Tony Pick #1: Kristine Nielsen

Maybe I’m just on an end-of-season, Matilda-inspired high, but Broadway seemed particularly smoosh-smashed with some truly noteworthy performances this year. As Tonys are approaching, it’s time to write about them! Let’s get started with the ultimate highlight…

Tony Pick #1: Kristine Nielsen, Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike

Kristine Nielsen

“Brilliant! Heartbreaking! Genius!” Critics like to throw these words around, even if they’re not always appropriate. But when the actress is Kristin Nielsen and the play is Vanya and Sonia, such distinctions are actually accurate: She is brilliant; she is heartbreaking; she is a genius. A great synthesizer of the tragic and the comic, Nielsen uses her extraordinary vocal and physical technique in the service of something almost frighteningly, hilariously real in this beautiful, funny play. Tony folk, I beg of you: Vote early and vote often for what is unquestionably the performance of the year.

Read more about Nielsen in Vanya here.


That Time Julie Andrews Spoke at My Brother’s Graduation

Julie Andrews Colorado College Boulder Graduation

Every year or six it’s important to leave New York—one can only stand so much of $7 cereal and the G train, after all. Last week I took one such sojourn to my brother’s college graduation in Boulder, Colorado. Here, I thought, was my chance to leave behind Mr. Man Hattan. To clear the head. To consider—very briefly—matters beyond the footlights. Sure, Sondheim’s “Our Time” might flit through my mind at The Big Event, but that moment would pass, and I would soon be thinking on, well, whatever it is non-theater people think on.

And then I learned that the graduation speaker was to be Julie Andrews.

Not kidding.

At first I thought I was being had. “Right,” I said to myself. “Julie Andrews? Who’s her date, Richard Burton? Rex Harrison?”

But the joke was on me: Apparently Dame Julie had some connection to the University, and, in a remarkable coup, had been roped into delivering the annual basket of “go get ‘em” pleasantries.

(The theater will find you, people, even if you fly four hours to the foothills of the Flatiron Range. It will find you.)

Graduation morning dawned blue and overture-worthy. Walking towards the ceremony, to be held in the football stadium, I glanced up at the mountains that cradled the city and I wondered—was Julie up there, crooning “The Hills Are Alive”? Or, I considered, passing the marijuana shops, was she there, selling loverly “flowers”? In other words, was it a Sound of Music day or a My Fair Lady day? A Victor/Victoria morning or a Boy Friend one? Which Julie were we going to get?

Silly me. An hour later, as Julie ascended to her throne/podium, the answer became clear: Today was a Camelot day, and Julie, oh Julie, was our beloved Guinevere. How could it be otherwise? It was, you see, a cheery morn in this Lusty Month of May.

“I LOVE YOU JULIE,” someone screamed from the crowd as we rose to our feet. We love you, too, our hoots concurred. We love you too!

Who knew the Colorado set was so discerning?

“Thank you,” she said, quieting the crowd, “thank you.” Then—

It’s all a Julie blur. Sorry.

There was something about overcoming adversity (egregiously overlooked! the botched operation!) and the importance of the arts, as well as brilliant lines about “my signature turn” and how “the hills truly are alive with the class of 2013,” but I was too taken with her regal poise and the mere Fact of Julie Andrews to remember much more.

Because here’s the thing about Ms. Andrews: Girl knows how to work a crowd. Seriously. Though you’ll never meet a more gentlewomanly creature on God’s green earth, Julie owned us with the strength of an iron fist—a fist draped in dainty blue satin sashes, but a fist, nonetheless. Never once was our applause allowed to get in the way of her message, never once were we anywhere but the uber-competent palm of her hand.

Such control is a miracle to behold, and renders message almost irrelevant. The way she said what she said was the meaning of what she said. Not to get all modernistic… but it really was.

So thanks, Julie. Thanks for spoiling my theater hiatus. I’m not going to spout that line about the world, and how it’s a stage—not gonna do it—but such, it seems, is the truth. You can’t, it seems, escape the theater.

And if Julie Andrews is involved, it turns out, you won’t want to.

In the Office with BULL and CORE VALUES

Core Values Ars NovaThose who can’t get enough of cubicles, memos and water coolers during the work week will be excited to learn of Core Values and Bull, two new Off Broadway productions about the peaks and valleys (but mostly valleys) of nine-to-five living. In ways quiet and vicious, these dramadies remind us that bloodlust and existential agony don’t check themselves at the office door; no, that’s where they parade in, take up shop, and feel right at home.

Ars Nova’s Core Values, by Steven Levenson and directed by Carolyn Cantor, gets at papercut drama with the kind of funny/sad mumblecorp-speak popularized by Annie Baker. When a sad sack loser-boss (Reed Birney) summons his meager travel agency staff for an in-house weekend “retreat,” trust falls and brainstorming sessions don’t quite have the desired effects, and  takeout Dunkin’ Donuts can’t sugarcoat the sense of loss present in each character’s life. In Mr. Levenson’s world, the office is the nexus of politely disguised melancholia and cringey, awkward humor, sort of like TVs “The Office” with a bigger dollop of ache.

Bull makes no such stab at delicacy. This companion piece to last year’s Cock, also by Mike Bartlett, is all knives, all the time. The setup: In a nightmare of a conference room, several yopros ream out a weaker third member while they wait for a client. We’re talking verbal annihilation, intimidation and, yes, physical violence. The proceedings are deliberately over-the-top—by making caricatures out of his characters, Bartlett seems to be drawing focus to the Darwinian impulses we might normally surpress. All it takes is a little rattling, and zing—the fangs are be bared, he seems to say. Soutra Gilmour‘s set, an in-the-round affair meant to look rather like a bull ring, makes the metaphor real and nails down the production’s point: people in suits are latter-day gladiators. (The show, by the way, is directed by Claire Lizzimore at 59E59.)

Bull 59e59

I found Core Values to be the more persuasive and involving of the plays; the humorous sympathy Mr. Levenson lends his all-too-human characters is as endearing as Bull’s high style fracas is distancing. Then again, maybe I’ve worked in too many nice people offices. Perhaps the hounds of Bull are real, are out there, and I’ve simply never crossed their paths…

Photos by Sara Krulwich

A Scott Rudin, Patrick Healy Kerfluffle

Whoa! Producer Scott Rudin has some fightin’ words for New York Times journalist Patrick Healy in today’s ABCs.

Scott Rudin Patrick Healy Testament of MaryPresumably the tiff has something to do with this interview Healy conducted with Testament of Mary playwright Colm Tobin. Perhaps Rudin chafted at Healy’s contention that The Book of Mormon, another Rudin show, was somehow financing MaryWhat do you think?


%d bloggers like this: