the first time allowing me to discover the character as the true victim of the piece, a man castrated by both his wife and blood-selling salesmen. And Dave Harbour as Williamson is also quite authentic, and he reminds us that Glengarry is as much a laugh-out-loud comedy as it is a cutthroat study of character. His freakouts in the second act (on a disappointingly designed office set) are hilarious.
As Shelley Levene, Al Pacino plays Al Pacino, wonderfully chewing the scenery and taking all the big monologue moments Sullivan grants him and morphing them into individual acting exercises. Pacino will always be a fascinating actor to watch, blending the theatrical largeness of his persona with the brilliantly dynamic line-readings that seem to roll off the tongue, but I don't think it's right for this production. His portrayal needs to be toned down and sped up; whenever Pacino gets a moment to go big (i.e., his description to Roma of a made sale, his final, dialogue-free seconds on stage,etc.), it's taken beyond its worth as the production stops in awe of him. I was in awe of him too — one of the great things about seeing Pacino on stage is that you can witness the offside reactions he has whenever other characters are speaking — but should I have been? The parts greater than its whole, this 2012 Glengarry features an uneven smorgasbord of styles ranging from A,B, and C. Much of it works outside of its context, outside of the Glengarry script at hand.
Misery: Not Recommended
Glengarry Glen Ross: Recommended
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