Contrary to its name, Justin Kuritzkes' "The Sensuality Party" is anything but sexy. This intermissionless play recounts an orgy that was more harrowing than hedonistic. Each character is scarred by the experience in a different way and is given a monologue to purge their soul. The catch here is there's no real stage. Actors sit in the audience and often deliver lines from their seats, causing the forth wall to evaporate if not completely shatter. I usually hate plays where the characters are just talking about what's previously happened, but under Danya Taymor's naturalistic direction, it feels like this is the only way this story can unfold.
George C. Wolfe's new musical "Shuffle Along," - yes, it's not a revival despite the producers unsuccessful appeal to the Tony nominating board - tells not only the story of its namesake 1921 show that made history as the first all black musical but how its creators were subsequently forgotten. One of the most chilling numbers in the show, "They Won't Remember You," is a blistering indictment of how history is erased and distorted throughout time. Any other year, this would sweep the Tonys but this is the year of "Hamilton."
Both Miles Davis and John Coltrane would have been 90 this year and to commemorate the occasion, Jazz at Lincoln Center put on a few concerts. I caught two of them including a tribute by their house orchestra which was curated by trumpeter Marcus Printup and Ali Jackson. The roughly dozen songs included classics like "Boplicity,""E.S.P" and "My Funny Valentine." Despite being listed in the program, they skipped over "Someday My Prince Will Come." Other omissions were inevitable when dealing with an artist as vastly prolific as Miles. Like Picasso, his work can be divided into distinctive periods, and save for Printup's inventive brassy arrangement of "Tutu," the later years were ignored. I would have loved to hear something from "In a Silent Way" but the thing about Miles is it's all good.
The following evening Joe Lovano and Ravi Coltrane led an all-star group in the slightly more intimate Appel Room overlooking Central Park. Ravi has made a career playing a vast array of his father's music, but the setlist hewed to the evening's theme of spirituality. "Central Park West" was an equally appropriate selection but more than any one song was the cohesive groove that Lovano, Coltrane, Tom Harrell, Steve Kuhn, Reggie Workman, Andrew Cyrille and Brian Blade conjured up. Each effortlessly worked in virtuosic solos. Harrell kept his head down causing his white mane to cover his face, contrasting with his black leather blazer. He'd lift his head only slightly to blow a phrase into his trumpet. Workman is aptly named and routinely laid down intricate bass lines with endless momentum. Cyrille and Blade melded seamlessly as the two drummers but the former stood out for pounding a whole section out on nothing but his body.
Jesse Tyler Ferguson's one-man-performance in the revival of Becky Mode's fine dinning takedown "Fully Committed" is as much a test of physical endurance as it is a feat of comic timing. Broken into a series of frantic phone calls, Ferguson tackles each character so naturally that it's easy to forget that he's talking to himself. Mode added some modern references but her acerbic and witty observations of the high-end food service world are largely left in tact and still relevant today.
Eugene O'Neill's "Long Day's Journey Into Night" is his most personal play, so much so that it wasn't published until after his death. Written as a way to reconcile with the looming ghost of his bipolar mother, the scenes to this day feel raw and immediate. Jessica Lange completely embodies the character, Mary Tyrone, with a disarming warmth that makes her moments of mania all the more chilling. She lights up the stage whenever she descents from the tomb of her upstairs bedroom, but when she's not in the room, the conversations feel rather staid. Gabriel Byrne, John Gallagher Jr., and Michael Shannon are all capable actors, but they can't build up a captivating momentum - save for Shannon who comes to life in the second act. The play still achieves its catharsis but it does so in spite of this sluggish revival.
Ivo Van Hove finds the electricity in "The Crucible" one of Arthur Miller's most didactic plays written at the height of the communist witch-hunts. It's impossible not to see it through this metaphor but Van Hove amps up the feelings of small town isolation and Philip Glass' score constantly pulses underneath creating an almost unbearably claustrophobic feeling. Jan Versweyveld's set and lights evoke a sterile schoolhouse, one where the learning more often distorts the truth rather than shining a light on it. There's a palpable fear just beneath Saoirse Ronan's fiery performance and an unrelenting refrain: why can't reason prevail? This feels all the more relevant as the
George C. Wolfe's new musical "Shuffle Along," - yes, it's not a revival despite the producers unsuccessful appeal to the Tony nominating board - tells not only the story of its namesake 1921 show that made history as the first all black musical but how its creators were subsequently forgotten. One of the most chilling numbers in the show, "They Won't Remember You," is a blistering indictment of how history is erased and distorted throughout time. Any other year, this would sweep the Tonys but this is the year of "Hamilton."
Both Miles Davis and John Coltrane would have been 90 this year and to commemorate the occasion, Jazz at Lincoln Center put on a few concerts. I caught two of them including a tribute by their house orchestra which was curated by trumpeter Marcus Printup and Ali Jackson. The roughly dozen songs included classics like "Boplicity,""E.S.P" and "My Funny Valentine." Despite being listed in the program, they skipped over "Someday My Prince Will Come." Other omissions were inevitable when dealing with an artist as vastly prolific as Miles. Like Picasso, his work can be divided into distinctive periods, and save for Printup's inventive brassy arrangement of "Tutu," the later years were ignored. I would have loved to hear something from "In a Silent Way" but the thing about Miles is it's all good.
The following evening Joe Lovano and Ravi Coltrane led an all-star group in the slightly more intimate Appel Room overlooking Central Park. Ravi has made a career playing a vast array of his father's music, but the setlist hewed to the evening's theme of spirituality. "Central Park West" was an equally appropriate selection but more than any one song was the cohesive groove that Lovano, Coltrane, Tom Harrell, Steve Kuhn, Reggie Workman, Andrew Cyrille and Brian Blade conjured up. Each effortlessly worked in virtuosic solos. Harrell kept his head down causing his white mane to cover his face, contrasting with his black leather blazer. He'd lift his head only slightly to blow a phrase into his trumpet. Workman is aptly named and routinely laid down intricate bass lines with endless momentum. Cyrille and Blade melded seamlessly as the two drummers but the former stood out for pounding a whole section out on nothing but his body.
Jesse Tyler Ferguson's one-man-performance in the revival of Becky Mode's fine dinning takedown "Fully Committed" is as much a test of physical endurance as it is a feat of comic timing. Broken into a series of frantic phone calls, Ferguson tackles each character so naturally that it's easy to forget that he's talking to himself. Mode added some modern references but her acerbic and witty observations of the high-end food service world are largely left in tact and still relevant today.
Eugene O'Neill's "Long Day's Journey Into Night" is his most personal play, so much so that it wasn't published until after his death. Written as a way to reconcile with the looming ghost of his bipolar mother, the scenes to this day feel raw and immediate. Jessica Lange completely embodies the character, Mary Tyrone, with a disarming warmth that makes her moments of mania all the more chilling. She lights up the stage whenever she descents from the tomb of her upstairs bedroom, but when she's not in the room, the conversations feel rather staid. Gabriel Byrne, John Gallagher Jr., and Michael Shannon are all capable actors, but they can't build up a captivating momentum - save for Shannon who comes to life in the second act. The play still achieves its catharsis but it does so in spite of this sluggish revival.
Ivo Van Hove finds the electricity in "The Crucible" one of Arthur Miller's most didactic plays written at the height of the communist witch-hunts. It's impossible not to see it through this metaphor but Van Hove amps up the feelings of small town isolation and Philip Glass' score constantly pulses underneath creating an almost unbearably claustrophobic feeling. Jan Versweyveld's set and lights evoke a sterile schoolhouse, one where the learning more often distorts the truth rather than shining a light on it. There's a palpable fear just beneath Saoirse Ronan's fiery performance and an unrelenting refrain: why can't reason prevail? This feels all the more relevant as the