Broadway productions may be acclaimed or panned, long-running or doomed to early closure, launch a career or cancel it. Inevitably, though, they are easy targets for satirists. Forbidden Broadway: Merrily We Stole a Song, created, written and directed by Gerard Alessandrini, spares no barbs when humorously and semi-lovingly critiquing new Broadway hits, revivals, and their audience.
Medea Re-Versed, co-conceived by Luis Quintero and Nathan Winkelstein, gives Euripides’ ancient tragedy hip-hop vibes. Directed by Winkelstein, this coproduction by the Off-Broadway companies Red Bull Theater and Bedlam aims to expand the traditional theater audience—and with the dynamic Sarin Monae West as the princess and sorceress, it’s likely to succeed.
Meet your new mother-in-law, Beiv (Kate Mulgrew): she’s Ireland’s “great feminist artist” who lives on a remote island off the coast of West Cork, has an acerbic wit and an imperious manner, a penchant for knocking down the walls of her house, a strained relationship with her son, and may have murdered her husband. Oh, and she didn’t know her son was married until you showed up with him from San Francisco. This is the situation that 23-year-old Bonnie (Ayana Workman) finds herself in at the outset of Nancy Harris’s overstuffed mystery The Beacon, which was commissioned by Druid Theatre Company and now arrives at the Irish Rep after a 2019 run at the Gate Theatre in Dublin.
Arlene Hutton’s abortion-rights drama Blood of the Lamb arrives at an unusually timely moment. In the last few days NBC News has reported that maternal deaths in Texas increased 56% between 2019 and 2022, a period that includes the 2021 ban on abortion care in the state. Although Margot Bordelon says in her director’s note that the play began as a work of “speculative fiction,” the serendipity is a boon. The underlying story feels alarmingly real.
When the program comes with a glossary, that can be a trouble sign. The glossary for The Witness Room, Pedro Antonio Garcia’s drama-with-some-laughs, runs to three pages. So much legalese—J-D Redcap, Three and a C, Chomo—how much will an audience member be able to understand? And for the first several minutes, it’s a struggle to figure out what the heck’s going on in set designer Daniel Allen’s cluttered witness room. Stick around, though, and the narrative becomes clearer. And what follows is a compelling peek into the lives and interactions of NYPD cops, their legal maneuverings in pretrial, and how slippery their moral code can get.
It’s no surprise that the Trump era and its aftermath have been a boon to documentary plays. These plays don’t all address explicitly political topics, and they vary widely from one another in tone, method, and approach; but hovering over this era’s documentary plays is the relentless assault being waged on the idea of truth, on the very nature of reality itself, and the uncertainty over whether our society and institutions will persevere.
