In 1881, Ibsen’s Ghosts was considered shocking for its critique of conventional morality and its unabashed treatment of venereal disease and religious hypocrisy, among other topics. While the specifics of the social issues that the characters grapple with are not pressing today—syphilis is a curable disease, a woman trying to leave an unhappy marriage is not unthinkable, nor is the idea that a person of high social rank might be a degenerate—moral hypocrisy, patriarchy, class resentment, and generational trauma are always ripe for the stage. The gripping, finely acted production of Ghosts now playing at Lincoln Center, directed by Jack O’Brien and adapted by Mark O’Rowe, threads this needle: it retains the historical setting (though with a framing device) and yet makes the moral debates feel like more than artifacts from another era.
All Nighter is the third play by Natalie Margolin that follows college-age female friends during one night, and like her earlier works—The Party Hop, created for an all-star Zoom production during the pandemic, and The Power of Punctuation, staged Off-Broadway in 2016—it showcases the mores and conversational styles of a certain generation of women. All Nighter also showcases excellent performances by five young actresses who have already garnered acclaim.
The Clubbed Thumb theater company follows up last year’s excellent Grief Hotel with another gem that originated in its Summerworks program, Abe Koogler’s Deep Blue Sound, in which a group of islanders in the Pacific Northwest mourn the disappearance of a nearby pod of orca whales. The production, in residency at the Public Theater, is astonishing: Koogler’s play is both strange and naturalistic, as funny as it is deeply moving, even shattering; Arin Arbus’s note-perfect direction is mesmerizing, smartly enhancing the emotional climaxes but never overdoing them; and the ensemble of nine is simply extraordinary.
Matthew Lombardo wrangles comedy out of a story that is often not comical—wisecracks can be hard to resist coming from a wisecracking pro like Caroline Aaron—but both the humor and pathos in his new play Conversations with Mother are calculated and shallow.
One month after Suffs, a celebration of first-wave feminism, closed on Broadway, playwright Bess Wohl shines a spotlight on the second wave in Liberation. Wohl offers vividly sketched characters, a well-honed mix of comedy and drama, and a complex yet heartening portrayal of sisterhood, but falters a bit incorporating her family history into the plotline and attempting to reconcile the 1970s women movement’s racial blind spots.
Matthew Lombardo wrangles comedy out of a story that is often not comical—wisecracks can be hard to resist coming from a wisecracking pro like Caroline Aaron—but both the humor and pathos in his new play Conversations with Mother are calculated and shallow.
It’s I’m Not Rappaport meets Waiting for Godot meets The Gin Game! Take two old codgers on a park bench, combine with existential meanderings in a fixed setting, season with the ravages of aging, and you have Just Another Day, Dan Lauria’s uncertain reflection on all three components (but especially the third). Just Another Day suffers from being too much—well, just another day. Nothing terribly dramatic happens, and a great deal of curiously multisyllabic palaver fills out the hour and 45 minutes, including intermission. But it does have two actors very much worth seeing, for Lauria has cast himself, and opposite him, a flawless Patty McCormack.
A sign in the lobby of Theater 555 says: “Warning: This performance features theatrical haze, flashing lights, and closeted Republicans.” And the set by David Goldstein that greets the audience is a gleefully tacky, Vegas-esque sea of silver tinsel streamers, with a “Make America SLAY Again” banner above. It all primes one for a good time. And then Five: the Parody Musical half-delivers.
