I don’t have much else to say about this show than in my previous review, when I saw it at the Mernier Chocolate Factory in London on ‘06. The fact still stands that this is an excellent production of one of my favorite shows. I was interested to see how the Broadway production would be different from it’s much more humble beginnings, and actually, not much has changed. And that’s a good thing.

The only cast member that remained the same since seeing it before was Daniel Evans as George. Having done the role for so long, he showed no signs of boredom, only of an actor that has lived inside a character so long that the performance has become even stronger and more nuanced.

Jenna Russell replaced the original Dot, and played the role on the West End before moving to Broadway. A decent singer, and an excellent actress, she brought so much more to the role than I’d ever seen before. I loved watching her. Both as Dot, and as Marie in act 2. Her version of Dot compared to that of the original (Bernadette Peters) couldn’t be much more different. Ms. Russell played the role much more cooly, sadly, and of much lower class (doing a northern, lower class British accent, even though I believe she has a London accent). Although her singing is not as strong as most leading ladies on Broadway, her acting was so good I honestly didn’t care. Which is really saying something - I like my Sondheim leads to really be able to nail the music - and she did. With her acting abilities. Not something I was expecting.

I actually must admit that I preferred watching the show in the Mernier Chocolate Factory. It’s such an intimate piece of theatre, that watching it from the back of the house at Studio 54, I felt disconnected with the action of the piece. In London, I felt like I was a part of it. I saw the show on June 3rd and loved it, but then watching the Tony broadcast on June 15th, where Daniel Evans and Jenna Russell sang “Move On” (the last song of the show), I was far more emotionally moved than I had been while watching it live on stage. Having all those glorious close-ups on their faces really captured the intimacy that I had loved about watching it in London. Moving it to a huge Broadway house does a disservice to the audience, but at the same time, allows far more people to see it, so I suppose it was a necessary evil.

Adding Machine, a new musical (really, operetta) based on a 1923 play by Elmer Rice, ran at the Minetta Lane theatre until just recently. It’s amazing so many people saw it. And I am so glad.

This is potentially one of the darkest, bleakest pieces of theatre I’ve ever seen in my life, with moments of pure brilliance. The music could best be described as “new music” - if that’s what you want to call it. Shrill, un-pretty, and un-melodic for the most part. But suits the vibe of the piece perfectly well.

The show tells the story of Mr. Zero, a working man, who is fired after working his whole life for a company - and subsequently replaced by a machine. He murders his boss, goes to prison, is executed, tries to find redemption in the afterlife, fails because he’s such a loser, and is reincarnated into another mindless drone somewhere else. He never escapes his life of slavery, even in the afterlife. And that’s all that happens. Capitalism hurts the little guy. Not a new idea, but told in a pretty new way.

The music is impressive to hear, and I assume most difficult to learn. Jumping all over different octaves, weird rhythmic patterns - particularly the wife’s opening aria and the second scene (the song when they’re adding and singing all the numbers) are particularly complex, musically. Very impressive and un-pretty.

The lighting also deserves a particular nod. The one happy song, where Daisy sings and hops about the stage as she proclaims her unrequited love for Mr. Zero, is completely floor and side lit - replicating the exact look of vaudevillian era stage lighting. Props to Keith Parham for that bit of genius.

The show has some flow issues. I loved how in the beginning it just skipped from one event, next scene, next event, and so on. It clips along at a brisk pace, with no dragging. Then, after his execution, the show hits a wall. The Elysium Fields scene seems to go on forever, and from that point onwards, the show loses it’s forward momentum. Also of some concern was the role of the other prisoner - he comes from out of nowhere in the middle of the show, then remains a major character throughout the rest of the piece. He just seems to appear from out of nowhere and I don’t quite get why he’s even relevant.

I am finding this show hard to describe other than that it manages to capture postmodernism and turn of the century-ism at the same time. It is certainly the most existential musical I’ve ever seen. As if Franz Kafka and Albert Camus got together to write a musical about the dark side of human nature and the evils of capitalism. That’s what it feels like. And it’s heartbreaking. And hard to watch at times. All the characters are horribly unlikable, bad people, except Daisy, who’s just dim, sweet, and pathetic.

Mr. Zero’s murder confession aria smacks of “Epiphany” from Sweeney Todd - which is a good thing. Other than that one comparison, this is a wholly unique piece of music theatre, and aside from some issues with the ending, is certainly one of the most interesting (yet not particularly enjoyable) things I’ve seen. Thank you, city of Chicago, for bringing us this show and August: Osage County in the same year. NYC has a lot to learn from the Windy City, it looks like.

The advertising team for this show did it a great disservice. For whatever reason, it came off looking like a pretentious rock musical about the being black in America. That is part of it - but there’s so, so much more to it than that. I was pleasantly surprised by how much I liked this show.

Much like last year’s Spring Awakening, Passing Strange combines rock concert with Broadway musical in a similar way. The emphasis on the music is certainly similar. The play is really about a young man’s journey from his middle-class upbringing in LA, to trying to find himself in Amsterdam and Berlin, and then back to LA, all the while growing up, turning into a songwriter, and meeting influential, lovely people during these formative years. Singer/songwriter Stew narrates the autobiographical story of his early years, and has created a theatrical piece about his life as a child and as he grows into adulthood.

First of all, the music really rocks. It’s feel-good rock and roll for the most part, and it gets you going. You even get to sing along during the tune “Amsterdam” on the repeated chorus of “Yeah it’s alright!” Stew rocks. Nuff said. He and his collaborator Heidi Rodewald have put together a rockin’, but bittersweet show about what it means to make art, be an artist; and simply, just to Be. Gorgeously profound, questioning, probing - and an excellent interpretation of the inner struggle of artists.

The book is excellently written, and the cast is wonderfully versatile. They run the gambit from funny stereotypes to honest truthful people - a testament to good writing and good acting. The role of the youth is brilliantly written, and by the end of the piece, you feel like he’s an old friend you’ve grown up with.

But Stew dominates the show, and that is a major flaw in the show’s construct. You’ve got this excellent cast of Broadway newcomers playing a rotating cast of characters, and Daniel Breaker playing “the youth” (Stew as a kid) - and they don’t get to showcase their talents nearly enough. The show needed more incorporation (more singing, for sure) of the other characters - Stew tends to hog the spotlight a bit. Even though the show is all about him. I wanted to hear the other people sing more. It got a bit too narration-heavy in some parts. Tell the story through the actors, not the narrator!

And I could understand how some people might be turned off by this play. I wrongly assumed the central conceit is about what it means to be a black musician in America - that is part of it - but really, it’s mostly about what it means to be an artistic human being in the world. So that turned me off initially. After seeing it, I could also see how some might find it a bit cold and elitist. It doesn’t have a happy ending, it doesn’t say things will be easy (or alright) in the end…not your traditional Broadway vibe. But that’s exactly why I liked it so much. I sort of felt cold, alone, and empty inside at the end - what a post Bway show rarity! It really made me go into my head and do some thinking and empathizing. It definitely had a powerful emotional effect - and a complex one at that. Too complex for some audiences, I would gander. In fact, it’s not the kind of show one would ever expect would make it all the way to Broadway. I’m really not sure how that happened, but it really has more of an off-Broadway feel to it.

Also a bit of a turn off is that the cast is 100% African American, which is fine except for the fact that I wasn’t sure why that needed to be the case. Almost every actor plays roles of different races, black, then Dutch, then German. So it felt a little stagey when the black actors were being German and reacting to the youth’s “Blackness.” I guess they were sort of playing whiteface….hmmm. A complex issue. I just wonder if a multi-racial cast would have been just as effective. Or perhaps I’m just wondering this because I hope to be cast in a production of it someday. There’s always a chance, right?

I did love however, in the segment where he’s talking about his (fake) ghetto upbringing, and Stew has an aside to the audience about how not one person in this play knows what it’s like to struggle in poverty in an urban slum - that got a huge laugh. Not too many people with that kind of upbringing end up on Broadway, and it was a nice nod to his own good fortune that he pointed that out.

And I was lukewarm on the set. The set is just a giant wall of colored lights that come on and off and random times during the piece - the stage itself is completely bare - another thing that might leave some people feeling cold.

Despite some minor criticisms, however, I think this is a really important, unique piece of theatre that hopefully will continue this trend of combining theatre with rock and roll, and making art about art. And increasing the need for more actor/singer/comedians rather than actor/singer/dancers. No dancing in this show. Unless you count flailing around and head banging and stuff. But no choreography. Really a great, great experience. I’d go again and again.

I just think people are more interested in you than in the American Revolution.

That may be true Kirk, but after working with you for all these years, I think I’m an expert on Kirk-dom at this point, and probably need to revisit my American history books. Especially now, after visiting the museum of Kirk pre-show, I could probably teach a class in the Think of Kirk. But not American History.

This play called ME started out as an idea. A wacky, original idea. I’m not sure if I ever quite got it, and even now that it’s done, I’m still not sure. After taking part in the initial workshops and helping him create the piece through many readings, comments, questions, notes, rewrites, more readings, etc - Kirk was trying to create a wholly original piece of theatre, and I do think he accomplished that. Was it fun to watch? Yes. Was the dialogue brilliantly written? Of course. Did he prove to me that he is a fish, come to save the world from humanity? I’m not sure.

All of the disparate elements of the pice come together surprisingly well, despite their seeming unconnectedness. The story of the Yangtze river Dolphin, combined with a chorus of “Me’s” (all talking as the playwright himself - they are “Me” as he exists in a group of actors), with various explorations of negative parental influence, in addition to a score of lovely music (composer John Gideon Grossman). There’s a talking, singing placenta which I’m not sure I ever really understood the point of her presence - the absence of mother being my best guess - but that is still the one character I never quite understood exactly what her presence meant. Even the mother dressed as a sponge makes more sense.

Anyway, as stated, it’s pretty nutso, even for Kirk - but highly enjoyable, brilliantly acted by the company, beautifully staged, and definitely a successful production of a highly ambitious work. My only real criticism, which is so ironic, because it’s something we discussed at some length in the beginning, is the role of the individual Me’s. I was adamant in my belief that each Me should represent a certain aspect of Kirk’s personality - for example, Me 1 would be the angry one, Me 2 would be the repressed one, Me 3, the sexual deviant, Me 4, the sad clown….etc. I thought it would be clearer to the audience and easier on the actors if they had more character-driven lines, but Kirk chose to keep it loose - the Me’s as a chorus of voices, all interchangeable. It got the point across, but from an acting standpoint, it would have been nice to see some characters emerge from the Me’s. Would have made a very different piece of theatre, and one I’m curious about.

Curtains is not the kind of show I would normally consider to be my “thing.” I had heard that it was very traditional musical theatre. I like things to push the envelope a bit more. I find the existence of this show just weird. It’s the last collaboration between Kander and Ebb, who were known for being ground breaking theatre makers who dealt with some pretty grizzly topics (abortions and the Holocaust come to mind). So when I heard that their last collaboration before Fred Ebb’s death was a very traditional whodunnit murder-mystery musical, I was surprised. And it’s true. Compared to their other known works, Curtains doesn’t hold a candle to Cabaret, Chicago, or even Kiss of the Spider Woman. But perhaps that’s an unfair comparison to make. Not everything they wrote was a huge hit, and had it not been for Ebb’s death and Hyde’s star power behind the show, I wonder if it would have even made it to Broadway.

That’s not to say that it’s bad. In fact, it’s pretty fun. Really campy and silly - but not as much as you want it to be (like in a Spamalot way). The cast is exceptionally wonderful. David Hyde Pierce in his Tony-winning performance, wins your heart from his first entrance. Debra Monk is a powerhouse presence as the balsy, show biz mom/producer, Carmen Bernstein. And Karen Ziemba steals every scene she’s in as Georgia Hendricks, bringing honesty and realism to a show full of cooky characters. The rest of the cast brings together an excellent Broadway ensemble. But not much makes sense.

The play is much fun to watch. The play within the play, the multiple-murder mystery, the love affairs….its got everything you’d expect. Perhaps that’s the problem. Not a lot of surprises in the writing. The big song and dance numbers (the play within) are most entertaining, but you sort of feel like you’re watching a production of Oklahoma for a while, then the action of the real play resumes. There’s a lot of bouncing back and forth. And I generally don’t like the conceit of - if they’re actors acting and singing in a musical, why are they also singing songs when they’re not performing? I.e. when they’re backstage talking to each other? Difficult to pull off and I’m not sure my disbelief was entirely suspended.

I think the main problem is that it doesn’t go far enough. There’s a stunt gag at the close of act 1 that is absolutely hilarious, funniest, most over the top moment in the show. If the rest of the show was up to that standard of camp, it would have worked. But the camp only came out in certain moments, and in others, took it self far too seriously. Such as with the love affair between Ziemba’s character and the composer. Didn’t need to exist. Slowed down the action of the show and really should have been cut.

I’m sure they were trying to throw in a little something to please everybody. A little comedy, a little love, a little slapstick, a little mystery…but what it resulted in was a show that was entertaining, but with very little substance, and that didn’t quite know exactly what it was trying to be.