Where No Woman Has Gone Before

"The Explorers Club" at Manhattan City Center

            It is difficult to say whether playwright Nell Benjamin has, in “The Explorers Club,” written a feminist farce or a masculine one.

            Early news of the Manhattan Theater Club-produced play led some (myself included) to believe that the play would be social commentary on the inclusion of women in historically male societies such as The Explorers Club, which women are not permitted to join.  The play is set in 1879, and the venerable institution must make an earth-shattering decision—whether or not to admit a female explorer, Phyllida Spotte-Hume (Jennifer Westfeldt with an excellent British accent), who has discovered a lost city.  There would be room here for Ms. Benjamin to write a rather boring play with a lot of heart about the equality of women in every sense with perhaps two or three jokes thrown in to lighten the tension.

            But thankfully, she has not.  That “The Explorers Club” has very little heart is not detrimental, because it’s written in the style of a classic farce, and “little heart” is practically a requirement to qualify in that category.  The show starts off pleasantly funny and ends uproarious, as many farces do.  It’s quite a relief to witness a comedy with no deep and probing intentions.

            The ardent feminism is absent too.  Of the nine-person cast (playing eleven characters), eight actors are male, and Ms. Spott-Hume’s appearances are actually few and far between.  In much of her longest period spent on stage, she is unconscious, having fainted out of fright.  Here is where Ms. Benjamin abandons the pretext of a play about women banging on the doors that have been closed to them and welcomes, with open arms, a comedy about fussy British men and the funny things they say.  Who doesn’t love a play like that?

            Lucius Fretway (Lorenzo Pisoni), the loud, fidgety botanist who puts Phyllida up for membership, doesn’t seem to have much interest in her achievements (though he professes otherwise), but rather in her affections.  Harry Percy (a delightfully insensitive David Furr), the president of the club, who has just returned from discovering the “East Pole”, has little to say about a woman’s role in 1870s London and far more about the game of winning Phyllida before Lucius can.  (He's also the focus of a brilliant and unexpected Gilbert and Sullivan reference--one of the many pleasant surprises this show has to offer.)  Various other professors, all very funny, wander in and out from time to time with snakes, guinea pigs, and assorted comic devices, each more welcome than the last.

            Phyllida brings back a “savage” (Carson Elrod) from her lost city whose unpronounceable name she has shortened to Luigi.  Luigi’s people say hello by slapping you in the face, and Phyllida is in deep trouble when Luigi says hello to the Queen of England.  Sir Bernard Humphries (Max Baker), the queen's personal secretary, wants Phyllida to give up Luigi and a map to the lost city so that England may declare war on them, but Phyllida refuses and, after Luigi saves the lives of two of the explorers, the club is no less willing.  So Luigi is disguised as the club’s absent bartender, Roger.  A great deal of slapstick, enacted with a great deal of agility and talent, springs from Luigi’s unique style of tending bar.  Eventually (and I don’t think this is giving too much away), all ends well.

            Watching a farce is always refreshing, and leaving “The Explorers Club” one feels the aftereffects of a palette cleanse of laughter.  Some jokes are somewhat predictable (a lot of “If such-and-such walked through that door…” followed by such-and-such walking through that door), but they are all the more entertaining for it.  In an era of intense theater, it is even somewhat relaxing to experience this spirited work of Ms. Benjamin and her cast, in which there is so little on the line.

The Children Are Our Future

"Matilda the Musical" at the Shubert Theater

            What I have suspected since the Tony Awards in early June is confirmed—“Matilda” deserved to win Best Musical.

            “Matilda,” with an inventive book by Dennis Kelly and a preternaturally magnificent score by the Australian comic singer Tim Minchin, is based on one of the final novels of Roald Dahl, about a five-year-old genius with telekinetic powers.  Famously, the role of Matilda Wormwood in the musical is played by a rotation of four young actresses: Sophia Gennusa, Oona Laurence, Bailey Ryon, and Milly Shapiro (the four of whom were honored with a special Tony Award at the end of last month).  I was fortunate to see a performance starring Ms. Ryon, whose energy and ability are so unmatched by any other young actress I have yet witnessed that, had she actually begun to move the scenery about with her mind, I would not have been surprised.

            Matilda is born to parents who are unable to recognize her brilliance.  Her father (Gabriel Ebert, who won a Tony for this role) is a conniving car salesman who is unable to understand Matilda’s devotion to the written word when the television is within reach.  (His song “Telly,” which opens the second act, is one of Mr. Minchin’s more entertaining numbers.)  Mr. Ebert’s bowlegged walk and comic versatility are a high point of this show filled with high points.  Mrs. Wormwood (Lesli Margherita), meanwhile, is a competitive ballroom dancer who has no time for her unwanted second child.  To put her parents in their place, Matilda must pull elaborate pranks on her father like dyeing his hair green and gluing his hat to his head with superglue.  The Wormwoods’ dynamic with their daughter and their older, dull son, Michael (Taylor Trensch), is a testament not only to Mr. Kelly’s effortless writing but also to their tremendous respective acting abilities.

            Matilda’s life is worse, if anything, at her school, Crunchem Hall, where daily life is dominated by the delightfully evil headmistress, Miss Trunchbull, played with unbelievable, superhuman abandon by Bertie Carvel.  Mr. Carvel endows Trunchbull with teeth-gnashing wickedness only enhanced by delivery through calm hisses.  He knows that villainy is best performed through threatening restraint.  His musical talent, too, is prevalent.  In “The Hammer,” Trunchbull’s recipe for success in competitive hammer-throwing and life, and “The Smell of Rebellion,” her recipe for success (if you can call it that) in child-rearing, Mr. Carvel shines with an aerobic agility one would think impossible of such a broad, dense character.  (The mind-blowing choreography is by Peter Darling.)  Even the difficult patter section of “Smell of Rebellion” is delivered without fault.  Mr. Carvel is the most talented stage actor in years.

            But the star here is no one of these.  It is Tim Minchin’s perfect score, shot through with lyrical intricacy and musical triumph, that just barely outshines the masterful performances of nearly every cast member (including the show’s many energetic children) and the gorgeous scenic design (by Rob Howell).  There are too many flawless numbers to mention, and yet I must—the rhythmically minded opening number, “Miracle,” a characteristic Minchin satire that pokes fun at parents who believe their children to be immaculate; the hugely catchy theme to Matilda’s prank-pulling, “Naughty;” “Loud,” in which Mrs. Wormwood professes that “What you know matters less / Than the volume with which what you don’t know’s expressed;” “Quiet,” a lyrically beautiful number in which Matilda discovers her powers; and, of course, the finale, “Revolting Children,” in which the students of Crunchem rise up against the Trunchbull and, incidentally, the only song ever written that wholly deserves the detonation of a confetti cannon at its conclusion.  Mr. Minchin is not only one of the greatest pianists of his generation (if you don’t believe me, look up his song “Dark Side”), he is also one of the greatest songwriters.  If we are gifted with another one of his scores next week, it will have been too long, but by all rights this masterpiece of his should run until the end of time.  I could certainly see it thousands upon thousands of times more, and never tire of it.

            Occasionally when watching a musical one is forced to consider how dreary it must be to perform in the same story with the same songs and the same outcome eight times a week, week after week.  However, while I was watching the cast of “Matilda” come out for their curtain call during a medley of the sweet song “When I Grow Up” and “Naughty,” I thought to myself what a glorious privilege it must be to be a part of this piece of art each night.  Not only does it seem great fun to be a part of such a multitalented ensemble, but it must be gratifying to know you’ve been a part of history.

It's Not Just Girls Who Want to Have Fun

"Kinky Boots" at the Al Hirschfeld Theater

            It is rare that the relatively new phenomenon of what simplistic critics call a “crowd-pleasing” musical should be legitimately good, and yet Cyndi Lauper and Harvey Fierstein’s “Kinky Boots” is just such a show.  From the very beginning of this high-powered show, the audience is a feral beast that cannot be restrained in its manic applause.  This is mostly testament to Lauper’s score, which is stellar in places if slightly unprofessional in others, but also to the incomparable performances of the two male leads, Stark Sands and Billy Porter.

            Based on the 2005 film, “Boots” concerns Charlie Price (Sands), the heir to a Northampton shoe factory who doesn’t want it, and his eventual conversion, with the help of Lola (Porter) a drag queen with a heart of gold (oh boy), of said factory to an assembly line for sturdy fetish footwear for transvestites, or, as Lola calls them, “two and a half feet of irresistible, tubular, sex.”

            The story, by comparison to most of the invigorating score, is rather formulaic—and by extension, so is Mr. Fierstein’s book.  Here is the at first reluctant milquetoast who learns to try new things and be open to new ideas (Price), here is the homosexual minority who opens everyone’s mind with his sassy approach to life (Lola), here is the resident homophobe—fat and white—whose mind must be changed by force (Don, a factory worker, played by Daniel Stewart Sherman).  (Have you ever noticed that in any musical featuring only one gay character, either only one person is homophobic or everyone is?)  Price and Lola are resentful of their fathers (big surprise), as we are ploddingly informed in “Not My Father’s Son,” Ms. Lauper’s worst number and the plot’s weakest point.  All the boxes are checked.  This is why, in some places, “Boots” can seem uninteresting.

            But fear not.  In practically every other number featuring Lola, the musical becomes a masterpiece.  Billy Porter, who won the Tony for Best Actor for this performance, is unbelievably talented.  Perhaps his talent is more on display than that of his cast-mates because Ms. Lauper knows how to write for Lola’s personality.  His (her?) numbers, like the simple but fantastically well-written “Land of Lola,” the slinky tango “What a Woman Wants,” and the brash “In this Corner,” are the best in the show because Ms. Lauper is not trying to write for a story.  In other numbers, like “Step One,” in which Price lays out his plan for the factory, her lyrics don’t match up, because she’s unfamiliar with this format.  Ms. Lauper’s best work comes when she focuses on the pop-driven music that has made her a success.  These numbers come along on one of two occasions.  One: whenever Lola is on the stage, and two: whenever a number performed by the full cast captures the full exuberance always possible in Ms. Lauper’s work, especially in the two act-enders, “Everybody Say Yeah” and “Raise You Up.”

            Mr. Sands is a good center around which the story can orbit, but we are expected to presume relationships with his coworkers of which we are never adequately made aware.  Beyond that, things happen too suddenly to Charlie Price—he is adamantly against running the factory, then for it, then against the kinky boots, then for them, then friendly to Lola, then utterly disdainful of his (her?) sexual identity.  Mr. Sands does a good job, however, in juggling these conflicting emotions, and is nearly as versatile a performer as his co-star Mr. Porter.

            All in all, “Kinky Boots” is worth seeing for some of the better numbers, even if some of the worse numbers are worth forgetting.

Two Men, Two Guv'nors

Shakespeare in the Park's The Comedy of Errors

            The Comedy of Errors, which William Shakespeare wrote in 1594, is his shortest play by a significant margin, coming in at 1800 lines.  It is a fast-paced zinger of a night’s entertainment, the sort that would have brought in some of London’s more lowbrow crowd.  The story begins with a lengthy (and quirkily staged) introduction by Egeon (Jonathan Hadary), a merchant of Syracuse, who must defend his presence in Ephesus, a rival city to his own.  Egeon explains that his twin sons were separated at birth, each in the company of their respective slaves (the two slaves were also twins).  Now Egeon comes to Ephesus following the twin who remained with him, who went out into the world seeking his brother.  When Antipholus of Syracuse (Hamish Linklater) and his man, Dromio of Syracuse (Jesse Tyler Ferguson), arrive in Ephesus, confusion with their counterparts, Antipholus and Dromio of Ephesus, results in a farce that’s more slapstick than story, but pleasantly so.

            That said, the Shakespeare in the Park production of said Comedy, which runs at the Delacorte Theater in Central Park through June 30, is one of the most delightful productions of any Shakespeare piece I’ve ever seen, and is close to perfect in every conceivable way.  The stage develops a more and more convivial atmosphere as the night goes on until the laughs take over altogether.  In this production, directed by Public Theater veteran Daniel Sullivan, the two hugely talented lead actors, Linklater and Ferguson (Public vets themselves), each portray two twins.  The decision can seem misguided in places, especially in the still touching final scene, but makes it far more believable that one twin might be mistaken for the other.  Linklater and Ferguson, along with the rest of their cast, have a boundless energy that only increased throughout the show despite (or perhaps because of) a rain that began halfway through the performance and kept up until early the next morning.  Linklater, wisely, changes his brash accent slightly between twins, and Ferguson has devised separate personalities for his two Dromios—one caring and tender, the other eternally perturbed.  One of the production’s strong points is how well the contribution of every creative involved—however seemingly contrasting—fits so well with the intentions of the original script.

            This Comedy is set in the 1930s in upstate New York (surprising how many of those far-flung cities share their names with Greek ones), with sparkling music (by Greg Pliska) and choreography (by Mimi Lieber) to match.  The Duke (Skip Sudduth) is a Mafioso, Antipholus of Ephesus’s wife, Adriana (Emily Bergl) is an entertainingly brash drunkard, and Dr. Pinch (also Hadary), a quack doctor, is a German pseudo-intellectual reminiscent of Freud.  These Shakespeare archetypes transfer without a hitch to the new setting, sometimes with amusing results.

            And indeed, the fact that Comedy is so consistently amusing is what is so refreshing about seeing a play like this as part of the Public’s summer lineup.  The Comedy of Errors, by far the funniest play of Shakespeare’s oeuvre (or at least the one most concerned with comedy above all), is simply a lot of fun to watch.  What an adapter of Shakespeare must be most delicate about is retaining the spirit of the original play, and Mr. Sullivan has done so here.  If, until Comedy gives over to July’s “Love’s Labour’s Lost: The Musical,” it can consistently deliver the kind of pure, spine-tingling joy that it did the audience of the very wet (but still magnificent) show I attended, it will have succeeded in its mission to entertain.  The Bard would be proud.