What Once We Felt

GRADE: C/C-

By Ann Marie Healy. Directed by Ken Rus Schmoll. The Duke on 42nd St. (CLOSED)

Grades for Ann Marie Healy's tale about the publication of the last print novel set in an all-female future run from A to F-. Depending on who you ask, the play is either a scary warning effectively directed by Ken Rus Schmoll or a series of confusing plot points. John Simon's 0-star review is surprisingly inoffensive, though he incorrectly refers to the "Tradepack" characters as "Traypacks."

That Sounds Cool A
(Aaron Riccio) That’s why Macy—who has written a book about a woman who just happens to be a Tradepack—has such trouble getting published: who can understand, let alone “believe” in something as “complicated” as that? Except, it’s not complicated, and that’s what Healy communicates so well, using What One We Felt as a case-in-point, at least for those who are willing to listen. This dystopia is a warning: not everything can be reduced to cold logic and mathematical reason. This is shown best by Benita and Yarrow (Hawley and Parker), who, because of a computer bug, wound up with an “error” instead of the baby they’d carefully selected from online simulations. And yet, Benita falls for it completely: “Maybe we don’t [have choices],” she says. “Maybe we think we do but an Error / Is some amazing lesson / Some amazing possibility / For something / Unforeseen / Something / Beautifully / I don’t know.”

Associated Press A
(Jennifer Farrar) Healy's witty, double-edged dialogue is laced with publishing industry humor as well as oblique references to disintegrating societal humanity. Parallel plotlines show the desperation of Keepers and Tradepacks alike regarding the baby allocation, while Tradepacks seem to be rapidly disappearing in a government -sponsored process called "the Transition." Eerie sound design by Leah Gelpe and lighting by Japhy Weideman complement the elegant simplicity of Kris Stone's smoothly functional set.

Newsroom New Jersey A-
(Michael Sommers) Here's a classy blind date for you: How about risking a night with a playwright you don't know? Now in its second season, Lincoln Center Theater's LCT3 series presents smartly-staged premieres of new works by new writers. Tickets go for only $20. A theater is projected for LCT3's future but in the meantime, the series is being staged very nicely at the 200-seat Duke on 42nd Street. That's where a promising playwright, Ann Marie Healy, offers a scary glimpse into a dark near-future in "What Once We Felt." Healy's sci-fi vision is hazy but chilling. If her open-ended tale seems to ebb away rather than satisfy with a resolution, my taste for bolder punctuation here simply may be a guy thing.

Time Out New York A-
(David Cote) If you have any interest in sci-fi or speculative fiction, all this (in a play!) should tantalize you. Healy lines up a series of provocative concepts and sends them spinning in heightened, comic language. It’s true, What Once We Felt isn’t an entirely successful fusion of sci-fi and literary comedy; a subplot about a couple who aren’t sure if they’ve downloaded a Keeper or a Tradepack lacks emotional resonance. And a recurring narrator, the last surviving Tradepack from the future, feels slightly tacked on. However, Healy has two big assets: an unfettered imagination and a gift for cultivating ambiguity and menace.

Variety B-
(Sam Thielman) If you think print is dying now, wait 'till you get a load of Ann Marie Healy's "What Once We Felt," a new play about the trials of the World's Last Print Novelist as she struggles for artistic integrity against know-nothing publishers and politicizing editors. Healy's parallel universe doesn't hold together terribly well and depends heavily on concepts that are christened and fleshed out badly, so it's up to helmer Ken Rus Schmoll to supply coherence and highlight the all-pro cast's delivery of Healy's sparkling dialogue, which he does beautifully... Interestingly, Schmoll gives the production some great quirks that make the problems with inequality ring truer. Once, for example, when we shift scenes from a swanky dinner to a slum home, Schmoll and lighting designer Japhy Weideman dim the lights, but the diners go on eating in the dark, over the much poorer character's scene.

TheaterMania C-
(Barbara & Scott Siegel) One can readily understand the raw appeal of Ann Marie Healy's new play, What Once We Felt, now at The Duke on 42nd Street as part of Lincoln Center's LCT3 series. After all, her story is jam-packed with lots of eye-catching concepts, themes, and plots, and plays into our society's current interest in science-fiction. Unfortunately, there is so much happening that the play very quickly whirls out of control, and director Ken Rus Schmoll does very little to help keep it in focus.

The Village Voice D+
(Michael Feingold) As in her earlier work, produced by 13P last year, Healy shows promise and daring. Unhappily, she also shows glaring novice faults, like leaning too heavily on familiar models and grinding her dialogue into a rhythm-less, repetitive stasis, which Ken Rus Schmoll stages at a painfully plodding pace. A good cast works hard, but only Ellen Parker and Marsha Stephanie Blake manage, briefly, to get past the obstacles.

The New York Times D
(Charles Isherwood) It may seem tedious to dwell so insistently on the mechanics of Ms. Healy’s plot, but “What Once We Felt” really does not offer much else to dwell on. Macy’s book is described as a work of “biting satire and dystopian leanings,” a blurb that could as easily be used to plug Ms. Healy’s play, which aims for the kind of territory covered more cogently by the British playwright Caryl Churchill in “Far Away” and “A Number.” But Ms. Healy spends so much time setting out the parameters of her particular dystopia that incidental matters like the creation of substantial characters, a consistent story and a philosophical argument get lost in the ominous murk.

On Off Broadway D-
(Matt Windman) Healy deserves credit for building an unusual premise with an ambitious amount of storytelling, but the play itself falls under its heavy weight and fails to recover. It would certainly help if audience members had a glossary that explained the Healy's vocabulary. Ken Rus Schmoll's shadowy, intimate production feels too slow and stale to make this alternative world feel threatening instead of just bizarre. The cast works hard to imbue their characters with emotion and urgency, but they often seem at sea and at odds with each other.

Backstage F
(Adam R. Perlman) Healy's only bit of creativity is her recombination of recycled semiotics, but this just turns out to be subtraction by addition. The allegory here is blunted with ponderous babble meant to pass for profundity. All of Healy's themes—genocide, worker oppression, eugenics, media manipulation—have been worked over by sci-fi writers for decades. At this point, they've been worked over by the mainstream media too. Rarely has a vision of the future been quite so dated. I have no doubt that what once we felt by the mere invocation of these themes was some sort of awe, but eliciting such feelings today requires wit, humanity, and at least a flash of insight.

The New Yorker F
(Unsigned) The audience is left to guess how things got to be the way they are, the effect of which is more frustrating than tantalizing, which seems to be Healy’s (misguided) aim. Her own fascination with language eclipses the drama, and the shaky cast, directed by Ken Rus Schmoll, seems more concerned with the delivery of jokes than with putting across the story.

Talkin' Broadway F-
(Matthew Murray) The idea is a simple and fantastic one that comes closer to reality every day. Somewhere in the misty, digital-overrun future, a youngish author named Macy O. Blonsky (Mia Barron) has written what will be the last novel ever published in print. Your mind is soaring, right? You're picturing Macy fretting endlessly about the historic responsibility she must shoulder, stirring scenes and speeches about the old ways dying forever, the overriding sense that tomorrow has finally arrived - for better or worse. You may wonder how such a story could not be about the people who create and are affected by art. That, alas, is not even close to what Healy has written. Instead, she's made everything and everyone a symbol, given them all oh-so-cute names, and flooded the proceedings with such suffocating ambiguity that she's never able to convince you even for a second that she's aware - or interested in - what it all specifically means.

Bloomberg News F-
(John Simon) The play is written in free verse full of maniacal repetitions, presumably deemed poetic by the author. Further innovation has characters gesticulating in lieu of countless spoken lines. So the text reads, “You don’t seem fully,” followed by a vague gesture connoting “with it,” or “Considering the fact that,” followed by a vague gesture that is supposed to indicate “it’s all right in front of me.” Pity the poor actors trying to create movements for such things, with little help from the director, Ken Rus Schmoll. Even the best actors could do little for this overlong, underwhelming play. The ones we get are rather far from the best, three of them further burdened by having to play multiple roles. As Macy, Mia Barron is distinguished mostly by charmlessness. Ellen Parker does manage to make something of Astrid, Macy’s overbearing agent, in one of her two parts.

That Sounds Cool A 13; AP A 13; Newsroom New Jersey A- 12; TONY A- 12; Variety B- 9; TheaterMania C- 6; The Village Voice D+ 5; The New York Times D 4; On Off Broadway D- 3; Backstage F 1; The New Yorker F 1; Talkin' Broadway F- 0; Bloomberg News F- 0; TOTAL: 79/13 = 6.08 (C-)

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Hamlet

GRADE: B-

By William Shakespeare. Directed by David Esbjornson. The Duke on 42nd Street. (CLOSED)

Most critics agree that the success of a production of Hamlet depends in large part on the actor playing the role, but what they can't agree on is whether or not Christian Camargo is up to the task. In his New York Times review, Charles Isherwood calls Camargo's portrayal "virtually perfect." Most critics think he is talented, but still has a way to go when it comes to some of the more reflective moments in the play. Director David Esbjornson's choices also get mixed reviews, such as his splicing together the first two scenes.

The New York Times A-
(Charles Isherwood) The strengths of Mr. Camargo’s portrayal begin with his fluid, natural handling of the language. The almost offhand lucidity with which he speaks the role establishes an instant intimacy with the audience that is sustained throughout the play. Whether he is probing the sore spots in his mind in soliloquy or putting on a frenzied mockery of madness, Mr. Camargo’s Hamlet is powerfully, painfully transparent, so that we seem to be thinking his thoughts alongside him, or reading an open book with increasing respect, sympathy and understanding. The variety of Hamlet’s mind — its ability to encompass impulses both dark and light, a hunger for oblivion but also a lively appreciation for humor, friendship and love — is brought home with a fresh-feeling sharpness because Mr. Camargo’s Hamlet is fully present in every moment of the play, as much in his joyful encounter with the Players or in his easy rapport with Horatio as when he is lacerating himself for his inability to act. As each facet of his personality is etched with clarity, the image of an individual man taking shape before us also becomes a portrait of human consciousness itself, in all its complexity, its inward anguish and its beauty.

Back Stage A-
(Ron Cohen) Director David Esbjornson's handling of his 15 actors and his fluid staging realize much of the play's poetic sweep and narrative complexities, making artful use of the compact open thrust of Antje Ellerman's set design. Even with judicious cuts to the text, the show, including two intermissions, runs nearly three and a half hours, but it moves forward at a steady clip. Christian Camargo brings intelligence and passion to the title role and infuses the soliloquies with luminous clarity. It's painful to pick at such a monumental performance, but at times it comes across as a bit calculated. Lacking is some of the spontaneity that can resolve the mercurial contradictions in Hamlet's behavior as the troubled prince, charged with revenging his father's murder, does battle with his conscience, his soul, and the world around him.

CurtainUp A-
(Elyse Sommer) Even at a hefty three hours and fifteen minutes, some cuts and downsizing of plot elements are inevitable, but Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (Craig Pattison and Richard Topol) and all the much quoted verbal gems made the cut. Best of all, there's no loss of the intimate connection between actors and audience that comes with the large houses needed to accommodate superstar productions. The Duke's thrust stage has the audience close to the actors, with Hamlet even sitting right in the aisle as if part of the audience to watch the play-within-the-play also known as the mousetrap scene. What about this Hamlet? Christian Carmago is at times somewhat distant, with a tendency to be more outraged than melancholy and indecisive. Director David Esbjornson not only moved his "to be or not to be" soliloquy to resume the play after the first intermission but has Carmago interrupt himself and replay it — an amusing filip which somewhat offsets the fact that these don't seem to be the words uttered by a man contemplating suicide. Generally speaking, no complaints about the clarity of Carmago's line delivery. Unlike older more mature actors for whom this role is a career milestone, having young actors to play Hamlet, Horatio (Tom Hammond), Laertes (Graham Hamilton), and the very briefly appearing Fortinbras (Sean Haberle), make this very much a young man's play about sons dealing with the loss of a father.

The New Yorker B+
(Unsigned) David Esbjornson’s stylish production—Gertrude looks as if she’s headed to a catwalk—uses a sleek black-and-white palette, reminiscent of an expensive chess set. Is it too sleek? Perhaps it might be, were the actors not so fluid with the verse.

Associated Press B
(Jennifer Farrar) David Esbjornson's direction conveys the subtle human flaws, passion and inconsistencies in all the characters, though some seem overly restrained. King Claudius (Casey Biggs) is almost a figurehead, only coming to life late in the play with his repentance speech. Hamlet's mother, Queen Gertrude, played as an icy socialite by Alyssa Bresnahan, finally defrosts when confronted by her son in the bedroom scene. Camargo gives way to occasional ranting that livens up the production. He seems overly forceful, rather than rueful, in the "get thee to a nunnery" speech, shouting violently at his former girlfriend, Ophelia (a sensitive portrayal by Jennifer Ikeda.) But for the most part, Camargo gives Hamlet undeniable weight and depth.

Nytheatre.com B
(Alyssa Simon) In the playbill for Theatre For A New Audience's Hamlet, Jeffrey Horowitz, the artistic director and founder, states that their 2008-09 season is called HEAVYWEIGHTS (with all caps intended) because the plays, by Shakespeare, Dostoyevsky, and Edward Bond, "explore power, marriage and family, good and evil, and God and humanity. They are as immediate as today's headlines." David Esbjornson, Hamlet's director, stays true to this intent. For example, he incorporates Arthurian legend to explore honor and familial duty and uses interesting text cuts to comment on current events. While big themes and contemporary issues are explored in powerful and fascinating ways, what is missing is a more personal story. I believe, however, with such a strong cast, they will find their own way into the text as the run progresses.

Village Voice B
(Alexis Soloski) In the role of the Danish prince, Esbjornson has cast Christian Camargo, a strong and lean ectomorph. Indeed, Camargo seemed the chief inducement for nearly a dozen giddy young women who laced the audience at a recent preview. During the intervals, they lavished praise upon his inky hair and pointed cheekbones. As for the play, well, they were sure it was very good—but, oh, those flashing eyes!

Theatermania C-
(David Finkle) For English-speaking actors, the role of Hamlet has the same effect Mount Everest exercises on mountaineers. They have to climb it because it's there. But the ascent is treacherous and not everyone gets to plant a flag at the top. Take Christian Camargo, who's assumed the part in David Esbjornson's Theatre for a New Audience production of Hamlet at the Duke on 42nd Street. He gets far up the steep incline but advances no farther, waylaid by the four famous soliloquies. And a Hamlet without a thoroughly successful Hamlet is, of course, inescapably compromised... Taking the dare on with what's often called the world's greatest play, Esbjornson is roughly as effective as Camargo -- except in one brief sequence he handles so perceptively it's tempting to give him full marks for the enterprise. Although the Bard leaves Gertrude's complicity in the older Hamlet's poisoning by Claudius open to interpretation, Esbjornson sees her as unaware and, as the play unfolds, increasingly suspicious of the man with whom she posted "with dexterity to incestuous sheets." As a result, there's a point late in the play when Claudius approaches Gertrude and she subtly recoils from him. It's a gesture that may never have been seen before and may never be seen again -- but it's a dilly.

Variety D+
(Marilyn Stasio) Antje Ellerman's minimalist set of open walls and clean-lined occasional pieces (which seem to float above the reflecting black tiles of the stage) and Elizabeth Hope Clancy's monochromatic costume palette (industrial grey, relieved by infusions of pearl grey, bridal white and biker black) suggest some cool post-modern world where objects speak in symbols (e.g., a plain silver sash draped over a business suit says: "I'm the King here"). If Esbjornson means to strip the play of its conventional trappings, it seems odd to raid Gothic traditions for Jonathan Fried's awe-inspiring Ghost, who makes one memorable appearance with a hellish demon riding on his back. (As Horatio, Tom Hammond reacts to this fearsome vision with a naturalness that is wonderfully uncool.)... There are big inconsistencies in the way Esbjornson treats his working themes of youth-versus-age, thought-versus-action, and truth-versus-vengeance. But aside from all that, it would be nice to know what to make of those wriggling worms of light that periodically appear all over everybody's faces.

Time Out New York D
(David Cote) We’ve seen too many Hamlets to be impressed by this modern-dress, abstract-minimalist approach, which offers scant thrills or insights. Christian Camargo is handsome and brooding enough for the title role, but his merely adequate readings of the great soliloquies unfold into a dramatic vacuum. Casey Biggs’s Claudius does the requisite pawing of Gertrude, Tom Hammond is yet another staunch Horatio, and Jennifer Ikeda proves that no contemporary actor can pull off Ophelia’s mad scenes. As Polonius, the venerable Alvin Epstein is darling but uninspired.

The New York Times A- 12; Back Stage A- 12; CurtainUp A- 12; The New Yorker B+ 11; Associated Press B 10; Nytheatre.com B 10; Village Voice B 10; Theatermania C- 6; Variety D+ 5; TONY D 4; TOTAL: 92/10 = 9.2 (B-)

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