Next Fall

By Ben Ellentuck

Next Fall brings together the past and the present to tell a story of family and faith. Much of the play takes place in flashbacks, which chronicle the romantic relationship of Adam and Luke. Luke, a devout Christian, meets Adam, a sarcastic, culturally-Jewish-but-really-atheistic urbanite There is an instant attraction and a very serious romance blossoms, despite the fact that they have opposing views of faith.

The other part of the play, the present, takes place in a hospital waiting room after Luke is hit by a car. The accident brings together Adam, Luke’s parents, and friends, who all try to cope with the situation.

The play explores different kinds of family: There’s the biological family, who are there whether we like them or not, and the family of friends, whom we’ve chosen for ourselves.

Adam’s accident incorporates everyone into one big family —where they, even literally, catch each other when they fall—united for a common cause, at least temporarily. Though, it seems that something lasting may be forming in that waiting room.

TICKETS: $26.50 student rush, 2 per valid ID • Helen Hayes Theatre, 240 W. 44 St.

The Miracle Worker

by Ben Ellentuck

I called up a friend and said I had an extra ticket to a show and would he like to come. "Of course," he said, "But what show is it?"

"The Miracle Worker," I said.

"Oh," he replied. I could tell what he was thinking. And quite honestly, I was thinking the same thing myself. Going to a show about Helen Keller did not seem like the most thrilling excursion in the world. In fact, it seemed quite boring.

I’m not going to lie and tell you that the show is hilarious or ground-breaking or full of energy because it isn’t. That said, it sure as hell is moving.

The plot follows the journey of Annie Sullivan (played by Alison Pill), from being a Boston boarding school student to becoming an astoundingly successful teacher of blind and deaf Helen Keller (played by Abigail Breslin—the little girl from Little Miss Sunshine; she looks very different now).

Before Annie arrives, no one knows how to communicate with Helen. Annie sets out to not only discipline Helen, but to also educate her. Of course there are obstacles in her way (such as Helen's parents and Annie's past), but Annie's experiments become progressively more and more successful. Helen learns about Annie, Annie learns about Helen, and the two grow to really care about one another.

You may be reading this and thinking, "Well…it still sounds kind of stupid." Fine; I get it. Maybe I’d still even feel the same way if it weren’t for the very last moments of the play. However, those final moments (this production does them SO well) are some of the most tender, poignant, uplifting—in short, some of the BEST—I’ve ever experienced through a work of art, any work of art, EVER. You feel hope, not a blind optimism, but a real, tangible hope, welling up in your chest, for yourself, for the characters, for humanity as a whole. It feels wonderful just being alive.

If you’ve ever truly felt this, you know exactly what I mean. If you’ve yet to, I would highly recommend the experience.

I really don’t want to ruin the ending of the play by revealing the specifics to you (yes, it’s that good), but I will say this: whether or not you’re interested in Helen Keller, if you care at all about people, you WILL be moved by The Miracle Worker.

TICKETS: $26.50 lottery rush • Circle in the Square, 235 West 50th Street.

As You Like It

by Ben Ellentuck

When I entered the BAM (Brooklyn Academy of Music) Harvey Theater, where As You Like It is playing, I was immediately struck. The theater is absolutely enormous. It also looks like it’s about to collapse. Old columns just barely hold up the balcony. The walls and ceiling are crumbling: I would not have been entirely surprised if a piece of debris had fallen on me. Also—a warning—the seats are very flat and not ideal for sitting in for long periods of time. And yet, the space, especially in combination with the set, is breathtaking.

Ah, the set! The set designer has hit a home run, beautifully capturing the essence of the forest, where most of the action takes place. The trees are like telephone poles, the back wall like an infinitely tall prison barrier; first snow on the ground, then what looks like wheat—the whole set up is weird and wonderful. The lighting design, too, is great; there is a very nice chemistry between the lighting and the set that results in some very cool effects throughout the performance.

Ah…the performance. Is it a bad sign that I enjoyed looking at the set more than at the performers?
 

As You Like It is a comedy by William Shakespeare (remember him?). As such, you can be sure that there will be a woman (Rosalind) dressing like a man, lovers (her and a guy named Orlando, among others), fools, nobility, singing and general merriment, and of course many happy marriages at the end (As You Like It features a quadruple marriage). Yes, of course there is a plot, but it’s much too complicated to write here. (The program attempts a synopsis that is so confusing I almost didn’t bother to pay attention at all—but don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get the basics…by intermission.)

Sure, there are the famous speeches—“all the world’s a stage,” among others—that can’t possibly go wrong. There are the gags that are funny no matter what. There are some moments that inevitably work—the writing is just that good. But in this production, at least for me, these were the only moments that I really enjoyed.

The production, directed by Sam Mendes (he directed American Beauty and Revolutionary Road, among other movies—along with many other plays), is not played as a comedy—or at least it isn’t particularly funny. (But then again I didn’t find American Beauty particularly funny, either.) As a result, I didn’t really have that much fun watching the actors speak—and they speak quite a bit; the production is three hours long.

Additionally, Mendes sprinkles in a bunch of conceptual elements—some modern costumes here, some English accents there, some color-blind casting, a lot of the cast playing multiple roles—that feel more like afterthoughts than anything else. They’re never really fleshed out, and I didn’t feel like I “got” what Mendes was going for in the end—but perhaps I’m just stupidly inattentive. I don’t know. Maybe it was my flat seat, after all.

HOW TO SEE THE SHOW: $10 student rush tickets • BAM Harvey Theater, 651 Fulton Street, Brooklyn

Safe Home

by Ben Ellentuck

I must admit: going to see Safe Home I was not particularly optimistic. A family drama set in the 1950s about a son going off and dying in the Korean War does not strike me (I can only speak for myself here, though I suspect I am not alone) as making for an “enjoyable” theater experience. Perhaps the play would be weighed down with facts? Or politics? Fortunately it was neither of these things. In the end, however, the premise seemed to get the best of it.

The son is a 19-year-old version of the person who would have grown up to be the playwright’s uncle; the piece was inspired by one of his “shockingly poignant” letters “from a cold and lonely outpost in Korea” (I’m quoting the Playwright’s Note on the first page of my program, if you’re curious). It chronicles the lives of his family—him, his two teenage brothers, his stressed mother and burnt-out father—jumping back and forth between the time before he left for Korea (1951) and the time after his death (1953). His enlistment tears the family apart only to bring them back together again, and his death brings the family back together only to tear them apart once more. Of course, the boy has a romantic interest, and in the end we see that even in the face of death love conquers all (awww…). (Not to marginalize the romance per se—the actress who plays the romantic interest, Claire, brings an interesting 21^st century take to the role; I almost wished we saw more of her—but it is just that: the “old-fashioned” token teen romance in the family drama.)

In the end, the play just didn’t excite my emotions. There wasn’t anything about it that I found particularly disturbing, or funny, or moving. There wasn’t anything particularly anything: the piece was very nebulous. It certainly wasn’t whimsical; rather, the playwright seemed to be going for something grittier. But the play’s feet weren’t planted firmly enough in the ground for it to be earthy. It seemed to be stuck in a sort of purgatorial blandness that really didn’t excite my interest in any of the characters. I got to know what they were like, but I never felt like I knew who they were. (The exception, perhaps, was Claire, but this seemed to have more to do with the actress’s take on the role than anything else.)

Perhaps the letters from the son really are shockingly poignant. (I do not doubt this, in fact—especially if that son is your would-be uncle.) The playwright, however, seemed to have trouble translating this emotion into something theatrically exciting. 

HOW TO SEE THE SHOW: $10 student rush tickets • Women's Interart Center • 500 West 52 Street • Friday & Saturday at 8PM; Sunday at 5PM; Monday at 7PM

Superior Donuts

by Ben Ellentuck

Superior Donuts made me smile. It also made me laugh; quite a bit, in fact. It made me happy and sad and completely in awe of playwright Tracy Letts’ ability to manipulate my emotions so deftly. Ironically, it did not make me particularly hungry.

Arthur owns a depressing donut shop, Superior Donuts, where two cops and a delightfully tipsy woman, known as “Lady,” are the regulars (and possibly the only customers). Everyone is a little bit lonely. On the morning after Arthur’s shop has been vandalized, one energetic, charismatic, and most of all, broke 21-year-old, Franco Wicks (read an interview here), arrives looking for a job. Both Arthur and Franco have their share of past troubles: Arthur is a pessimistic draft- dodging former-hippie with a recently-deceased ex-wife and a daughter far away. Franco is looking for some fast cash to pay off a large debt. 
The actors make Letts’ carefully honed script come alive. The dynamic between Franco and Arthur becomes nothing short of brilliant as they form a tight father-son bond over the course of the play. 

Superior Donuts is truly effective and affecting. I laughed many times, almost cried (I probably would’ve if I were a crier) and was truly touched by the ending. Plus, it made me smile. And to get a person to smile is a beautiful thing. 

HOW TO SEE THE SHOW:  $29.50 Student Rush • Music Box Theatre, 239 W. 45th St.

The 39 Steps

by Ben Ellentuck

Calling all Anglophiles*, Alfred Hitchcock fans, and ticket buyers simply in the mood for fun: The 39 Steps is for you! 

Based on the 1935 Hitchcock film of the same title, The 39 Steps chronicles the adventures of Richard Hannay, an innocent man who, like so many other Hitchcock men, is accidentally caught up in a high-stakes international spy game. And yet the play is not a thriller. Well, not first and foremost. Mostly, it is a light-hearted comedy in which four actors play more roles than I can count. 

The actors clearly have their rhythm down. The piece strikes the right tempo—a sprightly allegretto—and is able to maintain it fairly consistently until the very end. If it gets slow, which occasionally does happen, it never stays slow for long. The actors are hams (think Bottom from A Midsummer Night’s Dream), but the play is a play for hams.

Again, this is not a thriller—this is a parody of a thriller. You will not be particularly scared. You will not cry, well, unless you have a habit of crying when watching a comedy. You will perhaps laugh, however. No, scratch that: you will definitely laugh.

 

The 39 Steps isn’t the world’s funniest evening, but there really is something in it for everyone to enjoy. This fast-paced frolic is pure entertainment. And what better reason to go to the theatre? 

*somebody interested in people from England. 

HOW TO SEE THE SHOW: $26.50 student rush • Helen Hayes Theatre, 240 W. 44th St.

Fancy Footwork

by Ben Ellentuck

Two Irish boxers. (Not dogs.) One (stylized) fight. Blood, sweat and tears. (But mostly sweat. Also, no tears.) A fiancée, Marguerite, rooting for Joe, the young underdog, and a deceitful manager, Larry the Lid, rooting for the champ “Tornado” Tom. In the middle, your host, the referee and trainer. Thus goes the basic setup of Fancy Footwork, by Irish author, playwright and screenwriter Miriam Gallagher, now rounding out its run in the Fringe Festival.

The play is short—40 minutes short—but just long enough for one to get thoroughly fed up with the ridiculous Irish accents, ranging from entertainingly-bad to just-plain-bad. It’s hard, even with an open mind, to imagine why the play (which was first performed in 1983 at the Dublin Theatre Festival), is being done at FringeNYC more than 25 years after its world premiere. And with a non-Irish cast. Putting on accents.

The answer may lie in the ceremonial allure of the piece. The fighters’ chant, “King of the Ring! King of the Ring!” attains a ritual, almost cultish status by the end of the play. The chalk used to mark the boundaries of the boxing ring is an instrument of some sacred rite. We are unfortunately unable to immerse ourselves in the mystery of this rite as we are whisked away by the melodrama of Joe and Marguerite’s relationship, as well as that of “Tornado” Tom and Larry the Lid, but the mystery remains—as does the allure. There are some interesting and potentially very rewarding directions to dive into here. This production, however, does little more than dip its toes in the water.

While I wouldn’t describe the experience of seeing Fancy Footwork as particularly fun or enjoyable, it isn’t particularly terrible, either. After all, some of that allure of mystery does manage to eke its way out into the audience. It certainly isn’t a torturous experience—provided you can stand sweat. A lot of sweat.

http://www.dreamdayfilms.com/fancyfootwork/

Exit the King

by Ben Ellentuck

Ionesco’s absurdist masterpiece Exit the King is back on Broadway and not a moment too soon.

Geoffrey Rush stars as the narcissistic King Berenger, whose ineptitude has left his kingdom on the brink of ruin. In his circus of a royal court—where actors sport more makeup than Michael Jackson—the King’s first wife, Queen Marguerite (Susan Sarandon) and his conniving doctor/executioner/astronomer/advisor (William Sadler) try to convince him that he and his kingdom will die in 90 minutes, and therefore must relinquish control of the kingdom and himself.

As King Berenger, Rush is an absolutely hysterical diva. Reminiscent of a tipsy grandmother, he delivers a tour-de-force performance of comedic and poignant proportions. Sarandon shines in a affecting turn at the end of the evening, helping Berenger truly evolve into the next stage of his existence. Lauren Ambrose (of Six Feet Under fame) provides a satirical contrast with her thanklessly melodramatic Queen Marie, the King’s significantly younger second wife (and main love interest). Neil Armfield’s direction is solid, building nicely towards a disturbing conclusion.

At the end of the evening, there is one man who rises above all others. Known as the father of the Theatre of the Absurd, Ionesco reigns supreme. The new translation (by Rush and Armfield) is adequate, despite some cheap twenty-first century references. Ionesco’s surreal masterpiece is too good for such unnecessary distractions. His material floats fluidly between comedy and tragedy, often occupying a snug space encompassing both territories. Ionesco shows a human side to our leaders that is just as relevant today as it was in 1962, the year the play first premiered. The conflicts are riveting because the characters' desires are simple and crystal clear. Ionesco's perfect grounding allows him flexibility with structure, language and theatricality—all while keeping us thoroughly engaged.

The end result? Go see it for yourself!

How to see the show: $26.50 student rush tickets with ID • Barrymore Theatre, 243 W. 47th St. Visit www.exitthekingonbroadway.com for schedule and more information.