Frankenstein at Lafitte Greenway Station through October 17
They say lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, but that’s being proven incorrect at the Lafitte Greenway Station both literally-ish and figuratively. Literally-ish because The NOLA Project’s new production of Frankenstein employs such special effects just as its Greenway-based Dracula did two years ago.
And figuratively because Pete McElligott’s adaptation of the classic Mary Shelley novel is just as fiercely intelligent, theatrically imaginative, and full of delirious fun as his award-winning version of Dracula was.
My dim recollection of Shelley’s Frankenstein, as well as the movie version (tho not Young Frankenstein), is that it can be a little too wordy, a little too philosophical, and a tad tedious. Not McElligott’s Frankenstein.
As directed, brilliantly, by Leslie Claverie, who had co-directed Dracula, this Frankenstein seems inspired by Charles Ludlam’s Theater of the Ridiculous. Emotions are heightened. The cast seems to be in on the joke but never winkwinknudges at the audience; it’s camp but at a very rarefied level. And remarkably and believably, the script and production pivots into melting tenderness somewhere in Act Two while still keeping its comic bona fides.
McElligott’s and Claverie’s whirligig comic touches, both verbally and visually, keep the story going with sustained humor throughout the show’s two hours with laugh-inducing insanity, no small feat. In this they are greatly aided by Jazzmyne Cry’s wildly imaginative costumes, Adachi Pimental’s atmospheric lighting, and Khiry Armstead’s spot-on sound design.
And then there’s the cast (James Bartelle, J’aiLa Christina, Noah Hazzard, Keyara Milliner, Michael Aaron Santos, Matthew Thompson, Kristin Witt with Keith Claverie, who portrays Victor Frankenstein among others, the only holdover from Dracula) who all convey the ridiculousness of the script with the utmost precision as they shapeshift in and out of various roles, Santos, as The Creature, the only one who, understandably, essays solely one character.
Though Bartelle’s Bottom in The NOLA Project’s Midsummer Night’s Dream was one of the finest I’ve ever seen, here he employs a different, more sublimely funny acting style to marvelous effect. Christina and Milliner give luscious, knowing performances of wide-eyed, faux innocence, both comediennes par excellence, while Hazzard exudes an oily sexiness.
Keyara Milliner, Kristin Witt, and Keith Claverie in Frankenstein (photo by Jillian Desirée Oliveras Maldonado)
Witt brings her usual wit to bear in a role that borders on the absurd, and Thompson, fabulously, gives what might be the gayest performance of all time in a not ostensibly gay show, calibrated so finely that it’s both over-the-top and subtle at the same time. Claverie uses his outstanding vocal instrument, rubbery face and wide range of emotional nuances to add another phenomenal portrait to his gallery of memorable roles while Santos, wisely, plays The Creature straight (mostly) to touching effect.
I could go on but let’s just say that when Hazzard plays the violin as Christina, in silhouette, does an interpretive dance, that’s the ultimate cherry on top of a sundae that is already of, well, Frankensteinian proportions.
In a perfect world, Frankenstein would run in repertory with Dracula till the end of time but, alas, it’s scheduled only through October 17. Don’t miss this treat.
[Tickets and more information at https://www.nolaproject.com/frankenstein]
The Lehman Trilogy at Le Petit Theatre through October 19
In 2019, I saw The Lehman Trilogy in London. Though it had already been acclaimed on both sides of the Atlantic, I found myself nodding off throughout its 3+ hour running time. Maybe because I was jet-lagged, maybe because I was in the Piccadilly Theatre’s nosebleed section…or maybe because I felt it was little more than a recitation of a Wikipedia page. At the time I wrote, “I liked but didn’t loved it.”
Flash forward to 2021 when it opened on Broadway to rave reviews and won the Tony Award for Best Play. I thought “Did I miss something?” And then I came across former NYTimes theater critic Charles Isherwood’s review in Broadway News; I’ll return to that shortly.
The Lehman Trilogy charts the rise and fall of the Lehman banking dynasty from the arrival of the original three brothers from Bavaria in the U.S. in the mid-1800s to the spectacular 2008 collapse of the company they founded; it is currently receiving its regional premiere at Le Petit Theater in an admirable production.
Jenny Lavery directs smoothly on Michael Hoover’s warehouse of a set, a significant improvement over the anodyne, steadily rotating cube of the West End and Broadway. Joan Long’s lighting drenches the stage in various darkened hues and, best of all, James Lanius’ projections range from street scenes and trains and factories to whirring numbers and maps and fireworks all of which visually enhance the proceedings.
The cast of three–Ryan Hayes, David Lind, and Leslie Nipkow–are all excellent playing lotsa Lehmans, old and young, plus some of the women who marry into the family. If Nipkow is first among equals, it could be because she has the best part; after all, while the entire cast received Tony nominations, Simon Russell Beale, who played the same track as Nipkow does, took home the Best Actor award. (Note: Color- and gender-blind casting are sanctioned by the script.)
David Lind, Leslie Nipkow, and Ryan Hayes in The Lehman Trilogy (photo by Brittney Werner)
This time, I came well-rested and well-caffeinated knowing the play had a 3 hour and 20 minute running time. But still, I found myself taking micro naps towards the end of Act One and in Act Two’s midsection. Why? Because it’s repetitions in style and content as it traces the Lehmans as they rise and expand and fall and rise again and expand again and fall again. Because it goes off on tangents, some interesting, some not. Because it tries for profundity but doesn’t quite achieve it. And because, most of all, except for some brief passages when the script deals with a Lehman’s personal life, it’s neither dramatic nor emotionally involving.
“But, Brian,” you may ask, “what about the 5 Tonys and other awards it won and the rave reviews it got?” To that, let me quote Isherwood’s review in part:
“For all its surface stylishness, The Lehman Trilogy is a stolid and rather monolithic slab of a show: a three hour and twenty minute talking Wikipedia page [reading this description, I felt SO validated!], so dense with description and narration, and devoid of drama — or even dialogue — that watching it is like watching very expensive paint dry, or maybe, to use a more apt metaphor, listening to cotton growing.
The show’s stultifying prosiness probably derives from its original source: an Italian novel by Stefano Massini, later adapted by him for the stage, and in turn adapted (and, believe it or not, shortened) by Ben Power. Unfortunately, neither Massini nor Power has managed to fully lift the story of the rise and fall of the famed — now infamous — banking powerhouse off the pages of the original book.
The trilogy (which it isn’t, really, but let it pass) proceeds in strictly chronological order, which also adds to the tedium, as the pacing inevitably has an “and-then-this-happened” quality that grows wearisome. It begins with Henry Lehman arriving in America from Germany in 1844, settling somewhat improbably in Montgomery, Alabama, where he opens a small fabric store, of which we hear much description:
The room is small.
The floor is wood.
Slats nailed next to one another.
In all — he counted — 64.
And it creaks when you walk on it.
It’s hollow underneath.
Only one door
Of glass and wood
With the mezuzah nailed beside it.
Only one door
Facing directly onto the street
Onto the neighing of the horses
And the dust of the carriages
And that is by no means all we hear about this modest store — the description goes on for some time. So it goes throughout the duration of the show, as events and settings are described vastly more often than they are either depicted or actually staged.
I never found myself fully engaged, on even the most minimal emotional level. The show stuffs you with information but remains, to the end, a pretty dry, and long, evening of theater.”
Yup. ’Nuff said.
[More information and tickets at https://www.lepetittheatre.com/events/the-lehman-trilogy]
Exhausted Paint: the Death of Van Gogh at Big Couch through October 18
I saw Justin Maxwell’s one-act play Exhausted Paint: The Death of Van Gogh in 2022 at UNO in a production starring Drew Stroud. I recently saw Justin Maxwell’s one-act play Exhausted Paint: The Death of Van Gogh presented by Fat Squirrel at Big Couch in a production starring Drew Stroud. The script remained the same but I didn’t see the same play. Huh?
That’s because Exhausted Paint is a play as unique as a unicorn; other than its beginning and ending passages, its fourteen inner sections are done in a different order each performance. If their sequence was determined by randomly chosen audience members before the start of the show at UNO, two factors now drive the randomness: the first 14 audience members to arrive are given 5″x8″ cards with a word or phrase on one side and some velcro on the others and are told to place it on a “wheel of fortune” device upon entering the theater; Stroud then spins the wheel to determine the order of the segments. The possibilities for that evening’s performance are, almost literally, limitless.
That uniqueness, alone, should entice viewers to Big Couch where Exhausted Paint runsthrough October 18. More importantly, however, Maxwell’s script is so intelligently written as it gives keen insight into Van Gogh’s mind while aptly commenting on art, our perception of it, and the artists who make it, while Stroud continues to give a tour de force performance, that anyone who appreciates vital theater experiences would be unwise to miss it.
On Ryan Bruce’s intimate set, which he surrounds with a floor-to-ceiling canvas gently painted with abstract figures and impressionistic brushstrokes, 14 props are suspended around the playing area; Stroud takes them down one by one as the wheel’s pointer lands on the card which indicates them and then launches into the mini-monolog that they cue.
Drew Stroud in Exhausted Paint: The Death of Van Gogh
The night I saw this 70-minute show, if I hadn’t known how random it all was, I might have thought the whole shebang had been predetermined as the sequence, seemingly organically, crescendoed as it approached the conclusion, and Stroud, masterfully, amped up his intensity as he declaimed Maxwell’s words.
And what beautiful words they are. Maxwell’s scripts can sometimes be esoteric to the point of being almost inscrutable, but throughout Exhausted Paint, he remains accessible with lines both witty (“‘Blah blah,’ he blahblahed.”) and profound (“How does one paint twinkling?”)
Stroud, in a performance of acrobatic dexterity that includes small bits of audience interaction, portrays Van Gogh as clearly having a huge ego but, as the painter probes his life for meaning, he continuously keeps the audience engaged, never off-putting viewers as can happen with some monstres sacrés. In a meta touch, he occasionally steps out of the picture frame, as it were, to comment about Van Gogh or make wry observations such as regarding the outrageous current value of paintings whose materials cost a mere $30.
If Exhausted Paint’s script has remained the same, I found it slightly less dense this time, more easily comprehensible. I’m not sure if that has to do with my having seen it previously or Stroud’s performance having evolved in some way (since UNO, he has done it in NYC, at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, and on tour) or delicate adjustments the current director, Carly Stroud, Drew’s wife, has made (the running time does seem to be a tad longer) subsequent to R’Myni Watson’s terrific original staging.
In any case, no matter the exact path of the journey Maxwell and Stroud take us on, it’s a fascinating one, one which deserves as long a life as Van Gogh’s paintings.
[Tickets and more info at https://fatsquirrelnola.square.site/product/exhausted-paint/VWYUHBAU7AV34D2YW3VD5XLC?cs=true&cst=custom
