January 19, 2023
“Underground Railroad Game”: The Most Scandalizing Thing I’ve Ever Seen Comes to Londonby Randi / September 27, 2018
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is The Jungle at London’s Playhouse Theatre, running until November 3.
Boy, if you didn’t hate Theresa May already, this incredible play will definitely do the job. But while it will make you shake with rage against everyone in positions of power – the ones with the ability to make decisions that will help instead of hurt, but don’t – it won’t only leave you feeling sad and impotent. It will make you want to step up and help as well. And though it was kind of suuuper bougie that we were these middle class white people seeing a play about the Jungle while our do-gooder friends have actually volunteered there, it really is an important play to see, because theatre can and often should create real change in the world, and this is the kind of play that embodies that goal.
Boy, if you didn’t hate Theresa May already, this incredible play will definitely do the job. But while it will make you shake with rage against everyone in positions of power – the ones with the ability to make decisions that will help instead of hurt, but don’t – it won’t only leave you feeling sad and impotent. It will make you want to step up and help as well. And though it was kind of suuuper bougie that we were these middle class white people seeing a play about the Jungle while our do-gooder friends have actually volunteered there, it really is an important play to see, because theatre can and often should create real change in the world, and this is the kind of play that embodies that goal.
“The Jungle”, by Joe Murphy and Joe Robertson, and directed by the great Stephen Daldry and Justin Martin (never seen a play directed by two people before, I don’t think, so that’s interesting), is unlike anything I’ve seen before (and not even because of the two director thing). It doesn’t feel like a play at all. Dropping you smack in the middle of the action in the Calais migrant camp in 2016, you quickly forget that someone wrote these lines or directed these people or that these people are actors. I fully was immersed and believed that the passionate, beleaguered people around me were truly refugees from Afghanistan, from Syria, from Sudan, from Lebanon, from anywhere but definitely not actors from London. It usually takes a lot of effort to make that jump into accepting what you’re seeing in the theatre as truth, but here it was like there was no alternative, this was real. I was a witness to this incredible human rights atrocity. These poor people had been through so much and I was witnessing their efforts to get through even more.
The setting of the Calais migrant camp was in the news a lot a few years ago, for dern good reason, and even though the human rights violations are still occurring over the water (over to France, I mean, not the USA, although we all know the many violations of all sorts happening over that water but that’s not what I’m talking about for this one moment in time), the news has dropped the ball on covering it. Refugees and migrants trying to flee from many different countries for many different reasons have been coming into Europe for a long time, but in 2015 the number rose substantially. The huge numbers of migrants set up an encampment near Calais, France, from January 2015 to October 2016. With little assistance from activists and organizations, they built temporary housing, places of worships, restaurants. They dealt with sanitation problems (like lack of sanitation), food shortages, unaccompanied children, and the kinds of abuses that occur in any large group. People were hoping to get to the UK, and would risk their lives over and over and over by hiding in trucks, jumping ferries, or stowing away on trains heading to their believed salvation. They would really risk everything to succeed on this journey, evidenced in large part by the record number of people who died at sea trying to cross the Mediterranean in unsafe, terribly crowded small boats. Everyone remembers the picture of the poor little boy who drowned, a fact that this play reminds you of.
Despite the growing number of migrants camped out here, the French authorities began carrying out evictions. They would clear the camp by force, quadrant by quadrant, always promising that each eviction would be the last, forcing the migrants into smaller and more cramped living situations, before returning shortly thereafter and clearing another section. Now, the camp is gone, but the migrants still remain. They just aren’t allowed to have any sort of shelter in place or even bedding. Kids are burying blankets underground when the sun rises so officers won’t confiscate them. Their treatment is a disgusting stain in human history, one that is getting bigger and darker.
The play drops us into the action full swing, and when I say drops us in, I really mean it. Most of why the full immersion was easy to plunge into was because of the spectacular set and staging of this show. Inside the Playhouse theatre, there’s no theatre left really. The stage is gone, and although there’s a small balcony section for audience members, the entire floor is now a makeshift café in the middle of the migrant camp, with flags of represented countries, wooden benches, and dirt floors. The whole floor is this restaurant, and I was seated at one of the central wooden benches in the café while the actors swirled around, through, and right on top of the audience. The actors walked along the tables where our drinks were (a nice Afghani refugee will give you tea upon entering the café). They leaned on my shoulder when trying to talk to their friend standing at the next table. They threw dirty dish towels at us to clean our tables. They brought the guy next to me some freshly baked bread (seriously, I saw the guy kneading and rolling it out in the kitchen area) and then they brought him a whole curry platter (better him than me, thank goodness). I’ve seen immersive staging before, but this was unique, and it was so effective in making you care about what was happening.
And what was happening was chilling. The play begins right when the French authorities are beginning their ‘eviction process’, by forcibly, violently clearing an occupied part of the camp. You hear names of people who have died. Everything is loud, terrifying, and just when you’re starting to get short of breath, a calming presence interrupts and says we better start at the beginning of the story instead of the end. It’s unsettling storytelling, and incredibly powerful.
This calming presence is Safi, played by Ammar Haj Ahmad though I still can’t believe he was an actor who got to go home safe after the show. Quickly, and then continuously over the two acts, Safi will become someone we and the other refugees learn to trust and value, which is always a dangerous thing to do, as he demonstrates. A refugee from Syria, he becomes a leader of this camp, along with the Afghani restauranteur Salar (Ben Turner, remarkable) and Mohammed from Sudan (Jonathan Nyati), both giving their characters a sincere sense of gravitas and earnestness. It makes sense that the rest of the camp looks to them for guidance, even though they are just as lost and defeated.
There are a few other standout performers who are given time to shine, like John Pfumojena’s Okot, a Sudanese teenager who tells us how he has died and keeps dying deaths over and over in a somber, slow scene that was given remarkable amount of time to grow in an otherwise fast-paced show. But the entire cast is top-notch, and if I could give an award for best cast or ensemble (different from the theoretical Best Ensemble Tony Award that people are clamoring for that I object to (that would be for the unnamed chorus members only and so dancers who happen to be cast in top shows frequently could be like 10-time Tony winners and that’s just nonsense)), I would award this phenomenal cast. Not least the little girl Amal who barely says anything but breaks your heart into pieces so effectively that at the end I was like DO YOU NEED A HOME???
Everything about this play feels pitch perfect because it is all so accurate, from the Eton-educated British lad whose heart is in the right place but has no idea what he’s offering to deal with, to the infighting among migrants, to the condescending French authorities who lie with no compunction. Of course, the most staggeringly distressing part was the end, when we see actual footage of what has happened and how atrociously the media has handled it. The poor coverage and sometimes outright lies put out there about the camp led directly to Brexit, I believe, and I wonder just how many of the Brits in my audience voted for it, and whether they regret their decision. I hope they are doing something to help make amends for their actions. And if any theatre could produce that extraordinary result, it’s this extraordinary play, a theatrical event that you should run to see.
INFORMATION
The Jungle runs two hours and 45 ish minutes, in two acts. There’s lots of smoke, mainly non-cigarette ‘explosion’ smoke that I almost choked on and had to breathe through a paper towel for a minute, so be warned if you have asthma that like, you should bring your inhaler. Also, it’s pretty gritty, both in subject and in physical being. I picked the wrong show to wear a fancy dress to, I’ll tell you that. If you are sitting downstairs in the café, wear shoes you don’t mind getting dirty and clothes you can move in (to get on the bench) and try not to let them throw the dirty towels at your head.
Our seats right in the middle of the action at the Afghan Café were originally $25 (that’s pounddollars) and now are apparently $100! So you should run faster!
The setting of the Calais migrant camp was in the news a lot a few years ago, for dern good reason, and even though the human rights violations are still occurring over the water (over to France, I mean, not the USA, although we all know the many violations of all sorts happening over that water but that’s not what I’m talking about for this one moment in time), the news has dropped the ball on covering it. Refugees and migrants trying to flee from many different countries for many different reasons have been coming into Europe for a long time, but in 2015 the number rose substantially. The huge numbers of migrants set up an encampment near Calais, France, from January 2015 to October 2016. With little assistance from activists and organizations, they built temporary housing, places of worships, restaurants. They dealt with sanitation problems (like lack of sanitation), food shortages, unaccompanied children, and the kinds of abuses that occur in any large group. People were hoping to get to the UK, and would risk their lives over and over and over by hiding in trucks, jumping ferries, or stowing away on trains heading to their believed salvation. They would really risk everything to succeed on this journey, evidenced in large part by the record number of people who died at sea trying to cross the Mediterranean in unsafe, terribly crowded small boats. Everyone remembers the picture of the poor little boy who drowned, a fact that this play reminds you of.
Despite the growing number of migrants camped out here, the French authorities began carrying out evictions. They would clear the camp by force, quadrant by quadrant, always promising that each eviction would be the last, forcing the migrants into smaller and more cramped living situations, before returning shortly thereafter and clearing another section. Now, the camp is gone, but the migrants still remain. They just aren’t allowed to have any sort of shelter in place or even bedding. Kids are burying blankets underground when the sun rises so officers won’t confiscate them. Their treatment is a disgusting stain in human history, one that is getting bigger and darker.
The play drops us into the action full swing, and when I say drops us in, I really mean it. Most of why the full immersion was easy to plunge into was because of the spectacular set and staging of this show. Inside the Playhouse theatre, there’s no theatre left really. The stage is gone, and although there’s a small balcony section for audience members, the entire floor is now a makeshift café in the middle of the migrant camp, with flags of represented countries, wooden benches, and dirt floors. The whole floor is this restaurant, and I was seated at one of the central wooden benches in the café while the actors swirled around, through, and right on top of the audience. The actors walked along the tables where our drinks were (a nice Afghani refugee will give you tea upon entering the café). They leaned on my shoulder when trying to talk to their friend standing at the next table. They threw dirty dish towels at us to clean our tables. They brought the guy next to me some freshly baked bread (seriously, I saw the guy kneading and rolling it out in the kitchen area) and then they brought him a whole curry platter (better him than me, thank goodness). I’ve seen immersive staging before, but this was unique, and it was so effective in making you care about what was happening.
And what was happening was chilling. The play begins right when the French authorities are beginning their ‘eviction process’, by forcibly, violently clearing an occupied part of the camp. You hear names of people who have died. Everything is loud, terrifying, and just when you’re starting to get short of breath, a calming presence interrupts and says we better start at the beginning of the story instead of the end. It’s unsettling storytelling, and incredibly powerful.
This calming presence is Safi, played by Ammar Haj Ahmad though I still can’t believe he was an actor who got to go home safe after the show. Quickly, and then continuously over the two acts, Safi will become someone we and the other refugees learn to trust and value, which is always a dangerous thing to do, as he demonstrates. A refugee from Syria, he becomes a leader of this camp, along with the Afghani restauranteur Salar (Ben Turner, remarkable) and Mohammed from Sudan (Jonathan Nyati), both giving their characters a sincere sense of gravitas and earnestness. It makes sense that the rest of the camp looks to them for guidance, even though they are just as lost and defeated.
There are a few other standout performers who are given time to shine, like John Pfumojena’s Okot, a Sudanese teenager who tells us how he has died and keeps dying deaths over and over in a somber, slow scene that was given remarkable amount of time to grow in an otherwise fast-paced show. But the entire cast is top-notch, and if I could give an award for best cast or ensemble (different from the theoretical Best Ensemble Tony Award that people are clamoring for that I object to (that would be for the unnamed chorus members only and so dancers who happen to be cast in top shows frequently could be like 10-time Tony winners and that’s just nonsense)), I would award this phenomenal cast. Not least the little girl Amal who barely says anything but breaks your heart into pieces so effectively that at the end I was like DO YOU NEED A HOME???
Everything about this play feels pitch perfect because it is all so accurate, from the Eton-educated British lad whose heart is in the right place but has no idea what he’s offering to deal with, to the infighting among migrants, to the condescending French authorities who lie with no compunction. Of course, the most staggeringly distressing part was the end, when we see actual footage of what has happened and how atrociously the media has handled it. The poor coverage and sometimes outright lies put out there about the camp led directly to Brexit, I believe, and I wonder just how many of the Brits in my audience voted for it, and whether they regret their decision. I hope they are doing something to help make amends for their actions. And if any theatre could produce that extraordinary result, it’s this extraordinary play, a theatrical event that you should run to see.
INFORMATION
The Jungle runs two hours and 45 ish minutes, in two acts. There’s lots of smoke, mainly non-cigarette ‘explosion’ smoke that I almost choked on and had to breathe through a paper towel for a minute, so be warned if you have asthma that like, you should bring your inhaler. Also, it’s pretty gritty, both in subject and in physical being. I picked the wrong show to wear a fancy dress to, I’ll tell you that. If you are sitting downstairs in the café, wear shoes you don’t mind getting dirty and clothes you can move in (to get on the bench) and try not to let them throw the dirty towels at your head.
Our seats right in the middle of the action at the Afghan Café were originally $25 (that’s pounddollars) and now are apparently $100! So you should run faster!
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The Minutes on Broadway: You Wish Your Local Council Was This Bonkerballs (you really don’t)
It’s Theatre Thursday! We’re still doing those when we remember!
Okay yes The Minutes, Tracy Letts’ latest Broadway play, has recently closed, and I was just too busy to write about it in time for you to read the review and still be able to go ‘oh I want to see this, I will go to Telecharge.com right now and be able to magically use that shithole of a website from 1991 and actually successfully checkout before the show closes and/or I die from frustration.’ Sorry, but hey, what a weird show! If it was still open, I would have recommended checking it out but not paying too much.
The Minutes is a real-time-plus-flashback-also-in-real-time local council meeting (omg I’m forgetting what they are called in USA, what’s happened to me…borough meeting? it’s a small baby government of people who think they have a lot of power and honestly have more than they should) where the new guy is trying to play catch-up with WTAF is going on with this group. Noah Reid – Patrick from Schitt’s Creek – is beyond perfectly cast as the earnest newbie who you can tell makes dad jokes and is friendly, committed to doing his job well, and eager to correct people’s grammar (‘sometimes it’s who!!’).
Right from the start, you get a bad feeling about the council head Tracy Letts, who is just as incredible an actor as he is a writer. Even without the ominous thunderstorm, you’d know from his first scene where he’s kibbutzing politely over the refreshments with the new guy not to trust him, and when he asks the new guy what his baby daughter’s name is, you get the urge to yell “don’t tell him!!” It’s so subtle but he conveys that sinister sense that things aren’t what they seem.
Noah’s commitment to doing his job means not letting Tracy (we are screwing character names) and the rest of the council skirt past the whole ‘incident’ that happened the week before, the one that drove a fellow member to not show up tonight. Someone mentions it in passing, and Noah’s like ‘well what happened last week, remember, this is my first meeting?’ and everyone’s like ‘FORGET IT LA LA LA WE DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING’. So Noah has Jessie Mueller (NOT SINGING AT ALL) read the minutes (drink!) of the meeting from the week before, which is his right. She reads them and when it gets to the key part, apparently there’s a transcript she made that’s attached as an appendix. Guys, there’s a whole lot of talk about the technicalities of minutes and appendices and transcripts that the Tony-winner likes to do just for completeness sake, and it sounds like it would be a long sigh of a boring mess, but it’s actually gripping. You’re like YES READ THE F-ING TRANSCRIPT, THE APPENDIX IS PART OF THE MINUTES, OF COURSE IT’S PART OF IT!
What comes to light about the conflict the week before focuses on the man who isn’t at the present meeting, the council member with the conscience. Turns out he wanted the council to officially recognize the town’s terrible racist history, the truth that everyone ignores, that’s the opposite of what’s in the popular founding mythology and the town song. The real story is, as we guessed, full of slaughter of the Native population. All of this sounds very believable and without a doubt is the same story for many American towns. But taking this play’s treatment of this subject beyond the recognizable and into the symbolic is the strength of the connection this town, and this council, has to their fake history. Their unwillingness to give up their fake history is treated more like a necessity, a powerful all-encompassing metaphorical spirit that goes beyond what you’d expect in real life, but reflects the strength these false histories have over us. People like this cling to them when letting go would mean also losing a sense of balance in the world, the world they/we created where we benefit from the lies.
So they WILL NOT let them go! The play ends super weird, like war paint and hooting weird, and it’s a little unbelievable that Noah would fold so easily, but maybe I’m projecting. And sure it’s not (hopefully) representative of what happens at your average council meeting, but the sentiment at play is pretty much what’s going on in every town in America. We love a Tracy Letts joint to make us feel bad about the world!
“Company” in London: The Gender-Bent Revival of Sondheim’s Classic that Everyone (Else) is Raving About
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is ‘Company’ in the West End, playing at the Gielgud Theatre until (at least) December 22.
Not to sound too much like Stefan, but London’s hottest show right now is ‘Company’. It’s got everything: gorgeous sets, impeccable lighting, that IKEA chair everyone has that looks expensive, Patti LuPone, red dresses, untz-untz-untz music, a guy sitting next to you (me) burping up cheese (I almost vomited in front of Patti LuPone), and, most notably, a gender-switched lead character. In this modern revival of Stephen Sondheim’s classic 1970 musical, Bobby, the 35-year-old bachelor who enjoys juggling women and being the envy of his married friends, is now Bobbie, a 35-year-old bachelorette who dates and has lots of married friends and is thinking a bit about what she wants out of life. The buzz around this revival is off the charts, and yet the show itself lacks any sense of life driving it forward.
While ‘Company’ wants us to believe that Bobbie’s having some sort of existential crisis about being single at this age, Bobbie doesn’t seem to be in much need to change her life, because this is now 2018 and it’s not a big deal that a 35-year-old woman, especially in NYC, is single. She seems fine. She dates cute guys, she wears cute dresses, she has a bunch of friends who care enough about her to always invite her over and call her and throw her birthday parties. Who has friends that throw birthday parties anymore?! Her life rocks. So while a female lead is interesting and buzzworthy, the show’s whole main concept now fails as a piece of modern theatre, because the whole ‘erma gerd a 35-year-old person in 2018 is unmarried alert the church elders’ subject matter is so outdated and irrelevant to our lives that despite the truly gorgeous visuals of this production, and the mostly great performances, you’re left thinking, ‘wait but why though?’
Maybe it’s because I am in Bobbie’s demographic, so I have lots of Bobbie-friends in my life who are Living Their Best Life, but I think I found the female characterization of Bobbie less compelling than the male. Stereotypically, women think about marriage and getting to spinster age more than men do, right? Older single men are more socially acceptable than older single women, because yay misogyny. So if this is true, a female Bobbie isn’t anything of note. It’s merely a woman who still has her entire life ahead of her thinking, hmm maybe do want to get married someday. COOL. That’s not exactly the most compelling dramaz. Whereas, with a male Bobby, especially when he’s played with a little coldness towards his romantic conquests, it feels a little more moving to watch him realize that maybe he wants to settle down one day, because it wasn’t expected, and he’s not expected to really care about that. Bobby having an emotional journey is more compelling than Bobbie, well, just staying the same.
And maybe I found the female Bobbie less compelling because it wasn’t acted well. Unfortunately, I saw this show on the night when the lead, Rosalie Craig, was sick, and Jennifer Saayeng, who usually plays Jenny, was on as Bobbie. Saayeng should be commended for getting through the show without any mistakes, but this is a West End professional production, and her performance was sadly not up to standards. She seemed unable to control her breath, which resulted in weak voice, unable to be sustained. It was a shame that Bobbie’s big musical moments – “Marry Me A Little”, “Someone is Waiting”, and of course “Being Alive” – were laborious, tedious, awkward moments that you yearned to be over instead of relishing. It was a big disappointment, and I’m shocked that a production of this caliber doesn’t have a better suited standby for Bobbie. Her acting portrayal left me cold as well, so perhaps Craig does show Bobbie as going on an emotional journey, but Saayeng did not. It’s the fault of the director, Marianne Elliot, for not ensuring that that necessary journey always remains a part of the show no matter who is playing the role, and it’s the fault of the producers for not having a standby or understudy ready to portray it. When I last saw ‘Company’ live, it was the 2006 Broadway revival with Raul Esparza, and his Bobby was one of the most incredible performances I’ve ever seen in my entire life. People say that Bobby/Bobbie doesn’t require a powerhouse vocalist, but hell if hearing Raul blow the roof off the theatre with his definitive ‘Being Alive’ didn’t transform the entire emotional message of that song and subsequently the play as a whole. He actually felt the pressure from his married friends and was grappling with his own desires, whereas in this production, I didn’t notice anyone making Bobbie feel uncomfortable with her status at all. And for good reason – like I said, she seemed to be doing fine. But the whole point of a musical is to show emotion through song, which Bobbie did not do.
Aside from Bobbie, the rest of the characters were mostly great. ‘Company’ is told through a series of vignettes in no apparent chronological order, with returns to Bobbie’s surprise 35th birthday party scattered in here and there and as bookends. The first of Bobbie’s married friends were wonderful – Mel Giedroyc and Gavin Spokes as Sarah and Harry, who are trying to give up their vices and end up fully fighting each other while ‘demonstrating’ jujitsu, which Giedroyc hilariously pronounces like Ross Gellar says ‘karate’. Some of my favorite comic timing in ‘Company’ comes when Joanne enters the fray and sings to the audience “The Little Things You Do Together”, and Patti did exactly what was needed here, hysterically. The scene, which ends with the lovely-sad “Sorry-Grateful”, was as pitch-perfect as the set design was. Jenny and David, the couple who smokes weed with Bobbie and has some truly provocative dialogue, were also great. Jamie Pruden was on as Jenny with Saayeng swung up to Bobbie, and I honestly couldn’t believe that she wasn’t the regular Jenny. She and her husband, played by an affable Richard Henders, seemed perfectly suited to their parts. Lastly, Daisy Maywood and Ashley Campbell as Susan and Peter were great as well, with their interesting portrayal of a couple that is finally happy with each other once they get divorced.
But no one and nothing in the shows beats Bobbie’s gay friends Jamie and Paul. Jonathan Bailey stops the show and steals it with his incredible “Getting Married Today”, which is honestly the best reason to see this show. This is the one gender switch in the production that makes much more sense now. When a woman sings this song, it’s funny but just normal cold feet. With a man singing it, his jab of “Just because we can get married doesn’t mean we should” takes on a much more potent meaning, and his joke about being pregnant is actually funny. The staging is just as good as his performance, down to his leap onto the kitchen counter and the choirgirl disappearing into the fridge. It’s a tour de force and I will bet right now that Bailey wins an Olivier this year for it.
While Richard Fleeshman’s Andy, the idiot flight attendant formerly known as Amy, is fantastic, the other two boyfriends don’t fare as well. Theo (formerly Kathy) barely makes a dent, while PJ (formerly Marta) is so poorly redone as to be kind of maddening. Before, Marta was this cool liberal girl who revels in the city’s diverse wonders, but PJ seems to be just like some skanky Brit who spends all his time doing drugs in clubs. What this production does to “Another Hundred People” is a crime.
And Patti, while always great, didn’t really connect to the character. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t have to – the audience, screaming and cheering for her every single word, no matter what it was, would apparently scream and cheer for her if she said eat my farts instead of her lines. Joanne’s big song “Ladies who Lunch” is set in a modern club with house music thumping, which as you know is my nightmare, and there’s just no way this old lady would be at this club with all these young people dancing. The new book scenes given to Joanne before and after her big song are honestly weird. Whatever they were trying to accomplish by shocking Bobbie with Joanne’s untoward suggestions about sleeping with her husband &c. was not achieved. Instead, you’re left just kind of giving the stage the side-stink-eye like that gif of the little blonde toddler. If I am forced to give it some weight, I guess Joanne was trying to scandalize Bobbie into feeling something at all, and betting that her reaction would be the realization that she wants to settle down, but it felt unnatural and actually bizarre.
Sondheim has said that he hates hearing theories that Bobby was a gay man, because that’s an entirely different issue that the character would be dealing with. Bobby’s story is that of the quintessential straight white man with no real problems, and this is the one case I can think of where the story is best suited to that kind of man. Making him a woman diminishes the potency of his story the same way Sondheim feared making him gay would. And Bobbie doesn’t seem to have a problem here at all. Her friends don’t seem to be pressuring her to settle down as they seem to have in past productions. And you’d think that the gender-switch would bring along a new kind of pressure from the friends and from Bobbie’s own acknowledgement of her aging – the time she has left to have babies. I assumed this production would be all over that with a female Bobbie. But this obvious issue is left strangely unmentioned, the one thing that actually would make a compelling argument for a female lead. So, instead of the story of a cold, insular, lonely man who realizes how badly he wants someone to love him, we see the story of a middle class, mid-30s woman who has lots of friends, a great apartment, an active romantic life, and a birthday cake all to herself. I don’t see a problem.
INFORMATION
‘Company’ is playing at the Gielgud Theatre until December 22, but I am positive that either an extension or a Broadway transfer is coming, given the hugely positive reception it’s getting. Rush tickets are available on TodayTix.