Christmas 2007, day 6

MATINEE: Is He Dead?, at the Lyceum. This is a totally ridiculous play, both as conceived by Mark Twain and as rewritten (David Ives), directed (Michael Blakemore) and acted (by a bevy of NY's finest, led by the great Norbert Leo Butz). And I smiled pretty much non-stop. I understand the criticisms of those who didn't get on board with this silliness, but I can't join them: well before NLB went into high gear, I was seduced by the antics of the likes of Michael McGrath, John McMartin (he's just always fabulous; I don't know how he does it at his age), Byron Jennings, Patricia Connolly and Marylouise Burke. I guess this says something bad about the state of NY theater, that all these wonderful people were available for something as absurd as this, but lucky the audiences that reap the benefit. I ate it all up.

EVENING: Romeo et Juliette at the Met. This was my 2nd New Year's Eve there, and I was much happier this time around. (The previous occasion was Die Fledermaus a couple of years back, which was underwhelming but partially redeemed by the stunning high notes of Sondra Radvanovsky and Marlis Petersen.) Anna Netrebko was on her best behavior, which means the voice sounded pretty free and very beautiful, she managed the Waltz decently, and she phrased more sensitively than is her wont. For that last, I credit Matthew Polenzani, her superb Romeo: unlike the shrill and phony Roberto Alagna (who shared the telecast a couple of weeks ago), his tone spins and shines, and he commands gorgeous pianissimo, diminuendo and long-line phrasing. It was worth it to hear him soar through "Ah, leve-toi, soleil!" (with an amazing morendo on the final B-flat) and sustain his longest spans while lying prone and supine in his death scene.

Christmas 2007, day 5

AFTERNOON: squeezed in Atonement before my show (and I mean squeezed: see below). I didn't know much about this going in, apart from the sheaf of raves, so I was ready to be surprised, and I was, pleasantly. I loved the fascinating layout of the story, with the occasional rewind and the ever-present typing in the score, inviting the audience to wonder why the point of view is shifting, and where all the typing may lead. The payoff was worth it: having read that the finale would be a 5-minute appearance by Vanessa Redgrave (I AM Vanessa Redgrave), I pushed my luck time-wise and was treated to a brilliant resolution, pulling the whole movie together to devastating effect.

EVENING: Alas, this meant I was scrambling to get to my 7:00 show, and I think I missed the first 120 seconds of it. This was Die Mommie Die!, at New World Stages, and it was only my 2nd live experience with the great Charles Busch that left me disappointed. Usually -- a Christmas 2001 Times Square Angel, twice at Shanghai Moon, an all-star Auntie Mame reading and last summer's revival of The Lady in Question -- he fills me with love of life in general and the theater in particular. But this time (as at a second Auntie Mame, that one a fully rehearsed and staged production), I giggled a few times and admired his skill but felt that he was playing solitaire while the actors around him screamed or flailed or in general blundered toward the style his best people command effortlessly. I don't know whether to blame the director (longtime CB collaborator Carl Andress) or the casting agent or the holiday frenzy, but ... the hit-and-miss movie version was funnier.

Christmas 2007, day 4

MATINEE: Cymbeline at the Vivian Beaumont. Funny that for years there was talk of a "Vivian Beaumont curse," because I wondered recently: have I ever been unhappy with a show here? Henry IV . . . Barbara Cook's Broadway . . . The Light in the Piazza . . . Dinner at Eight . . . The Coast of Utopia -- all things I'm thrilled I saw and heard. Even The Frogs was not without its charms, as much a mess as that was (and I saw it in previews, with Chris Kattan, God help me). Well, Cymbeline was pretty impressive too. Mark Lamos' direction merits the biggest praise: this bizarre, difficult flight of Bardic fancy was laid out with maximum clarity and economy; I never felt lost for an instant, though my only reading of the play was 17+ years ago. And a strong, well-balanced group of actors: no one perfect (Martha Plimpton very appealing but not in ideal command of the verse, for example) but only one major flaw among the leads (Phylicia Rashad's ludicrously campy Queen, drawled in a bizarre blend of Cruella de Vil and Dynasty's Dominique Devereaux). Enchanting.

EVENING: Stoppard's Rock'n'Roll. OK, I was excited about this, but nervous too, since at this point I'd racked up 7 shows in 3+ days and was flagging energy-wise. Not to worry: about 10 minutes in, I'd rallied completely. Roused by the energy of the writing, performances and staging, I got on board and enjoyed the ride. Sometimes Stoppard's clever combinations are commendable and interesting but keep the viewer at arm's length; at his best, of course (Arcadia and The Invention of Love), the conceit brims with feeling and passion, and you're swept along by intellectual excitement AND deep emotion. That was the case here: politics, rock music and Greek lyric poetry are interconnected by the intensity of feeling behind them all. Brian Cox, Rufus Sewell and Sinead Cusack were all glorious, she especially in Act I as a dying classicist equally capable of invoking the emotional side of things and playing the serious intellectual with a student.

Christmas 2007, day 3

MATINEE: Daniel Sullivan's revival of The Homecoming, with a glittering cast. This was very interesting, and probably as good a first-time in-house Pinter experience as I could find. Even so, the Pinter pauses and half-stated menace come off as at least a mite pretentious; you have to be willing to do the intellectual legwork yourself to connect the dots, and depending on your mood, that's either bracing and stimulating or frustrating and irritating. Even so, all props to the production for a high performance standard from this strong ensemble: Ian McShane and Raul Esparza both the right combination of fascinating and repellent, Eve Best appropriately opaque and magnetic, Michael McKean contributing a dash of charm and grace for contrast. James Frain, handed the hardest role to make sense of (Teddy), didn't quite solve it; as the punch-drunk Joey, however, Gareth Saxe could smack me around any time he likes.

EVENING: Young Frankenstein -- well, what to say? Ego and self-indulgence on parade for 2 1/2 hours. Sutton Foster, Andrea Martin, Christopher Fitzgerald and Shuler Hensley escape more or less intact, reputation-wise. I have never liked Roger Bart much, and this performance -- screechily convinced of its nonexistent comic genius -- pushed me away from his camp for good. Megan Mullally is equally disastrous: doubtless encouraged by all concerned, she avoids all contact with Madeline Kahn's model and just plays it like Karen Walker on steroids. Not one measure of Mel Brooks' "score" comes near the best items in The Producers (which I loved at its 2nd NY preview, even -- especially? -- without Matthew Broderick), and he and Thomas Meehan have taken a delightful film (Brooks' best by some margin) and cheapened and coarsened it in every conceivable way. (If there was a missed opportunity for the insertion of FUCK or SHIT or a tits/dick/ass joke, I can't see where.) Depressing.

Christmas 2007, day 2

Matinee: Make Me a Song, the delightful new William Finn revue imported (with one cast change) from Hartford. (Alas, this closed on New Year's Eve, but apparently the CD, recorded live in early December, is coming out soon.) Anyway, the four gifted performers were all well-suited to the material: nice voices, clear words (despite frustrating sound design in the tiny theater), engaged presence. I liked Sally Wilfert most (she was especially moving in "Any Time," in which she invested so deeply that she could barely get out the last few quiet lines), but all were solid. I was also glad to collect three Finn songs I'd never heard before: "You're Even Better Than You Think You Are," "I Went Fishing with My Dad" and "Song of Innocence and Experience." I hope they all make the CD! (The show ran close to 90 minutes, so I assume there will be a few casualties.)

Evening: The Glorious Ones at the Mitzi Newhouse. I love this little space (I treasure memories of a superb revival of The Time of the Cuckoo, with Debra Monk at her best, and the original production of Elegies: A Song Cycle) there. So I'm sorry to report that this was a disappointment. The premise -- watch a commedia dell'arte troupe onstage and off-, and witness the Birth Of Comedy -- is interesting but ultimately unwieldy, especially since the actual "performances" we see the troupe do are pretty boring. (John Kassir pulls off some virtuoso business on his own, but otherwise, snoozeville.) The score is typical Flaherty & Ahrens -- some absolutely lovely pieces, with pretty music and skillful lyrics ("Absalom" and "Opposite You" in particular), alongside a good amount of blandly professional writing. I'll buy the CD, and I liked Marc Kudisch and Erin Davie, but this didn't gel, alas. (Maybe it's time for F&A to get a sharper director than Graciela Daniele?)