The New York Times recently singled out Anni Bruno & Dan Renkin’s performance of Who Made The Kids These Days?, “an amusing rap-metal number deploring the younger generation”, as one of the musical highlights of The Banger’s Flopera.
Photos by Jane Stein. Click on thumbnails for more detail.
Lounge singers (Anni Bruno & Sarah Engelke) accompany Macky (Joe Pindelski), during Mack The Knife, the opening scene of The Banger’s Flopera.
Mrs. Peacock (Anni Bruno) reacts in shock and horror to events on a porn set, while Nitwit (Bob Laine) and The Gimp (Sarah Engelke) have decidedly different feelings.
Photos by Jane Stein. Click on thumbnails for more detail.
Thank you, TheaterMania for 1) reminding me that this well-received show was closing, and 2) offering me a ticket discount. I suppose this is how they make their money. Well, it worked on me, and I scored two tickets to Martin Mcdonagh’s gritty drama, a mere two weeks before closing. Usually I like to see shows when they first open; they are somehow fresher, better. However, this show hasn’t lost any of it’s intensity since opening.
The Pillowman is one of the darkest, grittiest, harshest, bleakest shows I’ve ever seen on Broadway. The show is a transfer from England’s RNT, and it is apparent. My experience with English drama is that they take far more risks, and don’t care if the audience goes away unhappy or disturbed. In fact, I think they prefer it. Here, Broadway is far more concerned with making money and leaving their infantalized audiences entertained and thoughtless. Which is why I am shocked and pleased that The Pillowman was so well recieved here. Perhaps times are changing?
The production is flawless in its sound, costume, and scenic design. For the majority of the play, the stage is bare. The characters are in an empty jail cell. This is a story about stories and story-telling. When a story is being played out for our eyes, the action takes place in a netherworld story-land, occuring above the jail cell, above the characters’ heads, indicating the action isn’t really happening at all. Seemingly it exists only in our immagination.
Billy Crudup plays a writer who has an affinity for writing stories in which children get brutally murdered. We find out after the first scene that he and his brother were the product of an unfortunate, “artistic” experiment by his parents. They tortured his brother (who the writer didn’t know existed), every night, so that the sounds he heard would make the writer develop a macabre immagination. Their experiment worked. He turns into a formidable, yet dark writer, while his brother ends up brain-damaged. The two brothers end up in a jail cell, somehow connected to a series of bizzare child murders that mimic the action of his stories.
I wasn’t as impressed with Crudup’s work as I had expected to be. Perhaps he is stronger as a film actor? His memorable roles (in Big Fish and in Almost Famous) are rather understated. The role he plays in The Pillowman is of the utmost intensity. I can’t remember seeing a role in which the stakes are any higher. His life, his brother’s life, and his life’s work of stories, are all on the line. He never reached the emotional intensity that I had hoped he would. I wanted him to bounce back and forth from hope, despair, rage, and numbness. Instead, he seemed to be mildly exasparated in the first half, and very one-level in the second half, interspersed with moments of weeping. Perhaps it is literally impossible to maintain that level of intensity for 2.5 hours, 8 times a week. Based on the ridiculously high stakes, I’m willing to forgive him.
Jeff Goldblum as the detective was a conundrum. The deadpan, rambling nonsense that he is so good at in his films, is apparent here. He somehow manages to play the villian and the comic relief in this play, at the same time. His character is goofy and very well developed. However, I had a hard time believing someone who behaved like that, would turn out to be such a bad guy in the end. The play is so funny at times, with truly brilliant laugh lines, yet so dark. It is an odd combination of elements that somehow works.
What is most troubling about this play is not the child murder or the child torture. It is that the action takes play in a dictatorship in which people are guilty until proven innocent. There is no criminal justice system, and you can be tortured and murdered in a jail cell with no ramifications to the corrupt police. I am aware that this happens every day across the world, but you never picture Americans in this situation. Because the actors all spoke with an American accent, you automatically assume the action is somehow somewhere close to us. And it made me uncomfortable to think someone so similar to me could be treated this way by the police.
Michael Stuhlbarg as Michal, the brain-damaged brother, gives a sensitive, intense, funny performance. We hate and pity him all at once. It is so difficult playing retarded characters. I certainly woulndn’t know how to do it without offending someone and exaggerating stereotypes. Somehow he did none of those things. His rage and emotional intensity was exactly what was needed for a man in his situation, making Crudup’s performance seem even more one-dimensional.
Zeljko Ivanek also deserves a mention as the other cop; the bad cop to Goldblum’s good cop (their roles are far more complex than they lead us to believe at first). His character development is incredible and somehow you sympathize with him, even though he is a violent, disturbed man.
Finally, the score deserves a mention. Paddy Cunneen has created a spooky, otherworldly score that perfectly matches the vibe of the play. Largely using string instruments, the score sounds like a mix of The Kronos Quartet and horror-movie music. The mood-setting ability of the score is more effective than anything I’ve ever heard. Well done.
For anyone that missed this show, I have a feeling the show will have a life beyond this particular production. It taps into many universal themes. Particularly, the question of “does art create crime or vice-versa” element, makes this show something worthy of producing for many decades to come.
Spamalot is sold out from now until the end of time. However, if you go to the Shubert Theatre and wait in the returns line, the box office will actually take back any tickets that aren’t going to be used that night (for example, a large school group will inevitably have some kids out sick), and sell them to the people waiting in line. I attempted this on a Tuesday night, and was surprised by how few people were ahead of me. It was right down to the wire (7:59, approx.) when we were re-sold two seats. Yes, we paid full price, something I never do. However, the seats were 5th row. Center. I’ve never had better seats for a Broadway show. Which makes any good show even better.
This is one of the only shows that can justify its hefty 100 dollar ticket price. The show just looks expensive. Sets, costumes, pyrotechnics, special effects, and damn good actors. Hell, the feet of God are featured, and they fly back up to Heaven via rocket packs on his feet. Truly an amazing spectacle.
The book, “lovingly ripped off” from the film Monty Python’s Holy Grail, is even more fun onstage. The comedy feels updated, and the jokes everyone loves and remembers from the film are greeted with cheers of recognition, and most of them aren’t repeated verbatim. They felt somehow new to me.
I wondered how they would deal with the ending, as the movie ends with all the characters getting hauled off to jail. I knew a musical wouldn’t (couldn’t) end with such a cop-out. Not to ruin the ending, but it was a campy homage to the genre of the cheeze-musical, without being overly cheezy. I was pleased to see how it turned out.
Cast-wise, the show is worthy of the buzz. Tim Curry is funnier than I’ve seen him in years and makes a fantastic King Arthur. Hard to believe it’s the same man who played Frank-n-Furter. He’s matured into a totally different actor, but his deadpan wit is still alive and well. The beauty of sitting so close was that I was able to see all of his subtle, frustrated takes to the audience. The little nuances that make up a truly great performance really can only be seen from close up.
David Hyde Pierce’s role was suprisingly small, after all the hype he’s gotten. He is featured more in the second act, specifically with his showstopper, “You Won’t Succeed On Broadway.” Very funny man. Loved him on Frasier.
Hank Azaria has been replaced with Alan Tudyk, an actor I’ve been a fan of ever since seeing him play Sarah Jessica Parker’s husband in the MTC production of David Lindsay Abaire’s play, Wonder of the World. Which I loved, but got terrible reviews. I’m also a fan of his work from the cancelled-but-brilliant Joss Whedon show, Firefly. His comic chops are put to the test here, and he passes with flying colors. He plays all the over-the-top roles; The Knight who says Ni, The keeper of the evil bunny (the bunny puppet tearing peoples’ heads off, alone, is worth the price of admission), the French taunter, etc. He also plays Lancelot, who turns out to be gay in this musical farce world. He does a fantastic job balancing his super-ridiculous characters with his other, only mildly ridiculous character.
Sara Ramirez, who won the Tony for her role as The Lady of the Lake, does a great job with what she has been given. She seems to me more like an improv comedy actress than a Broadway leading lady, however. Her role is sadly, quite underwritten. Most of her humor is self-referential. She appears in act 2 after a long absence from the action, and sings a song starting with the line, “Whatever happened to my part?” Unfortunately she has no real character to develop but she is funny nonetheless.
What I was most impressed with was the pacing of the show. It felt like show-stopping number after show-stopping number. When the curtain went down at the end of act one, I honestly felt as though I’d been sitting there, maybe, 20 minutes. A whole hour had gone by. I was enjoying myself so much the time literally flew by.
The weakest part of the show is definitely the score. The music, by Eric Idle and John Du Prez, is mostly forgettable, although it serves the action of the scenes quite well. I didn’t leave the show with any songs stuck in my head. But that’s not what the show is about. There are so many other things they get so right, you forgive the score for being less than Sondheimian.
Any theatergoer will love all the jabs they take at other Broadway shows. They reenact a scene from Phantom, Sondheim is given his due, and basically any theatre-dork will reel with laughter. This is not to say Spamalot is just a show for theatre people. It’s a show for anyone that appreciates campy, dry, British humor. If you didn’t “get” Monty Python, you’ll probably think Spamalot is pretty stupid. But if you liked Monty Python, even a little bit, you will love the spectacle that is this show. I wish I could afford to see it again.
Reviews and articles about The Banger’s Flopera:
Dan Renkin and Anni Bruno tear up the stage as Polly’s protective parents, Jonathan and Mimi. On a mission to save their virginal daughter from Macky’s defiling deflowering, Renkin and Bruno play their stereotypical “Mom” and “Dad” roles with an over-the-top abandon that’s a giddy delight.
The makeup design for Mrs. Peacock, in Inverse Theater’s 2005 productions of The Banger’s Flopera.
Assistant to key makeup artist Elisa Flowers at a runway show for designer Liz McLean, 9/8/2005.
A play based on nothing, yet, thankfully, nothing like “Seinfeld.”
I had the opportunity to see one of James Urbaniak’s last performances in this one man show, running at the DR2 Theatre in Union Square. Will Eno’s Thom Pain (based on nothing) has been critically acclaimed for both the text and Urbaniak’s performance, so I had to see what the fuss was about. Two conflicting things went through my head: 1) This show is brilliant, but 2) It’s overrated. Granted, in today’s climate of commercial schmaltzy theatre, this play is certainly a breath of fresh air, but conceptually, it is nothing new.
The play couldn’t be more simplistic, visually. A man in a grey suit addresses an audience for an hour and ten minutes on a bare stage. Urbaniak plays his character with wit, charm, humor, and pain (hence the title). A wonderfully rounded, complex, clearly developed character. He takes us on a disjointed, choppy journey, mostly detailing events from his own childhood and life. We empathize with him from the very beginning, as he is the quintessential Everyman (at least if you’re an intellectual theatre-going type). The images he paints — such as a little boy being attacked by bees — are so clear you would think they happened in your own life. Thus, the point of the play is achieved; the audience is forced to regress and touch painful memories of their own. This is intermingled with humor, and at times, audience participation. I respect a playwright that forces an audience to be mentally (or in the case of one audience member, physically) engaged at all times. Most audiences hate this; they go to the theatre to be entertained and forget about their own lives. Herein lies the difference between entertainment and art, with Thom Pain clearly representing the latter.
One thing that I disagree on with my date for the evening is how much of what was said was scripted, and how much is improvised. I believe everything out of his mouth is scripted, while my date (Chris) thinks there is some ad-libbing going on. Such as in the moment when an audience member gets up and leaves toward the beginning of the show. Urbaniak references this man, speaks at his back, and ties it back to the show, telling us how people usually think of him as someone who has just left. Or something close to that. I believe this “audience member” was a plant, Chris disagrees. Or the moment when he pauses, apologizes, and loses his place in the text. He has to go through all his topics in order until he finds his place again. Again, I think this is Eno’s attempt to make the monologue seem more authentic, and flawed. Much like the human being delivering it.
Highly articulate, Will Eno’s play is excellently written and performed. But somehow I wanted the topics (loss of love, loss of innocence, loss of hope, etc.) to be newer, or fresher. Have we really run out of ideas? Ok boys, back to writing your crappy juke-box musicals, I suppose.