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.