Gossip Central

Mr. Saturday Night: Billy Crystal Has “IT”

I’ll have what Billy Crystal’s having--stamina. In his show, Mr. Saturday Night, the comedian/ actor/ Oscar host sings and dances with flair, if not youthful energy. Shuffle, low-key moonwalk, at least the man—now in his ‘70’s-- has moves, which makes the show’s premise very funny. With a career on the skids, his character, Buddy Young, Jr., performs at old age homes, cajoling his audience, that is all of us at the packed Nederlander Theater, with ageing jokes. Because he is adept at his act, having had a hit show at the dawn of television, his jokes land. And with his family backstory, he asks his wife Elaine (a wonderful Randy Graff), his straight man/ manager brother (fine David Paymer), his daughter (excellent Shoshana Bean) and agent (terrific Chasten Harmon): did you see what I did? Explaining his timing, his verbal and visual diversions, he teaches a master class in comedy, a side plus to this highly entertaining show.

Alert: this is not a stand-up act, which you might expect from comics coming to Broadway—think Jackie Mason. Mr. Saturday Night has a narrative, maybe it’s corny: how Buddy met Elaine in the Catskills, his fraught relationships with just about everyone. But curmudgeons are loveable anyway, and when at the 1994 Oscars, he shows up on the In Memorium reel, well, you can imagine how that mistaken death kicks off some pretty funny bits. And, there’s a backup act too: a trio of stock types (Jordan Gelber, Brian Gonzales, Mylinda Hull)—the recurring showbiz antics will be a nostalgic send-up for anyone who was watching in tv’s nascent years. It all makes for a fun night with laughs all the way.

Daniel Craig and Ruth Negga in Macbeth: Dressed to Kill

A highly experimental Scottish play bloodies the Longacre Theater on Broadway. As the audience takes seats, cooks brew in pots (cauldrons) on a set that resembles a downtown city loft. Smoke blowers create a dreamy, sinister atmosphere. One actor, Michael Patrick Thornton, takes center stage, greeting the crowd, asking them to whisper the name of the play, Macbeth, to ourselves as if to expel the superstition attached to Shakespeare’s popular tragedy. This year brought us Joel Coen’s movie, Macbeth in abstract, in black & white, and this one contrasts in its specificity, red spots everywhere. Partly that’s owing to this Lady Macbeth, a dynamite Ruth Negga with sharply defined finger waves, a tiny frame, a bullet of a personality challenging her husband’s manhood. Would anyone doubt the potency of Daniel Craig as Macbeth? He’s a happy camper at the outset and as his life becomes more and more tarnished in blood: is it just a problem of laundry or just a change of expensive pajamas?

Out out brief spot. That’s a lot of blood, spurting from a man hoisted upside down, a pig releasing juices for an odd stew. Suttirat Larlarb’s costuming makes a splash. Craig is most stained, in white t-shirt, fur coat, brocade jacket, silk loungewear with armored vest. Negga dressed in a gold gossamer tiered gown, looking like Cleopatra, never has blood on her hands, but she’s busy scrubbing the floors. Till those woods encroach, --that’s always the opportunity for Macbeth’s greatest and most innovative dramatic spectacle.

A Holocaust Symphony Premieres at Carnegie Hall

Photo:  Aylin Tekiner

The Holocaust continues to unravel secrets. During this period of remembrance, a symphony by a survivor from Salonica, Greece pays homage to his community, its creative artists, and a little-known pocket of wartime history. You know the joke: how do you get to Carnegie Hall? Way more than practice! The music took a very long and arduous route by way of Auschwitz, culminating last week in an evening featuring Renan Koen on piano and a symphony conducted by Maestro Gurer Aykal from Turkey. Entitled “Hymns from Auschwitz,” the program, sponsored by Holocaust Memorial and Tolerance Center of Nassau County, was named for a newly composed piece by Elcil Gurel Goctu (b. 1979) for hazans, pianos, and orchestra, followed by the historic work, a symphonic postwar poem, whose composer Michel Assael (1918-2006) never heard his masterpiece performed.

As a researcher, renowned pianist Renan Koen was awed by the composers of Theresienstadt: how under the murderous conditions of the camp were they able to make art? Her work led to composer Viktor Ullmann who encouraged his fellow prisoners to write music before he was deported to Auschwitz, and murdered two days later. Michel Assael survived Auschwitz by playing in the orchestra there alongside Dr. Albert Menache who later wrote a memoir BIRKENAU (Auschwitz II): How 72,000 Greek Jews Perished. It may have been that Menache and Assael were performing when Ullmann was led to the gas chambers, as reported in the memoir. The music we were hearing at Carnegie Hall was Assael’s symphonic poem (1947-1948) inspired by Dr. Menache’s memoir.

How I Learned to Drive Comes to Broadway

Ewwww! That’s not my critique of Paula Vogel’s tight memory play, How I Learned to Drive-- rather the play, now having a Broadway debut after 25 years-- is brilliant. It’s the people: the family. At center, Uncle Peck and Li’l Bit (the sublime actors David Morse and Mary-Louise Parker) who originated these roles Off Broadway. You will wonder, what took them so long to get to Broadway? And you will marvel at how prescient the play is of the present moment. And then, you will realize just how normal and natural that “ewwww” factor really was all along.

Affable and courteous, Uncle Peck held Li’l Bit in his hand as she was born, he said, and from there he’s loved her every day, from that time, and when she was eleven, and he asked to unbutton her shirt as she sat on his lap. “Only if you want,” he said. And continues to say even when he courts her with gifts and encourages her martinis. And teaches her to drive. Which becomes a structural device marking scenes but also providing a nuanced and loaded language: avoid reverse gear and idling.

The Little Prince: An Intergalactic Journey on Broadway

Aerial feats, dance, a touch of Gaul—Antoine Saint-Exupery’s The Little Prince at the Broadway Theater brings a beloved children’s classic to the stage with visual flair. Beginning as the book does with a crash landing in the desert, the show moves quickly from scene to scene as a boy in a yellow jumpsuit and yellow spiky hair from a nearby asteroid recounts his adventures to the downed aviator. Sort of a Candide meets Cirque de Soleil. 

One such encounter is with a beautiful rose (Laurisse Sulty), another with a wily fox (Dylan Barone), all of whom impart some wisdom to the boy (Lionel Zalachas). Chris Mouron, writer and co-director with the show’s choreographer Anne Tournie, does a fine job narrating these events. In green hair and tweetle-dum suit, she speaks with a heavy French accent, the story translated to English on both sides of the stage. My companion, 7-year-old Max Herman was grateful to be able to read her words, but was far more dazzled by a dancer with a toilet plunger, loving the spectacle—and proclaiming this part his favorite.

Ben Foster in The Survivor: The Camps Never Leave You

HBO launches its movie, The Survivor, with a lavish premiere just in time for Holocaust Remembrance Day. Barry Levinson’s latest stars Ben Foster as boxer Harry Haft, Auschwitz survivor and refugee. 

As Auschwitz stories go, Harry Haft’s exceeds the norm. Grasping his world in the camps and beyond in Brooklyn, Ben Foster, in the performance of the year, gets Haft --as boxer and as nightmare-ridden refugee-- in Barry Levinson’s adaptation of son Alan Haft’s book, The Survivor. Told in two-time frames, The Survivor pares down Haft’s experience: the Holocaust period in black & white when he is made to entertain the Nazis using his skill as a boxer. Nazi officer Dietrich Schneider puts him in the ring fighting fellow prisoners to their death. If you thought Billy Magnussen was “bad” in the recent James Bond movie, here he brings his super-bad game, “owning Haft,” as it were. In color, survivor Haft fights in the rings of Coney Island, fighting even Rocky Marciano, with one goal shaping his American existence. That is, to find Leah (Dar Zuzovsky), his love from before the war.

Picture Raging Bull meets The Pawnbroker. Imagine the violence, the searing impression of the blood oozing out of the fighters—with Haft so gaunt, so spent, you cannot even think of his having body fluids in his vividly depicted post-war visions, triggered even on his honeymoon when he marries Miriam, Vicky Krieps in a tender role. They go on as survivors do, having three kids, managing the past as best they can—singing “God Bless America” in Yiddish.

Clive Davis at 90

“The thing about turning 90,” quipped music impresario Clive Davis, “is I realized, last year I was 89.” The occasion was a birthday dinner at The River Café that was also a celebration of the Clive Davis Institute at New York University, an educational venue that also features studios where young artists can record their work. The pre-dinner opening of an exhibition of Davis’ archive showed off his gold and platinum records and a wall of artists Davis represented at Columbia, later Arista, J Records, and SONY: Bob Dylan, Aretha Franklin, Whitney Houston, Patti Smith, Bruce Springsteen, Simon & Garfunkel, Barry Manilow, and so many more in Davis’ stellar career spanning six decades. Famously, Davis signed Janis Joplin after hearing her perform at Monterey back in the day. In one vitrine with personal correspondence a visitor can see invitations to concerts, such as one, to a supper at Davis’ home for Joplin following a performance at Madison Square Garden. Clive Davis has an ear. Has---he is still going strong.

 

Oscars So Real in 2022: No Offense Intended

Despite a contretemps at the Oscars—a slap seen round the world—the ceremony and awards proceeded as expected, apace, with favorites winning all around. When Will Smith accepted his Best Actor award, he tearfully mentioned defending family, as his character Richard Williams did coaching his daughters Venus and Serena to top tennis honors. Of course, Smith had just hit Chris Rock for a dumb, inconsiderate joke about his wife Jada Pinkett Smith, mumbled while Smith’s expletives were bleeped out. The morning after, many are thinking his tearful Oscar acceptance speech is not sufficient to brush aside his behavior. 

Last year’s Best Actor, Anthony Hopkins, present this year after missing the 2021 Academy Awards; so sure he would not win, he stayed home in Wales. Smith was the favorite for his prize as were the best supporting actors, Ariana DeBose and Troy Kotsur. Jessica Chastain, awarded for Best Actress for her role as televangelist Tammy Faye spoke about being seen. The Oscars –spreading the love-- made sure many were both seen and heard. CODA –the smaller film that could—about a young hearing woman coming into her own in a deaf family--took top honors.

MJ: The Musical: The Art of Michael Jackson

If you love Michael Jackson, you will love MJ—it’s that simple. The musical limns the controversial performer’s rise to “King of Pop,” avoiding the more difficult challenges of his personality in favor of music and dance—it’s that simple. Not that the star’s dependence on pain killers is not a significant plot issue—it’s that plot is not really significant. You do hear the word accusers—once—but that particular untoward issue is not a part of Lynn Nottage’s book either. If you are of the mind that he should be cancelled, shove it. MJ is not about that, but about his art. 

Taking place in a rehearsal studio in 1992 Los Angeles, --along with an ensemble of talented singers and dancers—Michael Jackson is rehearsing for his “Dangerous” tour. A film crew follows him around, hoping to get more of his personal side in an interview. Everyone’s concern for his demons is out front, getting at his opioid consumption and how that’s wrecking the schedule, not to mention the budget—but wisely, the music and dance, everything you know and love, shapes the origin myth, with first-rate staging, and Christopher Wheeldon’s brilliant choreography and direction.

Lady Gaga’s Passion at the New York Film Critics Circle Dinner at Tao

Brought to tears in telling the tale of her immigrant ancestry, Lady Gaga thanked the New York Film Critics Circle for recognizing her for Best Actress for her performance in House of Gucci. Big on heart, she was grateful to everyone from director Ridley Scott to her hairdresser and makeup artist, but mainly, she cited her matrilineage of strong Italian women who taught her to be bold and fearless, in a family that featured lots of shouting. Sorry, mom, she shouted out to her platinum haired mother seated at her table at Tao, the meatpacking Asian-themed restaurant and longtime venue for this annual—except for the Covid years--event. 

She was not the only awardee crying with emotion. Jane Campion, the NYFCC’s pick for Best Director, her citation given by Martin Scorsese, spoke of an early turn around in her career when the movie Sweetie, which many critics did not like, got a second wind after the New York Times critic Vincent Canby wrote favorably about it and changed the “trajectory of my career.” Back in the day, Susan Sontag took her to tea. Nothing if not edgy, Campion’s Power of the Dog is frontrunner for the Best Picture Oscar, but Drive My Car, from Japan, got that honor with the New York critics.