August: Osage County and This Week in New York Theater.

1. I saw August: Osage County on Wednesday. I have to admit, I went in more than a little skeptical about the whole experience. There has been, of course, an extraordinary amount of hype around this show, and I tend to tune out when something is treated as if it were the best thing that ever happened (The Dark Knight being an exception to this rule; I was ludicrously amped about that flick, and remain amped after seeing it–expect a post about that soon). But my mom bought tickets, and off we went to a matinée. The opening monologue made me more than a little nervous; I had visions of spending the next three hours watching college professors quote TS Eliot at great length and verbosity. But the play progresses past that quickly, and it settles into, well, the kind of play I generally don’t remotely dig: the wildly dysfunctional but relatively not all that terribly bad-off family play. But I’ll be damned if it’s not a pretty damn good dysfunctional family play.

The acting in this piece is amazing, and this is the replacement cast I saw, meaning that the writing (and the direction) have to be pretty top-notch. The roles are meaty and kind of showy, and the one-liner/zingers that pepper the script are well-placed and paced, so they become more effective in context than out. I’m not going to say this was one of the best or even better shows I’ve ever seen, but it is a remarkably effective 3-plus hour dark comedy that earns its time in the theater. Which is saying a lot, I think.

And it was good to see Officer Prezbo in action too.

2. Billy Elliot is going to be a big hit on Broadway. I really don’t get it. I saw it in London. I was not impressed. More accurately, I was impressed with the little kids dancing, with the sheer athleticism of it all, the achievement of it all, but not much beyond that. But it’ll be a hit, we’re all sure of that, right?

3. The Equus posted is bizarre, and I’m not sure in a good way.

4. Definitely go see Animals Out of Paper at Second Stage. My boy Rajiv wrote it, and my boy Utkarsh is one of the stars. I did a little informal “hip-hop consulting” on it, and I wrote an article about it. Would I get this invested in a show if I didn’t like it? Unlikely.

5. My Nebraska partner in crime (he’s not from Nebraska; we just partner in crime there) Joe Salvatore has an upcoming Fringe show called III. I am bummed to be missing it, but you should be neither bummed nor missing it.

6. I am also likely to miss Hair. This makes me sad, although I might get a chance to see it after all.

This Week in New York Theater.

1.  So they’re casting for the Spider-man musical, and I’ve got say that I’m excited about the potential of the whole project.  If you haven’t heard, Julie Taymor is directing/creating, and U2 (or at least Bono and The Edge) are doing the score.  I’ve heard good things from folks involved.  The casting notice is interesting for a couple of reasons, first of which is the line “all ethnicities are encouraged to audition.”  Now, while my friend Burl would make a perfect Spidey (and I’ve got the pictures to prove it), are we really going to see a Spider-man or even Mary Jane of color?  The fanboys wouldn’t stand for it, I don’t think.  (Although if Stephanie Beatriz was Mary Jane, I’d be there, no questions asked.)

The other weird tidbit from the casting notice is this mysterious “Principal Woman,” described as “Sinead O’Connor with a Middle Eastern/Bulgarian/Greek twist.”  Okay.  I have absolutely no clue what that’s all about–a new villain?  Should they really be adding to the cannon like this?  Maybe a Spidey fan will read this and school me on how this character fits into everything, and I definitely will reserve judgment, but I’m already questioning where they’re taking this.

2.  Whoopi is the new Rosie, as she signs on to join the cast of Xanadu shortly after doing a good job hosting this year’s Tony’s (go back and check out the running diary if you haven’t already).   The difference, of course, is that Whoopi already has a Tony.  I was pretty excited about seeing Xanadu even before this announcement, and I’d like to see it with Whoopi in it, but I’ll probably wait out the crowds and check it out after she leaves.  Xanadu is an interesting case right now–the theater is almost full every night (at least as of the latest Variety charts), but ticket receipts are only about half of what they could be.  Lots of discounted tickets to that show.  So Whoopi would, it would seem, allow them to start selling more full price tickets, hopefully while maintaining that seating capacity.  I hope Xanadu keeps doing well–I didn’t want it to win the Tony (for obvious reasons), but it sounds like a fun little show.

3.  Tickets are still available for Passing Strange’s closing weekend, including the two shows Spike Lee is going to film.  Seriously.  Buy tickets.  See the show.  Be there for the taping and/or the closing.  I’m looking into it myself.  You’re going to be real sad when you watch the filmed version and realize you could have been there.

4.  My boy Rajiv wrote a play about origami.  Yes.  Origami.  It’s called Animals Out of Paper, and it’s pretty damn good.  Full disclosure: I recently wrote a piece about this play for the Brooklyn Rail (should be out soon), and I served as the (super informal) “hip-hop consultant” for the show (I didn’t write the rhymes, just discussed them, and basically just quoted Eminem lyrics at that).  So yeah, I’m biased.  And one of my favorite actors in the world, Utkarsh Ambudkar, is in it–you may remember him as Nelson from The Lark production of Welcome to Arroyo’s.  Either way, this is a play with a lot of heart, some great performances (from what I saw in the first reading), and a deceptive simplicity that pulls back to reveal incredible emotional complexity underneath.  It’s like origami, come to think of it.

5.  Also happening right now in NYC is 12 Ophelias by the wildly prolific Caridad Svich.  If you saw Aya Ogawa’s Oph3lia, you kind of have to see this one, if only to make it a total of 15 Ophelias this summer (plus, of course, Lauren Ambrose, who makes 16–sixteen Ophelias!  *cue Count Von Count’s thunder*).  It happens to be free and site-specific in Williamsburg’s McCarren Park Pool (or as El Puente students would say “MacCarrien Park” — there’s an awfully inside joke for you), and it features bluegrass and a Hamlet with a black eye, so go see it already.  Here’s a blog review of it if you haven’t made up your mind.

I know there’s a lot more, but I’m stopping there–oh wait, no I’m not.

6.  Hair.  It’s in Central Park starting July 22.  I’m a little bummed about only having ten days or so to try to see it (and my birthday is right in there, so that knocks a bunch of nights out of the realm of possibility), but I am going to find a way to make it happen.  It’s Hair, people.  And it’s in Central Park.  Outside.  And there’s a war going on–a war with a “back-door draft.“  I’m not going to tell you about the virtual line, because (a) I’ve already written about it (I think) and (b) I don’t want you beating me to the punch.  I’ll link it all up after I’ve seen it, suckas.

7.  This last one isn’t theater, but it’s the biggest deal in entertainment this summer.  I will be seeing the IMAX.  Somehow.  Possibly at 2am next week.

So Hamlet.

I’m not sure I have a whole lot that I want to say about the Shakespeare in the Park production of Hamlet, but I did say I’d come back and write about, so let’s see what comes out. And I guess that this is as good a place as any to get started: I don’t think I like Shakespeare.

Now yes, I respect Shakespeare and his works. I see great value in his work being produced and read and studied. But here’s the thing: I couldn’t tell you the last time I saw Shakespeare that wowed me. Hell, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Shakespeare that wowed me. The work is the work and the words are the words and there’s a lot that’s impressive about it, of course, but does it still strike me as great theater? Rarely, if ever.

Now granted, I’m pretty particular in what I like onstage, and my tastes tend to run to works that are (a) relatively accessible, (b) containing some kind of young person energy, and (c) by or about contemporary folks, especially folks of some kind of color (and maybe in another post I’ll write about how insufficient that phrase feels to me, but how I can’t think of anything that better expresses what I’m trying to say). Shakespeare, no matter how you slice it (fitting choice of words for the last scene in this production), no matter how you jazz it up and reimagine it, is none of those things.

And yes, there is a timelessness to Shakespeare’s work, and I understand the idea of universality, and Shakespeare is important because he speaks to everyone, and it’s not about race or creed or color, or even about specific issues, because the plays are about big themes, big ideas–I get it. I understand the argument. And I believe the argument, up to a point. I think kids should be reading Romeo and Juliet. I think Iago is the baddest dude on the theatrical planet (although watching Hamlet again reminded me of how evil Claudius really is). I’ve even seen a really good production of Cymbeline (at the Pearl, many years ago) that spoke to Shakespeare’s effectiveness as well as any production I can remember.

But I mean, seriously. Enough.

Enough for me, at least. Part of my problem is structural–Shakespeare’s plays are five acts, and they climax in weird places. The main character dies, and we’ve still got speeches left to be told. We spend big chunks of time on subplots and disconnected thoughts that don’t do it for me–not that I think neoclassically and want unity of time, place, and action, but I do want continuity and connection and steady forward movement. That’s not what Shakespeare’s game plan was. He’s got a different pace (and really, all classical theater does, and really, all theater that is of its own time–that is, all good theater–is operating at a pace specific to its time period. It’s written for its audience, not an audience 400 years later), a more languid pace at times, more about language and poetry, which is all well and good (I mean, I write 1000 word blog posts about punching monkeys, so you know I’m not afraid of language), but really, seriously, enough already.

So that said (545 words before getting to the point), any production of Hamlet is starting out in a hole with me. I’d rather be seeing a production of a new play. And yes, I understand the economics, and that Shakespeare sells tickets, but that doesn’t change my personal preference. So that’s the hole any production has to dig itself out of with me: proving why this show needs to be done now. And I can’t say that this particular production made itself feel especially essential to me, even though I certainly didn’t hate it, and probably even kind of liked it some, if not many, levels.

What I definitely liked was, maybe surprisingly, all the TV actors. Sam Waterston was hilarious, Andre Braugher is a bad ass still, and Lauren Ambrose is, as we previously discussed, one of my favorite actors ever. They all brought good natural feels to their roles, regardless of how small those parts might have been. But Hamlet obviously lives and dies with Hamlet, and I’m not sure how I felt about Michael Stuhlbarg (and I haven’t read the Times article on him yet, which might provide some insight into how he approached the role). His Hamlet felt kind of legitimately crazy–not putting on airs to lull his enemies into submission before attacking–and I think that it hurt my overall connection to the show. It’s an interpretation, of course, a choice in acting and directing, and it’s completely legit as a choice, but I couldn’t help feeling that if Hamlet felt less crazy, then Ophelia’s legit madness would feel more tragic, and everything else would fall into place to have more of a moving impact.

But honestly, I’m not sure I even agree with what I just wrote.

(NOTE: I wrote this post a few days ago.  Since then, I have read the Stuhlbarg article in the Times, and didn’t find much of anything to change my view.  Then today, Brantley’s review came out, and I can’t say I disagree with any of it, really.  The moment he’s referring to did indeed inspire a reaction from me, one of those verbal “huh.” things you make when you appreciate an impressive beat.   And the “actor, direct thyself” bit — I couldn’t agree with that more.  In fact, I think I predicted a version of that line in the review as soon as I saw the scene.  It was hard not to see it coming)