Liberation review

The cast of Liberation (Photo: Joan Marcus)

A daughter tries to discover who her late mother was in the early 1970s in Liberation, Bess Wohl's sprawling, very personal new play about the era's women's lib movement. It's intermittently intriguing as it depicts a group of women struggling with issues that remain at the forefront of American society (and thankfully some that have since been resolved), but like another recent play about feminist activists, the musical Suffs, it says more about the movement than about the people who were part of that movement.

And that's why it never fully coalesces, despite Wohl's playful yet sensitive approach to the material, and a stellar cast, directed by Whitney White. Breaking the fourth wall, a young woman (Susannah Flood) tells the audience that she remembers her recently deceased mother as a rather conventional wife and parent. How, she wonders, did a feminist who once formed a consciousness-raising group in Ohio, end up like that?

Having spoken to friends of her mother, she re-creates their meetings, playing her mom, Lizzie, and occasionally stepping out to comment on the proceedings. The participants are a cross section of womanhood. Susan (Adina Verson), a lesbian estranged from her family, is a recent arrival in Ohio. Celeste (Kristolyn Lloyd), the only Black woman in the group, has returned home from New York to care for her mother. The oldest participant, Margie (Betsy Aidem) is at a crossroads with her husband now that their sons are grown. And the two Doras are a contrast in personas, at least initially. Outspoken Isadora (Irene Sofia Lucio), from Spain, plans to divorce her husband as soon as she's eligible for a green card, while liquor company employee Dora (Audrey Corsa) thought she was attending a knitting circle.    

For two and a half hours the women share their frustrations and their breakthroughs. They join forces and try to prevent disagreements from tearing them apart. Lizzie's reluctance to tell them that she's dating someone, Bill (Charlie Thurston), and plans to marry him and move to New York creates a surprising amount of intolerance among the women.

An especially daring and effective scene opens the second act: The women conduct their meeting in the nude so they can discuss that they like and don't like about their bodies, something Ms. magazine encouraged at the time, and very little is hidden from the audience. (To ensure that no one takes photos that wind up on the internet, patrons must secure their phones in pouches for the duration of the play.)

Wohl wants to give everyone their say. The only female character who isn't part of the group is a Black mother, Joanne (Kayla Davion), who gets into a debate with Celeste about the role of women of color in the movement. It's certainly a topic worthy of discussion, but an awkward fit for this play. 

The most effective scene comes near the end, when Aidem steps into the role of the narrator's late mother to comfort her — and tell her that she got a lot of things wrong. It's effective because it's such a deeply personal moment, and too often in Liberation, Wohl reaches for the political at the expense of the personal.  

English review

Hadi Tabbal and Marjan Neshat (Photo: Joan Marcus)

Learning a second language is more than an academic exercise for the characters in English, Sanaz Toossi's Pulitzer Prize-winning play of 2023. Now receiving its Broadway premiere courtesy of the Roundabout Theatre Company, it's a wonderfully intimate, thought-provoking drama that delves into the impact of language on the soul.

Set in an immersive English-language class in Iran in 2008, the play focuses on four students and one instructor, for whom speaking English can be liberating but can also mean leaving behind a part of themselves and their culture. Elham (Tala Ashe) needs to pass the TOEFL test in order to teach and study in Australia. Roya (Pooya Mohseni) wants to be able to talk to her granddaughter, who is being raised in Canada. Omid (Hadi Tabbal), who's rather proficient with English, and Goli (Ava Lalezarzadeh), the youngest of the bunch, are hoping to get U.S. visas. Overseeing the course is Marjan (Marjan Neshat), a middle-aged woman who lived in England for several years and has a fondness for English-language rom-coms.

Throughout the semester the five struggle not only with how to speak the language but who they become when they do. Elham, clearly an overachiever in her studies, wrestles with her new language and challenges Marjan's demand that they don't speak Farsi in the classroom. (When characters do talk in their native language, they speak in unaccented English; the rest of the time their English has an accent attached.) Roya, the oldest of the bunch, can't cope with who she and her son become when they converse in English. 

Toossi has created a rich, diverse array of characters and, under the direction of Knud Adams, the cast brings them to life with beautiful delicacy. This 100-minute production, which originated at the Atlantic Theater Company in 2022, has transferred with its cast and creative team intact. One problem if you're sitting off to the sides: Marsha Ginsberg's revolving cubical classroom may not always offer the best vantage points at all times.

Even so, English is that all-too-rare play that has something fresh to say, and says it in a language all its own.

Death Becomes Her review

Jennifer Simard, Megan Hilty and Christopher Sieber (Photo: Matthew Murphy & Evan Zimmerman)

Female friendship that turns sour is at the core of one of the season's big movies, Wicked, and also central to the plot of Death Becomes Her, the latest movie-to-musical adaptation to hit Broadway. But it's hard to believe that fallen screen star Madeline Ashton and writer Helen Sharp were ever chummy, and that means this pushy comedic tuner gives them little of substance to sing about.

Still, the comic chops of Megan Hilty and Jennifer Simard turn this into a lively, memorable event. The show, which has a book by Marco Pennette and music and lyrics by Julia Mattison and Noel Carey, ramps up the camp but doesn't present a story and characters that engage. Instead, it's up to a bevy of special effects from Tim Clothier to wow the audience, and they don't disappoint. 

The premise is the same as in the 1992 Robert Zemeckis film that starred Meryl Streep, Goldie Hawn and Bruce Willis: Helen (Simard) is engaged to plastic surgeon Ernest (Christopher Sieber), until Madeline (Hilty) steals him away. Time jump several years and Ernest and Madeline are miserable, but Helen is a published author who seems to have found the fountain of youth. Actually, she's enlisted the services of the mysterious Viola Van Horn, played by Destiny's Child alum Michelle Williams, who has a way to stop the aging process, but it comes at a price. The women won't age and can't die, but their bodies will bear the scars of any injuries. 

And that's a problem when they begin to violently assault (even decapitate) each other. This is pulled off with doubles and masterful special effects. If only what had been put on the page were as exciting. Unfortunately, most of the score is forgettable, not an easily overlooked flaw when you're writing a musical. (How many times are Helen and Madeline supposed to sing about how old and decrepit they claim they're becoming?)

Pennette, a successful sitcom writer, has scripted a book that's heavy on jokes (many of which the audience can beat to the punchline) and light on character development. If you're a fan of the film and excessively campy humor, you may not mind. Otherwise, you might find Death Becomes Her, like its two central characters, splendid on the outside but hollow within. 

Maybe Happy Ending review

Helen J. Shen and Darren Criss in Maybe Happy Ending

As the world ponders the impact that artificial intelligence will have on humans, Maybe Happy Ending, a charming, whimsical new Broadway musical inverts that premise, exploring the harm that well-meaning yet inconsistent mortals could cause their devoted robotic pals. Now playing at the Belasco, it's easily the most enchanting new musical to arrive on Broadway this year.

It's set in South Korea, where Will Aronson and Hue Park's musical already had a successful run. This English-language version stars Emmy winner Darren Criss as Oliver, a humanoid model 3 Helperbot merrily passing the days in his room. He listens to jazz, talks to his plant and waits for his owner to send for him.

Oliver's orderly world is thrown into chaos when model 5 Claire (sensitively played by Helen J. Shen) shows up at his door in need of a charger. Because she's a newer model, Claire is a bit more advanced when it comes to understanding humans — and she realizes they've both been "retired," aka sent to live out their days in a community for old tech until their batteries run out because replacement parts have been discontinued.

Claire doesn't have the heart (or any heart for that matter) to shatter Oliver's sunny illusions, but she does join him on a journey to visit his former owner, James (Marcus Choi), which proves life-changing for both. And yes, it's clear that Oliver and Claire have the capacity to love.

Aronson's music and Park's lyrics are at their best when they're penning jazz numbers for Oliver's favorite musician, Gil Brentley (Dez Duron). Under the direction of Michael Arden, both Criss and Shen deliver touching, evocative performances. Criss, in particular excels at maintaining Oliver's stilted movements throughout the show'a hour and 45 minutes. 

And the show looks beautiful thanks to set, video and projection design by Dane Laffrey and George Reeve. Oliver's and Claire's worlds begin small, with both confined to their small studio apartments. But as they venture out into the open, and experience the beauty of nature, the set expands to fill the stage as their emotions are released.

How ironic that such humanity should occur in a show with a pair of robots as its main characters!

Yellow Face review

Daniel Dae Kim and Ryan Eggold in Yellow Face

As debates about identity and representation abound in the entertainment industry, Yellow Face, David Henry Hwang's 17-year-old play centered on those subjects, is getting its Broadway premiere courtesy of the Roundabout Theatre Company, with a pair of TV stars leading the cast. Semi-autobiographical and broadly funny, it touches on topics that seem even more timely today, although some of its explorations are only skin deep.

Hwang even writes himself into the play. Daniel Dae Kim (of Lost fame) stars as a semi-fictious version of the playwright — who got himself embroiled in one of Broadway biggest brouhahas of the 1990s: the casting of white actor Jonathan Pryce as a Eurasian character in the Broadway musical Miss Saigon. Hwang, who had recently made his own Broadway breakthrough, winning the Best Play Tony Award for M. Butterfly in 1988, was one of the artists who publicly spoke out against producer Cameron Mackintosh's decision to have Pryce play the role he'd originated in London, and what unfolds over Yellow Face's one-hour-45-minute run time is an exploration of racial identity and the American dream in a country that's anything but color-blind.

Kim narrates a tale that begins as farce but develops into something deeper. In the wake of the Miss Saigon saga, "David" writes a play and accidentally casts a white actor, Marcus, played by former New Amsterdam lead Ryan Eggold, to play an Asian character.   

As David tries to cover up, and then extricate himself from, this dicey situation, we're introduced to his father, Henry (Francis Jue, reprising the role he originated in the 2007 production), a banker who emigrated from China and appears to be the embodiment of the American dream, until a congressional investigation tries to cast doubt on his loyalty to the U.S. 

Director Leigh Silverman, who also helmed the Off Broadway production, adeptly blends the play's humorous moments with its more serious intent, using a diverse ensemble that crosses races and genders to play their parts. Hwang's exploration of how racial identity can still play a role in who is considered an American today remains a potent topic for discussion, and drama.

The Roommate review

Patti LuPone and Mia Farrow in The Roommate

So many questions linger after catching the star-studded Broadway production of The Roommate at the Booth Theatre. The chief one being: Why in the world would Mia Farrow and Patti LuPone, two septuagenarian acting giants, want to waste their talents on a play as mediocre as Jen Silverman's pseudo-dark comedic two-hander.  

It certainly gives both ladies ample opportunity to be bad gals, which may have been part of the attraction. What begins as a monetary arrangement when Bronx gal Robyn (LuPone) moves into the Iowa home of Sharon (Farrow) becomes an off-kilter relationship. Sharon, a mousy divorcee soon becomes entranced by the colorful Robyn. (She's a lesbian! She smokes —and grows her own — pot.)

At this point it sounds like it's going to be one of those female friendship stories. But this dramedy, directed efficiently by Jack O'Brien, soon takes an incomprehensibly dark turn: When Sharon learns about Robyn's criminal criminal past, instead of being repelled, she's mesmerized — and wants to get in on the action?!

And we're not talking naughty acts of vandalism or petty thievery — but concocting phone scams to defraud people. Soon Sharon is buying a rifle from Walmart, and any semblance of character development is shot. It's a shame because Farrow, at age 79, imbues a character that, on the surface, could be as dull as Midwestern dirt with heartfelt emotion and the soul of someone yearning for connection. 

LuPone, at 75, is fine as Robyn, a woman who longs to right her old mistakes instead of making more of them, but both are hampered by writing that makes these characters increasing two-dimensional as the play's hour and 40 minutes drag on.  

Sharon starts off as a sad, pathetic creature and for all that she goes through in the month she lives with Robyn, remains the same as the end. That's an interesting premise, but instead of getting there with real character development, The Roommate takes the easy way out with crime drama cliches. Both Farrow and LuPone deserve better. 

Table 17 review

Eisen-Martin and Young in Douglas Lyons' new play.

A talented cast trods over tired territory in the world premiere of Table 17, Douglas Lyons’ darker twist on Black romantic comedies. This 85-minute play with a cast of three, which kicks off MCC Theater’s new season, boasts an excellent cast, notably recent Tony winner Kara Young (Purlie Victorious), but ultimately, only the close friends and family of these characters will really be concerned about what happens to them.

In a program note the playwright encourages audience involvement. Characters like Young’s bouncy Jada not only talk to the audience, they ask for our feedback about matters ranging from what they’re wearing on a date to whether they said or did the right thing. The actor-audience connection is enhanced by placing some theatergoers at tables that surround the main playing area, on which the titular one sits.

It’s at a restaurant where Jada and the more pragmatic Dallas (Biko Eisen-Martin) meet long after their breakup. The present gives way to the past as they talk about old times, and the actors replay their characters’ history, from chance meeting to cheating. How did they get engaged only to end up apart? The answers aren’t terribly scintillating. He worked too much trying to jump-start his music career; she had an affair with a flight-attendant coworker, played by Michael Rishawn, who also garners a load of laughs playing the beleaguered restaurant host.

Eisen-Martin may have the least colorful character to play, but his grounded performance gives Dallas’s struggles resonance. Director Zhalion Levingston spearheads a lively production that at times appears to be trying too hard to make up for a slim script. To Lyons’ credit, his story isn’t neatly wrapped up at the end like in the rom-coms of the Hallmark Channel, but it plays like the theatrical equivalent of a grazing plate rather than a full-course meal.