Review: The Ferryman

There is an extensive dramatic literature about strife in Ireland. So, crafting a drama that takes a fresh angle, and tells that story in a new way is no small accomplishment. That’s exactly what playwright Jez Butterworth has achieved in The Ferryman, an enormous family tragicomedy set during “The Troubles.” Specifically, the play is set in rural County Armagh, Northern Ireland, late summer 1981. The Carney farmhouse hums with activity in preparation for the annual harvest. A day of hard work on the land and a traditional feast finds the family inexorably – and tragically – drawn back into the arms of the Irish Republican Army.

Director Sam Mendes deftly weaves together the everyday and mystical elements that Butterworth has weaved into this complex tapestry of a play. Paddy Considine plays household head Quinn Carney brilliantly, sharply etching the bright lights and deep darks of this deeply-conflicted central character.

The Ferryman is above all an ensemble show. Butterworth has given each of its many characters a distinctive personality, Mendes has given structure to this often chaotic household, and every member of the ensemble plays the hell out of their part no matter how large or small. A particular standout is the luminous Fionnula Flanagan as Aunt Maggie Far Away, a mostly catatonic elder family member, who, when she comes to life, comes blazingly to life.

Does The Ferryman earn its 3 hour and 15 minutes running time? Not 100%. There are times, especially in Act III, where it feels like Butterworth is luxuriating in a moment too much. But it is still, overall, a rewarding production of a richly written play. Recommended.

For tickets, click here.

To learn about Jonathan Warman’s directing work, see jonathanwarman.com.

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Review: The Lifespan of a Fact

This is one tight little machine of a play, never letting up for much of its hour and a half. Even more, while it is dense and thematically packed, the play simultaneously retains a razor-sharp focus on character. This makes it particularly compelling. The Lifespan of a Fact is based on the true story of “What Happens There” an essay by John D’Agata (played here by Bobby Canavale) about the Las Vegas suicide of teenager Levi Presley. Jim Fingal (Daniel Radcliffe), assigned to fact check the piece, ignites a debate on the blurred lines of what passes for truth in literary nonfiction.

The play doesn’t directly address the present administration’s excessively unhinged grasp (or lack thereof) of what constitutes a fact. The closest it comes to that is Fingal warning D’Agata that, in this day and age, playing fast and loose with fact leads directly to unscrupulous or gullible people developing conspiracy theories. That said, its intelligent examination of the very nature of truth feels exceedingly timely. Radcliffe and Canavale are formidable as these two strong personalities, and Cherry Jones (“formidable” could be her middle name) is just as terrific as their editor Emily.

Director Leigh Silverman keep the tension, and propulsion, going in every moment. The Lifespan of a Fact rigorously explores the nature of accuracy in journalism, and the dangers of taking literary license when writing non-fiction, even if the aim is getting at deep truths. Recommended.

For tickets, click here.

To learn about Jonathan Warman’s directing work, see jonathanwarman.com.

Review: Lorna Luft

There are several things about Lorna Luft’s current cabaret that bring to mind her mother Frances Gumm (better known as Judy Garland). First of all, she’s just written a book about her experience of her mother’s version of A Star is Born, and sings one of Judy’s songs from the 1954 movie, so that’s the most overt thing. Also she’s got that Gumm family voice – her sister Liza Minnelli has it too – warbling when it’s quiet, soaring when it’s loud. Her voice is in some ways softer than Judy’s or Liza’s, but identifiably that kind of voice.

This show though, is in surprising ways like her mother’s early 1960s TV show: packed with guests who are in large part her talented friends. Many of them met in the 1992 revival of Guys and Dolls. And they all belt the hell out of their guest numbers: Ernie Sabella and his brother David in “Hakuna Matata,” Ruth Williamson and Lorna dueting in Irving Berlin’s “Let Me Sing and I’m Happy,” Haley Swindal in Berlin’s “Let Yourself Go.” At the end of the ensemble section of the the evening, things take a more somber turn as Luft and Swindal duet in composer Larry Grossman’s compelling “The Other Woman,” Haley singing the part of the mistress, Lorna the wife.

The show marks Luft’s triumphant return to performing after having a brain tumor removed earlier this year, and the support and warmth in the room were palpable. She concludes the evening giving back that love in a rousing rendition of Jackie Wilson’s “(Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher.” Recommended.

For tickets, click here.

To learn about Jonathan Warman’s directing work, see jonathanwarman.com.

Review: Kate Baldwin

Most recently known for playing a radiant and golden-voiced Irene Malloy in the recent hit revival of Hello, Dolly!, Kate Baldwin’s has a new show at Feinstein’s / 54 Below titled “How Did You Get This Number?” The act features “signature songs” of many descriptions: special material about her life written by music director Georgia Stitt, audition songs, and – most of all – songs she performed in shows successful (Dolly, Finian’s Rainbow, John and Jen) and unsuccessful (Big Fish, Giant). A theme that runs through the show is that a song, like any work an artist works on, belongs to them, but they also belong to it.

Baldwin combines a luscious, expressive soprano (that has more resonant low notes than most) with a personality that is unfailingly charming. Her big break was playing Sharon McLonergan in the Broadway revival of Finian’s Rainbow, and she does a charming medley of “Look to the Rainbow” and “Glocca Mora.” In the year before that big change though, she was doing an extremely wide variety of ingenue roles all over the country, and shows what a ridiculous amount of diverse material she had to learn in a giddy medley that is one of the evening’s highlights.

The evening has the slightest case of two things that will create problems in a cabaret act: too many obscure songs and too many ballads. But it’s only maybe one too many of each, so it doesn’t get in the way of what is largely a delightful evening. Recommended.

For tickets, click here.

To learn about Jonathan Warman’s directing work, see jonathanwarman.com.

Review: Midnight at the Never Get

This show is a “memory” musical, in much the same sense that The Glass Menagerie is a “memory” play. Singer Trevor (Sam Bolen), shows us his young self, in the early- to mid-1960s, when he was in love with a young pianist / composer named Arthur (Jeremy Cohen). And like memory, what Trevor shows us is unreliable: was Arthur a an idealist or an opportunist? Was Trevor the love of Arthur’s life? His muse? Something else altogether?

It’s seen through the lens of the act they did together in the back room of a gay bar, the titular Never Get. Mark Sonnenblick’s emotional music and elegant lyrics hearken back to the Great America Songbook, giving Arthur’s songs a distinctive voice. One thing Trevor does remember clearly was Arthur’s passion for Porter, Gershwin and so forth, and the feeling that this kind of music was getting lost in the rise of rock and roll.

Bolen is quite appealing as the love-struck Trevor, and sings Sonnenblick’s compositions with a tenderness well suited to the story. He’s also capable of a très gay élan for the evening’s lighter moments. Jeremy Cohen plays piano and acts with great ease and sophistication. Orchestrator Adam Podd has arranged the songs for a medium sized band with a horn section, and they sound more like an ensemble at the chic Blue Angel than a place like the Never Get – which serves both the story and the music very well indeed. Recommended.

For tickets, click here.

To learn about Jonathan Warman’s directing work, see jonathanwarman.com.

Review: Bernhardt / Hamlet

As a director, I have always practiced diversity in casting, and have long been persuaded of the justice of gender parity in casting, which, more often than not, means that women will be playing men. So the idea that a great actress should play Hamlet seems quite natural to me. I’m very much looking forward to Glenda Jackson playing King Lear later this season. However, I still feel that I’m in the minority here – a growing minority, to be sure, but I find I have to defend that line of thinking more than I’d like. More than feels right.

So just imagine, then, when well over a century ago “The Divine” Sarah Bernhardt let it be known she’d be playing Hamlet. It wasn’t 100% unheard of – Bernhardt herself had already played Lorenzo de’ Medici. But this was, you know, Hamlet! Ever-agile playwright Theresa Rebeck has fashioned a highly entertaining portrayal of the struggle Bernhardt faced in bringing her Hamlet to life.

Rebeck illuminates why a woman is an ideal choice to play the role, while also giving us insight into the artistic challenges facing Bernhardt in particular in making the role align with her decidedly majestic approach to acting. She also looks at the broader social situation in which playwrights offer Bernhardt roles that treat her as some ideal, rather than a complex human being – roles which would of course be a complete bore to play. Thus, Hamlet. As Bernhardt, Janet McTeer is scintillating and mesmerizing, just like you would want “The Divine Sarah” to be. Recommended.

For tickets, click here.

To learn about Jonathan Warman’s directing work, see jonathanwarman.com.