NY Theater – Fall ’26

Other Desert Cities  Dare I suggest that the prime attraction of this production, the wonderful Julia Louis-Dreyfus, was miscast? With her sitcom timing, Elaine-youthful looks, diminutive stature (Alison Janney’s sister, really?), she failed to convey the haughty, matriarchal imperiousness I would have expected in Polly Wyeth. Furthermore, the five characters that she centered as the mother never coalesced as a family: there were quips and barbs in Jon Robin Baitz’s dialogue instead of conversation. For me, the big surprise in Act Two felt false and made me question all that had gone on before–more a dramatic betrayal than revelation. Lily Rabe, however, should receive a Tony nomination as Featured Actress, although she had the biggest role.   C

The Imaginary Invalid  A charming production of Moliere’s final farce, tweaked and performed by Bill Irwin with worthy contributions from Dylan Baker and Ruth Bloom (only a discordant hip-hop hussy marred the cast). The costumes and set transported me to the Fragonard room at the Frick. Yes it was silly–it was a 17th-century farce–but the consistent mocking of medical pretenders gave it a theme with some heft and contemporary relevance.  B+

The Hairy Ape  Not liking characters who shout their lines, I couldn’t find a moment of enjoyment in this resurrected piece of social realism from Eugene O’Neill. The acting was bad, the Irish Rep staging claustrophobic and all subtlety had been left at home, where I wished I was.  F

Billy Crystal 860 Unless one feels about Billy Crystal as I did about Bobby Darin, this show is irresistible. Billy recounts humorous highlights of his career, adding jokes along the way, while the start and end tell the dramatic and tragic story of the Pacific Palisades fire that consumed his long-time house at 860 Chautauqua Boulevard. You’re at his mercy throughout and feel fortunate that he’s so willing to share. Celebrity name-drops make the cast seem larger; only Mickey Mantle thuds. A

pre-existing condition  A play about coping and recovering from domestic violence fortuitously resonated with the concurrent Cornell rape trauma story. Philippa Soo played the protagonist in a black-box production both sensitive and gripping. The hush in the audience was palpable, but for a neighboring man’s hearing device. This was an exercise in empathy.  B+

Classic Penguins  A survey of English-language literature–Penguin Classics, get it?–in 75 minutes, not just featuring full frontal male nudity but flaunting it. The stream of corny jokes and physical gags was leavened by unpredictable audience participation, including, at our performance, a show-stopping impersonation of Victor Frankenstein by my wife. For what it was, it couldn’t have been any better.  A-

The Rocky Horror Show The songs are nonpareil, the story a hoot, and the stagecraft added a dimension a film couldn’t match. The singers were all brilliant, and Lorna Courtney’s Janet was mesmerizing. The message–”Don’t dream it – Be it” (spelled out in neon letters)–remains powerful. The audience call-backs were occasionally fun but more often distracting, and I could have done without Frank-N-Furter’s wig, which made him more repulsive than seductive. Amber Grey’s Riff Raff was also several steps down from Richard O’Brien. But the cast, the audience and I all had a great time.  A

Just In Time  I didn’t like Bobby Darin going in, and after seeing Just In Time liked him less. Act One was fun, with music and memories, engaging backups and dancers, and the story of Darin’s ascent to commercial success. Act Two was a downer and a dud. There was nothing new from the backups and dancers, Sandra Dee was no match for Connie Francis, the music was derivative and trite, and Darin’s self-obsession and cruelty to others made him an unsympathetic self-pitier as his life fell apart. Sensing the audiences’s emerging depression, the show contrived a boffo revival performance at the Copa, but it was hardly Queen at Wembley. The play used up my favorite Darin number, the unoriginal “Beyond the Sea,” at the outset, leaving few musical highlights as Darin, an okay but uninspiring Jeremy Jordan, sloughed from so-so rocker to faux Sinatra. The best musical moment by far was Ariana Madix singing “Who’s Sorry Now?”  B-

PS: I understand the drive for inclusive, color-blind casting, but having a large Black man play Murray the K did nothing for the play, especially when every other role was typecast with a reasonable lookalike, from Darin and Sandra Dee to brother-in-law Charley Maffia.