July 1, 2014

Festival of New Musicals Announces Its Roster

By Piepenburg

The Tony Award-winning playwright David Henry Hwang, the composer Adam Gwon and the composing duo Michael Kooman and Christopher Dimond are among the names represented in this year’s Festival of New Musicals, produced by the National Alliance for Musical Theater, a national nonprofit organization.

The 26th annual festival will be held Oct. 23-24 at New World Stages, and will feature readings of eight musicals, whittled down from over 230 submissions. The festival can offer significant exposure; among those who typically attend are producers and regional-theater programmers, and last year the performers included the Tony winner Sutton Foster and the “Rocky” star Andy Karl.

Among the selections are “Great Wall,” a family drama with music and lyrics by Kevin So and a book by Kevin Merritt, with Mr. Hwang as a creative consultant; “The Noteworthy Life of Howard Barnes,” a satirical comedy with music by Mr. Kooman and book and lyrics by Mr. Dimond, winners in 2013 of the Fred Ebb Award for aspiring musical theater songwriters; “Stu for Silverton,” about Stu Rasmussen, the transgender mayor of Silverton, Ore., with music and lyrics by the singer-songwriter Breedlove and a book by Peter Duchan (“Dogfight”); and “String,” a romantic comedy with music and lyrics by Mr. Gwon (“Ordinary Days”) and book by Sarah Hammond.

All of the shows arrive at the festival already having been seen, either in development or as workshops, in theaters in New York and across the country. “Stu for Silverton” had its premiere in 2013 at Intiman Theater of Seattle, where it had been developed. “String” has been developed at New Dramatists, where it received the Frederick Loewe Award for new musical theater work.

A list of other shows and more information is at the National Alliance for Musical Theater’s website.

Correction: July 1, 2014 An earlier version of this post, using information provided by a publicist, incorrectly described the role of the playwright David Henry Hwang in the musical "Great Wall." Mr. Hwang is a creative consultant on the show, not a book writer.

July 2, 2014

Everyone Expects the Spanish Inquisition Beloved Great-Uncles of British Humor Reunite for ‘ Live (mostly)'

By Ben Brantley

LONDON — Something completely different was never going to be on the menu. The record-breaking ticket sales generated by the news that members of the fabled comedy team Monty Python would be reassembling here for a rare onstage reunion were surely not generated by hopes that the old boys had come up with new tricks.

No, the many-thousand-strong fold that assembled at the O2 arena, where the show, which is running for 10 nights, opened on Tuesday, arrived in the spirit of pilgrims in search not of revelation but reassurance. And I’m presuming that is what they received, in a program that had both the pomp and familiarity of a high church ritual.

For it can indeed be said that Monty Python lives! Or to cite the disarmingly accurate title of this expensive- looking collection of vintage sketches, what we have here is “ (mostly).”

That parenthetical qualifier resonates. Of the six original Pythons — they who in the early 1970s redrew the map of what’s funny on this planet — only five still walk the earth: , , , and . The sixth, , died in 1989, though his sacred name and image are evoked throughout. It should also be noted that a good stretch of the show is no more live than Mr. Chapman is, which is not to say that it’s dead.

Archival footage of Python routines and imagery — including the glorious animated collages created by Mr. Gilliam — are projected in ultrahigh definition on three immense screens. So are the present-tense antics of the performers, which are simulcast for the 90 percent of the audience that otherwise wouldn’t be able to make out the facial features of its idols.

This imagistic quadrupling of Pythons makes for a strange head trip as the team recreates its greatest hits, including singalong favorites like the number about the cross-dressing lumberjack. We are here, after all, to see the real thing. Yet those giants on the screens feel more real than the bright human microdots on the stage.

Perhaps it’s not surprising then that audience members regularly left their seats to use the loo or check their emails or pick up snacks, just as they might if they were at home with the telly. The point would seem to be that even if they weren’t always watching, they had been in the same room — or on the same acreage — as the Pythons.

The show (or “the live show,” as the program specifies) has been directed by Mr. Idle, the man behind the cash- cow Monty Python tribute musical “.” The O2 production has been designed by Mr. Gilliam with a flair that suggests Salvador Dalí let loose on the Ziegfeld Follies.

The Pythons’ longtime favorite female accomplice, , pops up, occasionally and bravely in showgirl attire. A limber chorus line of young’uns helps fill the vast stage, in flashy, high-kicking numbers, choreographed by Arlene Phillips, that I would call Las Vegas parodies if Las Vegas hadn’t co-opted parodying itself long ago. (John Du Prez is the musical director.)

The songs are oldies, though they’ve been tweaked — and amplified, in every sense of the word. The papal “Every Sperm Is Sacred” hymn features nuns and cardinals stripping to their undies while a phalluslike candy- striped cannon ejaculates soap bubbles. The sketch in which Mr. Idle portrays a prurient pub crawler who speaks entirely in innuendo (“Is your wife a ‘goer’?”) segues into that actor (or his recorded voice) performing a rap variation on the same material.

Oft-quoted material is delivered by the septuagenarian Pythons with the obliging, slightly weary good humor of beloved great-uncles being asked once more to tell that same old story. It is a fact of life that if you live long enough, you’ll see iconoclasts become institutions.

The show acknowledges but doesn’t dwell on that idea. Its first self-contained sketch is the Four Yorkshiremen bit, in which old duffers (of an age the Pythons have now reached) reminisce competitively about how hard they had it growing up. An opening video montage shows the disembodied head of Mr. Chapman, styled as a celestial planet, being kicked into the cosmos.

But the Grim Reaper, the dominating character in the film “Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life” (1983), makes only a cameo appearance in the second act. The Pythons aren’t here to churn up shadows but to comfort us with the fact of their having survived in what appears to be good health, with the need that all of us have to keep paying the bills.

With vintage recording artists like Metallica and Dolly Parton stealing the show at the recent Glastonbury musical festival and Mick Jagger teasing the Python reunion in a promotional video, the show might seem to be further evidence that the baby boomers are determined not to let go of the earth they have inherited. But I saw people of all ages at the O2, and those in Python drag were, thankfully, mostly on the young side.

I spotted a lot of Gumbys (they’re the ones with the handkerchiefs on their heads) and many lumberjacks, although they may have been visitors from Brooklyn. Anyway, it was nice to see members of different generations gathered together to laugh at the same thing.

True, the laughter often felt more a matter of reflex than of surprised spontaneity. But by the second act, everybody had loosened up a bit, including the Pythons. When Mr. Cleese, Mr. Palin and Mr. Idle started cracking each other up during some of the later routines, the audience roared its delight. Here was confirmation that we were all real humans in real time and, as far as anyone could tell, still alive.

Correction: July 2, 2014 An earlier version of this review incorrectly described the era in which the band Metallica was first active. It was formed in 1981, not in the 1970s.

“Monty Python Live (mostly)” plays through Saturday and July 15 through 20 at the O2 arena in London; montypythonlive.com.

July 2, 2014

The Went to Midtown to Serenade the Lord ‘’s Faust,’ With the Composer on Hand

By Charles Isherwood

If the Devil were as endearingly funny as Randy Newman at the piano, a season in hell might not be so painful. Mr. Newman, the singer-songwriter known for his wry, bluesy tunes with lyrics etched in acid, portrayed the Lord’s nemesis on Tuesday night, in a concert performance of his musical-theater adaptation of Goethe’s “Faust” at City Center.

“Randy Newman’s Faust: The Concert,” a one-night-only event directed by Thomas Kail, was part of the City Center Encores! Off-Center series overseen by Jeanine Tesori, which in just its second season has become a summer theater highlight. A similar one-night-only performance of Ms. Tesori and Brian Crawley’s “Violet” last year, with Sutton Foster, ultimately moved to Broadway and garnered several Tony nominations.

I do not foresee a similar fate for this shaggy but enjoyable take on “Faust,” although the evening provided a nice showcase for Mr. Newman, still in good form at 70, drawling out his mordant observations on human folly, as well as several other notable performers in the major roles: Laura Osnes, Tony Vincent, Isaiah Johnson, Vonda Shepard and an underused Michael Cerveris.

Mr. Newman’s Devil, also known as Lucifer (the Lord, played by Mr. Johnson, calls him Luci; they were buddies of yore, of course), gets the first word and the last in this retooled version of the musical, which has not before been produced in New York. (It made its premiere in 1993 at La Jolla Playhouse and was seen in 1996 at the Goodman Theater in Chicago, but rumored Broadway plans never materialized.)

Stepping out of character after singing the opening song, Mr. Newman provided a bit of narration. “This is my version of Goethe’s ‘Faust,’ ” he began. “His ‘Faust,’ of course, is a masterpiece. I read the classic comic book, and I concur.”

The story proper begins up in heaven, where the Devil has come for a visit. (Mr. Newman remained on his piano bench throughout; even the Devil himself can’t be in two places at once.) There’s gospel-flavored jubilation going on, naturally, with a heavenly choir extolling the glory of the Lord. The 16 members of the Broadway Inspirational Voices, under the direction of the choirmaster Michael McElroy, play a continuous, lively role in the proceedings. Mr. Johnson’s Lord, clad in a sleek white suit, takes their praise in stride and suavely explains his late arrival. A couple of Buddhists had arrived and asked to enter. “I had to have ’em put out with the trash,” Mr. Johnson sang with a silky smile.

Mr. Newman’s Devil interrupts the happy celebration with a succinct takedown of the whole business:

All of the faith and prayer in the world

All of your dumb show and circuses

You know it’s a lie

It’ll always be a lie

The invention of an animal

Who knows he’s going to die

That’s the classic Newman note: cynicism (or, as his fans and fellow atheists might call it, realism) wrapped in a jaunty tune and served with a merry cackle. It was heard throughout the evening, mostly when Mr. Newman’s Devil was making trouble. In this version of the story, the Devil and the Lord agree to pick a single human being and test his moral fiber. If the Devil can get him to sign over his soul in exchange for granting him whatever he wishes, the Devil wins the bet and can return to heaven. “I’ve never been really comfortable down there,” as he says.

The chosen fellow turns out to be one Henry Faust (Mr. Vincent), “a sophomore in his eighth year at Notre Dame University,” as the Angel Rick (Mr. Cerveris), who ambled in and out of the proceedings, sometimes providing narration, helpfully informed. The bargain is easily struck, perhaps because Henry doesn’t require a hard sell. In his opening song, the wiry Mr. Vincent (he was St. Jimmy in “American Idiot”) sang of Henry’s dark yearnings: “Got suicide and murder runnin’ in and out my brain.” (Given the grim continuance of school shootings, this song was more queasy than funny.)

Mr. Newman’s “Faust” generally follows the contours of the original. Faust meets the virginal Margaret (Ms. Osnes), and seduces and abandons her. In despair, she kills her baby and is sentenced to die. But the narrative shuffles around rather loosely in search of diversion along the way. Mr. Cerveris’s big number, “Little Island,” is a somber lament for the destruction of war, sung from the point of view of a 20th-centurty Englishman, that had little to do with the proceedings. Still, it was a nice fit for the actor’s rich baritone, and at least it cleared up the matter of his hitherto inexplicable British accent.

As Margaret, Ms. Osnes also provided much pleasure, with her pure soprano soaring gently through the heartfelt song “Gainesville,” in which she expresses doubts about Faust’s affection. The first line of the song, “I was born in Gainesville, Fla.,” earned an instant laugh from the audience, which was clearly filled with fans of Mr. Newman’s, who presumably heard it as a punch line.

But the surprise of “Randy Newman’s Faust” was how consistently the songs revealed the sincere feeling beneath Mr. Newman’s wiseguy attitudinizing. The song that received the warmest reception, “Feels Like Home,” was a straight-up love duet for Mr. Newman and Ms. Shepard, who played the rather vaguely conceived role of Margaret’s friend Martha.

Ms. Shepard’s soulful singing brought out the yearning quality in Mr. Newman’s own, and the song, about the wonder of finding a home in another’s heart, is a real beauty. So lovely, it seems, that even the Devil was seduced into abandoning his snark — at least until the last chorus had been sung.

Randy Newman’s Faust

The Concert

Music and lyrics by Randy Newman; directed by Thomas Kail; music director, Chris Fenwick; choreography by Marcos Santana; sets by Donyale Werle; costumes by Clint Ramos; lighting by Mark Barton; sound by Leon Rothenberg; music coordinator, Seymour Red Press; orchestrations, vocal arrangements and score supervision by Michael Roth; production stage manager, James Mountcastle. An Encores! Off-Center production, presented by City Center, Arlene Shuler, president; Jeanine Tesori, artistic director; Mark Litvin Sr., managing director. At City Center, 131 West 55th Street, Manhattan, 212-581-1212, nycitycenter.org. Presented on Tuesday. Running time: 2 hours 5 minutes.

WITH: Michael Cerveris (Angel Rick), Isaiah Johnson (Lord), Randy Newman (Randy/the Devil), Laura Osnes (Margaret), Vonda Shepard (Martha), Brooklyn Shuck (Angel Child), Tony Vincent (Henry Faust) and Broadway Inspirational Voices.

June 30, 2014

A Sibling Rivalry Played Out Over Keyboards ‘The Other Mozart’ at Here Arts Center

By Laura Collins-Hughes

“Do you know what it says on my gravestone?” the woman asks. “ ‘Maria Anna von Berchtold zu Sonnenburg. The sister of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.’ ”

Poor Maria Anna. Do you suppose she knows that Wolfie, her little brother, is the reason she piqued our interest? Even in the decidedly feminist solo show “The Other Mozart,” at Here — written and performed by Sylvia Milo — the story of the thwarted, forgotten sister is inextricable from that of her sibling.

As touring prodigies on the 18th-century European concert stage, the Mozart children started out together, whisked from city to city by their ambitious father, Leopold. Eventually, Maria Anna, nicknamed Nannerl, was left at home — not for lack of talent at the keyboard, she tells us, but because her parents worried that continuing to perform in public would damage her marriage prospects. “Music will always be your ornament,” her mother says, and the daughter’s world grows smaller.

The notion of feminine ornamentation is central to “The Other Mozart,” directed by Isaac Byrne and presented by Here and Little Matchstick Factory. Fanned out in a wide circle on the black stage is a voluminous ivory skirt (designed by Magdalena Dabrowska), so heavy with layers and folds that it could drag any woman down. Perched atop it, as sculptural and constricting as a bird cage, is a corset attached to panniers (designed by Miodrag Guberinic), hoops that widen the silhouette at the hips.

It’s not subtle, this embodiment of Ms. Milo’s thesis, but it is strikingly beautiful.

Under a billowed cloud of Marie Antoinette hair (designed by Courtney Bednarowski), Ms. Milo’s Nannerl is charming and funny, a gamin once more, as she recalls young Wolfie and her early triumphs over him. Remembering the freedom and power of playing onstage, she is joyous.

Music by father and son wafts through the show, alongside original music by Nathan Davis — who is also responsible for the excellent sound design — and Phyllis Chen. Nannerl composed, too, but her work has been lost.

Ultimately, the story Ms. Milo tells is a bitter one. “The Other Mozart” draws on Mozart family letters, and Leopold and Wolfgang had plenty to write home about. “Nobody saved my letters,” Nannerl says. “There was nothing interesting in them.”

Ms. Milo has a balletic grace, and it’s easy to imagine her slender hands at the keys of a clavichord. But Nannerl’s uneventful life, unjust though it may have been, is a dramaturgical liability. The show becomes a sad what-if.

“Could it have been mine?” Nannerl wonders, gazing at her brother’s success. “Could — even a little of it — have been mine?”

“The Other Mozart” continues through July 12 at Here, 145 Avenue of the Americas, at Dominick Street, South Village; 212-352-3101, here.org.

July 2, 2014

He’s Alone on a Stage, With Tough Characters ‘The Bullpen,’ Joe Assadourian’s Tale From a Holding Cell

By Ken Jaworowski

I don’t know for sure what kind of man Joe Assadourian is. After all, he’s served 12 years in prison for attempted murder. But I can say that he’s one terrific actor, and a very good playwright as well. That much is clear throughout his solo show, “The Bullpen,” which takes an extremely funny look at a particularly dreadful situation.

In the play, which grew out of a theater workshop for inmates at the Otisville Correctional Facility in New York, Mr. Assadourian spends only a small portion of the 65-minute running time recounting his arrest and subsequent conviction. Instead, the bulk of the show transpires inside the title area, a large holding cell where detainees are kept as they await arraignment or transfer.

There, Mr. Assadourian is confined with a rough-edged and quirky crew: Roscoe, a fast talker; Kitty, a cross- dresser; Shane, a stoner; and many others. To pass the time, the group stages a mock trial for Mr. Assadourian. “I’m tellin’ the truth about bein’ a liar,” one of them declares under oath.

Mr. Assadourian embodies these characters, as well as the lawyers and court staff of his actual trial. They are distinct in personality and delivery and conveyed with an abundance of humor. “You got a better chance of seeing Aunt Jemima jump off the pancake box and cook you breakfast,” he’s told after asking a guard for a favor.

Just as impressive is what’s left out; there’s little heart-tugging or cliché, just a group of people in problematic circumstances. Richard Hoehler, who created the inmate program, also directed the play.

To be sure, some sections are just Mr. Assadourian showing off his mimicry skills; the mock trial scenes can run on a bit long. A stronger narrative thrust would serve him well, as would an opening that paused to take a breath instead of speeding through its cacophony of introductions.

Still, the impressions grow to be sympathetic and entertaining, with consistently coarse language that always sounds authentic. His imitation of a cranky judge is marvelous, as is his one of Al Pacino.

It’s impossible to confirm how much of Mr. Assadourian’s tale is factual. Yet judged solely as a piece of theater, it’s often wildly funny, especially in the tiny space at the Playroom Theater. To get to the theater you’ll need a few extra minutes: It’s an eight-floor elevator ride. To bring his story to the stage took Mr. Assadourian quite a bit longer.

“The Bullpen” continues at the Playroom Theater, 151 West 46th Street, Manhattan; 212-967-8278, stepinthebullpen.com.

July 12, 2014

Cast Albums