New plays (mostly) suck:
Mon night -- reading of a new play at NYU. A "Southern gothic" in the tradition of Flannery O'Connor. It was not a play, it was maybe a movie. It felt like a movie of the week, but I think you could make a reasonably compelling film out of it; if the actors played it totally straight and committed, which they really didn't at this reading. They played so broadly you would have thought you were in the Hippodrome circa 1910.
Tues night -- the Strawberry Festival, with a piece starring our friends Zach Harvey and Laura Harrison. Theirs was by far the most entertaining and least cringeworthy. The first was "Saturday with the Bushes," when George W. and Laura invite George H. W. and Barbara to their weekend place in Kennebunkport, Maine. First problem there -- Kennebunkport is H.W.'s place; W. ain't doin' none of the invitin'. Lord. It just worse -- much, much worse -- from there. Really horrible, unfunny impressions of these people, plus some truly politically offensive, reductive, unfair, and mean dialogue. Physically I could not clap. Next up, something about two guys robbing these priests. They sit around and talk for 25 minutes about whether or not they should kill them; they confess to the priests, as they believe under the law a confession is immune to any case trying to convict them. They don't shoot the priests, they leave, turns out the priests were also robbers dressed in priest get-ups. Just stood there and talked for 40 minutes (but same thing with "Saturday with the Bushes," and that was almost an hour -- it felt like). Third up was a confusing, coy, but not-so-cute reinterpretation of "Jack and the Beanstalk," which featured real acting from the woman playing Jack's mother. And while she went a little over-crazy amongst the other rather smug not-so-compelling actors, I appreciated some actual commitment to her audience.
Finally, "What Cheer, Iowa," with ours friends Zach and Laura. (There was a fifth show, but I could not stay. Sorry.) "What Cheer, Iowa," follows four unfortunate souls waiting to see if their cars have passed inspection. Bad Speech and Debate sketch, but not as bad as the prior three. Zach and Laura were at least entertaining to watch.
WHO CHOSE THESE GODDAMN PLAYS? WHY ARE THEY SO BAD? WHY ARE THEY SO POORLY PERFORMED AND DIRECTED?
The asswipe who produces it is quite full of himself, from the program, which I couldn't bear to bring home with me even. But note to asswipe producers: even if your show is bad, you're doing NO ONE favors by having the show start 45 minutes late. Especially when showtime is (or was) 9:30 pm at night. Jesus Christ!
Wed night -- Paradise Park at Signature Theatre, the last production in their Charles Mee season. I saw Chuck after the show, and he was lovely and we had a nice little conversation. Like Queens Boulevard before it, Paradise Park was poorly directed. With a collage piece (which this was entirely, no real through-line whatsoever), I think you need a director who essentially will be a co-author to the onstage play. This guy just seemed to put up what Chuck wrote, which to me is a beginning, not an end, not a finished product by any means, but a jumping off point. They didn't jump. Really poorly paced; I actually liked a lot of the second half, but it was a tough haul through the first one, which leaves the second half a bit deflated. It was NO FUN at all -- it was like they said, OK, y'all get the Paradise idea, now we're going to show you the dark underside. And of course that's there, and supposed to be, but that's not all the play is. The mood was almost overwhelmingly oppressive, even as the actors (rightly) tried to fight it. I liked the script, I liked most of the cast, and I really appreciated their effort. But they weren't having fun, they were drowning in weird stage business (even as they dealt with the text fairly well, I thought). The design was confusing, ineffective, weird, and not particularly attractive. I got the point of the design when I walked in the theater an hour and fifteen minutes before the show began.
Ugh. Poor Mr. Mee. His shows require a really, really strong director, with a really strong opinion about the piece, even if it doesn't totally work, or it turns people off. I loved Iphigenia 2.0, and I really loved a lot of Tina Landau's very strong direction. Other people did not. But the general consensus was that whether or not you liked the direction the piece took, it was a stronger production and a better representation of what Chuck and his work are about then the watered-down mess that is Paradise Park or the limp Queens Boulevard.
At any rate, I spoke to him for a few minutes afterwards. He had recognized me walking into the theater, which was cool, and we spoke about his show, and I said what a pleasure it was to see so much of his work spread out across a season, and what a thrill that must be for him, etc, etc. And then he asked me what I was doing. And I told him about Mackers, etc. That was really cool and very kind of him. He's a super person in my book.
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FILM:
The Savages -- almost precisely what you expect and leaves you none the more pleased about it. Philip Bosco, who plays the demented ill father, is excellent and entirely sympathetic and selfless. Laura Linney and Philip Seymour Hoffman do their thing. Who cares?
Blow-up -- my first Antonioni film. Totally cool. Totally hot. Fantastic. Loved it, would watch it again immediately. Totally not what you expect at all, and leaves you all the more disturbed and satisfied by it. Why can't we make movies anymore (in America) that trust their audiences?? And deal with real sexiness, the kind that comes from intelligence and personal thrust. I felt like the movie was waiting for me to watch it, not telling me I should. That felt good.
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