Written & performed by Mike Birbiglia
Directed by Seth Barrish

This won’t be a long review. A plethora of words wouldn’t help explain why Mike Birbiglia’s new one-man effort works as well as it does. The show’s strength lies in its simplicity, and its charm comes less from its rather garden-variety premise than from Birbiglia’s unaffected performance style.

Basically, THE NEW ONE is about a lovably insecure guy (Birbiglia) who sees himself as something of an overgrown adolescent and therefore can’t imagine being a dad. Yet when the day arrives, he rises to the challenges of parenting, finding unexpected joy amid all the chaos and exhaustion. That’s pretty much it. So even at an intermission- less 80 minutes, there needs to be plenty of anecdote and invention to put flesh on such a basic narrative skeleton. Thankfully, Birbiglia goes at the task with an expert touch. Though his monologue appears to be stream-of- consciousness, it’s clear that he’s been through numerous drafts, selecting just the right details to stir into the mix and what to leave out. He pokes gentle fun at the baby industry, and confesses that he feels like and intern in his own home as things constantly need to be fetched for mother and baby. And in addition to the usual parenting ordeals, Mike brings his own set of quirks and conditions. We learn, for example, that he suffers from a disorder called RBD (a dangerous form of sleepwalking) and has to sleep in a harness, further complicating the new family’s domestic arrangements. His relationship with his wife, poet Jen Stein, is inevitably upended by the arrival of the new one, but ultimately deepens as they learn the ropes of co-nurturing.

Birbiglia has spent years, both as a standup comedian and a frequent contributor to non-fiction storytelling programs like The Moth Radio Hour and This American Life, honing a comic persona that is both erudite and self-effacing. His ease on stage helps establish an instant rapport with the audience, and though we more or less know where he’s going, we’re still happy to follow along as he takes his first baby steps into the overwhelming universe of fatherhood.

Birbiglia has spent years, both as a standup comedian and a frequent contributor to non-fiction storytelling programs like The Moth Radio Hour and This American Life, honing a comic persona that is both erudite and self-effacing. His ease on stage helps establish an instant rapport with the audience, and though we more or less know where he’s going, we’re still happy to follow along as he takes his first baby steps into the overwhelming universe of fatherhood.

THE NEW ONE continues through January 20, 2019 at the Cort Theater.,
 138 W 48th St, New York, NY 10036. Tickets:



Written by Yasmina Reza
Translated by Christopher Hampton
Directed by Jerry Heymann 

A kind of Groundhog Day for the smart set, Yasmina Reza’s jaundiced take on marital relations shows a foursome of educated Parisians reliving the same failed soiree over and over. There are subtle variations in each of the replays, presumably meant to help us see the same events from a different angle. The trope has potential, but the playwright seems to lack a strong sense of purpose. It’s never quite clear what the audience is meant to learn from watching the same petty people keep repeating the same mistakes, or, more importantly, why we’re supposed to care.

In the living room of a prim, middle class apartment, astrophysicist Henry (James Patrick Nelson) and Sonia (Claire Curtis-Ward) bicker over how best to get their young son to go to sleep. Henry seems to think it’s okay to give the boy a few chocolate fingers if it will get him to quiet down. Sonia believes in being firm with kids, and finds Henry’s wishy-washy parenting style annoying. Even more repulsive, in her eyes, is the way her husband sucks up to Hubert Finidori (Dominic Comperatore) a successful fellow scientist whose influence could make or break Henry’s chances for a promotion. As a matter of fact, Hubert and his wife Ines (Leah Curney) are on their way over for dinner. Apparently, neither Sonia nor Henry bothered to mark the date. Or perhaps it’s the Finidoris whose calendar is off. Either way, the surprise is not a welcome one. Sonia is still in her housecoat, there’s nothing in the fridge but Sancerre, and no hors d’oeuvres other than whatever chocolate fingers the child hasn’t already consumed and few bags of a Cheese Doodle-ish snack food called Wotsits. It’s a hostess’s nightmare, made worse by Henry’s groveling and Hubert’s thinly veiled disdain for his struggling colleague. The turning point comes when Hubert coolly delivers the news that Henry’s research paper, the result of years of work, may be irrelevant as another physicist has just published a similar treatise. It’s devastating blow for Henry, and for Sonia it’s further evidence that her husband is an epic schlimazel. In scene two, our Rashomonsters are at it again, with Hubert and Ines are already bickering before they even arrive at the doomed dinner party. As the wine flows, Hubert and Sonia, both so disappointed in their spouses, appear to be kindling an affair. In the third go-round, a more mature, confident Henry takes the publication of a rival research paper in stride. Yet despair still hangs over the scene, perhaps because the universe, reduced to numbers and theories, seems meaningless. (or maybe they’ve all just had too many chocolate fingers).

There are many unanswered questions in this drama, and not in a good, make-you-think, kind of way. Sonia and Henry live in Paris, for heaven’s sake, the very citadel of culinary achievement, yet we’re supposed to believe they can’t figure out how to get food delivered. And why can’t any of these smart people manage enter a social event correctly in their datebooks? It all feels a little too engineered. Likewise, the career and matrimonial frustrations these First Worlders face don’t seem profound enough to warrant all the histrionics. To be fair, many modern dramatists, Chekhov and Beckett among them, are known for having based great works on the dynamics of emotional paralysis. But they understood stuck-ness in a way that Reza doesn’t seem to, or at least they found a way to poeticize the melancholy of thwarted dreams.

That said, the material does offer its superb cast something to work with. In Nelson’s hands the bungling Henry seems more vulnerable than weak, someone we’re willing to root for even at his low moments. Comperatore neatly encapsulates the suave exterior and inner ennui of the disillusioned Hubert. Curtis-Ward manages to find genuine pathos between the beats of Sonia’s I-deserve-better irritability, while Curney is a joy to watch the neglected spouse who grows drunker – and more uncomfortably truthful – as the evening wears on. Director Jerry Heymann nimbly orchestrates their talents,while the painterly set design, costumes and props add an extra layer of luster to the production and highlight distinct moods of each re-exploration of a life measured out it in Whotsits and wine bottles.

LIFE X 3 continues through December 8, 2018 at Urban Stages, 259 West 30th Street (bet 7th and 8th Avenues) For tickets, call Ovationtix, 1.866.811.4111. 



Written by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

Directed by Jeff Wise

Though the term “toxic masculinity” wasn’t in wide usage in 1970, there’s little doubt as to where Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. was aiming his rage when he penned this absurdist meditation on war, gender and class in mid-century America. In a nation battered by defeat in Vietnam, political assassinations at home, and a host of other social upheavals, it’s easy to understand why Vonnegut – himself a WWII veteran and POW- sought to blow up the outdated norms that had gotten us into this mess.

In a luxury New York festooned with hunting trophies, Penelope Ryan (Kate MacCluggage) struggles to move on with her life. Her husband, big game hunter and decorated war veteran Harold Ryan (Jason O’Connell) has disappeared while searching for diamonds in the Amazon. He’s been gone long enough to be considered legally dead, and Penelope is open to the idea of remarrying. Her suitors include boring-but-decent vacuum cleaner salesman Herb Shuttle (Kareem M. Lucas) and peacenik intellectual Dr. Norbert Woodley (Matt Harrington). Penelope’s son Paul (Finn Faulconer) doesn’t approve of either of the guys, especially the “fairy” doctor. He believes his dad will come home someday. This seems unlikely, as Harold and his trusted pilot Looseleaf Harper (Craig Wesley Divino) can hardly survived eight years in the rain forest. As fate would have it, though, Paul is right. Ryan and Looseleaf come marching home again and Penelope is forced to adjust yet another set of unexpected circumstances. Part John Wayne, part British Imperialist Explorer (and more than a hint of Hemingway, the dominant image of Great American Author at the time), Ryan seems to be expecting a hero’s welcome. But he’s in for a rude awakening. In his absence, the world has changed in ways he could never have predicted. No longer interested in playing the beta female, Penelope refuses wait on Ryan and locks the bedroom door when he tries to initiate sex. Likewise Dr. Woodley, whose hands have never held anything more dangerous than a violin, seems to be the kind of guy that gets respect these days. Unlike Nazis and rhinos, these new social foes can’t simply be felled with a bullet or a knife. Ryan will have to adopt new strategies, or face the fact that his societal species is now on the endangered list. As these conflict simmer, a few fanciful touches are thrown into the mix.  Several scenes take place in heaven, where Hitler, Jesus, Einstein and a little girl named Wanda June (Charlotte Wise/ Brie Zimmer) engage in a lively game of shuffleboard (apparently the admission requirements aren’t as high as we’ve been led to believe).

One would think, in the age of Kavanaugh, that the play’s vitriolic lampooning of male entitlement would make seem as relevant ever. Unfortunately, thought much of the script’s heavy-handed satire feels dated. Overinflated machismo is hardly the world’s most challenging target and, while some of HAPPY BIRTHDAY, WANDA JUNE is inventive and funny, it ultimately feels longer on indignation that inspiration. Vonnegut’s humor lands more forcefully when he focuses on more downbeat characters like Colonel Harper. Unlike the colorful Ryan, Loose Leaf exhibits no bravado and little to say about his military service. Yet it was he who dropped the atomic bomb on Nagasaki, killing 80,000 people. Here, the playwright makes an intriguing point about society’s numbness to the horrors of war. It’s often the Regular Joes, the decent-hearted Harpers of the world rather than the swashbuckling Ryans, who are sent to do society’s most gruesome tasks. When it’s all over, they shrug and get on with their lives. And so it goes. Another provocative  moment occurs when Dr. Woodley goes toe to toe with the bellicose Harold in a verbal sparring match. The great proponent of piece seethes with a fierce desire to obliterate his rival, if only intellectually. Even pacifists, it appears, have a killer instinct.

Regardless of the script’s unevenness, at least it affords its cast an opportunity to display their stellar skills. O’Connell, whose voice and physiognomy recall a young Orson Welles, finds the arch humor and glimpses of vulnerability between the beats of Harold’s bloviation. He also does a delightful turns as one of Ryan’s felled foes, a German S.S. officers who recounts atrocious war crimes with the casual tone of raconteur entertaining friends at a cocktail party.  The rest of the remarkable ensemble, though not served as big a helping of scenery to chew,  prove themselves adept at balancing caricature with emotional authenticity. Director Jeff Wise, aided by an inventive design team, evokes Vonnegut’s surreal universe with imagination and panache. 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, WANDA JUNE continues through November 29, 2018 at the Duke, 229 West 42nd Street, New York, NY 10036. Tickets and information:





Book by Anderson Cook
Music and lyrics by Ben Lapidus
Directed by Felicia Lobo

Believe it or not, the generation that went to high school in the early 2000s is now old enough to have its own nostalgia culture. What the creators of GREASE did for the 50’s, librettist Anderson Cook and singer-songwriter Ben Lapidus are attempting to do for the era when songs by Good Charlotte and Blink 182 dominated the alternative airwaves. It’s not hard to understand the appeal of the genre: pop punk gave kids with the best of both worlds. It borrowed the raw vocals, power chords and rebellious spirit favored by the likes of Rotten and Ramone, but traded in the bitter nihilism of early punk for catchy hooks and relationship-based lyrics. The new(ish) sound provided perfect soundtrack for coming of age at the strip mall.

In keeping with the rock and roll energy of the score, POP PUNK HIGH is not presented as a traditional theater piece, but as an immersive event at the downtown club Le Poisson Rouge. Audiences are free to grab a drink at the bar, mill around the venue, and interact with cast members as they float through the crowd. A rousing opening number introduces us to the seniors of Pop Punk High, who are gearing up for a much-anticipated battle of the bands. The underdogs here are nerdy Derek (Lapidus) and his high-achieving but socially awkward best friend Tib (Amanda Centeno).  Derek is consumed by envy as his nemesis Skeet (Patrick Sweeney), seems to have everything: mad guitar skills, a cool skateboard and a dad (Jacob Grover) who can use his power as high school principal to punish Skeet’s enemies.  Worse, Skeet’s girlfriend is Amanda Bunkface (Jess Kaliban), on whom Derek has a desperate crush.  The unfairness of the situation hurts all the more because Skeet treats Amanda like a roadie for his band, never acknowledging the fact that she has musical ambitions, too.

Derek’s begins to change when he and Tib discover a can of Axe body spray in the principal’s office. Inside the can is none other than the soul of pop punk priestess Avril Lavigne (Jess Kaliban), who has been slain and replaced by a lookalike. Avril (who seems to be something of a genie as well as a ghost) promises that, if Derek can find the identity of her killer within 24 hours, she will grant him three wishes. The Pop Punk kids are in for quite a shock when Derek is suddenly able to skateboard like a champ, “shred” his guitar, and, well, show off a startling new anatomical enhancement. As with many such fables,  though, the moral is, “be careful what you wish for”.  All the things Derek thought he always wanted only serve to swell his head. He screams at his parents, turns his back on Tib, pushes Amanda’s band off the stage, and basically loses sight of all the things in life that really mater. Luckily, the cosmos isn’t done with Derek, and an unexpected development offers our hero an opportunity to redeem himself before it’s too late.

Clocking in at an intermissionless 90 minutes, the show just enough plot to support its pop-culture inside jokes and give each of its talented cast members a turn at the mic. Director Felicia Lobo keeps the energy high throughout, while choreographer Aubyn Heglie has the cast fist pumping and head banging with brio.  Designers Andrew DG Hunt (Lighting) Olivia Vaughn Hern (Costumes) and Hannah Levesque (Sets) add just enough color and kook to frame the show in a fittingly cartoony universe.  The one thing POP PUNK has too much of is, well pop punk. Lapidus has a natural feel for the genre, but after an onslaught of songs played mainly in the same style, the freshness of the score begins to diminish. The show could use more selections like the comedy song sung by Derek’s hopelessly square parents (Eric Wiegand and Mclean Peterson), which provides a welcome respite from the high decibel, anthemic tone that animates the bigger numbers. There have been quite a few iconic musicals, like CABARET, HAMILTON, THE BOYFRIEND and the aforementioned GREASE, that stick closely to a specific musical idiom and yet provide their songbooks with a satisfying level of variety. There are worse things Lapidus and Cook could do than to emulate their example.

POP PUNK HIGH continues its engagement at Le Poisson Rouge,  158 Bleecker St, New York, NY 10012, through November 1, 2018. Music and merchandise at



Written by J.C. Ernst
Directed by Melissa Firlit

A soupçon of Sam Shepherd, a sprinkling of Tarantino, a touch of Grand Guignol and a generous dollop of Martin McDonough: these are some of the many ingredients that make up the oddball world of The Crook Theater Company’s new spin on the heist-gone-wrong subgenre. Make no mistake, though. Joseph C. Ernst’s script (remarkably, his first) tosses some original flavors l into the mix as well. The result is not for the faint of heart, but for audiences who enjoy hanging out at the corner of Crime Drama Boulevard and Theater of the Absurd Street, GOODBODY provides a satisfying evening of suspense, dark humor and wild twists.

In a remote barn house somewhere in upstate New York, low level gangster Spencer (Raife Baker) finds himself staring at the business end of a loaded pistol.  The weapon is held by Marla (Amanda Sykes), a seductive amnesiac who is somehow mixed up in whatever debacle just went down. Bound to a chair and badly beaten up, Spencer has only his words to get him out of this situation. A quick thinker, he manages avoid execution. But his troubles are far from over. For starters, there’s a dead body in the corner. It seems that Marla, who has no memory of the incident, has just killed Burt O’Leary, one of two brothers who run the New York crime syndicate that employs both Spencer and his corrupt cop Charlie Aimes (Alex Morf), who’s known Spencer since childhood. As Aimes and Spencer try to piece together what just happened,  a picture emerges: Taking sibling rivalry to violent extremes, Burt has been muscling in on the illegal gambling enterprise run by his brother Chance (Dustin Charles). The resulting turf war forces Spencer and Aimes to side with one brother over the other.  It’s a damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-do situation, not helped by the trigger-happy shenanigans of volatile interloper Marla. And when Chance, know for his “ultra violent tendencies” walks through the door, it’s a safe bet things are only going to get uglier from here. I won’t spoil the finale by telling you whether Chance or Marla turns out to be the bigger psychopath. Suffice it to say that viewers who crave explosive endings won’t be disappointed.

Sykes is both cuddly and terrifying as the unpredictable Marla, while Charles exudes quiet menace as a kingpin in danger of losing his empire. Morf and Baker pick up on each other’s cues with expert timing, turning their characters into a kind of underworld Abbot and Costello. Ernst and director Melissa Firlit smartly start the play in the middle of the action, trusting the audience to catch up on the back story as more and more details come to light. Exposition is entertainingly interwoven with comic tension as smooth Spencer and anxious Aimes carry on the cool-dude-vs-loser dynamic they’ve been acting out since grade school.

There are a few areas where the show could benefit from further development. Chance’s big entrance veers dangerously close to a gangster film cliché and could use more of the eccentric spin that enlivens the earlier scenes. And Marla, at times, seems a little too conveniently crazy. Understanding the method in her madness might make her even more compelling.  These, however, are minor complaints. Over all, GOODBODY more than lives up to Crook’s stated promise to deliver “inspiringly ambitious and criminally surprising work”.

GOODBODY continues through November 4, 2018 at 59E59 Theaters, 59 East 59th Street,  between Madison and Park Avenues. Tickets: 646-892-7999.



Book and lyrics by Dan Elish
Music and lyrics by Douglas J. Cohen
Directed by Joe Barros

The setup Dan Elish and Douglas J. Cohen’s bright new musical romp reads like something from the indie-film relationship comedy playbook. Aspiring author Henry Mann (Max Crumm) is down in the dumps after a bad breakup. His ex-girlfriend Sheila (Allie Trimm) is clearly over it: She’s all set to marry a handsome financier, and has even invited Henry to the wedding. But Henry can’t seem to move on. Luckily, he has a couple of staunch allies in his corner. The first is his therapist mom (also Trimm), who’s always there to lend a sympathetic ear and offer commonsense advice. The second and more proactive member of the support team is Henry’s best friend Gwen (Leslie Hiatt), who’s been crashing at Henry’s place after an extramarital dalliance being kicked out her wife kicked her out for cheating. Plucking up his courage – and spurred by the fact that everyone around him seems to be getting married – young Mann wades back into the dating pool.

A romantic at heart, Henry has an irrational tendency to slip into matrimonial reveries, imagining a perfect marriage with almost every eligible woman who crosses his path. That’s a lot of pressure to put on a first date, and Henry’s quest for love gets off to a rocky start.  Sweet schoolteacher Christine (Trimm again) seems to be a good match, but the awkwardness of their first evening out doesn’t square with Henry’s far-flung fantasies. Soon he falls under the spell of Tamar (Trimm yet again) an exotic downtown fashionista.  Eager to impress a glamorous Henry becomes a pretentious bonehead. He gets over it, but by the time reality knocks him off his high horse, it may be too late to get Christine back. Worse, he risks alienating Gwen, without whom he would have no emotional rudder.  Still, as the title suggests, Henry isn’t done growing. If he can learn out his daydreams aside and learn to start living in the less-glamorous but ultimately more fulfilling real world, he just may have a chance at finding something like true love.

Woven in with plot are some spot-on parodies of  performance art, pseudo-profound musical theater, open mics, and a host of other Gotham phenomena. This this sprinkling good-natured satire helps keep this rather simple story moving briskly through its  intermissionless 90 minutes. Cohen and Elish’s songs, while not wildly melodic, sport agreeable chord sequences and sophisticated lyrics that establish the characters and wine laughs in all the right places.

Perfectly cast, Crumb has just the right balance of awkwardness and charisma to make Henry’s foibles believable and charming. Hiatt pushes Gwen beyond her function as a story catalyst, making her own maturation process as compelling as Henry’s. Trimm is appealing in all her myriad roles, some of which require physics-defyingly quick costume changes, and seasons her songs – including evening’s most moving ballad –  with warmth and vulnerability. In keeping with the show’s vignette structure, costume designer Siena Zoë Allen and scenic designer Libby Stadstad have fun transmogrifying the Cell’s tight, rectangular space into a series of colorful tableaux  that give an extra visual boot to the show’s eccentric brand of romanticism.

THE EVOLUTION OF MANN continues through Saturday, October 27, 2018, at The Cell, 338 West 23rd Street, New York, NY 10011. Tickets:



Written & performed by Hope Salas
Directed by Erika Latta

A cast of one: check. Autobiographical: check. Dysfunctional family: check. Quick changes of accent and costume, all designed to showcase the performer’s remarkable versatility: check and check.  New York theatergoers have seen this type of one-person presentation so many times that it’s hard to respond with anything other than an eye roll at the prospect of yet another performer running through a menu of eccentric characters and using the stage as a therapist’s couch. Thankfully, the occasional entry in the My Journey genre really does manage to be original and compelling. Thanks to the intriguing visual tone of the show, and the striking stage presence of its star, HOPE rises above the level of the average solo effort.

In the aftermath of a failed marriage, Hope (Hope Salas) self-medicates with booze, casual sex, and compulsive tidying of her tiny Manhattan apartment. This toxic routine is interrupted by an urgent phone call from Hope’s father:  Alice Mae, Hope’s mom, is in the hospital, and the prognosis isn’t good. The incident kickstarts an emotional odyssey for Salas, who, as she confronts her parents’ mortality, feels an intense need to understand what their lives were all about. Matching her childhood recollections with newly discovered details, Hope begins to answer painful questions, like why her mother felt the need to stifle young Hope’s performing aspirations. It turns out Alice, who suffered sexual abuse at the hands of her drunken father, worried that her energetic daughter would attract the wrong kind of attention.  As Hope’s understanding of her parents’ world increases, she gradually finds the strength to meet her own life challenges.

Salas doesn’t shy away from from the harsh realities of her subject matter, but much of HOPE is also extremely funny. Under Erika Latta’s metronomic direction, Salas develops a self-deprecating tragicomic persona, embellished with fluid physicality and commedia dell’arte style asides. The ever-shifting moods and locations of the story are aided by Marsha Ginsberg’s efficient scenic design and Yuki Nakase’s painterly lighting. The video projections serve the story well in some scenes, such as old photos of Alice smiling through her pain. At other times, though, the projections feel superfluous. The live performance is all that is needed to hold our attention.

HOPE continues through October 13, 2018 at the Wild Project, 195 East 3rd Street
New York, New York, Tickets:



Written by James Melo
Directed by Donald T. Sanders.

Given the perennial relevance of her writing, and the mystery surrounding her personal life, it’s no surprise that Emily Dickinson is undergoing a cultural reboot. Departing from the dotty-recluse persona found in earlier works like THE BELLE OF AMHERST, recent works have presented a more sensual, independent-minded and witty portrait of the poet. In the 2016 film, A Quiet Passion, Cynthia Nixon portrayed Dickinson as a spirited soul whose prodigious intellect and wild heart refused to be tamed by 19th Century strictures. And in the theater world, director Donald T. Sanders and playwright James Melo have attempted to take a fresh look at Dickinson’s life and work through a multimedia presentation comprised of spoken word, live music and video projection. The results of their effort are uneven, but the production has its share of bright spots.

In keeping with the tone of voice found in such poems as “Tell All the Truth But Tell It Slant” and “I’m Nobody! Who are you?”, actress Angelica Page imbues Emily with both childlike spontaneity and pained wisdom. For much of the play, she doesn’t speak at all, but moves about her bedroom alternating between writing, contemplation and eccentric activities like sewing little books in which to secrete her poetry. Musical interludes are provided by Max Barrosa at the piano, Victoria Lewis, Melanie Clapiès, Chieh Fan-Yiu and Ari Evan on strings, and soprano Kristina Bachrach. The chamber pieces, written by pioneering American composer Amy Beach, mirror the shifting moods and searching energy of Emily’s writing. With music pulsing in the background, David Bengali’s  projections depict a host of video imagery, all relevant -metaphorically and/or literally – to Dickinson’s life and creative process. In one sequence, time lapse photography chronicles the life cycle of a flower from blossom to decay. In another, a work of art, sketched by an unseen hand,  grows from a patch abstract lines into a pastoral scene. In yet another, a montage of battlefield tableaux captures the carnage of the Civil War.

All these visual and sonic elements combine to create a collage of ideas that is, if not quite cohesive, at least enjoyable. But there are some missteps along the way. For one, the films are projected on a small, jaggedly- shaped screen that is decorated with a pattern of scribbled notes (presumably a page of Emily’s journal). It works as a set piece,  but when the projected imagery hits the screen, the scrawled letters prove distracting and muddle the beauty of the moving image.  This proves especially problematic in the second act, when the projections become the dominant element of the show. There are odd choices in the script as well. Lines like “Narcotics cannot still the Tooth/That nibbles at the soul” are rephrased to sound like spontaneous dinner conversation. The attempt, it seems, is to make Emily less intimidatingly authorish and more accessible to modern audiences, but some of the iambic power of Dickinson’s verse is lost in the process.

All in all, BECAUSE I COULD NOT STOP is a technically impressive and sincere tribute to a worthy subject, but it lacks an overall vision to make its disparate elements mesh.

BECAUSE I COULD NOT STOP continues October 21, 2018 at the Pershing Square Signature Center, 480 W 42nd St, New York, NY 10036. Tickets:



Written by Lisa Langseth
Translated by Charlotte Barslund
Directed by Kathy Curtiss

Apparently that old saw about a woman scorned is true. At least it applies to the troubled – yet oddly likable – protagonist of Lisa Langseth’s extended monologue on the destructive power of unfulfilled desire.

Hiding out in her grandparents’ cluttered old cottage, Katarina (Ellinor DiLorenzo) pauses to leaf through a few esoteric books as she readies herself for her next move. Quoting from various philosophers, she assures the audience that she has “chosen the truth”, even if living an authentic life puts her at odds with society. She takes us back to a time when, living in a tiny flat with her unambitious boyfriend Mattias, she longs to escape from her draining, blue collar existence. Things begin to change when a local radio station holds a competition and Katarina wins tickets to the opera. Mattias dozes during the performance, but for Katarina it’s a life changing experience. She begins obsessing over the show’s haunting music, the splendor of the opera house, the elegant people in the audience. She buys classical CDs an expands her sonic horizons. Her  new interests create distance between her and her Mattias, which doesn’t improve when Katarina takes a receptionist job at the local concert hall. It’s an entry level position, but at last she is surrounded by great music and the kind of cultured people she admires. Soon she finds herself assisting Adam, a charismatic young conductor. Adam has a wife and a young child, but that doesn’t stop him from coming on to Katarina. She resists at first, but soon finds herself giving in to his advances. As their illicit romance blossoms, Katarina knows she must get rid of Mattias, and if he won’t go quietly, well, there are other ways. Meanwhile questions arise as to whether Adam sees her as someone special or just one of many extramarital amusements—likely to be a short-lived one if she threatens to complicate his life. This, too puts pressure on Katarina’s none-too-stable psyche. It seems her inner passions, once released, are as dangerous as an uncaged predator.

Though some of the onstage activity feels unnecessary, director Kathy Curtiss mostly keeps the pace going at a decent simmer. DiLorenzo, whose background includes sketch comedy and improv, puts an engagingly eccentric spin on the character and holds our attention for the show’s 75 minutes. But the story seems incomplete— and not in an intriguing, ambiguous way. After all, the basic setup isn’t that different from that of a Lifetime suspense movie. Dissatisfied Young Woman is lured away from Lackluster Mate by suave-but-untrustworthy Married Man. Complications ensue. Of course, like all conventions, these plot tropes can be made fresh, but Langseth’s writing has a pedestrian ring to it. Much of Katarina’s rhetoric is on-the nose, with the meanings of events told to the audience rather than shown (“I don’t know how I managed to live with him”, “Christ, how I’ve changed”). And unlike, say, Shelagh Delaney or Richard Price, Langstreth doesn’t energize her writing with the cadences of life in the working-class world. To be fair, New York audiences are seeing BELOVED in an English edition, and perhaps some of the energy of the original has been lost in translation. In this version, though, it feels like a very good first draft, one whose voice would be clarified and strengthened with further exploration.

BELOVED continues through August 18, 2018 at the Lion Theater,  410 W 42nd Street, New York, NY 10036. Tickets:




Written by Neil LaBute, Eric Lane and Claire Zajdel
Directed by Terry Berliner,  J.J. Kandel and James Rees

After an uneven Series A, SUMMER SHORTS is back on track with a trio of solidly crafted and adventurous entries.

At first the two siblings at the center of Claire Zajdel’s THE PLOT appear to be polar opposites. Frankie (Molly Groome) is a first-year associate in a prestigious law firm who dresses in crisply tailored business attire. Her brother Tyler (Jake Robinson), an IT freelancer, works at his own pace and favors the tech dude’s uniform of loose jeans and a flannel shirt. As the story develops, though, it turns out brother and sister have more in common than appearances would suggest. For one thing, their loving but controlling mom still exerts a potent influence on both their lives. On this particular day, Mom has asked the kids to meet her in a local cemetery to view the new headstone she’s picked out. She has also reserved spots for Tyler and Frankie in the family plot. Clearly Mom is thinks it’s appropriate not only to micromanage her offspring’s lives, but their afterlives as well. Rivalries mingle with affection as the siblings negotiate over whether to let Mom her have her way. Groome, to great comic effect, portrays Frankie as a text book approval seeker who, despite Doing Everything Perfectly, feels that parental validation is perpetually out of reach. Robinson provides her with an apt foil as the maddeningly mellow bro whose go-with-the-flow mentality, ironically, helps ingratiate him to Mom. Though THE PLOT could use a more satisfying finale, its characters are so endearing, their issues so relatable, that a stroll around the graveyard with them proves an enjoyable experience.

IBIS, by Eric Lane, weaves an intriguing tapestry out of the traditions of film noir and naturalistic family drama. Tyrone Martin (Deandre Sevon) has always wondered what happened to his father. Dad left when Tyrone was little, leaving nothing unanswered questions behind. To aid him in his quests, Tyrone engages the service of private detective Sam Spade (Lindsey Broad). Sam claims to have never heard of Humphrey Bogart, but, as in any good mystery, things are not what they seem. As Sam reveals her real name and (somewhat) true story, Tyrone becomes more comfortable sharing what few details he remembers of his father and discussing the coping mechanisms he employed to get through a confusing childhood. As it turns out, Victor Martin (Harold Surratt), is hiding in plain sight. But Tyrone still has a tough road ahead of him. After all these years, father and son seem to have little in common. Yet again, though, appearances prove deceiving. Lane’s dialogue takes a surprisingly lyrical turn in the final scene, which is played with moving honesty by Sevon and Surratt. Greg MacPherson’s moody lighting and Nick Moore’s sound design give the piece a Billy Wilderesque dark elegance.

Neil LaBute’s SPARRING PARTNER centers on an emotional affair between two coworkers. Stealing and extra few minutes before returning to the office, Woman (Joanna Christie) and Man (Keilyn Durrel Jones) linger on a park bench after a takeout lunch. Giddy with the joy of each other’s company, they engage in a movie trivia game (name a film that in which, say, Meryl Streep and Robert Deniro both appear). Woman keeps winning, which only makes Man admire her more. But when it comes to matters of the heart, Woman can’t help but feel like she’s on the losing side. Man, after all, has a wife back home, and though he admits the marriage is a failure, he doesn’t seem ready to call it quits. Soon their idyll is shadowed by questions. What do all these balmy afternoons spent playing trivia games and dancing to Paolo Conte songs really mean to him? Is he really in love with Woman or is he merely trying to recapture the spontaneity and innocence of new love: things that inevitably diminish with time even in the strongest of long term relationships. And is Woman content with stolen moments of happiness? Or is it time to set some boundaries, to insist that there be no more games unless the ante includes commitment? Exercising a light touch, LaBute doesn’t provide easy answers, preferring to let the audience speculate as to how things will turn out. The only certainty is that nothing will change without pain. Jones and Christie, natural in their movements and pure in their emotions, make the plight of their characters reverberate long after the curtain call.

SUMMER SHORTS SERIES A continues through September 1, 2018 at 59E59 Theaters at 59 East 59th Street between Madison and Park Avenues, New York, New York.