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.

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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.

Review: Nellie McKay

This cabaret act solidifies Nellie McKay’s right to be considered the 21st Century Blossom Dearie, but even more surreal, subversive and nutty. She’s a supreme stylist, with broad, substantial musical intelligence behind every single understated flourish. She combines heart-on-sleeve sincerity with supremely arch, dry wit; she’s utterly unique, her performance style multifarious and unpredictable, drawing ideas from extremely diverse eras and genres.

The act, at the Birdland Theater, is edgy even for a venue that regularly features post-bop royalty – she opens with the casually venomous “Inner Peace” from her 2004 debut album – all the while displaying musical taste and restraint so impeccable you dare not take issue with her cabaret bona fides. It’s 100% a solo act, just Nellie in a bejeweled drum majorette’s uniform, accompanying herself on piano, and exceptionally expressive ukulele (I’d go so far as to call her a virtuoso of the uke). Plus there’s a Hammond XK electric organ (a favorite instrument of mine) which adds just the right level of kooky spook to her original “Zombie.” Speaking of kooky, her version of the jazz ballad “Willow Weep for Me” breaks into wild boogie-woogie in the middle; it’s a left-field move, which somehow feels just right.

She becomes one with the piano, forcing you to focus on the nuances of both the music and the lyrics. While she still places a knowing distance between herself and the audience, this show finds her the most comfortable I’ve ever seen her just being her utterly unique self, communing with the vibe in the room. McKay’s a highly individual talent, with wildly crazy creativity to match her razor-like interpretive ability. She’s a true original, and it’s an exceptional pleasure to hear her in such an intimate setting. Highly recommended.

For tickets, click here.

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

Review: Ann Hampton Callaway

The Linda Ronstadt Songbook as sung by Ann Hampton Callaway – how perfect! Callaway, a multiplatinum-selling pop and jazz singer/songwriter, is best known for writing and singing the theme from the TV hit The Nanny. She also has the distinction of writing three songs for Barbra Streisand, which inspired her earlier cabaret act “The Streisand Songbook” (Ann is also an out lesbian, who gave me the honor of being the journalist to do her “coming out interview” – you can read that here).

Callaway has now turned the same idea – a “songbook” based on a singer who is primarily an interpretive artist – towards Ronstadt, and the results are stunning. Initially, Ann had thought that she would do material from Linda’s “Great American Songbook” albums with Nelson Riddle, and maybe just nod to Linda’s hits. It would have been the path of least resistance: The Songbook is Callaway’s comfort zone. However, she’s opted to do the opposite (“What’s New?” and “Am I Blue?” are the only songs from the Riddle albums), with very powerful results.

Callaway’s version of “You’re No Good” is really roaring – she talks about the song’s undeniable energy after she sings it, and boy does she give it that. Her raging take on “Poor Poor Pitiful Me” is simultaneously harrowing and thrilling. She has the benefit of having Ronstadt’s long time guitartist and arranger, Bob Mann, as part of the quartet backing her up, which lends the sound the very same grit he brought to the originals.

Callaway successfully covers most of Ronstadt’s multi-faceted career – thought she didn’t address Linda’s Spanish-language records, which I did miss – crafting a loving musical portrait of a brilliant interpretive artist who improved every song she sang. Callaway is a great interpreter in her own right, so every number in this show is doubly rich in turns of story and melody. Highly recommended.

For tickets, click here.

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

Review: Raja

One of the most effortlessly stylish queens ever to appear on Drag Race, Raja is doing her second solo cabaret show at the Laurie Beechman Theatre. Titled Masque, the show features a little bit of everything: some singing, some monologuing about contemporary issues, and a whole lot of fashion fierceness.

As a matter of fact, after singing one of her original songs in a bejeweled and horned mask, Raja says “this is the part of the show where I do nothing but fucking model for two and a half minutes,” proceeding to give indescribable body and face to Right Said Fred’s “I’m Too Sexy.” There’s your admission fee covered right there.

And even though she says “that all the choreography you’re going to get” after a handful of hip bumps in her first sung cover of the evening – Tina Turner’s “Private Dancer” – don’t you believe it. Raja instinctively swirls, twirls and dips with aplomb whenever there’s music. That makes me wish the ratio of talk to music favored music more, even though the monologues are spiritually and politically deft and intelligent. Maybe a tad repetitive, but I’ll chalk that up to the weed and wine she cheerfully admits to having taken in.

Raja has a warm charismatic presence, which makes you think she’d be able to put over just about anything she wanted. Recommended.

For tickets, click here.

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

Review: Jane Lynch & Kate Flannery

Spill Carol Burnett, Louis Prima and Keely Smith into a cocktail shaker, mix violently and pour the results into two portions, one taller than the other, and you will have the double act currently playing at the Cafe Carlyle. That would be, as they introduce each other, “America’s Jane Lynch” and “Kate Flannery, brought to you by Jameson.” Or, as you may have first met them, Sue Sylvester from Glee (Lynch) and Meredith Palmer from The Office (Flannery).

Their act is called “Two Lost Souls” and is, in the main, silly fun which attacks the American Songbook with equal parts affection and gimlet-eyed irony. Lynch and Flannery first met as members of Chicago’s sketch comedy scene, where they recognized each other as singers of more or less equal gifts – strong bright voices with solid musicianship. There’s an old bromide that all comedians are frustrated singers, but this duo puts the lie to that; they’re real singers who use their comic gifts to shine fresh colors on the songs they sing.

It’s pretty plain that Lynch is the writer/actor here, and Flannery the improvisationally inclined loose cannon. The night I was there Flannery offered that her “underwear was on backwards” to which Lynch responded (with flawless timing, mind you) “I don’t know what to do with that information.” As recording artists they only have one CD, a Christmas album under Jane’s name, and they were quite clever about working songs from that repertoire into a show for a sweaty, soggy September evening.

A more serious theme emerges slowly, about the personal damage that the Songbook often reflects, but it is worn lightly and spooled out with wit and elegance. Recommended.

For tickets, click here.

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

Review: Scott Thompson / Buddy Cole

“He was one of those faggots that made respectable gays so uncomfortable.” Thus said Buddy Cole, the fey martini-drinking creation of comedian Scott Thompson. This was from a monologue that Scott / Buddy did on Canadian sketch comedy show Kids in the Hall. It was about a friend of Buddy’s, but he could have been talking about himself. Now Thompson has revived Buddy for a tour called Aprés Le Dèluge which just had a sold out run at Joe’s Pub, a collection of about 10 monologues set in various years between 1995 (when Kids went off the air) and today.

In these monologues, buddy covers a variety of issues from straight men to having children – Buddy chose to have an imaginary child (“so much simpler!”) – to adventures with Uday Hussein while dressed in a burqa. Things get really hilarious when we get to the present day, when Buddy encourages trans kids to fight their corner, and observes “Thank goodness they changed the word for # from ‘pound sign’ to ‘hashtag’ because #MeToo would mean something completely different.”

The wild audience response at Joe’s Pub indicates there’s a real hunger for Cole’s scandalous super-gay brand of comedy; I certainly could use a lot more of it myself. To quote Buddy one last time “As Molière said to Guy de Maupassant at a café in Vienna, ‘That’s nice. You should write that down.’”

For tickets, click here.

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