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ELEVATOR REPAIR SERVICE: SEAGULL

Elevator Repair Service puts its unique spin on Anton Chekhov’s The Seagull (photo by Ian Douglas)

SEAGULL
NYU Skirball Center for the Performing Arts
566 La Guardia Pl. between Third & Fourth Sts.
Through July 31, $50-$60 (use code FB25 for $25 tickets)
212-945-2600
nyuskirball.org
www.elevator.org

I’m beginning to think I might never see another traditional production of Anton Chekhov’s 1895–96 classic, The Seagull. Perhaps more than any other playwright, Chekhov’s works almost demand reinvention for the stage in the twenty-first century. His tragicomic take on human relationships and society’s ills invite modern, often extensive reinterpretation and experimentation.

As often as Shakespeare’s plays are reimagined, they almost always still contain the Bard’s original dialogue; it’s the staging that changes. The same is not necessarily true about Chekhov, as evidenced by such recent successes as Arlekin Players Theatre’s hybrid The Orchard (The Cherry Orchard), Aaron Posner’s Life Sucks. (Uncle Vanya), and Halley Feiffer’s Moscow Moscow Moscow Moscow Moscow Moscow (Three Sisters).

As far as The Seagull goes, over the last ten years I’ve seen Posner’s Stupid Fucking Bird at the Pearl in 2016, a deliriously chaotic yet controlled rave-up sticking to the main plot but told with an intoxicating irreverence; Jeffrey Hatcher’s Ten Chimneys, at St. Clement’s in 2012, which goes behind the scenes of an upcoming Broadway revival of The Seagull starring Alfred Lunt and Lynne Fontanne; and Christopher Durang’s Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike, a delightful all-star mashup of The Seagull, Three Sisters, and Uncle Vanya that ran on and off Broadway in 2013.

Elevator Repair Service, the downtown company whose literary adaptations include William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury, Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure, James Joyce’s Ulysses, and F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby — the much-admired eight-hour Gatz — now turns its unusual techniques on Chekhov with Seagull, continuing at NYU Skirball through July 31. Nearly three hours with one intermission, the play self-referentially refers to itself regularly, with actors occasionally speaking to the audience as themselves, not as their characters. It begins with a long monologue by company member Pete Simpson, who talks about the Skirball space itself. “One of these two corkscrew, fluted, gold leaf columns is structural and holds up the building above us. The other is hollow, insubstantial, and does nothing but sit there and look pretty in an attempt to make things look symmetrical.”

When he said that under each chair are three flags, a red one that “will tell us you feel physically threatened or uncomfortable,” a checkered one to use if you just “wanna talk,” and a third to order food, I saw the woman sitting across the aisle from me reach below her seat to see if the flags were really there. (They’re not.) But it signals that this production is going to veer wildly between the real and the imagined, although all of it turns out to be Chekhovian in one way or another, even if, as Simpson, who also plays the teacher Semyon, explains, “95% of tonight’s text both original and adapted has been written by our company’s own Gavin Price,” who portrays wannabe playwright Konstantin.

Director John Collins leaves the central plot intact: The twentysomething Konstantin has invited friends and family over to a lovely lake house to watch his latest play, to be performed by Nina (Maggie Hoffman), a nervous actress he is desperately in love with. Konstantin is hoping to prove to his mother, famous actress Irina (Kate Benson), that he has talent and a purpose in life; Irina, who chastises him regularly in front of everyone, has arrived with her new beau, well-respected and successful writer Boris Trigorin (Robert M. Johanson), who takes a liking to Nina.

Also at the presentation are Patricia (Laurena Allan), Irina’s ailing sister; farmer Ilya (Julian Fleisher), who is a big fan of Irina’s, and his wife, Paulina (Lindsay Hockaday); Masha (Susie Sokol), the farmers’ daughter who is in love with Konstantin but might be married off to Semyon; Yakov (John Gasper), who works at the lake house; and Gene (Vin Knight), a doctor who has an innate charm that lures the ladies, including Paulina.

In the middle of the play-within-a-play, Irina asks, “Is this supposed to be symbolic?” A moment later, she says, “Something smells. Is that part of the effect?” A disgusted Konstantin eventually has to stop the show because of his mother’s interruptions.

Shortly after Patricia has an asthma attack, Benson, Hoffman, and Susie have a discussion as themselves, commenting on how much they enjoyed the previous scene and what Chekhov’s play is about. The play resumes as Konstantin presents Nina with a seagull he just shot.

Masha (Susie Sokol) leads the characters in a strange game in Seagull (photo by Ian Douglas)

Following intermission, Sokol points out how long she has been with ERS, explains the set design, and expresses her disappointment that one of Masha’s key lines has been cut: “I’m in mourning for my life.” Soon various characters consider leaving the lake house, Irina insists she has no money to help anyone, and Konstantin sports a bloody bandage wrapped around his head. “You . . . Symbolist!” Irina again accuses her son. “Miser!” he replies. “You amateur!” she declares. It all goes downhill from there.

The set by dots, so ably described by Sokol, features a row of folding chairs in the front that the characters move about depending on the action. Downstage right is a table with electronic equipment, while upstage left is a cozy dinner table with pictures on the wall. The lighting is by Marika Kent, with sound by Price and Gasper and purposely mismatched costumes by Kaye Voyce, ranging from Nina’s elegant red dress to Irina’s short skirt, heels, and tights.

Collins’s direction may appear disordered as the fictional plot battles it out with the actors’ thoughts and some events happen either offstage or in the background — as when several characters sit down to eat but we can’t make out exactly what they are saying to one another, although it does turn into a terrific bingo-style dance number. But there is a method to his madness, even if it’s not necessarily always clear what he’s up to; numerous pieces of dialogue reflect back on the play we’re watching, as if ironically commenting on what is happening in Seagull at Skirball.

“It’s not easy, you know, acting in your play. There aren’t any ordinary people in it,” Nina tells Konstantin, who responds, “Ordinary people! We have to show life not the way it is, or the way it should be, but the way it is in dreams!” Nina retorts, “But nothing happens in your play! It’s all one long speech. And I think a play ought to have a love story.” Meanwhile, Collins emphasizes Chekhov’s Hamlet references, with Konstantin echoing the young prince, Irina a different kind of Gertrude, Boris representing Claudius, and Nina an embellished Ophelia.

“It was a strange play, wasn’t it?” Nina asks Boris about Konstantin’s show. Boris replies, “I’m afraid I didn’t understand a thing. But it was interesting to watch. You were wonderful. And of course, the set was magnificent!” Most people in the audience seemed to agree with that analysis of ERS’s production, although a handful walked out during the first act and others did not return after intermission; however, those who stayed, the vast majority of the crowd, gave the performers a standing ovation at the end.

Seagull is not for everyone’s taste. It is long — 173 minutes, as Simpson tells us — it is confusing, it is pedantic, and it can be self-referential to a fault, particularly as the cast passes around a microphone and cord, going in and out of character. And don’t get me started on the awful noise made when Patricia is pushed around in a chair. But it all continues founding artistic director Collins’s thirty-plus-year mission of experimenting with new theatrical forms, in original works and unique adaptations.

Hamlet asked himself, “To be or not to be.” In Seagull, Patricia answers, “Just go on living, whether you feel like it or not.” The same can be said for theater itself.

JEAN-MICHEL BASQUIAT: KING PLEASURE

Jean-Michel Basquiat, Untitled (Ernok), acrylic and oil stick on canvas mounted on tied wood supports, 1982 (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

JEAN-MICHEL BASQUIAT: KING PLEASURE
Starrett-Lehigh Building
601 West Twenty-Sixth St. between Tenth & Eleventh Aves.
Daily through January 1, $27-$65
Family Day: Saturday, August 27, $15 advance tickets for children thirteen and under
kingpleasure.basquiat.com

At this point, Jean-Michael Basquiat has been dead longer than he was alive; he died of a heroin overdose in 1988 at the untimely age of twenty-seven. Since then his life has become legend, and his legacy has ballooned to epic proportions, although he was justifiably famous even before he passed away. When one hears the Brooklyn native’s name, thoughts instantly emerge of his mentor, Andy Warhol; such films as Downtown 81 (in which he played himself) and Basquiat (in which he was portrayed by Jeffrey Wright, and David Bowie played Warhol) and the documentaries The Radiant Child and Rags to Riches; sex and drug abuse; his 1985 appearance on the cover of the New York Times magazine; blockbuster exhibitions at the Brooklyn Museum, the Whitney, and the Brant Foundation; and, of course, the enormous amounts his works sell for at auction, including an untitled 1982 painting that sold at Sotheby’s for $110.5 million in 2017 and another that went for $85 million at Phillips this past May.

His family recently decided to turn the focus on Basquiat the human being and his art, eschewing all the meta, resulting in the exhibition “King Pleasure,” curated by his sisters Lisane Basquiat and Jeanine Heriveaux and his stepmother, Nora Fitzpatrick, now extended at the Starrett-Lehigh Building in Chelsea through January 1. It’s an expensive ticket — $45 for adults, or $65 to skip the line, with pricy merch in the shop — but the show, consisting of works held by his estate and rarely displayed to the public, offers a fascinating look at who Basquiat was away from all the fame and (mis)fortune.

“The decision to curate an exhibition and write this catalogue devoted to Jean-Michel’s artwork from the family’s collection did not come easily,” Jeanine writes in the catalog. “The impetus to do this stemmed from conversations we had that his works needed to be seen and not hidden away in a warehouse. This is not meant to be a scholarly exhibition and book on Jean-Michel but a fresh perspective told from our family’s point of view. Creating the themes, choosing the works, and revisiting our childhood memories and family stories has been joyful and profoundly healing for my sister Lisane, our stepmother Nora, and me. Carefully going through what he left behind — books, hundreds of VHS movies, his collections of African sculpture, toys, and other objects, and his many sketchbooks and notes — has afforded us an even richer understanding of our brother now as adults.”

Lisane adds, “What you hold in your hands is a celebration of the life, legacy, and voice of Jean-Michel Basquiat, and I want to open it with a note of gratitude: thank you for seeing him.”

Designed by British architect Sir David Adjaye and named for a 1987 Basquiat painting inspired by jazz vocalist King Pleasure, the show features more than two hundred objects spread across twelve thousand square feet, divided into such sections as “Blue Ribbon,” “Ideal,” “Royalty,” “Those Who Dress Better Can Receive Christ,” and “Irony of Negro Policeman.” The path takes visitors through childhood and teen drawings, family photos and home movies, notebooks, a re-creation of the family dining room and living room (with video projections) and Basquiat’s Great Jones St. studio, his actual bicycle, his birth announcement, video reminiscences, and a generous amount of his paintings and drawings. Told chronologically, the story introduces us to Basquiat the person, beginning with drawings of Rocky and Bullwinkle, Gumby and Pokey, and Captain America and Dr. Radium. His combination of colorful images with hand-scribbled text was evident from an early age, transforming into more magisterial works as he started using acrylic and oil stick and incorporating what would become his trademark crown and striking faces, working on such materials as found wood, doors, canvas, and paper. Longtime Basquiat fans will not be disappointed by the breadth and quality of the art.

Untitled (Love) from 1984 features the word “LOVE” painted on an old refrigerator door covered in racing stickers. A series of 1984 paintings on wooden slotted fences and 1982 works on wood supports stand out for their bold freshness. An untitled 1982 painting centered by a red skull and a 1983–84 piece with a green-faced head surrounded by architecturally arranged writing and buildings seem to be alive. Such societal ills as incarceration, debt, corruption, inequity in housing, and police brutality occasionally show up in his work. Jailbirds depicts two policemen beating a young person with their batons.

Basquiat pays tribute to boxing legends Ezzard Charles and Sugar Ray Robinson, such art historical figures as Leonardo da Vinci, Peter Paul Rubens, and Gerard ter Borch, and, most dramatically, jazz great Charlie Parker, who gets his own room. The exhibit also includes silkscreens Warhol made of Jeanine and their parents, Gerard (who would often watch boxing with the kids on Saturday nights) and Matilde; a rare cityscape from 1981–82; and a 1977 drawing that contains only the phrase “the conveyor belt of life” in small letters, as if Basquiat already knew what he would be in for.

Personal exhibition immerses visitors into the world of Jean-Michel Basquiat (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

His re-created studio features dozens of original works, a record cover he designed, books and VHS tapes he owned, and tools he used. Items he collected (dolls, toys, masks, small sculptures from the Ivory Coast, cameras) are lined up in rows behind glass. Much of the music you hear throughout the exhibition has been compiled as a special Spotify playlist with songs by Parker, John Coltrane, George Michael, UB40, the Who, Elton John, Jimi Hendrix, and others; Basquiat himself was part of an experimental band called Gray. And yes, there are photos of Basquiat hanging out with the glitterati, but they are not as interesting as everything else. The show concludes with a pair of murals he made for the Michael Todd VIP Room at the Palladium, highlighted by the phenomenal forty-one-foot-long Nu Nile.

“Jean-Michel’s success was a double-edged sword. He felt quite a bit of pressure. He was so ahead of his time, and he was also very young,” Lisane writes in the catalog. “In spite of that success, though, he was still seen as ‘the other’ by the art world establishment; he didn’t fit in anywhere, really. Being put into a position of having to constantly correct how people saw him deeply annoyed Jean-Michel. . . . It frustrated him to defend himself against people’s prejudices, stereotypes, and assumptions. Jean-Michel was on a journey to figure out where he belonged and what he was going to do with his particular set of circumstances.” (To find out more, check out “Forum Basquiat,” a panel discussion with Lisane Basquiat, Jeanine Heriveaux, and Sir David Adjaye, moderated by Ileen Gallagher, that was held on July 10.)

His family has done him a great service with this deeply personal exhibition, which gives visitors a different kind of understanding of who Jean-Michel was and where he came from.

MR. SATURDAY NIGHT

Buddy Young Jr. (Billy Crystal) needs to prove to everyone he’s still got it in Mr. Saturday Night (photo by Matthew Murphy)

MR. SATURDAY NIGHT
Nederlander Theatre
208 West 41st St. between Seventh & Eighth Aves.
Tuesday – Sunday through September 4, $69-$179
877-250-2929
mrsaturdaynightonbroadway.com

Don’t get me started. So I’m sitting in a theater a few weeks ago, waiting for a play to begin, when I overhear the three people next to me, who are from Toronto, discussing what else they want to see while they’re in New York. “What about Mr. Saturday Night?” the oldest one asks. “Oh, I love Billy Crystal, but I’d rather see a musical,” his grown daughter says. “Who’s Billy Crystal?” her twentysomething son says, as if he could not care any less. What are they, meshugeneh?

In 1984, burgeoning superstar William Edward Crystal got his own HBO special, A Comic’s Line, in which he created Buddy Young Jr., an aging, antiquated comedian with a gruff voice and an even gruffer manner. Crystal, who played the barrier-shattering gay character Jodie Dallas on Soap from 1977 to 1981, further developed Buddy on Saturday Night Live (1985-85) and then in the 1992 film Mr. Saturday Night, which he also cowrote (with Lowell Ganz and Babaloo Mandel) and directed. By then Buddy was a fully fledged, long-out-of-date Borscht Belt has-been whose outsize ego continually results in lack of success.

Crystal, who won a Tony for his 2004 one-man autobiographical show, 700 Sundays, has now turned Mr. Saturday Night into an utterly charming and fun Broadway musical — yes, Toronto friends, a musical, with plenty of shtick — reteaming with Ganz and Mandel (Splash, Parenthood, A League of Their Own), who also worked with Crystal on the two hit City Slickers flicks and the forgettable Forget Paris. In addition, David Paymer, who won an Oscar as Buddy’s long-suffering brother and agent, Stan Yankleman, in the movie, is back in the same role onstage. For the film, Crystal, who was in his early forties at the time, had to go through nearly six hours of makeup every day to play the seventy-three-year-old comedian; for the Broadway show, which runs through September 4 at the Nederlander, Crystal, now seventy-four, requires very little makeup to play the younger Young.

A onetime television star in the 1950s, Buddy has been reduced to telling lame jokes at retirement homes to less-than-enthusiastic audiences. “So, the other day, my wife says, ‘Buddy, come upstairs and make love to me.’ So I said, ‘Make up your mind — I can’t do both.’” Met with crickets, he adds, “Hey, come on. I know you’re out there — I can hear you decomposing.”

Watching the Emmy Awards in his New York City apartment, Buddy is shocked when he sees himself highlighted at the end of the in-memoriam segment that lists all the famous people who died in the previous year. “Look! They killed me!” he tells his wife, Elaine (Randy Graff). “I’m not dead, you bastards!”

But instead of wallowing in self-pity, Buddy decides he can turn the mistake into his last chance to prove to the world what he’s got before he really dies. He sings, “No more playing brises and bar mitzvahs, / Sundays at the Szechuan buffet, / All that starts changing tomorrow when I’m on Today!” After going on the morning show, Buddy is a hot commodity again, taking meetings at the Friars Club and getting a movie offer but, as flashbacks reveal, the hardheaded comedian can’t stop getting in his own way on the road to fame and fortune.

Meanwhile, he tries to reestablish a connection with his forty-year-old daughter, Susan (Shoshana Bean), who has a history of drugs and arrests and is excited that she is up for a PR job. Buddy: “What’s it pay?” Susan: “Okay, you see?! I’m leaving.” Buddy: “That’s a normal question about a job. What does it pay?” Susan: “It pays ten cents a year, okay?! That’s what it pays. Ten cents a year!” Buddy: “Okay, that’s something. That’s ten cents more than last year.”

Buddy Young Jr. (Billy Crystal) keeps Jordan Gelber, Brian Gonzales, and everyone else laughing in hit Broadway musical (photo by Matthew Murphy)

Scott Pask’s set smoothly moves from the Youngs’ home to the Friars Club to a talk show to Young’s good old days, with costumes by Paul Tazewell and Sky Switser and video and projections by Jeff Sugg, taking us back and forth between past and present. Generously directed by Tony winner John Rando (Urinetown, On the Town), Mr. Saturday Night is great fun. Ganz, Mandel, and the endlessly irresistible Crystal — the most delightfully appealing comedian of the last fifty nears — never miss an opportunity to go for the quick laugh but without sacrificing the narrative. The show is all about Crystal; it’s unlikely to be remembered for its cast album, although three-time Tony winner Jason Robert Brown’s (Parade, The Last Five Years) music and orchestrations and Tony nominee Amanda Green’s (Hands on a Hardbody, Bring It On) lyrics are a fine match for the players.

Crystal and Paymer are not there for the singing or dancing; the more intensive numbers are left for Tony winner Graff (City of Angels, A Class Act) and Bean (Hairspray, Wicked), who are both superb. Choreographer Ellenore Scott keeps it mostly simple, not trying to give Crystal and Paymer too much tsuris. Jordan Gelber, Brian Gonzales, and Mylinda Hill excel as multiple characters, serving up, of all things, comic relief. Chasten Harmon (Hair, Les Misérables) is agent Annie Wells, who at first has no idea who Buddy Young Jr. is but is doomed to find out. I hope the same happened to the guy from Toronto. To use one of Young’s catchphrases, did you see what I did there?

Early on, Young declares, “Sure, I’m old but look, my mic hand is steady, / Still upright and I’m ready, / Do I pack away the tux and tie / and lie here growing fungus? / That’s what they want me to do!” And Crystal’s singing as much about himself as Young when he adds, “I got to hear them saying: / He’s still got it! / He’s still got it! / Balls you can’t lift with a crane.”

BETWEEN WORLDS — MOKUHANGA

“Between Worlds” explores the specialized ancient art of mokuhanga (photo courtesy Kentler International Drawing Space)

BETWEEN WORLDS — MOKUHANGA
Kentler International Drawing Space
353 Van Brunt St., Red Hook
Thursday – Sunday through July 31, free, from 12:00 – 5:00
Tour and flute performance July 24, free, 1:00
kentlergallery.org
mokuhangasisters.com

After meeting at the Mokuhanga Innovation Laboratory in Kawaguchi-ko, Japan, during shared residencies from 2017 to 2019, nine woman artists formed the Mokuhanga Sisters, a collective dedicated to the centuries-old ukiyo-e woodblock printing technique known as mokuhanga. The Mokuhanga Sisters — Katie Baldwin, Patty Hudak, Mariko Jesse, Kate MacDonagh, Yoonmi Nam, Natasha Norman, Mia O, Lucy May Schofield, and Melissa Schulenberg — are showing modern examples of the art form in the lovely exhibition “Between Worlds – Mokuhanga,” on view through July 31 at the Kentler International Drawing Space in Red Hook. In addition, each artist has invited either a teacher or a student of theirs or a community member (Matthew Willie Garcia, Hidehiko Gotou, Kyoko Hirai, Shoichi Kitamura, Terry McKenna, Brendan Reilly, Louise Rouse, Ayao Shiokawa, Chihiro Taki, Katsutoshi Yuasa) to show work as well, making it an intergenerational, multigender show.

In their curatorial statement, the Mokuhanga Sisters explain, “‘Between Worlds’ explores the technical innovations of mokuhanga and contemporary themes of identity, place, environment, and gender from artists working around the world. As a medium, mokuhanga is versatile and sustainable. Its subtle applications of color and the tactile surfaces create space for contemplation. Its connection to the past and its potential for innovation give it continued relevance for international art making in the twenty-first century.”

Katie Baldwin, Meeting Place (Garden), mokuhanga, 2021 (photo courtesy Kentler International Drawing Space)

The centerpiece of the exhibit is the more than twelve-foot-long scroll Borderless, comprising panels by eight of the Sisters. On the walls surrounding the scroll are more than four dozen individual works on paper in black-and-white and multiple colors, featuring various geometric shapes and patterns and landscapes. McKenna’s Water from Heaven and Linden Falls use the same blocks but are printed in very different hues; similarly, Yuasa’s VR Tokaido series boasts three versions of its scene of Mt. Fuji. Several artists incorporate gradations of an alluring blue, including Baldwin (Meeting Place [Garden]), Gotou (Blue Breath), Schofield (The Way You Look at Me), Norman (Woven Water), and MacDonagh (Diptych).

Circles play a prominent role in works by Hudak, Mia O, Ayao Shiokawa, and Norman. Baldwin’s Tornado Shelter (Practice Evacuation) evokes Edvard Munch’s In the Brain of Man and On the Waves of Love, a white face drawing attention in an otherwise dark outdoor scene. Yuasa’s Making your own paper, printing by hand, and seeing through the light recalls several oil paintings of woods by Paul Cezanne. Hudak’s stunning Two Trees hangs over the gallery’s inner entrance; it was inspired by W. B. Yeats’s poem “The Two Trees” (“Beloved, gaze in thine own heart, / The holy tree is growing there; / From joy the holy branches start, / And all the trembling flowers they bear”) and the forest canopy behind her home.

On July 24 at 1:00, Hudak will be leading a tour of the show, followed at 2:00 by a Japanese flute performance. Don’t miss the tour if you can help it: Hudak’s deep love for and knowledge of the form and its history, stretching back to the seventh century, were delivered with a light touch and engaging enthusiasm on the tour we went on a few weeks ago, and her information about the particular papers, inks, wood carving, and inking techniques of mokuhanga added immeasurably to our understanding and appreciation of the works. While there, be sure to check out “Focus on the Flatfiles: Between Worlds,” a cabinet of affordable prints by Annie Bissett, Takuji Hamanaka, Keiko Hara, Jennifer Mack-Watkins, Florence Neal, Yasu Shibata, and April Vollmer.

MY OLD SCHOOL

Alan Cumming stars as Scottish hoaxer Brandon Lee in My Old School

MY OLD SCHOOL (Jono McLeod, 2022)
Film Forum
209 West Houston St.
Opens Friday, July 22
212-727-8110
filmforum.org

“To rewind your life and be someone different — what would possess someone to do that?” Nicola asks at the beginning of Jono McLeod’s brilliantly eccentric hybrid documentary, My Old School.

Sam adds, “Anything’s possible here. I’m telling you, this guy is a charmer. He’s not what you think he is; he never was.”

In 1993, a new student named Brandon Lee entered prestigious Bearsden Academy in Scotland. Although he appeared to be significantly older than the rest of his classmates, some of whom initially assumed he was a teacher, he continued going to school and even starred as marine lieutenant Joseph Cable in Bearsden’s production of South Pacific. But it turned out that Brandon was not who he said he was, leading to a major scandal.

Jono McLeod uses animation flashbacks to tell strange tale in hybrid documentary

In 1995, it was announced that Scots actor Alan Cumming would portray Brandon in a movie, but it never got made. Instead, nearly thirty years later, Cumming is finally playing the man who eventually got caught pulling off a hoax of epic proportions. But Cumming doesn’t speak a word in the film; Brandon agreed to tell his story to McLeod, who was one of his Bearsden classmates, but he refused to appear on camera. So, sitting in a school desk, Cumming expertly lip syncs Brandon’s extremely strange tale of ambition, deception, and just plain weirdness.

It’s a bravura performance, reminiscent of Deirdre O’Connell’s Tony-winning role in Dana H., in which she portrayed playwright Lucas Hnath’s mother, sitting in a chair as she lip synced the story of an abduction from an interview Hnath conducted with the real Dana. Cumming, a Tony-winning stage actor himself (Cabaret, Macbeth), uses small gestures and movements and his alluring eyes to convey Brandon’s state of mind without ever getting out of his seat; George Geddes’s camera is as curious as we are, exploring his face and body in extreme close-ups as if looking for cracks in his armor.

In his debut feature film, McLeod, a former reporter and current television documentarian, uses multiple ways to share the bizarre chronicle: In addition to interviewing the main subject, McLeod speaks with more than a dozen of Brandon’s classmates, who also sit at school desks as they relate what happened from beginning to end. They do so with both humor and wonder, laughing and smiling as they describe the details of Brandon’s subterfuge; McLeod gets several teachers to go on the record as well.

McLeod presents their testimonials in playful animation (courtesy Rory Lowe), inspired by MTV’s Daria, interspersing real news reports and other archival footage, all seamlessly edited with quirky delight by Berny McGurk. Some of the cartoon characters are voiced by actors, including Clare Grogan as Mrs. Ogg, Joe McFadden as Mr. MacLeod, Juliet Cadzow as Brandon’s grandmother, Michele Gallagher as Mrs. Thomson, Camilla Kerslake as Brandon’s opera-diva mother, Gary Lamont as Mr. MacKinnon, Carly McKinnon as science teacher Miss MacKichan, Brian O’Sullivan as Mr. Gunn, Dawn Steele as Mrs. Nolan, Wam Siluka Jr. as Stefen (who lovingly admits how Brandon changed his life), and, most notably, the one and only Lulu (To Sir, with Love) as mean Mrs. Holmes. Lulu also sings the cover version of Steely Dan’s “My Old School” over the closing credits, during which McLeod pairs childhood photos of the students and teachers with their animated versions.

It’s a tour de force of storytelling, and what a story it tells. The less you know going in, the better, but regardless, it’s one hundred minutes of utter fun and amazement, particularly potent in 2022, when personal identity is at the forefront of so much discussion. My Old School opens July 22 at Film Forum; there will be Q&As with McLeod after the 7:50 screenings on Friday and Saturday night.

SEX, GRIFT, AND DEATH

A group of grifters plans a heist in Caryl Churchill’s Hot Fudge

SEX, GRIFT, AND DEATH
PTP/NYC: Potomac Theatre Project
Atlantic Stage 2
330 West Sixteenth St. between Eighth & Ninth Aves.
Tuesday – Sunday through July 31, $21.50-$31.50
ptpnyc.org

The Potomac Theatre Project (PTP/NYC) is celebrating its thirty-fifth anniversary with two programs running in repertory at Atlantic Stage 2 through the end of July. I saw “Sex, Grift, and Death,” which begins with the New York premiere of Steven Berkoff’s 1983 Lunch and continues with two short works by Caryl Churchill, 1989’s Hot Fudge and the New York premiere of 2015’s Here We Go. The other program, “Reverse Transcription,” consists of Robert Chesley’s 1989 Dog Plays and the world premiere of Jim Petosa and Jonathan Adler’s A Variant Strain, one-act plays that thematically link the AIDS crisis and the Covid-19 pandemic.

PTP/NYC presented a prerecorded virtual production of Lunch last summer, starring Bill Army as Tom and Jackie Sanders as Mary, two strangers who meet at the beach. They engage in absurdist conversation and share their thoughts directly with the audience as they explore their loneliness and contemplate hooking up. He is a salesman who sells “space, acres of nothing”; she is a married woman who can’t decide whether she minds being bothered by him. Oddly, the forty-minute play, directed by PTP/NYC cofounder Richard Romagnoli with the same cast, lacks the dramatic impact it had online. Mark Evancho’s set features a bench, a garbage can, and a lamppost in front of a screen on which video of a calm shore repeats; the projection, by Courtney Smith, is accompanied by the soft, soothing hums of the sea, courtesy sound designer Sean Doyle.

Jackie Sanders and Bill Army star as two strangers meeting at the beach in Steven Berkoff’s Lunch

“What do you want?” Tom asks. “Nothing,” Mary replies. A moment later he asks, “What were you waiting for?” She answers, “No one — I just like sitting here — alone.” Not giving up, he says, “Don’t you ever want something else?” She insists, “You’re not looking for me — you’re looking for it! Any it.” During the pandemic, we were all waiting, not necessarily sure what we wanted. One thing we did ache for was live, in-person theater; however, this live, in-person Lunch feels strained; it never quite hits its stride, lacking the passion and humor of the virtual edition.

However, things get much better after intermission with a compelling pair of Churchill works, beginning with Hot Fudge. The four-part play follows Ruby (Tara Giordano) as she gathers with friends and lovers (and others) during one long, wild night. First she joins Matt (Gibson Grimm), Sonia (Molly Dorion), Charlie (Chris Marshall), and June (Danielle Skraastad) at 7:00 at a pub, where they are planning a unique series of robberies. “You have to be quite brave to lie so much,” Ruby says at one point, a line that is central to the narrative.

Two hours later Ruby is at a winebar with her stylish new boyfriend, Colin (David Barlow), who appears to be some kind of international businessman, while Ruby has untruthfully told him that she owns a travel agency. Ruby and Colin continue the partying at a club at 11:00 with Hugh (Marshall), Grace (Wynn McClenahan), and Jerry (Teddy Best), where they discuss connections, global industry, ecology, and tennis. The play concludes at 1:00 at Colin’s place, where an unexpected visitor (Skraastad) interrupts the festivities and threatens to uncover some harsh realities they’ve been dancing around all evening.

Caryl Churchill’s Here We Go is a three-part meditation on death

Hot Fudge was originally paired with Churchill’s Ice Cream, but PTP/NYC extremely successfully replaces that with Here We Go, a three-part meditation on death. In the first section, eight characters (Marshall, Skraastad, Army, Sanders, Maggie Connolly, Meili Huang, Annabelle Iredale, Charlie Porto) are at a funeral, talking about the deceased while, one at a time, they take center stage and share how they will depart from this mortal coil. After that, a man (Barlow) delivers a complex monologue, trying to figure out his place in the universe as he realizes, “I’m on my own.” Hot Fudge ends with an ailing man (Barlow) being attended to by a caregiver (Keith) in a harrowing, silent finale that is nearly overwhelmed by an all-pervasive sense of loneliness that questions whether any of us, or all of us, can really exist on our own.

Directed by Cheryl Faraone, who is married to Romagnoli and cofounded PTP with him and playwright-director Jim Petosa in 1987, Hot Fudge and Here We Go flow seamlessly into each other, as if they were meant to be together. They feel tailor made for this precise moment in time, as America is clouded by ever-increasing dishonesty, led by the Big Lie, and the citizenry emerges from two years of a pandemic, reevaluating their lives and careers while dealing with so much death, including more than one million Covid-19 victims in this country alone.

Evancho’s set design consists primarily of a variety of chairs that are moved on- and offstage by the cast after each scene under a shadowy darkness. There’s a lot of sitting and standing, culminating in the poignant finale that puts it all into illuminating, and frightening, perspective.

PTP/NYC has been presenting works by Churchill for nearly thirty years, beginning with The After-Dinner Joke in 1993 (and again in 2002 and 2018) and continuing with Mad Forest in 1998, Serious Money in 2012-13, Vinegar Tom in 2015, and a virtual Far Away in 2020, all directed by Faraone, who knows just what to do with Churchill’s complex dialogue and story lines. The eighty-three-year-old British writer has penned more than fifty plays and radio dramas, so I can’t wait to see what PTP/NYC has in store for us in the future, particularly since the company is reconfiguring its annual format going forward.

MONTHLY ANIME: PRINCESS MONONOKE

Japan Society will host special twenty-fifth-anniversary screening of Princess Mononoke this week

PRINCESS MONONOKE (もののけ姫) (Hayao Miyazaki, 1997)
Japan Society
333 East 47th St. at First Ave.
Friday, July 22, $15, 7:00
212-715-1258
www.japansociety.org

In his April 1995 project proposal for Princess Mononoke, Japanese animator, director, and Studio Ghibli cofounder Hayao Miyazaki explained, “There cannot be a happy ending to the fight between the raging gods and humans. However, even in the middle of hatred and killings, there are things worth living for. A wonderful meeting, or a beautiful thing can exist. We depict hatred, but it is to depict that there are more important things. We depict a curse, to depict the joy of liberation.”

Released in 1997, Princess Mononoke is one of the greatest anime adventures ever made. The environmental story about cursed warrior Ashitaka (voiced by Yōji Matsuda), the warrior princess and forest protector San (Yuriko Ishida), Irontown ruler Lady Eboshi (Yūko Tanaka), and mercenary monk Jiko-bō (Kaoru Kobayashi) is having a special twenty-fifth-anniversary 35mm screening July 22 at 7:00 at Japan Society, concluding the institution’s “Monthly Anime” series, which began in April with Mamoru Oshii’s Ghost in the Shell and continued with Peter Chung’s The Animatrix in May and Masaaki Yuasa’s The Night Is Short, Walk on Girl in June.

Thankfully, they are showing the original Japanese version with English subtitles; the dubbed version features an all-star lineup of familiar voices that distracts from the narrative (including Billy Crudup, Claire Danes, Minnie Driver, Billy Bob Thornton, Gillian Anderson, and Keith David). Anime master Miyazaki has also made such classics as Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, My Neighbor Totoro, Kiki’s Delivery Service, Porco Rosso, and Spirited Away, all with soundtracks by Joe Hisaishi. Although the screening is sold out, there will be walk-up tickets available at the door; it should be quite an experience watching the film in person with a devoted crowd of Miyazaki maniacs, of which I am certainly one.