Give My Regards To Broadway

New York

For the past week, I have nearly OD'd on the dramatic arts. Thus far, I've seen Broadway productions of The Seafarer, Beckett Shorts and November. Why the rush of shows? Well, probably for a number of reasons, not the least of which is because Broadway was shut down for two weeks with the strike. So, shows that intended to be in previews in November, and ready for a full house during the Christmas season were delayed. Shows that would have been sold out are available because people ( out-of-towners particularly ) were waiting for reviews to decide what to see.

I'm always in awe that I can take a subway twenty blocks and be in the middle of Broadway, in the thick of the best actors and the most exciting theater ( dare I say it ) on the planet. So, that's what I did. I walked up to will call and magically, they had my tickets waiting for me as promised. Never fails to amaze me.

The choices were made, I'll admit it, because Ben Brandley of the Times gave his imprimatur to the theater pieces, well, except November which is still in previews.

What did I think after seeing all three Broadway picks?

I loved The Seafarer, a Faustian tale of Sharky Harkin, superbly played by David Morse ( ER, remember ) who is caring for his older brother who is blind and a drunk. It's set--yes, you guessed--in a coastal settlement north of Dublin on the night before Christmas. It is an ensemble cast of five men, all drunk or working toward it, one of whom is a stranger, Mr. Lockhart, who engages the other men in a card game which will decide the destiny of Sharky-who is to pay with his soul if he loses.
Conor McPherson, playwright and director of the show is only 35, and has a string of credits to his name. He's got my vote for creating a thought-provoking and funny play with more that what I consider a tedious wave of Irish plays about drunks and screaming women trapped in stereotypical cultural roles.

Deep but not as fulfilling is how I would characterize Beckett Shorts which is playing at the New York Theater Workshop just off Bowery on the Lower East Side. Mikhael Baryshnikov is the principal character in the mostly silent four part production. It is Beckett, of course, another Irishman from the last century, but boy-oh-boy is his life view bleak. It is said that he and James Joyce were friends--and that they would often sit in silence. Beckett, after all, didn't think words could express the incomprehensibility of life. In fact, I'm not certain Beckett was sure there was much hope that there would be anything but the same ol', same ol'. He is, you remember, the playwright who wrote Waiting For Godot. The thrill of the show was seeing Baryshnikov up close and personal. His acting was good, full of expression, and he still moves as gracefully as a ...OK... a gazelle ( cliche, cliche ).

And then, there was November, still in previews, starring Nathan Lane, as the conservative, incumbent President of the United States in the present time a week before the election. ( You get the inference ). Laurie Metcalf plays his speech writer who is gay and wants him to marry her at a press conference the day before Thanksgiving when he is supposed to pardon a turkey in the tradition of past presidents. While the play is funny, and Nathan Lane is masterful at playing to the audience, I was disappointed in the script by David Mamet, which used a lot of profanity, slurs at about everyone ( Spamalot with a hammer? )
and seemed to me to be playing to the out-of-towners. It's funny, two people came up to me independently and asked me what I thought--both New Yorkers--both equally disappointed. It is previews, but I wish I had selected Cyrano with Kevin Kline instead.

In the spirit of Ethel Merman, I'm sitting here belting out "Give My Regards to Broadway". I can't help it!
M.C.