“Nothing Off-Broadway is ever good,” she declared authoritatively.  I was talking to a friend of a friend when she made this pronouncement.  Having seen few Off-Broadway shows, and not wanting to be argumentative, I let her opinion stand.

Given the sheer number of Off-Broadway productions, especially those that have transferred to the Great White Way that I’ve seen and loved, her statement is obviously false.  Yet, I’ve strangely felt it haunting me these past few years.  Maybe it was true of all of my experiences.  I was destined to only see bad Off-Broadway shows, unable to cull the cream from the milk.

(At first I had cull the milk from the cream, but my mom emailed me and insisted it’s the other way around.  As she grew up with the opportunity to have first hand experience with udders, I’ve changed it.)

Still, my Off-Broadway record has included mainly duds, that is until I saw David Cromer’s production of Our Town at Barrow Street Theatre.  Whether your high school memories of Our Town are dull or touching or nonexistent, I would argue there isn’t a better production possible.  Barrow Street Theatre is cozy, an adorably polite word for tiny, and this production fits perfectly.  The stage is the middle of the room, with seating on three sides, giving the impression of theatre in the round.  The actors walk through and around and behind the aisles, weaving seamlessly through the audience without ever interacting or distracting from the show.

I thought every actor played their part with an honesty that made me believe their character.  A million different touches combined effortlessly to bring the town, the show, to life.  I don’t know why you’d waste time reading me prattle on about it though – go see it yourself!

Guess my Off-Broadway luck is turning,

Megan

EDIT: Skye would like it clarified that the Great White Way is a nickname for Broadway. Thank you for your time, you may now return to general life activities.

“It’s like School House Rock for grown-ups” Allison enthusiastically exclaimed, as she turned towards me during intermission.

Enron: School House Rock for Grown-Ups

As a logo it’s catchy, and conveys Allison’s point that Enron takes a complicated subject and showcases the big points in simple ways, using raptor heads, light sabers, and dances consisting of the signals floor traders use on Wall Street.  With my abiding love of School House Rock, I don’t use that comparison lightly.

Norbert Leo Butz plays Jeffrey Skilling with panache and charisma, turning him from an unknown monster into a relatable, though flawed, human being.  Marin Mazzie, who I’m disposed to favor, as her marriage is one of my favorite theatre love stories, plays his foil well.

Before seeing Enron on Broadway, I had little interest in the scandal, and even less knowledge.  The play engaged my attention, even leading me to watch the documentary of the company last night.  Enron is the kind of play that sticks in your mind, and I’d recommend it for that alone.

Raptors (the animal, not special purpose entities) are adorable,

Megan

EDIT: If you’re not theatre obsessed you might be unaware that practically every person in the universe completely disagrees with my point of view.  For a different perspective, read Brantley’s New York Times review.

A despised mayoress, a miraculous water-spouting rock, a sanitarium full of people released into a crowd of pilgrims, and corrupt government officials.  That’s all I can tell you about the plot of Anyone Can Whistle, a musical written by Arthur Laurents with music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim.  Not because I’m worried about spoilers, rather that’s all I can convey coherently.

Every year New York City Center puts on three Encores! productions, using only six performances to showcase a rarely performed piece of theatre.  After sitting through this performance, I understand why theatres rarely produce Anyone Can Whistle, but I think it’s a terrible shame. 

The book makes little sense, and if you prefer your theatre to remain austere or sensible, you’re doomed to disappointment.  Yet each and every one of Sondheim’s songs is brilliant.  “There Won’t Be Trumpets,” “Everybody Says Don’t,” “There’s a Parade In Town” - I left the City Center humming each in turn, and badgered Lindsey until she downloaded the soundtrack to her iPhone so we could listen while driving home.  I feel as in love with the performers as I did their tunes – Raul Esparza, Sutton Foster, and Donna Murphy were magnificent in turn, and I despair there’s no recording allowing me to relive their beautiful vocal performances. 

Though the original Broadway production of Anyone Can Whistle only lasted 9 performances, there was a cast album recorded, thankfully capturing the original mayoress, Angela Lansbury.  My love for Angela Lansbury being epic, I was destined to replay this CD constantly, but I’m encouraging you, even if you have no eternal love of Angela or Sondheim, this album is a must have.  Though while we’re on the subject, why don’t you love Angela? Really, there’s no good reason not to.

“I insist on miracles,”

Megan