Idiot Savant

GRADE: Big Duck

Written and directed by Richard Foreman. Public Tehatre. (CLOSED)

If ever there was a theatre that confounds all critical standards, Richard Foreman's staged scramblings at the Ontological-Hysteric are it. Like the Wooster Group, Foreman's projects are best judged against themselves. With this understanding, together with speculation that this may be Foreman's "swan song," most critics approach Idiot Savant (starring Wooster pioneer Willem Dafoe) from the vantage of his earlier work to judge the production as either derivative (of Foreman, natch) or a superb refinement of the lavish absurdity they've come to expect (NYTimes). A capsule summary of the content would be futile here. "You either get it or you don't," is a common statement among the critics that risks flattening all judgment into the dreary C-grade category and only reminds the Critic-O-Meter that a grade, like a plot summary, will be of little use to prospective ticket-buyers. "Typically audacious" (NYPost) may be the most depressing description I've ever read, but all of the reviewers below are worth reading in full because they each single out a different phrase or image that resonates with them. This rich diffusion of response is the best indicator of overall success when it comes to Foreman because it validates his spirit of inexhaustible stageplay.

The New York Times A+
(Ben Brantley) ... in the self-contained universes of Mr. Foreman, which are both boundless and hermetically sealed, all performers are created equal, right? They are stylish robots, carrying out the commands of a dictatorial auteur. People don’t so much act in Mr. Foreman’s productions (which he has been creating for five decades now) as take orders, the better to embody their director’s convoluted currents of thought. The happy surprise of “Idiot Savant” is that there is, for once, an actor in the house. Mr. Dafoe, who spent many years working as a team player of the avant-garde Wooster Group, knows how to pose in a living painting where individual figures count for less than the landscape. But he also brings a star’s bright idiosyncrasy to Mr. Foreman’s wonderland and the aching throb of an energetic man in a straitjacket. There’s warm blood coursing through “Idiot Savant,” and it raises the humor and humanity to heights rarely felt in a Foreman work ... I worried (because I’ve seen it happen before) that outside its customary lair the Foreman magic might disintegrate, like a mummy wrenched from its tomb. Instead this change of venue has inspired Mr. Foreman to loosen up and expansively and cheerfully consider the nature and consequences of practicing the dark art of theater ... Mr. Dafoe, Ms. Kraigher and Ms. Löwensohn perform such dialogue with delicious relish and a conviction that is all the more entertaining for being so changeable. And while remaining obediently and exaggeratedly archetypal, they also exude a winning, particular sense of frustration that comes from being ensnared in this play and, by extension, this life.

The New Yorker A
(Hilton Als) The term “idiot savant”—an autistic or otherwise mentally handicapped person who has one area of genius—is never defined in Foreman’s text, but Dafoe plays one to the hilt. And so, in a way, does Foreman. With this show, he is telling us that he has done one thing—amazingly—for more than forty years: he has made theatre that has changed the theatre. Now it may be time for something else. Foreman has said that “Idiot Savant” is his last play, that he will concentrate on making films. One can only hope that this is a lie of the mind.

Time Out New York A
(David Cote) Idiot Savant is vintage Foreman: ravishing, perplexing, scary, a sensual and intellectual massage for those weary of causality and psychology ... Willem Dafoe takes center stage in the title role, fully exploiting decades with the Wooster Group to endow his cryptic pronouncements and slapstick with pathos and visceral intensity. Knowing and sexy Elina Löwensohn and Alenka Kraigher alternately tempt and thwart Dafoe as a gypsy and a princess, respectively. Foreman’s language—highly compressed and suggestive, if superficially banal—comes alive in these superb actors’ voices (intimately picked up by head mikes). You realize how much you’ve missed him working with trained, charismatic performers.

Nytheatre.com A
(Matt Roberson) Why speak to us directly, acknowledging our presence both vocally and with the spotlight, if on some level, Foreman doesn't see us as shareholders in this timeless show? But lest one think all hope is lost in this almost nightmarish world, Foreman does provide a splinter of hope with this: "I correct myself slightly—since human never translates into 'TOTAL' SATISFACTION—only a bit MORE SATISFACTION in comparison." Adding beautifully creative and thought-provoking support to the world of Idiot Savant are the costumes of Gabriel Berry. Also adding layers to the already numerous layers of this exciting production are the lighting of Heather Carson, and the sound design of Travis Just. Unlike most theatre these days, Idiot Savant, as I assume is true of much of Foreman's work, leaves its audience with more questions than answers. Its unique and original nature, while almost never crystal clear, forces us to think, and see, in ways rarely required by traditional narrative. Idiot Savant is not theatre for everyone, but for those who are, at times, bored with an all-too-often conventional form, we should be grateful that people like Foreman continue to exist.

Associated Press A
(Jennifer Farrar) Willem Dafoe is fascinating as the Idiot Savant. Dressed in Samurai-inspired skirts, paired with gartered white hose, his hair pulled into a defiant topknot, Dafoe alternately glides, charges and tumbles about the stage ... The ladies are well-played by Alenka Kraigher as the ethereal, taunting Marie, and Elina Lowensohn as the cynical, snappish Olga ... Production elements that enhance the disquiet include blasts of light by Heather Carson, and jolting bursts of music designed by Travis Just. Yet the anxiety is lightened by humorous dialogue and a visual sense of fun, including ducks and spiders. At one point, Olga exclaims, "I hope this is all nonsense." ... Images from the play may recur afterward in flashbacks, reinforcing themes while raising more questions. What can we learn from the Idiot Savant — or Little Miss Muffet — about danger and desire? Maybe nothing, but you can always ask the giant duck.

Talkin' Broadway A
(Matthew Murray) Richard Foreman’s play at The Public Theater’s Martinson Hall, produced in association with Foreman’s own Ontological-Hysteric Theater, is an all-out assault on the idea that either language or life can ever be precisely quantified, so you may as well just contribute when you can, shut up when you can’t, and enjoy the ride the rest of the way. That battle plan is also the most effective method of dealing with the production itself, which is fulfilling and entertaining but, like much of Foreman’s work, makes more sense in the broader view than it does in any up-close inspection ... The performances are all emphatic, precisely focused and yet restless in the best possible way, with Dafoe a dreamlike avatar of sensibility stumbling amid Kraigher’s stately acceptable weirdness and Löwensohn’s too-earthy order. The confusion in which they’re trudging is palpable, yes - but how often are concepts and words completely compatible, anyway? Idiot Savant contends that “All things are yet thinkable inside a powerful mind, which does express itself eventually in apparent babble, non translatable into known languages,” and if that describes Foreman’s art, both here and in general, you never have to worry about being lost altogether. Foreman is a master of ruling over his worlds with an authoritative hand, so there’s no shortage of cohesion even if you may not always be sure what specific brand of adhesive is holding everything together.

Village Voice B+
(Michael Feingold) One has to watch out for certain dangers in Foreman's world, of course, most of which turn up in his new piece, Idiot Savant (Public Theater). Although the place is a purely mental landscape, demarcated as always by black-and-white striped strings, harsh lights may confront your eyes or sudden loud explosions assault your ears ... Dafoe registers ably, or should I say Foremanfully, on this long and distinguished list: Will Patton, James Urbaniak, David Patrick Kelly, Tom Nelis, T. Ryder Smith, and Rocco Sisto rank among his notable predecessors in the Foremanian Hall of Fame.

New York Post B+
(Frank Scheck) This latest opus, starring Willem Dafoe, is a typically audacious, surreal extravaganza that will either delight or baffle theatergoers, maybe both at the same time. "Message to the performers," a voice intones at the start. "Do not try to carry this play forward. Let it slowly creep over the stage with no help, with no end in view." Indeed, some might find the proceedings interminable. This metaphysical exercise about the nature of art and language features, among other things, a game of interspecies golf with a giant duck. You either go with it, or you don't ... As the women who alternately provoke and encourage the idiot savant, Alenka Kraigher and Elina Lowensohn fulfill their duties with the appropriate stylization. But the big draw, of course, is Dafoe. What a pleasure to see him once again perform onstage with no holds barred.

Variety B
(Marilyn Stasio) Since when has Richard Foreman been so grand -- and ever so elegantly French? ... Symbolically functional or not, the chandeliers look snazzy, as do Gabriel Berry's svelte costumes for the two female characters -- a richly detailed gown for Marie (the ethereally lovely Alenka Kraigher), who asks the most penetrating questions in this piece, and a jaunty riding outfit for Olga (the smart and snappish Elina Lowensohn), who goes around puncturing everyone's well-reasoned assumptions. The only person who seems strangled by his costume is the Idiot Savant (a scowling Willem Dafoe), whose all-too-human role is to try to make sense of the conundrums flung at him like weapons by the unseen Voice of the godlike director. It's a losing battle, made manifest by the absurdity of his costume -- a warrior-knot and samurai-like robes over pigeon-toed shoes -- and the frailty of his human nature. Whether thought of as tricks or games, the mental skirmishes are par for the Foreman course.

New York Magazine B-
(Stephanie Zacharek) [Foreman] has also fashioned a plotless work that manages to be at once playful, pretentious, and intentionally confounding—the kind of arch exercise in which characters routinely drop Zen-koan head-scratchers like “If solving a mystery is never possible, then don’t call that a mystery.” Foreman’s works aren’t designed to make literal sense as you’re watching them. The scraps you take away from his elaborate in-jokes may eventually reshape themselves into a meaningful treatise on the futility of existence—or they may leave you with nothing more than a handful of air. The one concrete thing here is the pleasure Foreman’s actors—including Alenka Kraigher, as a sort of soothsayer in a velvet medieval-princess dress, and Elina Löwensohn, a hard-drinking tough cookie in a shiny Cossack’s outfit—take in this wackadoo material. Dafoe, his crazy topknot aquiver, may be having the most fun of all. There’s comedy in his eyes and murder in his soul. Or maybe it’s the other way around.

Entertainment Weekly C+
(Thom Geier) The performers are certainly game. Alenka Kraigher plays Marie, who alternately cringes from Dafoe and pines for him in gawky, loose-limbed way, like a blond Olive Oyl. And as a femme fatale in riding pants named Olga, Elina Löwensohn (Schindler's List) looks and speaks like a seemingly disinterested Garbo. But the show itself never builds to real insights, or follows any of its musings to any meaningful conclusions. And even if the elusiveness of meaning is the play's raison d'etre, I wish that the absurd high jinks were more diverting. If you're going to bring out a giant duck wearing a fez, shouldn't he at least juggle or something.

Theatermania C+
(Dan Balcazo) "I am interested in confusion," says the title character of downtown auteur Richard Foreman's Idiot Savant, now at the Public Theater. And indeed, the often frustrating piece on view may puzzle audience members, despite a stellar central performance from Willem Dafoe. The actor -- who cut his teeth on experimental performance prior to finding fame on the big screen -- plays the Idiot Savant within the show. His magnetic stage presence serves him well, as he moves with alternating slow and quick movements while growling some of his lines and shouting others. His is a nuanced and physically demanding performance that is consistently engaging, even if you're not always sure what he's supposed to be doing ... Moreover, despite the stylish presentation, there are several moments that seem to try too hard to be profound and instead merely come across as tiresome. Those who have seen any of Foreman's prior work are sure to recognize many of the writer/director/designer's signature devices: strings and other thin obstacles are placed between actor and audience; loud buzzing noises are heard; bright lights flood the stage; and voice-overs repeat certain phrases over and over again. Such techniques may have once served to challenge the passivity of the spectator, but now seem somewhat clichéd.

Lighting & Sound America C
(David Barbour) Watching Idiot Savant, which is a veritable archive of vintage avant-garde tropes, I suddenly had a vision of Foreman as a kind of downtown Neil Simon, plugging away at his vision, never mind that the world has moved on ... Of course, a critic like Ben Brantley -- who isn't all that concerned about drama, anyway -- thinks he's great, but a surprising number of thoughtful minds have found much to praise in Foreman's work. It must be a trick of the light -- all I can see is a series of gestures left over from those feverish days when every performance was a self-conscious act of provocation against the audience ... in truth, the set, by Foreman with an assist from Peter Ksander -- it's a kind of cartoon of an English great house with a touch of Edward Gorey about it -- is an amusingly shifty place. (It grows and shrinks, as required.) Heather Carson's lighting, as always, is endlessly inventive, making use, as it does, of all sorts of oddball instruments. (Well, I didn't love the blinder cues, but that's part of the Foreman playbook.) Travis Just's sound design is more like a sinister soundtrack of cues that often have little or nothing to do with the action onstage; again, he's serving the director, and he does it well. Gabriel Berry's costumes cleverly mix and match styles from many different periods.

On Off Broadway C
(Matt Windman) Don't even bother trying to make sense of a Richard Foreman production. For decades, the famed avant-garde director-playwright has proceeded totally by impulse to create silly, surreal, purely theatrical spectacles based in movement, light and sound instead of traditional storytelling. You simply can't figure out his shows by using your brain ... It's impossible to determine what exactly is going on based on the show itself. But in recent interviews, Foreman has described "Idiot Savant" as a philosophic comedy in which the mystical Idiot Savant (played by Willem Dafoe) contemplates the power of language and parodies how people think. For some inexplicable reason, there is also a "Giant Duck" with bloody palms who plays interspecies golf ... If not much else, "Idiot Savant" offers a final opportunity to experience the experimental weirdness of a Richard Foreman show. Though his silliness can occasionally be entertaining, don't expect to understand any of it. Think of it a distinctive, intense, offbeat avant-garde experience. If you're lucky, maybe you'll find some meaning hidden somewhere in this 80-minute circus.

Backstage D
(David Sheward) You either get Richard Foreman or you don't—and I'm in the latter camp. For more than 40 years, the founder and director of the Ontological-Hysteric Theater has been unleashing his unique brand of theatrical mayhem, collecting Obie Awards by the bushel and enrapturing or confounding audiences. His latest effort, "Idiot Savant," is just as bizarre and perplexing as any of his 50-odd other plays. The one element that may draw non–Foreman cultists is the presence of Willem Dafoe, an Oscar nominee with roots in the avant-garde theater. Dafoe, a founding member of the Wooster Group, has collaborated with Foreman before and brings a gritty reality to the obscure goings-on. He really appears to be going through a crisis, but what it is or why it's important is never addressed ... Kraigher and Löwensohn are attractive performers and, like Dafoe, they manage to convey a sense of character and purpose, but obviously Foreman is not interested in conventional narrative or motivation. He has his own unique style and aesthetic, which has resulted in previous works of intriguing beauty. There are brief moments of bizarre whimsy here, but this piece is so deliberately obscure and abstract, I was totally lost and didn't care about anyone or anything on stage. An offstage voice, probably representing Foreman, intones at the top of the play: "Message to the performers: Do not try to carry this play forward. Let it slowly creep over the stage with no help, with no end in view." Unfortunately, the cast carries out the writer-director's intentions, and "Idiot Savant" drags itself pointlessly along to an unsatisfying conclusion.

New York Times A+ 14; New Yorker A 13; Time Out New York A 13; Nytheatre.com A 13; AP A 13; Talkin' Broadway A 13; Village Voice B+ 12; NYPost B+ 12; Variety B 10; NY Magazine B- 9; EW C+ 8; TheatreMania C+ 8; Light&Sound America C 7; OnOffBroadway C 7; Backstage D 4. TOTAL: 156/15 = 10.4 (B)

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Twelfth Night

GRADE: A

By William Shakespeare. Directed by Daniel Sullivan. Delacorte. (CLOSED)

Critics mostly love this Twelfth Night like nobody's loved Twelfth Night, come rain or come shine. They praise this free outdoor Shakespeare for its eclectic powerhouse cast headed by a winning Anne Hathaway; for its lovely musical score (by brilliant Brooklyn folksters Hem); and for director Daniel Sullivan's unforced balance between knockabout comedy, romance, and melancholy. A few dissenters point out some off-key performances, interpretive lacunae, and design quibbles, but the overall tone of these reviews (some of which explicitly hope for a Broadway transfer) is resoundingly: Play on.

The Daily News A+
(Joe Dziemianowicz) Director Daniel Sullivan's audience-friendly mounting is an all-too-rare take on Shakespeare — one that's not overly stylized, petrified or simply memorized. Even with an occasionally finicky sound system making for a couple of murky passages, there's an invigorating sense that the events are unfolding spontaneously, right here, right now...Hathaway is the main attraction, but the revival bursts with star-level performances. The cast, chosen and guided with exceptional care, is a who's who from theater, TV and film. Standing out are two incredibly versatile actors. Four-time Tony winner Audra McDonald ("Private Practice") plays Olivia and it's exhilarating to watch her trade unsmiling despair over her dead brother for girlish excitement as she falls for Viola in drag. David Pittu is invaluable as Olivia's clown, Feste. A Broadway vet, he's got the keenest comic chops in town and a fantastic way with a tune...The Brooklyn-based folk-rock band Hem wrote the melodies to go with the Bard's text; like the show itself, they're a dreamy mix of melancholy and merry.

Variety A+
(David Rooney) An enchanting endorsement of love in defiance of convention. It's hard to imagine a more satisfying staging of the crowd-pleasing romantic comedy than this one orchestrated by director Daniel Sullivan, a superb design team and an impeccable cast assembled around Anne Hathaway, who makes a thoroughly winning and accomplished professional Shakespeare debut. Add in the soul-stirring music of neo-folk ensemble Hem and you have one magical night in Illyria...There's a bewitching confidence in the creation of mood and atmosphere here that makes Shakespeare's melancholy comic exploration of the twisty paths and regenerative power of love, in all its mysteriousness and recklessness, truly soar.

Associated Press A+
(Michael Kuchwara) This revival practically floats through the night air at the outdoor Delacorte Theater where a sterling ensemble shines in the Bard's blissful take on mismatched romances and the things besotted creatures do for love, both real or imagined. It's that chaotic confusion that director Daniel Sullivan has marshaled so effectively in this playful revival...Cumpsty's performance is so delightfully comic that he earns the audience's sympathy even though his comeuppance, planned by the play's other laugh-getting pranksters, is justly deserved...Major scene-stealing is committed by Hamish Linklater, who portrays Olivia's most comic suitor, the dithering Andrew Aguecheek...The actor is matched for laughs by David Pittu, as Feste, a fool who's supplied with the play's wittiest banter.

New York A+
(Scott Brown) Daniel Sullivan’s perfectly cast, exquisitely pitched, thoroughly winning (though never merely winsome) production absolutely beams. I’d swear there are moments when the clouds part just for this show.

Backstage A+
(David Sheward) Raúl Esparza, Audra McDonald, and Anne Hathaway convey such depth in these roles that they are unquestionably the center of the production, while the more obviously comic characters are rightfully in support...Esparza is so intense in his unrequited ardor that Orsino's passion engulfs the stage...Hathaway demonstrates she is one of our most promising young actors. Not content to rest on her film stardom, she bravely takes on one of the Bard's trickier heroines...Audra McDonald shines the brightest in this comic constellation....Rather than stealing the spotlight, Sir Toby and crew are charming entertainers who romp on stage while the lovers get a rest...John Lee Beatty's sylvan-glade set, Jane Greenwood's colorful 18th-century costumes, and Peter Kaczorowski's poetic lighting enhance the beautifully bucolic Central Park environment for one of the best productions of Twelfth Night I've ever seen.

Bergen Record A+
(Robert Feldberg) Hilarious and joyful – a terrific evening. The play has an unusually generous number of significant roles, with three pairs of lovers and no fewer than six comic figures. And the strength of the production – besides the boundless imagination of director Daniel Sullivan, who's supplied dozens of witty staging touches — is the depth of the cast. There are superb performers all the way down the line, even in the smaller roles...You might think the weak link in the company would be Anne Hathaway, a movie star with little stage experience. But...she's a revelation. Not only does she speak Shakespeare's poetry clearly and with feeling, and provide a lovely, spirited presence, she turns out to be a marvelous physical comedian...Everyone in this production seems to have been touched by the same antic inspiration...It's a pity the name is already taken; otherwise, the play could aptly be titled "A Midsummer Night's Dream."

Talkin' Broadway A+
(Matthew Murray) Not only multi-megawatt in terms of talent, but also as some of the best Shakespeare - to say nothing of one of the best versions of this play - that New York has seen in years...These disparate personalities and performing styles don’t just mesh, they blend so seamlessly that you’re never aware of the bevy of star turns unfolding before you...There’s no lack of the artists’ singular sparks - it’s just that none is granted more importance than any of the others...Sullivan has not burdened this play with the weight of the sorrow that taints so many of the characters’ lives - something that routinely sinks any potential fun. Instead, everyone is enterprising, willing and ready to turn the saddest of circumstances into the happiest of new situations. This pays remarkable dividends - not just for the audience, which receives an uncommonly joyful treatment of many sorrowful souls returning to the game of life - but for the characters too: Rarely has this group felt as irrepressibly alive.

CurtainUp A+
(Les Gutman) The key to its pleasures can be summed up in one word: balance. In this telling, the play's deeper and darker threads play second fiddle to the comedy (as one might argue is most apt for Shakespeare in the Park in any event), yet the entirety of the losses from which the play arises, and the romances that spring forth, are manifest throughout. None of this would be possible without an acting ensemble as thoroughly grounded as the one Mr. Sullivan has, almost magically, brought together and then led...With two major stars of the New York stage and one formidable film star, none of whom have substantial Shakespearean chops, who would have anticipated the nuance and sheer brilliance these three display? Esparza resists the posturing Orsino we so frequently see, substituting a far more human, and therefore meaningful, character. Hathaway manages to transport her impressive film presence to the stage, radiating infectious comic instincts without abandoning the sense of love and loss that defines Viola. McDonald is, well, magnificent; no matter how wonderful she has been before, nothing has topped the honesty and reverberation of her effort here...Casting David Pittu as Feste, the clown who makes the most sense of any character in the play and consistently delivers its truths, is a stroke of genius. Not only does he keep the entire endeavor on course, but he also carries the laboring oar in the singing department, which is here quite substantial...There is not a weak link in this cast.

The New York Times A
(Charles Isherwood) “Most wonderful”...seems an apt reaction to the scintillating new production of Shakespeare’s romantic comedy...the most consistently pleasurable the city has seen in at least a decade. And it is certainly one of the most accomplished Shakespeare in the Park productions the Public Theater has fielded in some time...On screen or onstage Ms. Hathaway possesses the unmistakable glow of a natural star, but she dives smoothly and with obvious pleasure into the embrace of a cohesive ensemble cast. A frankness of manner and a brisk emotional clarity are the hallmarks of her performance...It’s true that Ms. Hathaway’s speaking of the verse could benefit from a more sophisticated lyric impulse. The wit and meaning are delivered purely while the music is a little muted...Despite all the present mirth Mr. Sullivan weaves throughout the production an equally present melancholy.

Newsday A
(Linda Winer) Where has Anne Hathaway been all our theater lives? OK, we know all about the sizzling movie career, blah, blah. But she takes to the stage in "Twelfth Night" - incredibly, her professional Shakespeare debut - with the intelligence, charm and dazzle of someone who has always belonged right up there. And she is far from the only allure in Daniel Sullivan's luscious and nutty dreamboat of a production - the sort of sure-handed combination of glitz and grace that Joseph Papp must have imagined for his audacious free Shakespeare in the Park. Instead of the customary watery set on a mystical island, this story of shipwrecks and mistaken identities unfolds in a 19th century landscape of rolling hillocks carpeted in yummy green lawns (designed by John Lee Beatty) - all the better for expert toppling, flopping and luxuriating amid exceptionally lucid versifying.

Time Out NY A
(David Cote) The cast’s jollity is catching: We too feel young again—or, at least, that we’re reliving the early joys of Shakespeare. There’s not a weak link in this buoyant, musical delight (with delicate tunes by the folk ensemble Hem), and Anne Hathaway’s outdoor-Bard debut is impressive. Not only does she toss off the poetry with breezy verve (slow down, Anne!), she displays solid physical-comedy chops...Sullivan’s approach is to go easy on the outdated wordplay and the slapstick zaniness, with the surprising result that this Twelfth Night (in 18th-century costumes) plays out with admirable clarity. Mainly, the cast and crew conjure a rich sense of wry wonder and romance. They roll giddily through this classic comedy, and we happily follow.

The Hollywood Reporter A
(Frank Scheck) Beautifully captures the melancholy and comedic qualities of the Bard's classic...Hits on just about every level, with director Daniel Sullivan having assembled an eclectic ensemble of performers who mesh beautifully...The musical interludes, in fact, are among the high points of the show, with the score composed by the indie folk-rock group Hem filled with hauntingly memorable songs. Productions of Shakespeare's lighter works often suffer from a lack of comic inspiration, but there's no such problem here thanks to the wonderfully farcical and hilarious interplaying of Hamish Linklater...David Pittu and Jay O. Sanders...This is a magical "Twelfth Night" that will long linger in your memory.

Theatermania A
(Dan Balcazo) Delightful...A hilarious romp that's only enhanced by scenic designer John Lee Beatty's set of rolling green hills and trees that fit right in with the natural Central Park landscape. Hathaway makes for a very cute and passably convincing boy, and costume designer Jane Greenwood and wig designer Tom Watson have done a good job in emphasizing her resemblance to Sands' earnest and appealing Sebastian. The actress fares best in her more comic scenes, particularly with McDonald's love-struck Olivia. For her part, the four-time Tony winner is an absolute delight to watch, with facial expressions and body language that seem like they should be over-the-top, but are somehow still grounded in McDonald's grin-inducing portrayal. Esparza gives a more low-key yet still very funny performance, while Linklater's Andrew Aguecheek is pure comic genius...Cumpsty endows Malvolio with an appropriate smugness...Pittu gets to sing the majority of the show's many songs, beautifully composed by musical ensemble HEM and featuring a folk sound with Celtic influences...Here, music really is the food of love, and this production should leave audiences fully sated.

American Theatre Web A
(Andy Propst) A buoyant delight through and through...Director Sullivan has not only beautifully calibrated the performances from his two leading ladies, but from a host of actors involved in plots and subplots that unfurl alongside this romantic triangle...Perhaps most notable is Sullivan's work with the actors playing the boisterous members of Olivia's household...They seem like a marvelously dysfunctional family. These are people who have lived together for a while and know one another inside out. This sense of unity, ultimately, enriches this "Night" immensely. Also adding to the script and the production is the gorgeously eclectic score from the songwriting team known as Hem.

Lighting & Sound America A-
(David Barbour) A deft balancing act, giving each of the play's emotional colors its due, and providing a playground for an unusually starry cast...All in all, Sullivan's direction has a sharp eye for understated comic detail, when Toby piously crosses himself, his whiskey bottle firmly in hand, or, at the end, when Orsino, unable to tell Viola and Sebastian apart, accidentally picks the wrong sibling for an embrace. And everyone looks great in Jane Greenwood's Regency-era costumes...This production's double vision reaches its fulfillment in the final scene in which all secrets are revealed and the paired lovers are serenaded with the oddly introspective final song...Cheers to Sullivan and company for providing three hours of civilized amusement.

AM New York B+
(Matt Windman) Hathaway gives a convincing but rather unimposing performance as Viola, the smart gal who disguises herself as a male servant but then falls in love with her master...Hathaway is kind of overshadowed by some of New York’s finest theater actors including Audra McDonald, Raul Esparza, Michael Cumpsty, Julie White, David Pittu, Stark Sands and Jay O. Sanders. Don’t ask us to pick and choose our favorite performances, but the most memorable include Esparza as a self-pitying and blooding Orsino and Hamish Linklater, who takes broad physical comedy to a silly extreme as the foppish Sir Andrew. Dan Sullivan’s enjoyable production emphasizes the play’s storytelling, its comedic elements, and is happily free of any awkward directoral concepts or unnecessary messages...But Sullivan’s most appealing contribution was the addition of a small folk band at the side of the stage, allowing his cast to show off their strong voices whenever possible.

Bloomberg News B
(John Simon) Hathaway, though slightly shortchanging the poetic, expertly blends the boyish and the womanly in Viola. McDonald, while playing a more contemporary, less aristocratic Olivia, invests her with brio. Cumpsty, auburn-wigged, puts across Malvolio’s arrogance and subsequent pathos perfectly. Sullivan is, to be sure, a canny director and you may observe countless clever staging touches...The production’s chief problem is encapsulated in that pastoral set. It’s a romantic garden sporting lush grass and bosky knolls. A path atop a verdant embankment is lined with dwarf trees harboring hidden lights that will illuminate the climax. The hills provoke droll slidings down and agile leaps up; the shrubbery provides nifty concealment for plotters. Yet there’s no trace of a human habitat in this place of enchantment -- best for some other play. The same may be said of Jane Greenwood’s exuberant costumes...My only quarrel is with the wonderful Raul Esparza, whose Duke Orsino could use more hauteur and a less Orphan Annieish wig, and who might show greater affection for Viola as a boy to make his prompt embrace of her as a fiancee more believable...Still, this “Twelfth Night” is mostly for gushing innocents or indulgent sophisticates; those in between had better beware...With visual opulence and directorial connivance, slaphappiness prevails.

Nytheatre.com B
(David Gordon) Compared to others I've seen...there's nothing particularly special in Sullivan's staging. It's accessible, straightforward, and respectful. While it may not be a Twelfth Night for the ages, it provides for a most enjoyable theatrical experience, the way only a show at the Delacorte Theater can...Sullivan's risklessness with Cumpsty and Esparza is visible in their performances. As a result, Cumpsty's Malviolio is ineffective, drawing neither hatred nor pity. The role, a highlight in many productions, is rendered superfluous. Esparza has some nice moments as Orsino, but nothing is done to make the character look three-dimensional...Sir Toby Belch and Maria have the most developed relationship here that I've ever seen, with White almost tackling Sanders with a kiss the first time they're on stage together. They, along with Hamish Linklater's pratfalling Sir Andrew Aguecheek, provide the bulk of the comedy and their scenes, accordingly, are highlights. For what is essentially her professional theater debut, Hathaway acquits herself well. Her Viola is well thought-out and has very nice chemistry with McDonald's glorious Olivia.

New York Post B-
(Elisabeth Vincentelli) As the sexy, witty, modernly ambiguous Viola, laying waste to men and women's hearts, Hathaway gives a solid, committed performance. To paraphrase the immortal words of the Bard of Atlanta, T.I., all you haters can get at her, but she's serious...Despite occasional mumbling, her Viola is delightful and endearing in a puppyish way. Like the colorful, fast-paced production itself -- the three hours positively fly by -- Hathaway is light on her feet. She may not unearth any new nuances in the part, but it's also difficult not to bask in her contagious enthusiasm...Sullivan was happy just smoothing out all the kinks (pun intended) and adding broooooaaaaad crowd-pleasing sight gags whenever possible. At times it seems as if his directions to the actors consisted mainly of "Why don't you just do that voodoo that you do so well?" This hands-off approach plays to the advantage of the comic leads, who fare better than the romantic ones. It says something about the tone of a production of "Twelfth Night" when you can't wait for Orsino, Olivia and Viola to make room for Olivia's doofus suitor, Andrew Aguecheek...Yes, it's a fine and jolly evening. But there's also a little something missing--an undercurrent of wistfulness, perhaps, a certain melancholia to balance out the laughs. As a result, the show is hard to dislike--but it's also hard to love.

The Daily News A+ 14; Variety A+ 14; Associated Press A+ 14; New York A+ 14; Backstage A+ 14; Bergen Record A+ 14; Talkin' Broadway A+ 14; CurtainUp A+ 14; The New York Times A 13; Newsday A 13; Time Out NY A 13; The Hollywood Reporter A 13;
Theatermania A 13; American Theatre Web A 13; LS&A A- 12; AM New York B+ 11; Bloomberg News B 10; Nytheatre.com B 10; New York Post B- 9; TOTAL: 242/19=12.74 (A)

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Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson: The Concert Version

GRADE: A-

Music and lyrics by Michael Friedman. Written and directed by Alex Timbers. The Public Theater. (CLOSED)

Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson addresses the debate of the merits of our seventh president, but positive reviews show that critics find little to debate about the production. Critics enjoy its send-up of Spring Awakening, Alex Timber's streamlined history, Michael Friedman's emo score, and the cast, especially Benjamin Walker who they find particularly charismatic. The only fault critics find is that the show falls apart a little bit towards the end. Time Out New York's David Cote, on the other hand, thinks the last ten minutes are the brightest point in the show.

Talkin' Broadway A+
(Matthew Murray) Its target isn’t just still-controversial seventh President of the United States, but also Spring Awakening. Well, not just the Steven Sater-Duncan Sheik Tony winner, but shows like it. With (intentionally) amateurish acting, (intentionally) poorly- and non-plotted and flat-out disconnected songs, and an (intentionally) irreverent attitude toward subjects of abject seriousness, this absorbingly effective riff on emo narrative by Alex Timbers and Michael Friedman is as much a comment on the ragged quality of this kind of storytelling as it is a story itself. And because of its intelligence, its wit, and the undercurrent of maturity that buoys its childishness, this is in no way the pandering, least-common-denominator evening it mocks every chance it gets. But there’s a more important fusion at work here than simply musical theatre and whine rock. Librettist-director Timbers is the artistic director of Les Freres Corbusier and Michael Friedman is the house composer of The Civilians, and the uniting of these two downtown titans on a project of this audacity is a match made in theatre utopia. Timbers’s knack for rampantly visionary entertainment and Friedman’s grip on pungent social commentary combine to make something deeper, richer, and hotter than either has previously devised alone, all within a searing context that commands your attention and demands your assent to its absurdities.

CurtainUp A+
(Jenny Sandman) Les Freres Corbusier is known for its irreverently clever productions, including an adaptation of Hedda Gabler with robots. Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson carries on this spirit. The ensemble is one of the finest in New York right now, and they're all as happily hormonal and outré as Jackson himself. Look for finely caricatured performances of James Monroe (Ben Steinfeld), Henry Clay (Bryce Pinkham), Martin Van Buren (Lucas Near-Verbrugghe), John Quincy Adams (Jeff Hiller) and John Calhoun (Darren Goldstein). A delightfully cluttered set by Donyale Werle and extremely loud guitar (Justin Levine) and drums (Kevin Garcia) complete the party atmosphere. Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson is the most fun I've had at a play this year, and at $10, it's the best bargain in town. If only all our presidents could be as entertaining and good for our pocketbooks.

Theatermania A
(Brian Scott Lipton) Who knew Martin Van Buren (the hilarious Lucas Near-Verbrugghe) loved Twinkies? Or that the troubled Jackson (Benjamin Walker) once indulged in one of his ritual self-bleedings while Cher's "Song for the Lonely" played in the background. More realistically, who knew that Walker -- who gave distinctly earnest performances in the recent Broadway revivals of Les Liaisons Dangereuses and Inherit the Wind -- posseses the kind of rock star charisma to rival Adam Lambert. (True, some people in Los Angeles -- where Walker starred in an earlier and considerably longer version of this show -- might have that knowledge.) Not only is the actor's striking and surprisingly deeply felt performance a revelation, Walker turns out to be the kind of anchor needed to keep the musical's excesses from becoming overwhelming.

AmericanTheaterWeb A
(Andy Propst) The piece, a co-presentation with California's Center Theatre Group and New York's adventurous and iconoclastic Les Freres Corbusier, unfurls within the confines of an environment that looks like an East Village rocker club that's been decorated with an eye toward the rustic 19th century (scenic design by Donyale Werle). The dichotomy of the visuals beautifully fits the show's duality which relates history with a swirl of rock music and which continually exposes the contemporary parallels between Jackson's time and our own. Emily Rebholz's costumes similarly reflect this bifurcation of periods. Early on, the indefatigable cast sport items that invoke the period, but in the way in which children's cowboys and Indians costumes do. After Jackson has reached the White House (on his second time out), they wear what might be best described as downtown monochrome chic.

Just Shows To Go You A
(Patrick Lee) As staged by Alex Timbers, it’s silly and smartypants at the same time. The show’s conceit has Jackson in strutting rock god drag which not only amusingly illustrates his celebrity and resonance with the people but also allows Benjamin Walker to rock out old school in his thoroughly winning breakout performance.

Backstage A-
(Adam R. Perlman) Writer-director Alex Timbers has a strong sense of theatrical economy, fast-forwarding and hitting the pause button at the right times. We see Jackson as a boy sandwiched between the carcasses of his dead parents (yup, Indians got 'em) and negotiating that age-old line between work and family... Michael Friedman's songs—sometimes seamlessly integrated, sometimes jumping out like pictures in a pop-up book—provide what the moment needs... Through the visual quotes and the semi-ironic Simpsons-style satire, something fairly rare emerges: a complex musical with a conflicted point of view. The creators have trouble choosing sides in the Jackson debate—populist hero or "American Hitler"?—and their attempt to treat their ambivalence honestly leads to a third act that lacks the breezy energy of what came before. I'm not sure the shift works, but it's nice to see a rise-and-fall story that isn't clichéd—the story of how the people came together behind one of their own, a man who defeated a corrupt political cabal that thought him unfit for the Oval Office, only to perhaps prove his critics correct.

New York Post A-
(Elisabeth Vincentelli) One of the great things about Timbers is that no matter how nuttily downtown his shows appear, they're held together by an old-fashioned sense of craft, starting with strong casting. Benjamin Walker, pink cheeks aglow under shaggy black curls, gives a great anchor performance. He's onstage almost the entire time, and carries the show with boundless energy. He has to: The entire thing unfurls at "Looney Tunes" speed, and with a similar sense of anarchic joy and cross-cultural mayhem. A scene in which Jackson and his wife, Rachel (Maria Elena Ramirez), indulge in some cutting is underscored by a tune incorporating Susan Sontag's "illness as metaphor" theory. (Why Friedman hasn't been on Broadway yet is befuddling.)

Variety A-
(Marilyn Stasio) Terrible things happen to the Storyteller, which is all to the good, since the smart subtext of the show has to do with narrative itself -- the process by which we perpetuate the legends we create. So while Jackson's life and career are rendered faithfully enough in broad outline, the information is refracted through multiple information sources, from the Storyteller lady and the tall-tale tellers in the no-name saloon to the CNN voices (of Lisa Joyce and others) breathlessly pumping up election night frenzy, and those screamers who conduct the vote count on "American Idol." The creatives are nothing if not democratic in their contempt for how we make, market and destroy our heroes. And in the end, it's the Storyteller who sticks the knife in the Jackson legend by reminding the president that, even today, scholars can't decide whether he was a great warrior and a true populist leader or a ruthless, land-grabbing imperialist and "a genocidal murderer" -- the "American Hitler" who displaced indigenous Indian tribes and wiped out the entire Cherokee Nation. The academic jury may still be out on that question, but down at the Public, this hot little show is putting on one hell of a wake for a fallen hero.

The New York Times A-
(Ben Brantley) Emo, for those of you who don’t download your songs, is a postpunk rock variant that wears its shattered heart on its tattered sleeve, throbbing with the narcissism, masochism and frustrated powerlessness that come with being a teenager. The closest Broadway has come to incorporating emo was in Duncan Sheik’s score for the late (and much missed) “Spring Awakening,” a show about the agony of young lust. “Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson” — which runs through May 24 as part of the Public LAB season and, at $10 a ticket, is one of the best bargains in town — plies that sensibility to evoke the oohs and ouches of a new country’s growing pains. (The first lyric of its first song: “Why wouldn’t you ever go out with me in high school?”) And its scrappy, two-fisted title character (played by the lean, mean Benjamin Walker) is presented as the perfect national avatar of the period: an angry, enthusiastic and very hungry overgrown boy with a need for instant gratification and a whopping sense of entitlement.

The Daily News B+
(Joe Dziemianowicz) Writer/director Alex Timbers and composer-lyricist Michael Friedman borrow a page from the era-spanning "Spring Awakening" to create a satirical history lesson that presents Jackson (a charismatic Benjamin Walker) in modern terms with catchy songs and spiky, if often sophomoric, humor. It's a sort of "My So-Called Presidency" as it recalls Old Hickory's childhood, military career, grass-roots rise to the White House, plus his bigamist marriage and his infamous dealings with Native Americans.

The New Yorker B+
(John Lahr) The quirky humor of the knowing production style, however, is also the company’s problem. In the course of ninety minutes, a certain lyric and visual monotony settles in. Whether Les Freres Corbusier can travel north of Eighth Street will depend on whether Timbers and Friedman can add some emotional variety and characterization to their high camp. But, for the present grave moment, rollicking, in any shape or form, will do.

Bloomberg News B-
(John Simon) The show thrives on the sometimes funny, sometimes merely gross. Les Freres refer to it as “sophomoric” and “favoring the anarchic, the rude, the juvenile,” though that pre-emptive strike isn’t necessarily exculpatory or pardonable. Still, some of it is really funny. Thus Indian-killer Jackson addresses Chief Black Eagle: “You people are despicable creatures! You show no loyalty to anything, your music is terrible, your table manners suck, and your painting skills are absolutely dreadful. I mean look at this,” he says, pulling out a primitive drawing of a buffalo. “No artistic vision. You’re savages; you’re soulless, godless, and well you get the point.”

Time Out New York C+
(David Cote) Despite several smart-and-bouncy Friedman tunes and an ace cast—headed by cute, pouty Benjamin Walker in the title role—the overall proportion of snark to dark is distressingly off. Timbers keeps the action moving at cartoon speed, but he might have cut some tunes and beefed up the book. The last ten minutes are the best, when the disillusioned and power-mad Jackson offers Native Americans a final solution. At such times, one glimpses the sort of irreverent, complex musical this could have been.

Talkin' Broadway A+ 14; CurtainUp A+ 14; Theatermania A 13; AmericanTheaterWeb A 13; Just Shows To Go You A 13; Backstage A- 12; New York Post A- 12; Variety A- 12; The New York Times A- 12; The Daily News B+ 11; The New Yorker B+ 11; Bloomberg News B- 9; TONY C+ 8; TOTAL: 154/13 = 11.85 (A-)

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Why Torture Is Wrong, and the People Who Love Them

GRADE: B

By Christopher Durang. Directed by Nicholas Martin. The Public Theater. (CLOSED)

Critics love or at least appreciate Christopher Durang's Why Torture is Wrong, mostly for its zany humor. In the play, Laura Benanti plays Felicity, who wakes up to discover she's married to someone who may be a terrorist and then brings him home to meet her family. Complaints from the critics range from an unsatisfying ending to the feeling that the level of humor and insight waned as the evening wore on, though The Post's Elisabeth Vincentelli thought the second act much improved on the first. Critics rave about both David Korin's revolving set, described by The New York Times's Ben Brantley as a "whirligig fun house," and frequent Durang interpreter Kristine Nielson as Felicity's theater-loving mother Luella (except for Bloomberg News's John Simon, who thought she was the biggest problem with the show due to her constant mugging).

Nytheatre.com A+
(Martin Denton) I don't want to give too much more away about Why Torture is Wrong, and the People Who Love Them, except to say that I think this is Christopher Durang's finest play—funny, satiric, smart, completely on-target, and startlingly hopeful; the last two attributes combine to make this very much a work of theatre for this particular historical moment. The production, helmed by Nicholas Martin for The Public Theater, features a splendid cast of actors at the top of their form, and a brilliant set design by David Korins that Martin utilizes to stunning effect. Torture is gag-laden but deliciously purposeful, which is why I liked it so much. Durang gives us, in Leonard, a scary paranoid Dick Cheney-like America-First conservative to make fun of, but the character serves also as a way into an exploration of how we got to this place in our collective culture. (Richard Poe enacts this ridiculous bully with magnificent precision.)

The New York Times A
(Ben Brantley) Mr. Durang’s work (henceforth to be referred to as “Torture,” though watching it is not) is the latest offering in a trifecta of aggressively dark comedies that have opened in recent weeks, shows that draw gasping laughs from grim topics. Yasmina Reza’s “God of Carnage” considers the loneliness in the everyman-for-himself savagery that lurks beneath civilized relationships, while the Broadway revival of Eugène Ionesco’s “Exit the King” is about people’s refusal to face their own deaths. "Torture,” though, moves beyond brooding abstractions to the specifics of its title activity — with graphic onstage demonstrations — and of the idea of trigger-happiness as a conditioned reflex in masculine culture. Given recent accounts of prisoners tortured in the C.I.A. detention program and the mass killing by a gunman at an immigration services center in Binghamton, N.Y., you might think no sensible theatergoer would want to attend a play in which a young man is tied to a chair to be beaten bloody and a leading character points a rifle at the audience, musing on spraying it with bullets. Yet “Torture,” directed with just the right balance of crudeness and finesse by Nicholas Martin, turns such scenes into occasions for one of the most releasing forms of laughter: the kind that encourages the spewing of the anger, fear and helpless indignation that build up in anyone who still reads or watches serious world news.

Newsday A
(Linda Winer) Is there a living playwright more willing to take on the big-picture questions with such unwavering trust in the power of the truly silly? "Torture," which opened last night at the Public Theater under Nicholas Martin's expertly breezy direction, may not be on the exalted level of Durang's 1985 family masterwork, "The Marriage of Bette and Boo." But the play is prime territory in his explorations of the free-association cartoons and genuine darkness under the veneer of civility.

Theatermania A
(Sandy MacDonald) Trust Christopher Durang to ferret out any laughs lurking in the "War on Terror." Better yet, trust him to expose the human toll at the heart of it and to make us really register the impact of the brutal interrogations being conducted out of sight but in our name. The first act of Why Torture Is Wrong, and the People who Love Them, now debuting at the Public Theater under Nicholas Martin's fizzy direction, is all fun and games and gags. However, once an actual ball gag appears, along with other implements of "enhanced" persuasion, it's harder to remain lighthearted. Still, Durang and company still manage somehow to wrest humor from horror.

Lighting & Sound America A
(David Barbour) At times, Nielsen has been criticized by many -- well, for example, by myself -- for relying too heavily on a certain set of mannerisms. However, in the right role, she's a superb clown, and, in recent years, she has emerged as the leading interpreter of Durang's saber-toothed satires. Here, their alliance is at some sort of apex; Nielsen's Luella slays with nearly every line, her bobbled-headed, eye-popping, puppet-like movements juxtaposed with a breathless delivery that gives each sentence a turbocharged rush of satisfaction or sorrow. When, late in the action, Luella gives vent to her rage, revealing her inner desperate housewife, the result is even funnier... If Why Torture is Wrong... reveals Durang in fine, dyspeptic fettle, it also provides Nielsen with her best showcase in one of his plays. They're a formidable team, a two-person War on Cant. They've got my vote.

NY1 A
(David Cote) If the grammar of Durang's title doesn't quite scan and brings to mind Stephen Colbert's book "I Am America And So Can You," that seems to be the plan. Like Colbert, Durang is an expert at getting inside the minds of fanatics for laughs. And much as I enjoy "The Colbert Report," it's nice to see New York theater getting in on the topical fun.

Bloomberg News A-
(John Simon) Happy news from Christopher Durang, whose “Why Torture Is Wrong, and the People Who Love Them” at New York’s Public Theater is his funniest play in years. Along with other good things, it establishes Laura Benanti, already known in musicals (“Gypsy”), as an absolute star with this nonsinging role... As Felicity, Benanti offers more than a star turn; I’d call it a constellation. This lovely, quicksilver actress, hilarious one moment, heart-tugging the next, exhibits entrancing facial play, eloquent body language, razor-sharp timing, and a persona eliciting our unstinting complicity.

New York Post A-
(Elisabeth Vincentelli) Durang, after a disappointing decade, is actually roaring back to life. "Why Torture Is Wrong, and the People Who Love Them" is his finest work since 1999's "Betty's Summer Vacation," offering a surrealistically comic, deceivingly subversive take on the post-9/11 mind-set -- particularly the way Americans seek refuge in fantasy... Leonard and his Shadow Government buddies are as cartoonishly cut off from reality as Luella. It's in that role that Nielsen -- part housewife, part bobblehead doll -- gets the biggest laughs. Sure, we've seen her play variations of Luella before (in Durang's "Miss Witherspoon," for one), but she finds genuine pathos in a woman befuddled by an incomprehensible world. don't really know what normal is," Luella confesses. "That's one of the reasons I go to the theater. To learn that." That line is vividly illustrated in the finale, in which Felicity, after spending the play claiming to hate the theater, (re)creates her own life in a tribute to Vincente Minnelli's "The Band Wagon" set at a bizarro-world Hooters. We all try to define normality, Durang seems to be saying, so it might as well be found in a musical.

AmericanTheaterWeb A-
(Andy Propst) It's a setup for loopy fun and Durang uses it as a springboard to comically comment not only on post-9/11 shadow government tactics, but also far-flung topics like the state of theater in New York: Felicity's mom Luella (Kristine Nielsen) is forever pestering her daughter about what shows her daughter has seen while spiraling into reveries about her friends' and her own theatergoing experiences. Under the expertly breezy direction of Nicholas Martin, Durang's play whirls (literally thanks to David Korins' ingeniously conceived series of realistic sets) to the point of bordering on chaos, but never to the point of being abjectly out-of-control. Benanti, known primarily for her work in Broadway musicals, grounds the piece beautifully as the sweet, yet somehow strong-willed, Felicity. As her hastily chosen husband, Arison navigates the line between comic menace and downright creepiness with aplomb.

Village Voice B+
(Michael Feingold) Durang's writing always displays revue-sketch temptations, making his less-centered plays tricky to unify. Nicholas Martin, a director with a wonderful knack for humanizing brittle comedy, has managed elegantly to keep this one from cracking apart. He gets beautiful, vulnerably sincere work from Benanti, modulates Nielsen's showy outrageousness into unmannered freshness, and elicits strong, funny supporting performances from Arison, a newcomer, as well as Baker, Neenan, Pankow, and Poe. He even squeezes sight gags from the revolving of David Korins's set. In blunter hands, Durang's disturbing comic sense would probably still come through, but the healing touch that glides us past its hesitations wouldn't be there, leaving its nervous distress naked and painful.

The Daily News B+
(Joe Dziemianowicz) Like David Korins' glamorous multiroomed revolving set, director Nicholas Martin's production spins merrily along. Though sending up torture is too late and obvious to make for anything but gummy satire, the play is filled with laughs. Audrie Neenan, who plays a spy with a chronic wardrobe malfunction, and the googly-eyed Nielsen are both screams — in a good way.

Back Stage B+
(Adam R. Perlman) As satire, Torture is neither deep nor devastating. Of recent works, The Lieutenant of Inishmore (whose author, Martin McDonagh, is name-checked in one of Luella's rants) found a scarier, funnier take on the cycle of violence. But Durang makes a virtue of his scattershot brand of comedy. The antidote to narrow-mindedness is a retort that isn't so sure of itself. Oh, Durang's sure the world is maddeningly, dangerously absurd, but he doesn't know what we can do about it. Hence, he gives us a play that doubles back on itself, searching for a way to head off catastrophe and climaxing with a bizarre yet charming fantasy sequence at a version of Hooters you've never seen before. (The wonderful comic actor Brooks Ashmanskas is billed as Hooters consultant.)... If Durang's absurdism -- more South Park than Ionesco—hasn't previously been to your taste, this play isn't likely to convert you. But I found that about two-thirds of its jokes hit the mark. Given Durang's joke density, that's a lot of laughter.

Associated Press B+
(Michael Kuchwara) The problem with all this comedic insanity is that it is difficult to sustain, and there are a few lulls in the production — this despite the heroic efforts of a game cast and the ever-inventive direction of Nicholas Martin. Not to mention the scenic designs of David Korins who literally keeps the various sets spinning. Yet it's amazing how the actors and playwright can punch things back up after the air begins to seep out of the convoluted story. Chief among the expert performers is Kristine Nielsen, an actress of giddy comic timing, both verbal and physical. As Felicity's loopy mother, Nielsen plays a woman who loves the theater — she adores "Wicked" — much more than the reality around her. And her devotion gives Durang the opportunity to tweak such theater icons as Tom Stoppard.

NYMag B+
(Christopher Bonanos) If it’s not going to change the world, Why Torture Is Wrong can at least try to make a dent in it, and Durang gets a lot of mileage out of the twin streams of humor and menace that run through his complicated script... There is one danger to writing a play like this, and that is its specificity. A number of topical references, especially to John Yoo and his definition of torture, are going to severely limit its shelf life. (It’s going to become a period piece pretty fast, as Yoo becomes the Lieutenant William Calley of our time.) But maybe that’s okay; if the Bush administration’s excesses are becoming old news, that means we’re on our way out of a very dark place. The audience’s peals of laughter here may come largely from relief.

Theater News Online B+
(Bill Stevenson) There are very few living playwrights who have the guts -let alone the skill -to find humor in a deadly serious subject like the torture of suspected terrorists. With Why Torture is Wrong, and the People Who Love Them, Christopher Durang delivers a biting, bracing absurdist comedy with "enhanced interrogation techniques" as a central plot point. Like its title, the satire is too long and rather unwieldy. Nonetheless, it's undeniably audacious and often mordantly funny. The Public Theater has given it a near-perfect production that boasts a sensational cast and an elaborate revolving set... Although the first act goes on too long, at least we get to hear Benanti warble a few bars of a Michel Legrand song. The second act is tighter, but the ersatz happy ending feels forced. Unlike the rest of Durang's politically charged satire, the finale is reminiscent of other recent plays and musicals.

CurtainUp B
(Simon Saltzman)If there is one quality that distinguishes Durang's comically barbed diatribes against society, it comes from a kind of guileless sophistication that is almost child-like. Unlike other playwrights who traverse into surreal satire or farce, Durang has a strong sentimental streak. His rage is as sweetly and irrepressibly exposed as is his effusive affection for his most aberrant and abhorrent characters. It is clear from the outset that director Nicholas Martin, who helmed Durang's daffiest farce, Betty's Summer Vacation, knows how to keep a tight rein on the crazy mix of mayhem and menace that fuels this play. Although Durang has written some side-splitting funny dialogue, Why Torture. . . unfortunately runs out of steam when it abruptly surrenders its courageous virulence to an overly sappy anti-climactic ending. But, all that comes before is choice.

Time Out NY B
(Adam Feldman) If the play takes a while to find its footing on David Korins's beautiful revolving set, its assets are well worth catching: expert physical and verbal comedy, all in the service of a timely political sensibility that is luxuriantly dark but bracingly uncynical. For all his jabs about theater, Durang embraces its potential to remake the world, if only for a while.

Financial Times B-
(Brendan Lemon) Souls parched for humour find refreshment here. In his new play, Christopher Durang provides a plethora of jokes, most of which hit their target and some of which, given Durang’s scattershot style, fall just wide of the mark. Also included: a spectacular study in daffiness by Kristine Nielsen and some rage-fuelled commentary about the absurdity of using torture to fight a war against torturers. Durang’s taste for absurdity is apparent in the play’s fully unfurled moniker: Why Torture Is Wrong, and the People Who Love Them. Such a title feels vieux jeu – as if Durang filled a notebook with outrage during eight years of George W. Bush and decided to empty its contents on to the Public Theatre’s Newman stage. On the other hand, since when did torture disappear from the planet, and didn’t the Obama administration just ratchet up the rebranded “war on terror” in Afghanistan?

Variety C+
(David Rooney) If the title sounds like a more straightforwardly lefty answer to a Stephen Colbert think-piece, that's pretty much what the play devolves into after an exhilarating start. As much as they are still a part of our reality, red-alert paranoia over radical Islam, and a Cheney-style shadow government organization willing to lop off fingers and ears to extract a confession feel like yesterday's satirical targets. But that's not to say there are no laughs. Perhaps the most unexpected of them come from designer David Korins' ingenious revolving set, so perfectly attuned to the claustrophobic warped reality of Durang's world. Even scene changes are a delight, with the meticulously designed multiple compartments flying by like a spinning zoetrope, often still inhabited by the play's characters... In his best plays, Durang peels back the wacky exteriors to show the sorrowful depths beneath his characters, but no such surgery takes place here. Instead, he resorts to not especially clever metatheatrics and overuse of mock voiceovers (by David Aaron Baker) before handing the reins to an exasperated Felicity, who steps out of character to reshape the outcome. But at that point, the play just fizzles into ineffectual whimsy.

Wall Street Journal C-
(Terry Teachout) Vast amounts of ingenuity have been lavished on "Why Torture Is Wrong" by Nicholas Martin, the director, who does his best to create the illusion that Mr. Durang's script is funnier and more focused than it really is. I was going to single out Ms. Nielsen for special praise, but the fact is that everyone in the cast deserves it, and Mr. Martin's zippy staging maximizes the comic possibilities afforded by David Korin's turntable set, which keeps the show in near-constant motion. Would that this collective cleverness had been put to more timely use! Aside from being overlong and insufficiently amusing, "Why Torture Is Wrong" has missed its moment: The Bush administration is now history, and henceforth all will be changed, changed utterly by a president of whom Mr. Durang is an avowed admirer. (Maybe that's the point of the happy ending.) War on terror? What war on terror? "The administration has stopped using the phrase," Secretary of State Clinton announced the other day. Perhaps a time will come, though, when Christopher Durang finds it possible to chortle no less sardonically at such starry-eyed proclamations. The sword of a true satirist, after all, is double-edged.

AMNY D+
(Matt Windman) The play begins with a solid premise that promises one-liners, physical gags and dysfunctional characters. But when Durang tries to get more bizarre and serious in Act Two, in which Felicity somehow relives her past, the play hits a frustrating standstill. In spite of Nicholas Martin’s handsome staging on a revolving set, Act Two drags endlessly and is devoid of clear meaning or laughs.

Talkin' Broadway D+
(Matthew Murray) Durang’s point is that you shouldn’t assume the worst about people based on your own prejudices. (Well, as far as Zamir is concerned, that is - Leonard is apparently fair game.) But given what we see of Zamir’s behavior, Good Little Liberal Felicity’s eventual turnaround is more disquieting than inspiring. If Durang believes that date-rapists can be reformed with just some nice small talk at a bar, as is the central argument of the jaw-dropping final scene, perhaps he should consider giving up playwriting for a career in law enforcement or rehabilitation? This touchy-feely simplemindedness prevents Why Torture Is Wrong from seeming like anything other than a rambling whinefest best confined to the George W. Bush era. The issue of whether torture is, or should be, acceptable under any circumstances is one well worth exploring - even (or perhaps especially) through Durang’s delightfully fractured dramatic lens. But his treatment of Zamir and Felicity is so off-kilter that it looks like he’s straining to put his sympathies on anything other than Leonard: Is drugging and marrying a drunk woman then threatening her into not escaping somehow acceptable just because Leonard’s interrogation tactics are bloodier still?

The New Yorker F+
(John Lahr) I have seen actors walk off the set. I have seen audiences walk out of the theatre. But not until Christopher Durang's "Why Torture Is Wrong, and the People Who Love Them" (at the Public) have I seen a playwright walk out on his own play. "I don't like this. I don't like what's happened," the ingenue Felicity (Laura Benanti) says, near the finale, having spent most of the evening desperately trying to enlist the help of her reactionary parents in getting an annulment of her marriage to Zamir (Amir Arison), a Middle Eastern stranger whom she married after a drunken one-night stand, and whom she thinks might be a terrorist. "There's no way I can imagine a positive outcome from this. I don't want to be a part of it," Felicity adds, and we feel her pain.

That Sounds Cool F+
(Aaron Riccio) According to John Yoo’s infamous memo, it’s only torture if it causes organ failure. Legally, then, Christopher Durang is off the hook; though he throws everything at the wall in his new play, hoping to fracture a funny bone or two, the audience is likely to survive both acts. Whether they’ll want to is quite another story: Why Torture Is Wrong, And The People Who Love Them is his most “duranged” play. Durang is right to assign Looney Tunes nicknames to the torturers in this play, but he grows so absurd that he struggles to make a point. (Our extremism is just as bad as their extremism?) Given how poorly his jokes promote the plot—instead of dealing with terrorism, he pokes fun at theater; instead of dealing with a bad marriage, he waxes poetic on porn—it’s no surprise that Durang eventually jettisons the whole plot, settling on a deus ex Hooters love story instead.

Nytheatre.com A+ 14; The New York Times A 13; Newsday A 13; Theatermania A 13; Lighting & Sound America A 13; NY1 A 13; Bloomberg News A- 12; New York Post A- 12; AmericanTheaterWeb A- 12; Village Voice B+ 11; The Daily News B+ 11; Back Stage B+ 11; Associated Press B+ 11; NYMag B+ 11; Theater News Online B+ 11; CurtainUp B 10; TONY B 10; Financial Times B- 9; Variety C+ 8; WSJ C- 6; AMNY D+ 5; Talkin' Broadway D+ 5; The New Yorker F+ 2; That Sounds Cool F+ 2; TOTAL: 238/24 = 9.92 (B)

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The Good Negro

GRADE: B

By Tracey Scott Wilson. Directed by Liesl Tommy. The Public Theater. (CLOSED)

Aside from Theatermania's Dan Bacalzo, critics are warmly receptive, sometimes effusive, to Tracey Scott Wilson's The Good Negro, a fictional play based on actual events of the Civil Rights Movement. For the most part, Liesl Tommy earns praise for her direction, keeping the intertwined story lines easy to follow, with help from Clint Ramos's sets and Lap Chi Chu's lighting. The cast is lauded all around, with John Simon going so far as to list all their names. A few critics complain about the length, but most don't mind the almost three-hour running time.

Nytheatre.com A+
(Martin Denton) The Public Theater's production, helmed with extraordinary skill by Liesl Tommy, is superlative in every department. The spare design by Clint Ramos on the deep stage of LuEsther Hall makes the pace lightning-quick and the transitions thrillingly cinematic. The ensemble is outstanding, with particular kudos due Curtis McClarin as James, J. Bernard Calloway as Henry, and Francois Battiste as Pelzie, who create characters who are all larger than life and achingly human. Quincy Dunn Baker and Brian Wallace make the two G-men as complex as they should be, while Erik Jensen gets the poisoned nature of Rowe exactly right. Rounding out the company are Joneice Abbott-Pratt (Claudette), LeRoy McClain (Rutherford), and Rachel Nicks (Corinne). Something deep in Wilson's play, beyond its account of the early days of the Civil Rights movement, sets it apart to make it resonant in 2009. James is a flawed, very human man, despite his immense and unwavering vision and commitment. The more we relish how much we know about our leaders these days, the more we seem ready to pick them apart. Perhaps we should not.

Associated Press A
(Michael Kuchwara) Events, personal and public, are covered with increasing rapidity, but Wilson does not allow the fast pace or polemics to overwhelm the people on stage. Aided by a superb ensemble of actors and some lively, often intense dialogue, the playwright manages to create a parade of credible characters. Lawrence, portrayed with suitable intensity by Curtis McClarin, works with two other organizers (played by J. Bernard Calloway and LeRoy McClain), one folksy, the other more urbane. These men are studies in contrast, reflecting the diversity of the people who fought the battle for civil rights.

That Sounds Cool A
(Aaron Riccio) At one point, twin sermons from Rowe and Lawrence overlap, joining on the line "Help us my friends"; their passions are identical, their audiences just happen to be different. This effect is enhanced by Liesl Tommy's expert direction--though these scenes are miles apart in content, they share the same plain wooden stage, the same chairs and tables. Scenes don't end, they just shift focus, as when Lawrence suddenly fades out, his presence overshadowed by the FBI's arrival, his voice replaced by the tape they've made of him. Additionally, thanks to quick lights from Lap Chi Chu and an excellent sound design from Daniel Baker, the audience often becomes the audience-within-a-play (i.e., the congregation), amens, murmurs, and all. While there is a degree of stage magic, there are no tricks going on--in fact, if anything, the lack of walls on Clint Ramos's set hints at the fact that we are meant to see everything.

Backstage A
(Andy Propst) There's almost a Shakespearean quality to Tracey Scott Wilson's The Good Negro, an examination of behind-the-scenes events during the civil rights movement in Alabama circa 1963. Wilson never mentions historical figures by name in this riveting, emotionally devastating play, opting instead to use archetypes of famous people and situations to paint a portrait of great yet flawed individuals caught up in world-changing events.

Talkin' Broadway A
(Matthew Murray) Wilson’s willingness to show her characters’ private flaws and disagreements as well as their unscratched public personas goes a long way to making her play the quickest two hours and 45 minutes in town: Aside from a couple of glimpse of Lawrence’s sermons (and, in one uproariously stiff case, Rutherford’s), there’s no preaching and there’s no excusing what they say or do. Worthwhile causes are achieved, she argues, in spite of humanity - and never in the absence of it. As a result, The Good Negro is never less than believable, and often is very close to profound.

Bloomberg News A
(John Simon) Liesl Tommy has directed the opaque drama as transparently as possible, and Clint Ramos’s simple scenery and costumes enhance the authenticity, as does Lap Chi Chu’s imaginative lighting. The cast is uniformly effective, and I can do no more than respectfully list their names: Curtis McClarin (James), Joniece Abbott-Pratt, Erik Jensen, Brian Wallace, Quincy Dunn- Baker, LeRoy McClain (Bill), J. Bernard Calloway (Henry), Rachel Nicks and Francois Battiste. The 165-minute play (including an intermission) abounds in moments of raucous humor, as well as passages of moving affection and friendship. Despite all the turbulence, setbacks, human frailty and shedding of innocent blood, the right does come out on top. And it leaves us with a fascinating quandary. Just who among these people is the eponymous Good Negro? Is it this one or that? Is it all or none, or is it a nonsensical term? Black or white, we are all, in various proportions, black-and-white, and none of us are pure and good.


Theater News Online A-
(Matt Windman) At nearly three hours, Wilson's play, which is occasionally marred by repetitive and expositional dialogue, would benefit from some cutting here and there. Nevertheless, it is currently receiving a gripping, gorgeously acted production from director Liesl Tommy. Using an expansive hardwood floor stage with little other scenery, Tommy cinematically stages several scenes simultaneously from different corners of the stage. For instance, while civil rights leaders plot and plan, we can see Federal agents secretly listening to them via wiretaps. A program note from Oskar Eustis, Artistic Director of the Public Theater, makes a specific point of noting that in spite of the recent election of Barack Obama, Wilson has been working on this play for four years. Still, the play certainly speaks to our current economic and political situation, reminding us how even the most promising and hopeful leaders are still prone to occasional disappointments and frustrations.

CurtainUp A-
(Elyse Sommer) Both McClarin and Calloway give forceful performances, but the play's richness and dramatic impact derives from Wilson's inventiveness in creating her own vivid characters — white as well as black — to make The Good Negro a dynamic narrative... The Public Theater's intimate yet grand Lu Esther Hall echoes the play's structure of an epic viewed through the lens of individual stories. It's a setting that enables scenic designer Clint Ramos to create a large scale feeling to a simple scenic design — a lectern and a few strategically positioned tables and chairs on a deep wooden platform raised high enough but not too high for the actors to enter and exit at either side and to create a sense of the audience being not just onlookers but participants in the unfolding struggle for equal rights. Director Liesl Tommy's makes good use of this large but sparely furnished set to cross-cut between the three-way plot, letting the action shift fluidly from talk about an event to showing it actually happening.

The Daily News A-
(Joe Dziemianowicz) Director Liesl Tommy guides her nine actors to strong performances. One of the great things about her staging is the way she places actors in scenes they’re not part of and, conversely, has characters talking to a person who’s nowhere to be found until the conversation is underway. It’s effective in that it boosts both tension and underscores a sense of isolation the characters are feeling. If there’s a shortfall to be found in the production, it’s that, at nearly three hours, it could benefit from judicious trimming.

Variety A-
(Sam Thielman) A large part of the dazzle is surprise: Wilson's lines are so speakable and easygoing they never betray a deeper meaning until the author wants them to, giving familiar material a new lease on life. Will segregation end? Will the charismatic, flawed Rev. Jimmy Lawrence (an astonishing Curtis McClarin) lead oppressed black Alabamians to equality and freedom? It probably sounds credulous, but we just don't know. In what must have been a Herculean effort, given the topic, Wilson also resists the urge to pontificate or moralize. Instead, "The Good Negro" is history as conversation, and that much more interesting.

The New York Times B+
(Charles Isherwood) Despite the fictional specifics, “The Good Negro” is fundamentally a dramatized chapter of history. The play will bring no fresh revelations or powerful insights for those well versed in this period, whether through the more forthright recent books about King and his cause or through the documentary “Eyes on the Prize.” Tossed into virtually every scene are handfuls of exposition about the mechanics of the movement, the more ham-fisted bits being proffered by the two F.B.I. agents listening in on meetings between Lawrence and his allies. (The subplot involving the agents’ recruitment of a local yokel to infiltrate the Ku Klux Klan is among the less compelling aspects of the play.) But if “The Good Negro” suffers from the flaws endemic in straight-up documentary theater, they are mostly disguised by vibrant performances and a crisply paced production directed by Liesl Tommy. And the internecine squabbles within the movement will engross those with no deep grounding in the history, illuminating how numerous were the forces working against success, both from within and without.

Time Out New York B
(Adam Feldman) Wilson gives Lawrence a measure of complexity—ironically, he feels least different from white men when he's womanizing, the very activity for which some would tar him for conforming to racist stereotype—but his image-consciousness inevitably leaves him a little flat. Supporting characters and performances emerge more vividly: Erik Jensen as a pathetic KKK informant, Joniece Abbott-Pratt as a victim of police brutality, Francois Battiste as her mistrustful husband, and the wonderful J. Bernard Calloway as Lawrence's big, bluff, babyish right-hand man. In a play about the dangers of thinking in black and white, they lend valuable color.

Village Voice B-
(Michael Feingold) Tracey Scott Wilson's The Good Negro (Public Theater) is an impressive, painfully uneven, but infallibly moving attempt to convey, within a limited scope, not only the basic outline of Birmingham's civil rights struggle, but the flaws and contradictions running through the forces that fought it. Herself struggling with these vast historical materials, Wilson manages, though just barely, to keep her work on track. Beating back floods of complex detail, she inevitably stumbles, at times, into inconsistency or overwriting on one side and risky oversimplifications on the other. That she succeeds even to a modest and partial extent is an achievement: Our theater has no working convention for historical drama, and one can't expect to grow Shakespeares overnight.

Hartford Courant C
(Malcolm Johnson) The scenes shift freely under the brisk but sometimes wearying direction of Tommy. Wilson's fictional treatment lacks the immediacy of the era. Curtis McClarin gives a potent, charismatic performance as Lawrence, and LeRoy McClain brims with humor and sophistication as his colleague, Rutherford, who has flown in from Europe. Rounding out the triumvirate is J. Bernard Calloway as the worried Evans... Wilson's play is uneven and seems to meander at first. The first act needs tightening. But there is no denying the force of the second act, when the FBI strives to destroy James, and when those hot lights illuminate just how dangerous Alabama was in the heyday of the movement.

Lighting and Sound America C-
(David Barbour) There's plenty of gripping material here, and, scene by scene, The Good Negro gives you plenty to think about. But Nelson hasn't totally mastered the task of telling her story. She's so conscientious about giving everybody equal time -- allowing them to state and restate their views -- that the action turns sluggish and talky. This is especially a problem in the second act, in which the action turns violently melodramatic, while maintaining the same poky pace. The final scenes are seriously lacking in any kind of dramatic build. The production's design and direction are not always helpful, either. Clint Ramos' set is basically a long, upstage-downstage deck, with a few pieces of furniture. It's a good clean environment for script like this, which breaks down into dozens of short scenes -- and Lap Chi Chu's lighting expertly takes us from one location to the next. But the set's absence of walls leaves us prey to the less-than-ideal acoustics of LuEsther Hall; you have to listen intently to take in all that talk. Also, Liesl Tommy, the director, makes full use of the set, often pushing scenes far upstage when they would be more effective if played closer to the audience... The production has other plus factors as well, including Ramos' spot-on costumes, especially the men's tailoring, and Daniel Beaker's sound effects, including some unsettling riot sequences and the aural collages that open each act.

New York Post C-
(Frank Scheck) Some of the writing is very effective, such as when Lawrence's long-suffering wife (Rachel Nicks) confronts him with the evidence of his infidelity, or when he frankly admits to the self-doubts and fear that haunt him. But despite the generally fine performance and Liesl Tommy's effectively minimalist staging, the impact of the play is undercut by its fictions. History this important is too vital to be cherry-picked.

Theatermania D+ 5
(Dan Bacalzo) Liesl Tommy directs the action fluidly on Clint Ramos' minimalist set, with assistance from lighting designer Lap Chi Chu, who helps to make the transitions to different locales easy to follow. Unfortunately, Tommy has achieved more uneven results with her actors. McClarin lacks the charisma and dynamism that would make it believable that he could inspire so many. On the other hand, Calloway has presence to spare and McClain scores some laughs with a performance that is perhaps a little too mannered but still engaging. Good work is also done by Battiste, Abbott-Pratt, and Nicks who give dimension to their roles. The Caucasian characters portrayed by Jensen, Dunn-Baker, and Wallace register more as flat types, although admittedly the writing is partly to blame for this. Wilson attempts to make her play both epic in its wide view of the larger situation, and intimate in its concentration on the personal lives of some of the main players. Sadly, it succeeds at neither.

The New Yorker D
(Hilton Als) As directed by Liesl Tommy, the play’s various plots and subplots move along with a kind of cinematic ease (though they are sometimes bogged down by Wilson’s dialogue, which is used more often to make a point than to reveal the inner lives of characters)... “The Good Negro” has no protagonists or antagonists, because it’s not about people; it’s about race as an empty trope that uncritical theatergoers can fill with their own pat expectations concerning black and white, men and women, history and the present.

Nytheatre.com A+ 14; Associated Press A 13; That Sounds Cool A 13; Backstage A 13; Talkin' Broadway A 13; Bloomberg News A 13; Theater News Online A- 12; CurtainUp A- 12; The Daily News A- 12; Variety A- 12; New York Times B+ 11; TONY B 10; Village Voice B- 9; Hartford Courant C 6; Lighting and Sound America C- 6; New York Post C- 6; Theatermania D+ 5; The New Yorker D 4; TOTAL: 184/18 = 10.22 (B)

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