Then imagine this director has chosen to put this technique to a play written about a woman undergoing an experience so traumatic the stress begins to make her go blind. Add to this a tone that feels cool and removed, despite the intimate nature of the articles under discussion, and the outcome might very well be Christina Masciotti's play Vision Disturbance, directed by Richard Maxwell performed at the Abrons Art Center.

The strength of the play is in its almost eerie ability to draw feelings from the audience without having the actors portray any real emotions themselves. Mondo, a Greek woman recently divorced from her husband, has come to see a specialist about her failing eyesight and persistent migraines. Over the span of the play she recounts the story of her life; her husband’s betrayal, the new pain in her eyes and head, memories of the life she left behind in Greece. Her voice floats through the performance in the same deadpan tone, as if disembodied from the events of her life.

Nonetheless we find ourselves drawn to her words, unable to pull away. They memorize us in their unwavering tone, often entwining with the classical music that forms the background to much of the performance. Her monotone forms a cloud over the audience, a blanket of history slowly engulfing us. The truth is, her words are enough. Through her we see reflected our own disappointments and unmet expectations, our own betrayals and wasted years.

In depriving us of the traditional distractions, Maxwell forces us to channel emotions from ourselves rather then simply receiving them from the actors, in turn begetting a much more personal experience.

The buoyant cast directed by Charlotte Moore gamely kicks up its heels to the choreography of Barry McNabb. “The Irish and How They Got That Way” is a production of The Irish Repertory Theatre in Chelsea.
C. Ipiotis

Conversations loop through McCain’s other options; Hilary Clinton’s impact on the female base; Obama’s eloquence and the Republican party’s post-Regan deep right turn towards ultra-conservatism. Nothing very new, but the actors were well cast, especially Keith Herron, and were believable in their struggle to balance idealism and politics against reality and the voting public.

Played out in a series of scenes spanning a few days, the director and writer Stephen Padilla chose to indicate time lapses with black outs, which were unnecessary and slowed the momentum.
C. Ipitois

NYC Fringe Festival

A wood paneled classroom flanked by stairs is transformed into multiple locations by simply changing the facing of blackboard. Mr. Horton swings from on character to another by moving his sweater from his shoulders to his hips while the young men dance, gyrate, sing, and act with brio. Drawn together through different neurosis, the outcasts eventually discover friendship, the sweetest prize of all.

Extended several times, it’s hard to believe this small, ‘can do” production will not see another life in the near future.
C. Ipiotis

Nonetheless, on the madness and jealousy part, the play delivers as promised as we are led through the events leading up to the murder of Abraham Lincoln through the eyes of the brother’s Booth themselves. Interestingly, the play chooses to focus on Edwin Booth rather than his more notorious brother, reminding us that even those seemingly removed from an act can be an integral part of its happening.

Edwin, played illustriously by Erik Heger, is presented as a tortured actor, who counts among his demons both whisky and the nagging idea that his brother and wife are having an affair behind his back. Mr Heger draws upon his background in Shakespearian theatre to present the character of Edwin as a serious and conservative man, who like so many of Shakespeare’s characters hide beneath their calm exterior a bubbling pool of suspicion and passion just waiting to boil over.

John Wilkes, played by the animated young Andrew Veenstra, is a mischievous jokester and actor himself. He revels in surprising his brother with visits to read him his reviews or for a spontaneous fencing match. Little does he know how these visits drive his elder brother ever closer to madness, as he suspects a motive more having to do with his pretty young wife than just a friendly visit.

In a similar manner an ever growing madness seems to be growing in John Wilkes, as his sympathies for the Confederacy grow stronger and more vocal with each visit. Although we know how this tale ends one still waits, wondering if Edwin will try to save his brother or sacrifice him to end his jealousies once and for all.
J. Gonthier

Program B included two winners: “The Graduation of Grace” by Wendy Kesselman and “Happy” by Alan Zwiebel.

Dressed in white, an African American student Grace (Clara Hopkins Daniels) addresses the student body in her graduation speech. Protected by the school’s commitment to education and opportunity for all, Grace realizes that her world will soon change because of her race and society’s inherent prejudices. An honest and heartfelt declaration directed by Stephanie Berry.

IN “Happy” Donald (Scott Adsit) locates an old-time baseball player whose career was cut tragically short due to an injury. Now an apartment building superintendent, Happy (Arthur French) is a quick-witted older man who comes face to face with a part of his history. Both actors are pitch perfect in this warm and uplifting play directed by Fred Berner.

The remaining two plays-- the humorous “Fit” written by Neil Koenigsberg directed by Merri Milwe and the intense “Jonathan’s Blaze” written by Christopher Stetson Boal and directed by Alexander Dinelaris -- had promise but were not fully developed ideas.

Written in the 1930’s by Teresa Deevy, "Wife to James Whelan” stirs the blood. Determined to better his life, a young ambitious Irish James (Shawn Fagan) choses a job in Dublin over marriage to his feisty love who goes on to marry another man—perhaps out of spite.

If Nan (Janie Brookshire) is the love of his life, then the practical widow Kate (Rosie Benton) is the friend of his life. A fair man, Tom becomes the owner of a bus company employing his ole’ pals. He runs the company with an iron hand while pushing down his personal dissatisfaction and temper just below his belt.

After six years, Nan reappears. Worn out and destitute, her husband has died leaving her with a son to raise. She pleads for a job and in the process, makes an unforgiveable blunder.

Although the passion burns hottest between James and Nan, Kate serves as Whelan’s -- and by extension--the community’s conscience. A satisfyingly calibrated performance, Ms. Benton consistently warms the space with her presence.

The Mint Theater continues in their successful realization of classic works for contemporary times.
C.Ipiotis

A glamorous woman and the first female leader of a Muslim country, Ms. Bhutto straddled east and west, both in her ideas and fashion.

Seeking to better understand how this iconic woman operated, Anna Khaja delves into her life in a one woman play “Shaheed: The Dream and Death of Benazir Bhutto.”

A compelling performer, Ms. Khaja sketches out a tapestry of impressions by assuming different roles: Sara, An American college student; Condoleezza Rice; Daphne Barak, an international journalist; Cuseem, a professor at Boston University; Fatima Bhutto, Benazir’s niece; Shamsher, a rehri driver; Afshan, a student and Benazir Bhutto.

Each character reflects a different aspect of Ms. Bhutto and although the subject matter is fascinating, the play, directed by Heather de Michele, would benefit from a tighter, punchier dramatic arc.
NYC Fringe Festival
C.Ipiotis

Linking mysteries of meteor showers, the oncoming rapture and connectivity between people, “South Beach Rapture” lacks overall chemistry. Both Moreno and Preston navigate their roles effectively, Ms. Alvarez—less so. Written by David Caudle and directed by Michelle Bossy, “South Beach Rapture” is part of the NYC Fringe Festival.
C. Ipiotis

The three become manic and frenzied, truly believing themselves to be the characters in the play. What ensues is a truly Shakespearian tragedy filled with jealousy, vengeance and the kind of torturous mind games perfected by adolescents the world over. If one can put up with the squeaky voices speaking in a mixture of Old English and text speak this play is well worth you time.

An unconventional coming of age, The Hamlettes excels in capturing that angst and self-centeredness unique to that age. Warning: those of us with 13 year old children or who went through a particularly rocky adolescence beware, the play may hit too close to home for comfort.
J. Gonthier

Upon order of the Orange County Criminal Court, a professor is forced to give a free public lecture as penalty for his anti-Semitic outburst. Performer/director Seth Duerr actually gives an illustrated talk about a Jews in Britain and a little known, but remarkable Jewish boxer Daniel Mendoza, who forever changed the sport.

The fascinating illustrated lecture about the plight of Jews in Britain, and his own disintegrating life, nestles under the idea that everyone holds prejudices of one form or another.

Despite Mr. Duerr’s effective performance and some fascinating information, “The Punishing Blow” lacks a forceful, dramatic point of view. Maybe that was the point?
The Punishing Blow is a production of York Shakespeare Company.
C.Ipiotis

Each section looks at the situation from a different person’s perspective—but only two land theatrical punches. Stephanie Pope Caffey as a strong willed, independent woman; Arnie Burton as the NY Times ace reporter and Robert Hogan as the conservative politician deliver strong performances in a mildly amusing but not fully stitched production at the Acorn Theater.
C. Ipiotis

The play tells the story of five Jewish prisoners stuck together in a ghetto in Germany during WW II. Trapped in the purgatory of the ghetto unable to go forward, they regress into their former lives, a past too recent and painful to enter completely. Instead, they twist their memories into the stories of the past.

Hidden amongst the stories of King Solomon and Queen Sheba ghosts emerge; brothers, sisters, lovers materialize and fade away, faint glimmers of a life that is no longer and never will be again.
Part of Theater for the New City’s Dream Up Festival.
By J. Gonthier

Mr. James takes us through the life of an aspiring rock star, who at the age of 30 is still desperately trying to make it in the big city. This particular starving artist is aided by the guiding spirits of Joe Strummer of The Clash, Morrissey of The Smiths, and Paul Weller of The Jam, who all make their appearances via Mr. James himself.

Playing one man in a one-man show is enough but Mr. James takes on all four (imagine all the sweat this entails) and to surprising success. Lighthearted but ultimately profound, the audience finds ourselves not only rooting for the underdog but even feeling mildly impressed.

Mr. James’ character doggedly and unswervingly pursues his dream, despite all the obstacles, disappointments and failures that would make even those with the strongest hearts cringe.
By J. Gonthier

Burdened with loved ones who starved her ego and fed her corpus, Mary effortlessly skips over the touchstones of a life based in a tightly knit family that unravels when her mother dies.

Determined to gain control of her cravings, Mary takes action again—and again. Some of the juiciest sections involve her sexual expeditions and attempts to locate her thrill zones.

An uplifting testimony to denial and acceptance, “Scare Skinny” won’t be going away soon. Scared Skinny is part of the New York City Fringe Festival.
C.Ipiotis

Stories mirror actual events as in the case of the two reporters who crossed into North Korea only to be “rescued” by Bill Clinton.

From war torn countries to reporters tracking polluters, “The Fourth Estate” draws portraits in progress. “The Fouth Estate” is part of the New York City Fringe Festival.
C. Ipitois

In short, a burlesque theater on the skids forces the owner (Shine) to partner up with a producer who wants to “update” (clean-up) the act to gain broader appeal and gross receipts. But the more interesting stuff happens in-between, as each member of the company demonstrates his/her naughty burlesque routines, and Lulu, the statuesque belter, proves personality and talent can be as alluring as physical beauty.

Although “Shine” could do with a little pruning, director Roger Bennington extracts some genuine emotion from the material and cheeky musical performances from the cast. Credit for the show’s vitality also goes to the clever choreography by Inga Ingenue.

"Shine: A Burlesque Musical" appears as part of the NYC Fringe Festival.
C. Ipiotis

Smartly directed by Greg Thornton, eight actors effectively assume multiple roles. Physical gestures amplify and clarify the Elizabethan text, as does the winning music by The Motley Coats.

A fine, youthful cast was led by the talented Alison Frederick as Celia and Greg Foro as Orlando.
Part of this year’s The Fringe NYC Festival.
C. Ipiotis

Two elderly widowers dive into a night of sexual libation with a congenial hooker. Viagra figures in, but the only real rise you get out this play is the sincere performances by Bernie Kopell, Lou Cutell and the delightful Teresa Ganzel. Written and directed by Don Chrichton, the sit-com thin material does little to challenge the actors or the audience.

A harmless 90 minutes, the plot chugs and sputters along, getting a bit of a lift when the golden-hearted hooker arrives to dry the gents’ dreams.

“Viagra Falls” plays at the lovely Little Shubert Theatre.

Set in 1948, Pete (Bobby Steggert) lands a backstage audience with the great American actress Katharine Cornell (Kate Burton). Performing Cleopatra, the middle-aged star appears in her costumed glory to meet Pete. Although brief, the initial meeting serves as the creative springboard for aspiring playwright Pete’s new play—a re-imaging of the day’s events.

In his re-imagining of that memorable day, Cornell’s clip voiced, efficient lady-guard Gertrude Macy (Brenda Wehle) states that Cornell will agree to see Pete because they are both from Buffalo. Concerned about her future playing historic beauties, Cornell confides in Pete. She finds solace in this bright, young man filled with expectations and grounded by his roots in Buffalo.

Even Cornell’s grand diva “husband” Guthrie McClintic (Boyd Gaines) welcomes Pete’s theatrically astute opinions. One by one, the ménage of characters reveal their sexual preferences, insecurities and aspirations. Efficiently directed by Mark Lamos, everyone gives a fine performance, in particular Steggert, but the material never breaks out of a youthful memory into a grand vision.
A production of Lincoln Center Theatre at the Mitzi E. Newhouse theater.
By C. Ipiotis

From revolutionary to artist, no one comes to her rescue until the final scene. The company assumes multiple roles with more or less success. The intimate theater puts the audience within inches of the actors. Directed by Jenny Beth Snyder, the production vacillates between comic book characters and realism.
C.Ipiotis

In an illuminating play, Charles Smith’s “Freed” draws the audience into a compelling story about one of the nation’s earliest college educated African Americans. Drawn into Ohio University in Athens, Ohio, by the institution’s idealistic leader Reverend Wilson (Christopher McCann), the lean but strapping John Newton Templeton (Sheldon Best) arrives for an elite education.

Despite Wilson’s insistence that Templeton be treated like everyone else, the students object to his presence in the dormitories so Templeton is housed by Wilson and his acerbic wife Jane (the excellent Emma O’Donnell). The year is 1828 and existing laws forbid the education of blacks, but since the university is sovereign, campus activities are not bound by local ordinances.

The utopian classical education mirrors Wilson’s views, but over the space of four years, Templeton learns more about being a free man from Jane than any book on Greek and Latin philosophy. The occasionally sharp tongued, pragmatic Jane, strips Templeton of any fantasies related to the equality of whites and blacks. She functions as the piece of sand that irritates him into producing a beautiful pearl four years later. As for Wilson, although his outward actions seem revolutionary, the ultimate reasons for schooling a bright former slave are reactionary.

Directed by Joe Brancato, the informative and theatrically succinct, “Freed” would be a wonderfully instructive and engaging production for students of all ages.
C. Ipiotis

But the project comes with its own set of problems. Public accountability intrudes on her hermetic universe as press conferences and receptions are organized to answer questions about the controversial restoration process and cost. A nation’s emotions grip the walls of Giulia’s concentration, who mistakenly dismisses them as mere intrusions -- nearly losing her job in the process.

The tunnel-focused, human-averse Giulia lacks a sense of humor and compassion, all the characteristics the handsome guard Max expresses with ease.

By the end, the audience comes to appreciate the politics, artistry and humanity associated with great works of art. Guilia learns to live, really live-- and finally learns to look beyond the surface not only of her sculptures, but also of the beautiful people who surround her.

Written and performed by Ms. Shear, Christopher Ashley directs with a clean hand.
C.Ipiotis

However, if underneath it all Henson was filthy-mouthed, dirty-minded and mildly perverted , then he would be that man standing in the back applauding wildly and guaffing loudly. There's one at the back of every show.

The performance is essentially an improv comedy show with Muppets as the main prop. We get a tutorial at the beginning of the show from "Patrick" who is part host, part arbiter and manages the six puppeteers onstage.

The show is run like other improv performances, where Patrick picks who will "Puppet-up" and who will sit this one out. Like any other comedy show the performers can be hit or miss depending on the night, and although some skits are uproariously hilarious others struggle to find a focus before fizzling out.

Colleen Smith, one of two female puppeteers that night, was clearly the star of the show. Not only was she consistently hilarious, but she embodies the nerdy puppeteer persona. Ungaily and awkwardly tall, it’s not hard to believe this is someone who spends their time indoors perfecting the art of making it look like puppets are really talking. I would imagine she's considered quite the catch among certain puppeting circles.

The night I attended the show, one of her skits was the recreation of the first date of an orthodox Jewish couple who had the unfortunate luck to be brought up on stage. Her impersonations were dead on as she edgily poked at the couple without appearing downright offensive, a subtle skill for any comedian to master. For comedy fans the show offers an interesting twist on the improve theme. For puppeting fans it offers a chance to see the behind the scene action. For those who aren’t improve comedy fans or particularly fond of puppets, there’s plenty of dirty humor to keep you entertained anyway. As an added bonus, this weekend is pay your age weekend, Friday June 4th and Saturday June 5th.
J.Gonthier

Book and lyrics by Robert Lee, with strong music by Leon Ko, director Darren Lee allows the performers to tap into their characters and America’s immigrant tapestry. Of course, one never knows what will happen in this economy, but here’s a production that stays with you because the characters struggle to communicate, assimilate and re-invent themselves.

Let’s see where this lands.
By C. Ipiotis

In the witty and artful revival of “Collected Stories” starring Linda Lavin and Sarah Paulson, a protégé’s rise to youthful notoriety parallels her mentor’s decline.

Smart, independent, wry Ruth Steiner (Linda Lavin) charts a path to success on her own terms. Despite her recluse tendencies, this proud woman hesitantly opens her wisdom to Lisa Morrison (Sarah Paulson) a young, adoring student and aspiring writer.

Constantly trying to win the approval of her hero, many of Lisa’s well-meaning actions (from straightening up a desk to making dinner) garner corrections and criticism instead of gratefulness and nurturing murmurs. But the struggle is worth the return as Ruth dispenses delicious gems, like insisting one not tell a story before writing it down because the telling releases pressure required for the creative act.

Ultimately, the two stick it out for a number of years. During their uneven partnership, Ruth sharpens Lisa’s writing and critical thinking skills. Over time, Ruth becomes attached to Lisa’s inevitable presence.

Naturally, the two share intimate details and at one point, Ruth describes her one and only personal relationship with poet and short story writer, Delmore Schwartz. Experienced during youthful days spent in the bohemian West Village and nights drinking at the White Horse Tavern, it was – according to Ruth—a highpoint of her life. In the end, a question of memory ownership mars a productive relationship.

Directed by Lynne Meadow, the two women share an intimate friendship but retain an authentically protective distance. As a result, the final scene, although expected, successfully lands an emotional punch.

Both actors sail through the production shaping their characters with humor and complex expectations at the Samuel J. Friedman Theatre.
By C. Ipioits

Even odder is the inability of audience-drawing performers to punch up the show's temperature. Except perhaps, at the top of the Second Act. Only then does the audience whoop with laughter.

The musical comedy soap opera swirls around a sweet office girl Fran Kubelik (Kristin Chenoweth) horizontally tangoing with a married advertising executive J. D. Sheldrake (Tony Goldwyn) who borrows an ambitious employee’s (Chuck Baxter--Sean Hayes) apartment for his assignations. Turns out, nerdy Baxter fancies Fran, and the crusty next door neighbor Dr. Dreyfuss (marvelous Dick Latessa) envies Baxter’s supposed overheated sex-life.

This human chain of lust and deceit winds loosely around the show, never tightening enough to produce a charge--except for Finneran. Her loose tongued, limber legged characterization of Marge Mac Dougall, as a tipsy lady who worships liquid spirits and anyone of the male persuasion-- conquers all. She lights up the dialogue with a full-throated glee that levitates the whole production.

Director and choreographer, Rob Ashford, is a Broadway veteran versed in traditional musical theater. And although the chorus' legs splice brightly overhead, while energetically clicking into tight dance sequences--those high points hardly pump enough blood into Neil Simon’s words.
By C. Ipiotis

The owner of a successful drag club in Southern France, Georges (Kelsey Grammer) and his star Albin (Douglas Hodge) live comfortably and conservatively--with the exception of their wildly swishy butler/maid Jacob (Robin De Jesus).

Jean Michell (A. J.Shively), George’s son—the product of a frisky one-night stand, completes the family unit. Love strikes Jean Michelle, uniting him with the daughter of the ultra conservative party head. When the impending in-laws come to dinner, everything and everyone gets straightened up--from the nude male figurines to Albin who is banned from dinner.

Now in the fall of their careers, Georges’ shoulder holds a larger share of Albin’s fears about the impending loss of his allure on stage and off. Albin’s beautifully trained voice swoops through several vocal octaves and emotional dynamics. Whispered questions step aside for shrieks of anguish.In contrast, Georges assumes a supportive posture while realizing he loves the fragile Albin even more than before.

Schmaltzy passages roll through the melodrama, as do the fabulous Cagelles. Looking a lot like escapees from the Ballet Trocadero (a ballet company of men en travesti) Les Cagelles execute classical ballet excerpts en pointe, in a “be still stilettos” wild style. Lynne Page playfully choreographs their broad and scrappy sequences. Adding to the irrational glamour is the sterling singing and performance of Christine Andreas as the irrepressible Jacqueline.

This version of “La Cage Aux Folles” at the Lonacre Theatre travels in the margins of entertainment and the human need for all combinations of family units.

Directed with care and a tangy flair by Terry Johnson, “La Cage Aux Folles” sports sonorous music & lyrics by Jerry Herman and book by Harvey Fierstein.
C. Ipiotis

“Million Dollar Quartet” blasts the audience into a non-stop rock ‘n roll party for a glorious 90 minutes. Sun Records, a small recording entity in Memphis, Tennessee was a hit factory. Blessed with an ear for authentic sounds and an unorthodox promotion style, Sun Records founder Sam Phillips (Hunter Foster) launched the careers of Elvis Presley, Carl Perkins, Johnny Cash and the irrepressible Jerry Lee Lewis.

On December 4, 1956, the quartet of sound breaking artists all dropped by Sun Records. The ensuing, legendary impromptu jam session was captured on magnetic recording tape. At this point, Elvis has mesmerized the American public—in particular the female population; Carl Perkins—demon rockabilly guitar player is looking for another hit on the par of his “Blue Suede Shoes;” Johnny Cash is poised to leave Sun Records and Jerry Lee Lewis is the young turk coming up to bat. Right behind Lewis is some unknown named, Roy Orbison. Besides the ringing music you are reminded of the roots of rock ‘n roll unspooling from the sounds of black musicians feeding the white musicians.

All four performers capture the unbridled energy of a nascent rock ‘n roll era. No one knew what impact this blues-infused music would have on the world. But these men locate an authentic sound that builds into a mass musical religion.

Understated and pensive, Johnny Cash (Lance Guest) longs to record a gospel record. Guest capture’s Cash’s demeanor and the audience favors most of Cash’s repertory. From the hunched shoulders and swirling hips, the smooth and stealthily limber, Eddie Clendening embodies Presley’s Greek God features and dreamy voice.

On the other end of the rockabilly spectrum, crackling energy sprays from Robert Britton Lyons’ killer guitar playing as Carl Perkins. He charges the space with frenetic body and facial movements. Competing with Perkins is the deliciously acrobatic, womanizing, demon piano playing Jerry Lee Lewis (Levi Kreis) who nearly blows the house down with his electrifying performance. He’s an absolute blast!

Holding down the center of story, the disarming Philips, struggles to hang on to the essence of rock ‘n roll as the music industry starts swallowing individuals and spitting out brands.

The male quintet gets a touch of feminine softening from Dyanne (Elizabeth Stanley) Elvis’ girlfriend. A fine singer in her own right, she lubricates the informative story-line by Colin Enscott & Floyd Mutrux, tying the men to their past and destiny.

With an original concept and direction by Floyd Mutrux, Eric Schaeffer directs “Million Dollar Quartet” with willful generosity and a perfect jolt of adrenalin. The musician/actors get to gnaw at a huge chunk of the stage and when it’s over, you just don’t want it to be over.
C. Ipiotis

Prior to that "hey, you'll never guess what happened at the theater last night" moment, the devoted, young audience was with Green Day all the way.

However, I get ahead of myself. What about “American Idiot”? Cast in the mold of The Who’s “Tommy” and thematically kin to “Hair,” “American Idiot” is an amped up coming of age howl!

Tabloid news headlines and photographs freckled with a slew of TV monitors plaster the stripped-down, towering industrial set by Christine Jones. Band members hunch on stage as a couple of string players tower overhead in their bird seat perches.

Dressed in stressed punk armor favored by the St. Mark’s street crowd, the working-class circle of friends cast their lot in different directions. In the space of a raucous 90 minutes, the disenfranchised youth escape suburbia, land in the lap of drugs, taste war and grapple with an unexpected pregnancy.

From the moment the show opens, the high voltage performers writhe, pump and jump to the beat of overloaded hormones. One of the amazing successes of this production is the audio engineering. Frequently, traditional musicals fail at a balancing spoken word, music and song. In this case, sound designer, Brian Ronan, manages to separate voice from loud rock music, driven by pounding guitars and drums.

Green Day’s “American Idiot” sound is defined by percussionist Try Files’ jazz aesthetic, and features lyrics by Billie Joe Armstrong plus a book (derived mainly from the song-cycle narrative) by director Michael Mayer and Armstrong.

Although the cast is quite strong, John Gallagher Jr. (Johnny) and Tony Vincent (St. Jimmy) jump out ahead of the group as does Rebecca Naomi Jones (Whatsername). All reveal compelling stage personalities, enormous vocal range and strong dramatic phrasing.

The space is in a constant state of agitate animation. No standing still and blasting a ballad for this entourage—they shake their bodies, pummel arms and legs in the air, fly across the stage and become entwined in Kama Sutra positions.

What looks like a natural extension of their kinetic personalities is actually choreographed by Steve Hoggett (associate choreographer Lorin Latarro) in collaboration with director Mayer. They keep it simple and that simplicity releases the music’s native power.
C. Ipiotis

Nathan Lane helms the production as the debonair Gomez Addams. Perfectly suited to the role, Lane gushes talent into a relatively slim character. As his soul mate, Bebe Neuwirth, captures the cool, feline quality of Morticia. My only regret, one of Broadway’s most striking dancers-Neuwirth, only breaks out once to dance a sedate tango.

In truth, the whole cast succeeds in paying tribute to the beloved characters first introduced in the 1930’s by the American cartoonist Charles Addams---only to morph into a TV comedy series, a film and now a Broadway musical. Some of the most enchanting parts of the show surface when the puppets by Basil Twist grab center stage as the pet Octopus or Uncle Fester’s weightless hips and legs dancing along in “The Moon and Me.”

The story is, well, predictable: daughter Wednesday (a strong Krysta Rodriguez) falls in love with a “normal” (if such a thing exists) guy, whose parents come to dinner and well, after minimal hysteria, everyone falls in-step. And speaking of steps, choreographer Sergio Trujillo injects the minimal dance sequences with clever individuality and style. Director/designers Phelim McDermott & Julian Crouch along with creative consultant Jerry Zaks create an appropriately ghoulish ambiance and keep the pace ticking.

Few surprises, many knowables like the opening curtain theme music ripped from the TV series (snap, snap provided courtesy of the audience) and characters with heart who just want to do right by everyone make this a likeable show—lull the audiences into a golden haze of comfort. After all, this year has been swamped with the unexpected—a little of the expected comes as a relief.

The Addams Family sports a book by Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice with music and lyrics by Andrew Lippa.
C. Ipiotis

People and events trip up the plans. Merelli’s wife, the long-suffering Maria (Jane Maxwell) never ceases her hunt for stray females hidden in bedrooms and closets. Saunders’ own daughter Maggie (Mary Catherine Garrison) slinks around the hotel room in hopes of a light romance with ego-popping Tito, while Saunders’ assistant Max (Justin Barta) longs for Maggie and a run at the tenor’s role.

The bait is set and the actors step into every trap imaginable. Some of the greatest humor happens courtesy of outsized body language, and slapstick comedy. A veritable round of hide ‘n seek ensues: first you see someone, then you don’t until they collide or whiz by.

As the uber-patronized tenor, LaPaglia scores as does Jan Maxwell feigning the glamorous, hot-blooded wife and Shalhoub in his intense grasp for money and success. Director Stanley Tucci plumps up Ken Ludwig’s thin book by allowing the actors to pummel the material for laughs and groans. Lend Me A Tenor appears at The Music Box Theatre, perfectly sized to the production.

Brewed inside a deep understanding of the play’s contemporary references, this captivating production by Michi Barall and directed by Loy Arcenas hits its mark. After all, The House of Atreus ranks as a universally recognized life-bearing soap opera.

Supposedly, Iphigenia (expertly played by Jennifer Ikeda) through Artemis’ slight of hand, escapes being sacrificed by her father in order to invite fair winds at the launch of the Trojan War. Artemis replaces her body with that of a deer, and whisks her off to the island of Aulis where Iphigenia pines for her brother.

Understanding that modern audiences miss the larger moral points, Barall effortlessly locates teachable moments, as when he explains that the gods forced Agamemnon to sacrifice his favorite child, Iphigenia, to prove that he is willing to take his child’s life in the same way he and his warriors will kill many other parents’ children. Were that that ritual extended to this day.

Characters cut in and out, adding dimension with the sly and inventive dances by Julian Barnett. The deity narrator, David Greenspan assumes the role of the huntress goddess Artemis. Perfect casting. Add to this thoughtful merriment, and you get an Elvis styled King. There are just a few more days before the show closes at the Ohio Theater, and if you go, take the family.

Drawn form the ballet and modern dance community, you won't see finer dancers on Broadway. Tharp's technique might look flashy, but it is devilishly difficult in the details. Aesthetically, those who have worked longest with her like Keith Roberts, the hunky John Selya, and the acrobatic Charlie Neshyba-Hodges nail the Tharpian dance insouciance and fluidity. They can toss off nuanced head tilts, cocky hip swings, imperceptibly changing shapes while releasing a bolt of energy and zipping it right back into their bodies. That's the exciting stuff.

Dressed to look like a dance club vibrating to the popular music of the 1940's and 1950's, the stage includes a bar, some tables and chairs and patrons who couple up. The brilliant song stylings of Sinatra serve as a backwash of sound for Tharp's increasingly frenetic movements. At some point in the first half, the nonstop movement starts to feel fidgety and overwhelms the music. Balanchine believed dance could illuminate music. Here, the dance obscures the music.

Rather than devising a storyline, Tharp establishes relationships between couples that run hot and cold. Grand as the music is, accomplished as the dancers are, the production does not draw you into the glorious emotions expressed in Sinatra's song-stories. The exceptions are the dances previously choreographed by Tharp to Sinatra Songs for her company in 1982. And they are standouts because the movements look simpler but employ more complex points of connection while pushing forward the music's ethos. “That’s Life,” “One For My Baby” and “My Way” are gems bunched inside a brassy tiara of dances. Actually, “Take Five” written by Paul Desmond and made famous by Dave Brubeck was another scene-stealer. The show runs two hours with intermission and the dynamic bandleader Russ Kassoff keeps the music flowing. One choice I did not understand was the decision to unrobe the dancers for about 15 minutes. It just made them look uncomfortable and added nothing to the show.

Although there were a couple of questionable casting choices, all the dancers knock-themselves out. Holly Farmer, formerly with the Merce Cunningham Company is long and cool. She starts out a little stiff but melts into the steps by evening’s end. The fresh faced Laura Mead dances with an unaffected sweetness and is well suited to her partner, the ever athletic and comic, bald-headed Neshyba –Hodges. Karine Plantadit throws off so much overheated sexuality she drowns out the dance’s structure. Her partner, Selya, is no weeping willow, but he shocks the steps, punctuating leg snaps that wilt back into a taut turn--it’s all about movement contrasts. Roberts is also expert at negotiating Tharp’s subtleties and adding a bit of dreamy languor to speedy recoveries. In addition to the main dancers Alexander Brady, Rika Okamoto (odd choice), Matthew Stockwell Dibble, and Hilary Gardner, there was a standout in the uncluttered ensemble dancing of Meredith Miles.

“Come Fly Away” appears at the Marquis Theater, which does not have great sightlines for dance. So if you really want to get a good view, head for a side aisle seat.
By C.Ipiotis

Her son, Tom (Patch Darragh) a writer and dreamer has left his body behind as his imagination runs away to foreign lands. Her daughter, the pure of heart Laura (Keira Keeley) knows she will remain forever a prisoner of her insecurity and inability to measure up to her mother's expectation.

This brew of unrequited dreams, crackles with frustration and embattled egos in Tennessee William's “The Glass Menagerie” directed with verve by Gordon Edelstein. After a few minutes, you understand why Amanda's husband, a telephone man, fell in love with long distance, and left the family forever. But before anything happens, you are struck by the poetry and lyricism of William's words. He dissects personalities exposing fear and hope as twin oppressors.

Uppermost in Amanda’s unrelenting strategy is to find a “gentleman caller” for Laura. Incapable of coping outside of her home, Laura will never leave, but her brother will. Some of the juiciest exchanges shoot between mother and son. He mocks her and she scolds and nags.

After pestering her son to fulfill his responsibility and bring home a potential husband, Tom invites a co-worker Jim O’Connor (Michael Mosley). Filling out the role with the requisite self-confidence, charm and compassion, Jim is not prepared to marry the crippled Laura. However, the few minutes Laura and Jim spend together turn into Laura’s most fully realized connection with the outside world.
C. Ipiotis

The opening dialogue was held for audience members delayed by a pounding rain and windstorm the likes of which also caused power outages in subway transportation.

Playwright and lyricist, Jennifer Gibbs, tells a humanist tale of love, death and remembrance. Relationships among the six live actors, center around the lead female character Leda, a singer who is haunted by hallucinations of her former and rumored to be dead by suicide, band mate lover, and more troublesome by illusions of the recent sudden death of her healthy, 5 month old infant son.

Early on in the drama, Eamon (Rudy Mungaray), another former lover of Leda's arrives at the beach house. Unbeknownst to the household, Eamon's invitation has come from Leda's older, widower, psychiatrist husband, Walters (Michael Pemberton). Walters hopes to rekindle intimacy with his wife by using a psychoanalytical approach. He asks Eamon to renew former feelings for Leda and make love to her.

When Eamon first arrives and greets Leda, he passes her a small plastic baggie with substance in it. She quickly tucks it beneath her garment. The exchange happens so quickly and discreetly, this viewer wonders whether other audience members picked up on this important clue into Leda's state of mind.

Sounding's plot line may imply sex, drugs and rock and roll. However, Gibbs manages to present a believable scenario through realistic dialogue and lyrics, drawn from a female point of view and where men show their vulnerabilities.

The use of songs in the piece, sung by the superbly cast and multi-skilled Okwui Okpokwasili, gives this work an undercurrent of warmth. You have empathy for the characters' emotional feelings of wanting, loosing and accepting what they can get in a relationship.

The program notes say that Sounding was developed in a HERE Artist Residency Program over the last two years. This was time well spent . The multi disciplines, music, lyrics, video and sound design were individually original, creative and interesting while at the same time beautifully complementing the cast and enriching the story they told.
C.A. Dobush

The play opens with a burly guy, Michael ( David Andrew Macdonald), gamely hitting on Kitty (Mary Bacon) at a medical conference. Totally up front about his tactics, Kitty instinctively pushes Michael away, insisting she’s married and not buying his flattery. But the words burrow in. Someone of the opposite sex noticed or pretended to notice her—her hair, outfit, mind and personality. Suddenly, she becomes visible, not as a wife, mother, or daughter, but as a woman. The seduction is seeded.

When she returns home, the old grind takes over. Replacing a corporate profession with a more personally satisfying, socially noble career, her husband, Johnny (Kelly AuCoin) turns into a teacher and education crusader. Lashed to quadruple duty as homemaker, wife, mother and caretaker, Kitty is not happy.

At the same time, their closest friends suffer a break-up due in part to the husband’s alcoholism and loss of self-worth. Rather than let Miles (Quentin Maré), bunk down at work; Johnny mindlessly invites him to their house. In no time, all three share a couch in front of a TV aimlessly munching food like college grads in a dorm. Guess we’re always just a beer or martini away from those irresistible school years.

Add to that mix Kitty’s mother’s (Joan MacIntosh) inability to cope with her husband’s illness or his much earlier disappearance from her life, plus a dear, romantic gay friend Carl (Brian Keane) and you get “Happy Now?”

What Coxon does superbly is structure truth into common everyday exchanges. Frustration curls the edges of every syllable uttered by the fivesome. No matter how apparent a sentiment or criticism, much of what is experienced remains stuck below the skin.

When Kitty leaves again for a daylong convention and sees the blustery flirt, she takes action with wonderfully humorous results.

Words bounce against double meanings and shaded emotions in this eloquent play about losing and finding oneself within the bonds of matrimony. A standout cast handily directed by Liz Diamond keeps the brain muscles twitching.
C. Ipiotis

That’s the opening scene in “Venus in Fur “ at the Classic Stage Company, an off-the-cliff story by playwright David Ives that juggles reality and fantasy.

Near the end of an exasperating day, the playwright, Thomas (Wes Bentley) is about to call it quits. No woman has equaled his vision for the role in his play until, a flustered actress Vanda (Nina Arianda) barges in and dissembles the rest of the day.

At once kinky and compelling, “Venus in Fur” is based on Leopold von Sacher-Masoch’s 1870 novel about an aristocratic male’s desire for female dominance.

Thrillingly directed by Walter Bobbie, the physicality of the acting morphs into a daring spectacle. Relatively new on the scene, Arianda is not a pretty, but one of these handsome woman capable of making themselves appear beautiful or plain on command.

The power struggle between director/writer and actor/auditioner is mirrored in the play. They engage in a version of sexual top-dog, under-dog until the “reveal” at the end—an absolutely delicious twist on the plot.

A giddy mix of writing, directing and acting make “Venus in Fur” alternately humorous and chilling. You will not soon forget this production or the outstanding Ms. Arianda.
C. Ipiotis

Those weary throngs looked for family members to house them until money jangled in their shredded pockets. It’s these hard-working, nameless people cloaked in humbleness and a code of honor who surface in Arthur Miller’s “A View From the Bridge” now playing at the Cort Theatre.

In one of the decade’s most resonant productions of “A View From The Bridge,” director Gregory Mosher fully integrates the lawyer/Greek chorus Alfieri (Michael Cristofer) into the plot’s dramatic fabric. Lamenting the impending tragedy, Afieri embraces and abhors the inability to change the circumstances of the human catastrophe.

Two cousins arrive from Sicily at the invitation of Eddie (Live Schreiber) a Brooklyn Longshoreman of very modest means. Eddie believes it’s his duty to assist the starving relatives. The bear-like Marco (Corey Stoll) can’t wait to send money home for medication to save the life of his 6 year old suffering from pneumonia. The younger, artistic Rodolpho (Morgan Spector)--making his knock out Broadway debut--seeks a new life in America.

That’s all well and good, but hard-working Eddie lives with his wife Beatrice (Jessica Hecht) and her sister’s daughter Catherine (Scarlett Johansson). Raised like their own, an indelible bond exists between the lovely Catherine and Eddie. Coming into her 18th birthday, she poses a problem for Eddie and Rodolpho.

When we first meet the family, the audience does not even register Johansson’s entrance due to her complete disappearance into the character. Always busying herself with housework and day-to-day worries, Beatrice knows her husband’s emotional grip on Catherine is dodgy, and tries to prepare him for the inevitable separation. For her part, Catherine reacts to Eddie’s every nuance--anticipating his every desire. The only desire she fails to fully register is his buried lust for her.

An actor who swings with ease between Shakespeare and horror films, Liev starts just below the boiling point and builds with masterly precision to a full-blown explosion. However, his character never resorts to shrill yells, or bruiser tactics, instead he shimmies over an emotional high wire caked with years of frustration and fantasy. He exudes the animal magnetism and danger of a Marlon Brando as Stanley, only difference--Eddie slips.

With Alfieri as Eddie’s confessor, the sequence of events fall like tear drops on the sweat soaked cement. The audience registers the tightening noose of the end--good intentions undone by unmanageable feelings.

The whole cast functions like a single unit, with Liev producing a startling performance at the center of it all. Johansson plays a pitch perfect young woman of 18, excited, and eager to live but unequipped to manage a full grown man’s unchecked attachment. In contrast to Eddie, Rodolpho rocks as an entertaining man capable of singing, dancing, making dresses and making people laugh. As the solid brother, Marco brings pathos and the honor-bound ways of old Sicily to the fore, while the clear-eyed Beatrice recognizes she is no match for the final calamity.

Nothing drab about this production, just a wonderfully solid view of America’s shifts.
C.Ipiotis

First off Patrick Marber’s riveting “After Miss Julie” starred three thoroughly convincing actors -- Sienna Miller, Jonny Lee Miller, and Marin Ireland.

Next on the blocks, the perennially cosmopolitan Noel Coward’s blithely cheerful comedy “Present Laughter.”

An aging matinee actor idol that insists on being center stage first, last, and always, is surrounded by a devoted staff, adoring friends, relatives and lovers who surge around him like the pull of a new moon on the tides.

Impeccably dressed and poised, Garber tries to organize his departure for a tour of Africa. Needless to say, complications of the heart trip up the plans. As the protective, world-wise and weary secretary, Harriet Harris, adds just the right amount of bitters to the play’s fizzle. Separated from her husband, but still best pals, Lisa Barnes adds her own burst of civility to this staircase farce.

When he first emerges on the elegantly curved staircase, Garber’s confronted by a pretty item that spent the night downstairs because she left her keys at home. (Evidently, that’s the accepted excuse for over-nighting-it with Garber). Always teetering on the “just about over the top” mode, Garber finesses his way out of her arms and into the next daily drama. Whenever a doorbell buzzes, the phone rings or door slams, another character plunges into the matrix of inter-personal complications.

Garber does try to do the right thing by all. A wandering wife takes up with a best friend, and Garber steps in. But fortunately, this is an adult comedy and it insistently floats on the tangy side of melodrama.

There’s even a hyper-balletic playwright nut-case, Brooks Ashmanshas enthralled with his hero, Garber. Ashmanshas looks like an escapee, Attention Deficit Disorder, elephant from Walt Disney’s “Fantasia.” Director Nicholas Martin juggles the actors to a jazzy cosmopolitan rhythm.
C.Ipiotis

Book, lyrics and score echo stories and songs already heard about blacks breaking into the pop music and media industry mid twentieth century. But “Memphis” draws its local honesty from Huey, the white fellow who falls in love with black underground music and single-handedly shines a public spotlight on it in Memphis, Tennessee.

Naturally, he falls in love with the gorgeous and talented vocalist Felicia (Montego Glover), and naturally, the families bristle like starched linen at the thought of merging families. Despite the familiar story-line and soundtrack "Memphis" the musical has undeniable heart and some of the best dancing on Broadway.

Dances are shaped by traditional routines made famous by the likes of the Four Tops and Temptations, but choreographer Sergio Trujillo (and associate choreographer, Kelly Devine) lather combinations with unexpected kick-step and shimmies syncopating our expectations. Acrobatic flips, barrel turns and split jumps ultimately share time with dirty dancing style couplings and some very funky line dances that jazz-up our spirits.

As the story goes, Huey commandeers the microphone at a radio staion and blasts his black club pals' music over the air teasing the teenage urge to move round and round to hip-bumping music. From there, the unlikely hits-maker creates a wildly successful music and dance television show.

But it’s not all sunshine and daffaodils in Memphis. Good 'ole boys knock some sense into Huey and his lover Felicia, forging an irreparable split in their relationship. Huey starts to lose his balance and push the censors to the edge of their puritanical prayer books and Felicia pushes her bright career up north.

What stays with you are the performances and Kimball's knock out personification of an uneducated, color-blind, white Southern guy with a pure love of R&B and the moxie to upend the establishment in the service of his cause.

In the end, Huey believes more than anyone else in the future of R&B, race relations and a better America.

Directed by Christopher Ashley with punchy relish, he gets a huge lift from the mighty pit band that drills the most out of David Bryan's music. And even if the lyrics by Di Pietro and Bryan along with DiPietro's book don't add up to "Showboat" the musical does grab your heartstrings and stick in your mind.
C.Ipiotis

In the newest entry, “Race” suggests people color the facts through the lens of bias, bias of any kind related to gender, ethnicity, class—you name it.

Here, a privileged white man is accused of rape and seeks assistance from a mixed-race, high-powered law firm.

With the entire action taking place within the plush walls of the law firm, Mamet outlines the questionable circumstances in a rat-a-tat, matter-of-fact staccato vocal clip. To a degree, James Spader references the character he played so successfully on TV in “Boston Legal.” As much at home on the stage as on TV, he’s at liberty to exercise an incisive wit and intellectual gamesmanship.

A chamber play, Spader is supported by David Alan Grier, Richard Thomas and Kerry Washington.

Spader and his fellow cast members trade sentences with the cool of poker card dealers. As claims and evidence mount, things heat up, but the tension never snaps. “Race” consistently runs just below the boiling the point. Questions about race and gender, truth and lies, cynicism and optimism, justice and the law slam into each other.

As director, David Mamet approached his material with a clean, conservative hand and that does not interfere with the language’s architecture.
C. Ipiotis

Eager for a feel-good holiday tonic? Walk past the Rockefeller Plaza Christmas tree and head straight for the Broadway musical "Jersey Boys."

Whether or not you know the music of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, your spirits will dance to the tune of their story. Rising from Newark’s gritty, working class, four guys merge into a wildly successful pop vocal group identified by Frankie Valli’s stratospheric, three-octave falsetto. And like the original group, this amiable cast positively quakes with the high-voltage performance of John Lloyd Young as lead singer Frankie Valli.

This economic production struts with a well balanced diet of story line, music and nostalgia. Director Des McAnuff nimbly captures the exhilarating spirits of young men catapulted into the music industry. In the process they shed names and members before finding their "sound" but never lose their pronounced loyalty to each other. Contracts between band members were honored by a simple handshake. Mob ties oiled their ascent to stardom and their near demise. So strong was their brotherhood that when Frankie’s mentor and fellow band member faces financial and possibly bodily ruin, Frankie pays off his debts.

But all of this would not pop if the cast wasn’t so totally inside the 60’s style. That comes from the Jersey swagger and spot-on choreography by Sergio Trujillo. Granted, the cast excels in the choreographed sequences, lashing out tight moves, finger snapping bounces and unison spins -- but Trujillo is a master at replicating standard pop routines and tweaking them with fresh, bold gestures.

McAnuff revels in his tight cast, as he animates the clear and amply detailed book by Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice. The ambiance is accessorize with large comic strip styled pop art by Michael Clark while the set suggests urban sprawl and claustrophobic clubs as visualized by designer Klara Zieglerova.

The dynamite cast revolves around the charismatic Christian Hoff as Tommy DeVito and Young along with strong performances by Daniel Reichard as Bob Gaudio, and J. Robert Spencer as Nick Massi. (My only concern: the wear and tear on Young’s vocal chords).

A kicky pit band lead by Music Director, Ron Melrose juices up this show about an all-American band rooted in New Jersey’s urban sprawl and mob camaraderie. "Jersey Boys" will keep you smiling long after you leave the theater singing "Sherry"-----"Sherry Baby!"

"Jersey Boys" at the August Wilson Theater features music by Bob Gaudio and lyrics by Bob Crewe. Tickets move fast, so get in line.

Celia Ipiotis