The Seat of Our Pants (c) Joan Marcus
Theater: The Seat of Our Pants
At the Public Theater
I have always had a love-hate relationship with Thorton Wilder’s 1942 Pulitzer Prize-winning play, The Skin of Our Teeth, a visionary absurdist allegorical retelling of man’s existence on Earth via the Family Antrobus (Greek for human), including inventor father George (Shuler Hensley), dutiful housewife Maggie (Ruthie Ann Miles) and their children, the hotheaded and toxic Henry (Damon Daunno) and the intelligent but trend-loving Glady (Amina Faye). They also had a son named Abel who may have been Biblically killed by his brother. In the first act, we are at the couple’s home in an amalgam of the world of Ice Age cavemen and future dystopia, post-pandemic version of Excelsior, New Jersey (mixing the hungry and cold humans with dinosaurs and mammoths). The second act moves to Atlantic City, where the humans are thriving in a hedonistic world led by President Antrobus, who cares more about his reputation than the impending flood that is about to hit. And the third act takes place back in the Antrobus home after a long war, with the family now exhausted and full of despair about the future in a chaotic and broken world. For me, some of these headier academic ideas in Wilder’s premise don’t make a logical translation onto the stage, especially the religious references that are spoken of but then quickly dropped. But in 1942 (with the world still in the throes of WWII), these big flourishes and wild takes on the follies of humans, may have been too hard to resist.
The Seat of Our Pants (c) Joan Marcus
So, I was interested to see what composer and playwright Ethan Lipton's take on the play would be, especially since it is now a musical. Although Lipton updated the title with a modern, synonymous idiom (The Seat of Our Pants), he hasn’t really changed too much of the play’s themes to reflect our Trump reality (although President Antrobus has some of his self-centered impulses). Yet, there is a lightness of touch to this production that must be attributed to Lipton’s songs, which are so catchy and smart. This is certainly director Leigh Silverman’s most assured and impressive production to date, shepherding the story, with its many tonal changes, to great dramatic effect. The show’s design (sets by Lee Jellinek, costumes by Kaye Voyce, lighting by Lap Chi Chu) is creative, whether the play calls for cartoony or super-serious. The actors also sell their characters’ motivation, even as the settings and circumstances change. Miles is just a wonder as Mrs. Antrobus, as the backbone of the family, while Hensley has never seemed more relaxed onstage, even when things get tense, including a physical altercation with Daunno (this is the interdimensional Curly and Jud fight in Oklahoma! we didn’t know we needed). But, like all productions of the Wilder play, the real star of the show is Sabina, the maid, who occasionally breaks the fourth wall (to the exasperation of the cast and crew) to mostly complain about the play’s themes or with frustration with her part. She says what is on the mind of the audience (especially those who have never seen the show), and what she says is often hysterical and to the point. Here, she is played by the great Micaela Diamond (Parade, Here We Are) and she is the highlight of a production full of highlights. Does Lipton crack the code on The Skin of Our Teeth for me? No, but I enjoyed every minute of him trying to do so.
The Burning Cauldron of Fiery Fire (c) Carol Rosegg
Theater: The Burning Cauldron of Fiery Fire
At Vineyard Theatre
One of the more popular collaborations between the playwright Annie Washburn and the theater troop The Civilians has to be 2013’s Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play, in which the human race, after some sort of apocalyptic event has destroyed the electric grid, returns to telling stories around the campfire, with someone retelling an episode of The Simpsons, which, after many years and iterations, has morphed into an almost religious legend of epic proportions. They have reunited for their latest production, The Burning Cauldron of Fiery Fire, in which they again look at society, this time through a micro-community located in remote rural California. Whether you call them a commune or cult (potatoes, potatoes), they have retreated away from the rest of the world. Though everyone seems to have the same vote on the direction of their group, Thomas (Bruce McKenzie) does appear to be the leader when something happens to the painter Peter (Tom Pecinka), and he decides that if anyone asks, Peter left unexpectedly, presumably to another camp. Someone does ask: Peter’s brother Will (also played by Pecinka), who arrives trying to find him after the death of a beloved grandmother. He does flirt with Mari (Marianne Rendón), who had a relationship with Peter. The title comes from a play that the group’s kids (there are a lot of children for some reason and Mari is also pregnant) perform about a king who does everything to keep his only daughter from marrying her true love, through trials, including walking through The Burning Cauldron of Fiery Fire.
The Burning Cauldron of Fiery Fire (c) Carol Rosegg
Washburn’s latest play is uneven in conveying what her message is about with this commune. The story is narrated by Milo (Bobby Moreno) in the future, but who was 6 at the time of the play and is mostly known for his dislike of Peter. Why Milo? I don’t really know as his narrator doesn’t seem to be part of the group anymore and seems to be explaining what his life was like in an Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt kind of way, but without much insight. Other tidbits are put in to be provocative, but never really explained, including a member who is a sexual predator and one who is brain damaged. There’s also a lot made about the pigs in their pen as well as a dragon (an amazing feat by Monkey Boys Productions). Director Steve Cosson doesn’t help matters with some truly head-scratching stage pictures, including a pose the actors take whenever they are telling a collective story. So, why did I have such a fun time? From the wonderful set design by Andrew Boyce, ably assisted by Emily Rebholz’s costumes and Amith Chandrashaker’s lighting design, which really kicks into imaginative gear during the kids’ play production, to the impressive troupe of actors, I was happily transported into this strange and foreign world. Although not as philosophical or visionary as Mr. Burns, a Washburn play always holds surprises and a loopy look at how people adjust or reject their path in this world
Richard II (c) Carol Rosegg
Theater: Richard II
Red Bull Theatre at Astor Place Theater
To think that in 1595, Shakespeare imagined a narcissistic, ineffective king who enjoys the spoils of the monarchy (and is easily manipulated by flattery) without much thought of the people he’s ruling. Today’s America has much to learn from Shakespeare. Richard II is the first in the cycle of the Henriad plays depicting Henry IV’s ascension to the throne at the end of “Richard II” and continues in the two plays that bear his name before culminating in the heroic story of his son in Henry V. But first Henry has to deal with Richard, his king and cousin, who instead of ruling in a dispute that Henry has with fellow noble Mowbray, decides to not decide and banish both. This of course lights a fire in Henry to despose Richard as king. Richard II is not great Shakespeare (the political shenanigans alone cry out for handy cliff-notes) and director Craig Baldwin of the latest production didn’t change my mind. But, when you have Michael Urie as your lead, and a sort of gay decadent Studio 54 era as your milieu, this production certainly has flair.
Richard II (c) Carol Rosegg
When Baldwin’s adaptation starts, Richard is already in jail, which then makes the rest of the play a flashback, with Richard reliving the events that led to his downfall. Urie handles the language nicely, although sometimes his playful gay affectations and need to employ his comedic talents occasionally distract from the Shakespeare of it all). Grantham Coleman and Daniel Stewart Sherman are certainly commanding as Bolingbroke (the future Henry IV) and Mowbray, respectively, especially in Baldwin’s reimagined boxing duel, which is now a game of Russian roulette. The always reliable veteran, Shakespearean actors Ron Canada and Kathryn Misele give the play some needed gravitas. But, when was the last time Richard’s wife, the Queen, was the standout performance? The magnetic trans actress Lux Pascal makes her both an enabler to Richard’s excess and his biggest advocate when things go south. The gay overlay to Richard II is not unique, but the many scenes in saunas and discos and the use of (Sweet Dreams (are made of this)” (reminiscent of Annie Lennox’s appearance in Derek Jarman’s queer version of Edward II) make provocative stage pictures. Richard famously calls the British monarchy a “hollow crown,” but in Urie and Baldwin’s hands, this production of Richard II is certainly rich with ideas and a wonderful topic of discussion after the show.
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