Thoughts on: Unbroken Circle, Off-Broadway
Unbroken Circle tells the story of a Texan family in the recent past whose secrets come to light during the aftermath of the patriarch’s death. It seemed so simple, this premise, and not exactly groundbreaking, but it was so surprisingly well constructed that it seemed novel. The play offers complex ideas of family dynamics, the need to protect loved and not-so-loved ones, and the decision behind bringing secrets to light. I expected another interesting family drama about interesting but not surprising familial narratives, but instead got an intense look at sexual abuse, incest, and deciding what the best bad option might be.
Another standout was Susanna Hay as the family matriarch, Ruby. She was so realistic I thought perhaps Seth Rudetsky stole her from a conversative Texan family and threw her on that stage. Such excellent acting. The Brady Bunch’s Eve Plumb plays Ruby’s super-super-Christian sister, getting the most laughs per line because who doesn’t love laughing at crazy right-wingers who are out of touch with reality? The whole cast was great, though. I didn’t realize until after the first act that the playwright, James Wesley, plays Bobby, a very main character, and that his daughter in the show was played by his daughter in real life, Juli! That is a freaking talented family! (Juli’s other father is the aforementioned Rudetsky, whom I adore. I wouldn’t hate spending holidays with that family.) The real-life connection added such intensity.
I hope this show gets extended as much as it can so more people can enjoy it. It was refreshing to see a play showcasing its intent clearly and candidly, not hiding anything in pretext or confusing theses or an unsaid something the audience is magically supposed to grasp. Yet it was an still impressively deep, and overall impressive, little show, a highlight of the current scene.
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“Les Blancs” at the National Theatre: Am I Supposed to Feel This Horrible?
When we join the characters, a white American journalist named Charlie Morris has just arrived in Africa (I don’t think they specify where) to do a profile on Madame and Reverend Neilson, a white European couple who set up the mission here many, many years ago. A mixed race boy named Eric is treated like a member of the Neilson family, so we assume the Reverend was his father. Psst: he’s not! The mission operates as a very outmoded medical clinic, with basic medical tools and no refrigeration. Two doctors, Marta Gotterling and Willy DeKoven, have also lived on the compound for many years. The worst Blanc is Major Rice, an English army officer stationed in the community who is mean, racist, and just really sucks. He seems to be leading the Unwanted Blanc Charge and so he orders everyone around a lot, as officers do.
Madame Neilson, a very old lady who has gone blind, is pretty awesome. She’s really tough and brave but has seen some shit and has empathy, so she is probably the most sympathetic character on stage. Vanessa Redgrave would play her in a movie. She tells of her deceased best friend, an African woman whom she bonded with years ago, who we learn was Eric’s mother, who died giving birth to him. So at least Madame can make the much beloved excuse to racism of ‘but I have black friends’. An African man named Tshembe Matoseh returns from his adult life in Europe to the village for his father’s funeral, where he encounters his brother Abioseh – now a Christian priest, enraging Tshembe – and his half-brother Eric! They’re brothers! But things get pretty unbrotherly real quick when they learn that their father was part of the terrorist rebellion, led now by Peter – the main servant in the Neilson household. Dum dum dummmm!
Yankee Doodle Charlie comes just in time to witness this terrorist uprising, of Africans sick of the colonial presence and ready to ‘fight’ against their oppressors. “Fight” in quotes because it’s not really fighting if you kill white children in their sleep. Dr. Marta seems great and nice but then it turns out she is pretty racist. She takes everything the Major says as law, and doesn’t doubt for a second that all the villagers could easily be terrorists and that a harsh response is necessary. Charlie tries repeatedly to have a real conversation about the issues with Tshembe, but Tshembe rightfully, if a little too angrily, says he doesn’t owe him a conversation just to assuage his white guilt &c. I’m not saying that the oppressed doesn’t have the right to be angry; I’m saying the actor’s anger level started high and had nowhere to build to, so in the character Tshembe’s very many ‘angry monologue’ moments, they all had the same level of anger. The very first and the very last were given at the same fever pitch, which is not so good. He was a great actor, but like, we need some journeying. On the seeeea.
As for Charlie. I’ve become much more forgiving of bad American accents lately, realizing that as long as the acting is getting the job done, it’s okay if the English-born person doesn’t say his r’s like an American would. Sadly, the actor playing Charlie (I don’t feel the need to look up names if I am criticizing) seemed too focused on saying his r’s to focus on the acting he needed to do. It’s like he read all my past reviews complaining about English people’s American accent and my repeated yelling of “Just say your r’s! That’s the most important part!” and listened too intently like I’m actually someone worth listening to about your acting. Ugh and Charlie is such a big, important role, so a lot of energy was expelled on his accent focus that should have been directed towards, ya know, saying important lines. Oh wells. At least he said his r’s, even though he sounded like a cartoon cat.
At least Charlie sort of seemed like a decent Blanc, trying to figure out what he could do to help this shitty situation, whereas Marta and the Major and the Reverend (in illuminating discussions about him; we never meet him because he was delayed on a business trip but then at the end we learn he was killed in a nearby village’s terrorist uprising) turned out to be not so open to helping the native culture blossom but more into controlling it and claiming to be just as much native to the village as the African people were, just as entitled to rule it. The blancs thus embodied the not-so-funny version of “The Book of Mormon” song “I am Africa”, when the white missionaries in that show sing: “I am Africa, I am the heartbeat of Africa…We are Africa, We are the deepest darkest Africa (So deep and dark!) ..We are the sunrise on the savannah, a monkey with a banana, a tribal woman who doesn’t wear a bra. Africans are African, but we are Africa!” No joke, exact parallel between these two groups of Blancs.
The show felt properly grand and impressive, not just because of the length (I mean it could have been 2 hours and 35 minutes, 40 even, instead of 2.50, come on now) but because, with few exceptions, it was treated so respectfully, with vital silent moments paced perfectly. For example, the recurring “Woman”, all impossibly long, gangly limbs, walking along the perimeter of the stage like a spirit (and she was!). At first I was like ‘who dat ninja’ but then it really worked to effect the right mood. She was captivating, and not just because her arms were as long as her legs and her legs were longer than I previously thought possible. Moments like this, and pacing that I’m sure is really difficult to nail, were directed so well that I didn’t even care how badly I had to pee. I tend not to really comment on direction but you could tell this was a triumph of that skill.
Another thing that they production tried using to effect the right mood but that miserably failed and might get me to sue (not really but I wish) (maybe if it were America)? The entire Olivier Theatre at London’s National, an enormous, cavernous space, was entirely clouded with the smoke from burning wood. When you entered, it hit you like a ton of bricks. A few old ladies behind me commented, oh wow it’s like we are at a bonfire! But when the incredibly strong stench only gets stronger as characters burn more wood on stage, it gets hard to breathe. People were coughing a lot, and I had to breathe through a paper towel for three hours. It was like sitting in a tiny 4×4 room that was 70% fireplace, burning at full capacity, where you had to share oxygen with 10 other people, except this was 100 times that. And breathing in the fumes of a fireplace is carcinogenic, so I’m pretty pissed. The actors having to deal with this 8 times a week better be getting trauma pay. I mean, three hours a day, some days 6 hours? That has to be like smoking several packs of cigarettes. Sue, actors! Sue!
Overall, the play was very well done but unbelievably difficult to swallow, which I’m sure is the point. But I found the message of “Les Blancs” to be much harder to grasp than that of “Raisin” and “Clybourne Park”, the spin-off of “Raisin” written by Bruce Norris. Maybe it’s a more sophisticated, abstract lesson in this play, which Hansberry considered her most important work and maybe intended to be as difficult to grapple with as the issues are in reality. Maybe it’s because of the smell. But I was left not knowing what to think except that racism/oppression/colonization really f-ing suck. This could very well have been her intended result, but damn it sucks to just feel powerless and overwhelmed with how shitty people can be on all sides. It raised tons of important issues about racism and cultural sovereignty, without answers because there really aren’t any. The problems in this play and in our world don’t really have solutions, obviously, but somehow “Clybourne Park” got through to me much more successfully; I really felt that I understood what it was trying to say about humanity and about various racial issues. “Clybourne Park” was also written by a white man, which might explain why I (a white person) connected with that play more, as maybe a white person’s perspective on these issues made it unknowingly easier for me to connect with. Though I would hate if that were the reason, we probably do comprehend subject matter more when put forth by people with similar experiences. Regardless of the author’s intended takeaway, “Les Blancs” is a very powerful play and the current production is well worth seeing, even though you will feel like absolute bullhonkey afterwards.
AUDIENCE
I had low expectations for all the old biddies that normally fill matinee audiences, but I didn’t see one phone after each act began (well, with a minute or two grace period so people could shut their phones back off even though it should take 3 seconds). However, one super loud, super embarrassing ringtone went off in the orchestra/stalls during a very heavy scene, which was ridiculous. Like, even if you aren’t at the theatre, who keeps their ringer that loud? Crazy people. Some folks next to me liked to talk too much but other than that it was a fine audience.
“Les Blancs” is playing at London’s National Theatre until June 2. It is about 3 hours with interval, which is what English people call intermission.
Bring a surgical mask to breathe through.
Everything’s Coming Up Imelda! “Gypsy” is Finally Back in London
In case you don’t know, “Gypsy” tells the story of Rose, the original awful pushy stage mother whose name has become synonymous with awful pushy stage mothers, who will do anything to make her daughter a star. At first, she focuses her life and all of her being on June, the talented daughter, while pushing Louise, the not-so, to the side. (Or to the chorus as one of the boys in June’s act.) The family along with random boys (named after the towns they were picked up in, I love that) travel the country for years and years to perform at vaudeville halls for whatever they can get. June finally has enough when she’s at some grown-up age (they never really are sure of how old they are), and she and the boy that Louise had a crush on, Tulsa, elope. Poor Louise. Rose switches her focus to her remaining daughter, vowing to talent her up and make her a star. However, vaudeville is dying, and when their shitty act gets accidentally booked at a burlesque hall, everything changes. Louise almost accidentally finds her kind-of-creepy calling in a world where she doesn’t need or want her mother around anymore, and Rose realizes that her entire life was spent pushing her girls to stardom when obviously she just wanted fame for herself and never got it. So sad but so crazy.
Lots of important people say that “Gypsy” is the greatest American musical. I think it’s one of the most important, and definitely Rose is one of if not the most important female characters in the canon, but the show is not the best. It’s great, but there’s so much clutter – I had forgotten how much of the show is the stupid kids’ act. Oh my goodness! Baby June & Her Newsboys! Extra Extra! Look at the headline! Dainty June & Her Farmboys! Oh my god it gets ANNOYING. 70% of the first act is the kids performing. And 60% of Act II is the grow-up kids act with Louise as the star. We hear the act’s one song about 90 times, and then of course we hear “Let Me Entertain You” 99 times. I could sense my husband starting to hulk out when it literally became a stress test gone insane. Luckily, the parts that aren’t the kids performances are superb. It’s so funny, that the dramatic arc of the family dynamic is classic and brilliant, while the majority of the show, the pacing, the structure, is all these dumb kids. Once you make it through that, though, you are rewarded with some of the most compelling musical numbers ever. “Some People”, “Everything’s Coming Up Roses”, and “Rose’s Turn” are of course the big three, the core of Rose’s performance that all need to be absolutely nailed, and Imelda nailed them. I never knew she could sing at all, and I was blown away by how it wasn’t even singing, it was just a continuation of her character.
So many of the other smaller songs are equally memorable and beautiful. We have “Small World”, “Together Wherever We Go”, “If Mama Was Married”, the latter of which gives us our one and only glimpse into the sister relationship and it always makes me want to see more of that. you wonder how much Rose created a divide between the girls and whether they could have bonded over complaining about her if given the chance to be friends. Although I suppose when June secretly marries the boy Louise had a crush on, the relationship is beyond strained.
Speaking of Tulsa, man that is such a good role for an up and coming young man. You show off your dancing and a little singing for like, 10 minutes, and then you are gone for the rest of the show. I love how subtle Louise’s falling for him is. It increases the emotional heft of her performance to feel that you’ve sensed a secret longing of someone onstage without overtly being told as such, like you form a connection with Louise and thus feel for her even more. The 2008 Broadway revival (Patti’s) spoiled me with Laura Benanti, who showed Louise’s emotional journey so subtly and exquisitely that she set the bar insanely high for future Gypsies. Also, her moos, as one of Dainty June’s farm animals, cannot be beat. (“Mu MOO mu moo.” She deserved a Tony just for that. It cracks me up.) Lara Pulver, the West End’s Gypsy, does a fine job in showing us Louise’s journey, and her voice is beautiful. My favorite moment of hers was her “Little Lamb”, a song I always forget about, but it’s really lovely and moving while being so so simple. But there’s nothing to Pulver’s performance that we aren’t explicitly shown, no deeper emotional levels or subtlety. I felt at times (as I so often do here) that her focus on keeping her American accent in check hindered her ability to fully be in character and show us more to Louise. Like, Gypsy Rose Lee isn’t some woodland sprite who lives a life of joy surrounded by singing butterflies, but that’s what she would have us believe at the end of this, that she was finally sincerely happy. There was no necessary edge to this proclamation of happiness, no bite undercutting it. And we need that.
The role of Herbie, Rose’s longtime, long-suffering partner, is equally important, and Peter Davison was very good, although he sounded eerily close to Gene Hackman’s chain-smoking tobacco magnate in “Heartbreakers”. However, he seemed almost too strong to be hurt by Rose, and when he finally finally leaves her for good, you are not upset because you are just happy for him! Yay Herbie! Run don’t walk and so on! I think that scene is supposed to be a bit more crushing though. When Herbie seems weaker, it is, because it’s easier to see that he really does love Rose for some reason. But this Herbie was a little too normal, and there’s no normal in “Gypsy”.
After such a remarkable night, the ending left me kind of confused and cold. In the 2008 revival and in the versions I’m more familiar with, the ‘reconciliation’ between Rose and Louise is tentative, to say the least. I always thought the point was that Louise despised Rose or at least blamed her for everything terrible that has befallen the family, and for her private anguish. I remember Laura Benanti’s Louise laughing at Rose’s dream and the tension between the two still being fo’ serious. Rose is left kind of pathetically dragging behind. Here, instead, they seemed to fully make up, with Pulver’s Louise being like ‘Dude I’m SO happy there is NOTHING I’m hiding in my talk about happiness, just pure joy!’ and the last shot should have been Rose tripping-running to catch up to her star of a daughter (that was such a shockingly good image, like Rose was scurrying still to chase stardom), but instead the last shot is Louise putting her arm around her mother when she does catch up! What is that! There’s no happy mother-daughter ending in “Gypsy”! I was quite taken aback by this type of forgiveness-filled ending to what should be a wretched, regret-filled end for Rose. It’s much more dramatic and moving if there’s no forgiveness (like in life!). It an unfortunate final minute or so to two hours of splendid theatre, so it’s okay. Imelda’s performance is so unbelievable, it’s a must-see. It’s kind of hilarious that the Olivier Awards occurred only a few nights before this show opened, because the fact that there is anyone else, male of female, lead or supporting, performing on the West End and supposedly giving an award-worthy performance while Imelda is living and breathing this role is kind of ridiculous.
OH. There’s a live puppy. So it’s worth seeing for that. PUPPIEEEEEE!
AUDIENCE: Oh dammit. I mean. PEOPLE. You’d think the audience at “Gypsy” would be well-behaved. For the most part, they were okay…but they talked during the overtures. And I don’t mean people behind me were whispering and I could shush them easily (I mean, they were and I did, but that’s not the point.) EVERYONE in the whole theatre was talking at regular volume during the overture. And especially when it is so rare to be treated to the full overture nowadays (or even to have one in shows at all), that is a crying shame. (And it literally almost made me cry, it’s so frustrating.) People apparently thought it was just like ‘sit-down’ music and that the show didn’t start yet. Ughhhhahhhh the overture sets the tone of the show! It has begun, you ingrates! It happened at the start of Act II as well, with the shorter interlude still being too long for our audience to stay quiet. What is wrong with people? It actually got to the point where I was thisclose to standing up and yelling “SHUT YOUR DAMN FACEHOLES!” But I haven’t quite figured out when that is the less disturbing/more helpful action to take in a crap situation like that. One day, I hope to have the courage to actually do it. Actually, if we’re hoping for stuff, I hope for people to stop acting like idiots in the theatre, how about that.