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POLYLOGUES

Xandra Nur Clark wrote and stars in one-person show about ethical nonmonogamy (photo by Ashley Garrett)

HERE Arts Center
145 Sixth Ave.
In person through October 9, $40
On-demand streaming through October 13, $20-$25
here.org/shows
www.polyloguesplay.com

A few years ago, a friend of mine told me that his girlfriend had just explained to him that she was polyamorous. I had not heard that term before, and he wasn’t quite sure what it meant either, but it wasn’t merely that his partner wanted an open relationship so she could see other people. It went well beyond that.

Writer and performer Xandra Nur Clark explores the reality of polyamory in the insightful one-person show, Polylogues. The seventy-five-minute piece of documentary theater has just finished its run at HERE Arts Center and is available on demand through October 13. Clark, a queer Indian American community builder who studied with Anna Deavere Smith, interviewed more than fifty people over three years about ethical nonmonogamy, ranging in age from five to seventy-five, from eleven different countries and numerous races, religions, socioeconomic backgrounds, and political perspectives. Clark wears earphones during the Colt Coeur production, listening to the actual words spoken by the subjects and enacting them for the audience, which sits on three sides of Clark, who doesn’t do a deep dive into each character but embodies them with small differences in tonality and gestures. The characters are either the one who initiated the idea of nonmonogamy in the relationship, the one who was asked to consider it, or had nonmonogamous parents. In some cases they are happy with their decision to participate, but in others it either goes awry or they appear to be trying too hard to defend and rationalize their choices.

Ryan points out, “I’m not behaving like a quote unquote normal person would behave in this situation.” Shamma offers, “When you spend your whole life as a cheater, right? You’re doing it to fulfill a certain insecurity that you have in the, you know, a gap that you have in the relationship?
So you go to the next person to fill that gap. . . . Why can’t this be a new form of family?!” Trudy refers to the additional person as a “love friend.”

Casius says, “Most people think polyamory is just like about having orgies! . . . It’s like being willing to do anything for another person no matter what!” Jackson declares, “You know, I’m not a fucking toy! You know, like, I’m a person. And it’s not that we couldn’t have made a very casual arrangement, but, like, I need to have some autonomy in that decision!

K, a Muslim from Malaysia, where men can have multiple wives, asserts, “Nonmonogamy interacting with male privilege, or interacting with capitalism, can, like, produce some really, like, frightening dynamics. . . . And finding ways to self-limit that in my nonmonogamy practice is . . .
important to me. To ensure I’m not trying to . . . I don’t know, like, build a . . . mmm, I don’t know . . . build a harem or something.”

Xandra Nur Clark embodies multiple characters involved in polyamorous relationships (photo by Ashley Garrett)

The issue of jealousy comes up numerous times. Alex admits, “I’m not okay with him with another girl other than his wife, but I’m okay with him with his w-wife. I want it — this one, this one guy love me with his full heart, everything. But meanwhile, I still got freedom to choose someone else!” And CJ concedes, “I’m fine with being with one person. But I always want to make sure that the other person doesn’t feel an obligation to me. I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck with me.” She later adds, “It’s just like,
well, I’ll just — if this is just a little piece of it, I can get through nonmonogamy, I’ll take this little piece. Or like, if we’re ‘n a . . . nonmonogamous relationship, you can’t break my heart. But, maybe I just equate breaking my heart with cheating on me.”

Directed by Molly Clifford (Karaoke, Soldier), who introduces the piece in a clever way that prepares everyone for what is to follow, Polylogues begins with a stream of questions and statements on the wall behind Clark, including the key one: “How do you experience love in your life?” Clark (Everything You’re Told, Separated) is charming as she embodies the diverse characters, displaying a relaxing demeanor that brings ease and comfort to an audience that most likely doesn’t understand the complexities of modern-day ethical nonmonogamy, a term I had not encountered until seeing this show. You’re likely to be enticed by the play, if not polyamory itself, although I’m not sure my friend is ready to hear more about it just yet.

TWI-NY TALK: ANTHONY BARILE / 1-2-3 MANHUNT

Anthony Barile with Ilene Kristen in Tony DiMurro’s 1-2-3 Manhunt, opening October 10 at Theater for the New City

1-2-3 MANHUNT
Theater for the New City
155 First Ave. between Ninth & Tenth Sts.
Thursday – Sunday through October 24, $15-$18
theaterforthenewcity.net
www.123manhunt.com

“I really thought I had a place in telling stories in film or theater,” actor, restaurateur, Realtor, and kung fu instructor Anthony Barile says to me over Zoom. “People like me are needed. I feel I have a story to tell; I can portray a person like me who has a story to tell.”

I’ve known Barile since high school on Long Island, where he lettered in football and basketball; I never expected that all these years later, I’d be interviewing him about his performance in a play, Tony DiMurro’s 1-2-3 Manhunt, which opens October 10 at Theater for the New City. The show is set on a Lower East Side tenement roof and deals with Alex (Santo Fazio), an old school Italian American man returning to the neighborhood, and Alec (Chris Paul Morales), a Chinese American teenager dreaming of a career as a professional baseball player. Barile portrays Alex’s best friend, Frankie, which came relatively easy; in real life he’s best friends with Fazio, who he met in 1985. They last appeared onstage together in a 1994 revival of Michael Gazzo’s Hatful of Rain at the Actors Studio, helmed by original director Frank Corsaro, that attracted such luminaries as Norman Mailer and Shelley Winters.

Barile’s path to becoming an actor was a circuitous one.

“It was completely by accident,” the Brooklyn-born Barile explains. “I was going through a lot of changes at this particular point of my life. It was around 1990. I was in a long-term relationship that had ended, and, with that kind of life jolt, I decided to take the time for myself to explore things.”

He quit college the day Led Zeppelin drummer John Bonham died, drove a bread truck, then moved to Manhattan in the mid-’80s and started snapping a lot of pictures around the city. He took a photography class at SVA, a martial arts class — “I thought, I kinda like to fight, so this would be good” — and studied film production at NYU, a connection that led him to acting.

“A lot of friends I met, through my roommate at the time, were actors,” he remembers. “I was invited to a barbecue on the Fourth of July, and one of his friends was studying with Sandra Seacat. She was at this barbecue and got to speaking with me and invited me to her acting class. It was unrelated to acting — she wasn’t that kind of person. She’s a wonderful human being, a phenomenal acting coach; she was just interested by me. I don’t know, she embraced me. She was thinking, ‘This guy’s been through some stuff, he’s leaving his twenties — he should come to my class.’

“Because that’s what her classes were about, finding out who you are, in a healing way. I’m like, I don’t think so; it’s not really my thing. But then I’m thinking that if I want to work with actors in film, maybe it’s a good idea I understand how they think, how they operate, what the process is. So I go.

Former Three of Cups co-owners Anthony Barile and Santo Fazio reunite onstage for the first time in twenty-five years

“I still have my notes, my journal from that day — it was mandatory that you take notes. I read it every once in a while, and I was writing, ‘These people are nuts. They’re super self-indulgent and just out of their minds. This is an insane way to spend a day.’ But I continued in her class because I was fascinated. I’d go to her special workshops, where there would be people who would come from all over the country, some big names. I was never really starstruck; being a New Yorker and living in New York City, especially in the ’80s and then the ’90s, you see famous people all the time. But now I’m watching their process. It was amazing. And now she wants me involved, she wants me acting; she snuck it in on me.”

Barile, wearing a Mets hat and Pretenders T-shirt, shakes his head and laughs as he recalls what happened next.

“We’re doing all kinds of Chekhov pieces. Now, I’m going to be honest with you; I’d never read Chekhov. I don’t know who Chekhov is. This is not my world. Okay, I’ll read it. So I read it and I’m like, ‘Well, this is pretty crazy stuff. Do I understand this even? And then she gives me a scene partner, a name actor, and another friend of mine. We’re doing a scene from Kafka’s The Trial. Again, this is so foreign to me.

“The name actor is getting ready to audition for a major motion picture, so he’s there to get his chops together. So I go up to Sandra and I say, ‘Sandra, you think I should tell him that I’ve never acted before?’”

He laughs again. “And she’s like, ‘Oh, no. Oh, no no no no no. What’s acting? You’ll only make him nervous. There’s no reason for that. Just go, go live, go do the work I’m telling you to do, and go live this scene.’ So I did, and it was kind of phenomenal. So that was the beginning of the bug.”

Barile learned a lot more than acting from the workshops.

“As a human being, it was like an exorcism of my soul. We did dreamwork and numerology and method sensory work, we studied Indian philosophers and poets, Jungian psychology. It made me look at my life and go, ‘What has been going on?’”

Anthony Barile and Santo Fazio share a moment while appearing together in Hatful of Rain at the Actors Studio

His next teacher literally threw the book at him.

“I went on to study with Susan Batson — that was another insane experience where I wasn’t fully prepared for what I was walking into at all. The first time she saw me, she said to the other students, ‘Who’s the Anthony Quinn–looking motherfucker?’ It was an audition class; I didn’t know that. She would have us dance in a circle, speak our thoughts, and then she would write a monologue every day and have you perform it in front of a director and casting agent. Your job was to get the job.

“But she was so brutally tough. She threw things at me at times. She would sit in her apartment with her back against a bookcase. This one time, I remember, my character was supposed to cry in this emotional moment. And my crying was so phony that she just reached back, grabbed a book off the shelf, and flung it at me. I didn’t see it coming, so I got hit in the head by it. She’s like, ‘What the fuck is that? Don’t ever fucking do that in my fucking class again. Get the fuck out of here. If you really gotta cry, pull a hair out of your nose, but don’t do that shit.’

“I didn’t go back for weeks after that, but then I went back, and she tells me, ‘You’re either very brave or very stupid.” Barile also studied with such other prestigious teachers as Marcia Haufrecht and Sheila Gray.

In December 1992, Barile, Fazio, and a third partner had opened the Three of Cups, a Southern Italian restaurant on First Ave. Three of Cups cook Anthony Alessandro was an Actors Studio member, and when one of the supporting actors in Hatful of Rain wasn’t working out, Alessandro asked Barile to take over the role of Chuch, a junkie who was played by Harry Guardino in the 1956 original Broadway production.

“I was scared shitless. What an amazing experience. But I was terrified,” Barile readily admits. “I had gone knee deep into studying; I was entrenched. But all of that work went out the window because I was so fucking scared. Fortunately, the actors in this play were so good that all I really had to do was listen — listen backstage, listen onstage, and I was in it. I just opened my heart and listened, learning to just really be free.”

His next show changed his life. His friend Mark Nassar, a Three of Cups regular, had originated the role of Tony in the hit immersive play Tony n’ Tina’s Wedding. Nassar suggested that Barile join the cast in 1995, portraying the groom’s best friend. At the end of his one-year run, Barile started dating Justine Rossi, who played Tina. The two later married; they now live in Bayside and have two kids in college.

“What a great gift it’s been,” Barile says of Tony n’ Tina. Before the pandemic, he was asked to come back as the priest, Father Mark, and has performed the role in New York as well as in Oklahoma, North Dakota, South Dakota, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Florida, and New Orleans. He’ll be playing Tony’s father in Chicago in November, and recently his daughter appeared in the show, which includes a heavy amount of improv.

“Owning Three of Cups was very helpful in that. What they call it in Tony n’ Tina’s Wedding is table work, because it’s a wedding, you’re dealing with dinner guests. So my interaction with my customer base at Three of Cups got me ready for that. By nature, I’m a ballbreaker. I like comedy; I’m not afraid to break horns or just tell you what I think. So all of those things helped each other. And that training makes me a stronger actor for sure.” He would later appear in plays by David Mamet and John Patrick Shanley in black box theaters, including inhabiting a half dozen characters in Mamet’s Edmond. Three of Cups, where Justine had also worked before they were married and which hosted live music and comedy in its downstairs space, closed in April 2018.

Anthony Barile stands outside his beloved Lower East Side restaurant, Three of Cups

In 1998, Barile played the brutally violent Sally Hipps in DiMurro’s fabulously titled Moe Green Gets It in the Eye at La Tea Theater at the Clemente Soto Velez Arts Center on the Lower East Side.

“I connect to Tony’s writing,” Barile says. “He’s very New York, writing about the Italian American experience. I’m very familiar with that because a lot of the characters he writes about I know very well, whether they be family members, acquaintances, friends, people I’ve worked with. I like his language, and he’s a super guy as well.”

In 1-2-3 Manhunt, which is directed by William Roudebush with set design by Julie DiMurro, Tony’s wife, Barile plays another tough guy, Frankie. They were supposed to begin rehearsals in March 2020, but the pandemic canceled that. Since then, DiMurro has made small changes to incorporate the coronavirus crisis and other current events. They chose not to rehearse or do any readings over Zoom, getting together instead for the first time about a month ago.

“My favorite thing about my character is his enjoyment of a good laugh,” Barile explains. “He loves a good laugh, and he’s a ballbreaker. Listen, the writer knows me. Tony put things in the piece that are straight references right out of Three of Cups, because he used to visit me there all the time.”

Barile is also thrilled to be working with Fazio again.

“It’s like, wow. He’s my best friend in the show,” he tells me. “I’ve known Santo since 1985. It’s fun telling him stories onstage in character, because he’s my best audience. He can recognize when I’m in truth.”

A huge Mets fan — he was at Shea Stadium and Citi Field for the deciding World Series games in 1986, 2000, and 2015 — he is not thrilled with where the club is after a disastrous year.

“It will be a blow-up off-season, from top to bottom, starting with the front office,” he says. “They suck. It’s a curse. I was miserable. I can’t even believe my investment emotionally.”

I ask him what it’s like wearing a Yankees hat in the show.

“Frankie is definitely a baseball fan, and I figured that him being from Staten Island, he’s a Yankees fan. It also was a way for me to know I was playing someone else, not myself, because I’m most comfortable and successful in characters that aren’t too far removed from who I am.
In my approach to a character I like to have at least one part of my costume/wardrobe anchor me to him. In this case it’s the Yankees hat, for sure. As the great Lee Marvin once said, ‘Show up on time, know your lines, and let the clothes do the acting.’”

Barile and his wife also starred together as a couple preparing to go out for the first time since the pandemic took hold in Kevin Alexander Leonidas’s short film You Can’t Fix Stupid, and Barile, aka Mummy, appeared in David Shapiro’s seven-part documentary series Untitled Pizza Movie, about famed pie man Andrew Bellucci.

“I enjoy a good story,” Barile says. “You just want to be natural about it. Just tell the story.”

MATRIARCH: SHE’S WIDE AWAKE SHINING LIGHT . . .

Morgan Danielle Day delivers one of six monologues about motherhood in Matriarch

Who: The Roots and Wings Project
What: Livestream of six monologues
Where: Houston Coalition Against Hate online
When: Friday, October 8, free (donations accepted), 7:00 (available on demand through October 30)
Why: The Roots and Wings Project and the Houston Coalition Against Hate have teamed up to present Matriarch, a collection of six monologues and a song exploring the complex relationship between mothers and children in a patriarchal society. Filmed in front of a live, masked audience in the small backyard of the MKM Cultural Arts Center in Los Angeles, the show begins with Lioness, in which writer and Roots and Wings co-executive producer Jesse Bliss rails at an unseen man chastising her for breastfeeding in her parked car. “Fuck that,” she argues. “I’ll feed my baby wherever we need to handle it and it should elicit no kind of reaction and cause no kind of problem. . . . I birthed her, care for her, feed her. I could scream loud as fuck right now and it won’t bother her because we are a team. She wants me to chew your ass out. . . . . You’re trying to make shame out of something beautiful,” immediately establishing motherhood as a nurturing necessity and connection.

In The Truth about Perfecta, written by Obie winner Diane Rodriguez, who died of lung cancer in April 2020, Cristina Frias plays a mother defending herself against racist stereotypes. “I bet when you people look at me, you make assumptions about who I am, where I come from, who I belong to, who I love, how I love, where I live, how I live, who my friends are, how I manage my life, how much money I make, how I treat my kids. Well, don’t do that; you don’t know who I am, and you don’t know how I was raised.”

Some Things You Should Know about My Mom is a eulogy written by Gabriel Diamond and Tamar Halpern and performed by Diamond in front of a music stand. “You’ve been talking about Sandy the friend, the playwright, the sister, the calligrapher, the painter, the poet, all these things,” he says. ”I’m gonna talk about her as the mommy,” proceeding to tell stories about her decision to be a single mother and detailing her death.

Morgan Danielle Day is explosive as a young woman fighting the system in Taylor Lytle’s The Formula. Wearing a durag and face tattoos, Day fiercely proclaims, “I was criminalized long before I was ever incarcerated. I remember it like it was yesterday.” She recounts how her drug-addicted, sexually abused mother sent her off to foster care. “Now, it may be to you all a surprise that I was actually happy to get a foster home. Now, don’t get the wrong idea. I had a beautiful mother. I admire this woman for her strength. She was loving and caring and did what she could with what she had, period. . . . But there wasn’t a lot of room in this world for a single mother of twelve on welfare.”

Bahni Turpin sits down for Sigrid Gilmer’s Remember This . . . in which she portrays Margaret, a mother who is preparing her daughter for her impending death. “Oh, Angela. Please, dear,” she pleads. “Please, don’t. No tears, my darling. Stop it. I’m not going to discuss it. It is just dying. . . . I will not suffer any more than I have to. I will not waste away. You know, you don’t have to be here when I go.” She also admits, “I should have never had children.”

The evening concludes with Roger Q. Mason’s Age Sex Location, in which a fab Ramy El-Etreby dances onstage in glittery drag and proclaims, “Fat bitch / Black queen / Mixed breed mishap / Round nosed fag hoe / That’s what you think of me / As I walk down the street / My wide hips waddling / My fleshy neck obscuring a too-soft jawline.” He goes on to tell how he was rejected by his mother, father, and doctor, none of whom even tried to understand who he was, who he needed to be. The show also features a song by Sheila Govindarajan in which she sings, “Let me go / set me free,” along with snippets from Lizzo, Talking Heads, Nina Simone, Bob Dylan, Ella Fitzgerald, and Roberta Flack.

Created and directed by Bliss and photographed by Ivan Cordeiro, Matriarch debuts online October 8 at 7:00, followed by a panel discussion with several of the performers and Houston-area domestic violence prevention advocates, including Dr. Nusrat Ameen of Daya and Barbie Brashear of the Harris County Domestic Violence Coordinating Council, moderated by HCAH executive director Marjorie Joseph, and will be available on demand on YouTube and Facebook through October 30.

PASS OVER / SANCTUARY CITY

Moses (Jon Michael Hill) and Kitch (Namir Smallwood) are startled by the arrival of a white man (Gabriel Ebert) in Pass Over (photo by Joan Marcus)

PASS OVER
August Wilson Theatre
245 West Fifty-Second St. between Broadway & Eighth Ave.
Tuesday – Sunday through October 10, $39-$199
www.passoverbroadway.com

A pair of three-actor plays dealing with contemporary social issues, with spare sets and unique staging but curious endings, were among the first to open following the pandemic lockdown. Following earlier versions at Steppenwolf in Chicago in 2017 (which was filmed by Spike Lee) and at Lincoln Center’s Claire Tow Theater in the summer of 2018, Antoinette Chinonye Nwandu’s Pass Over, which deals with police brutality and the dreams of young Black men, made its Broadway debut at the August Wilson Theatre in August. Meanwhile, Martyna Majok’s Sanctuary City, a New York Theatre Workshop production at the Lucille Lortel, looks into the lives of DREAMers trying to stay in America.

Pass Over is a reimagination of Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot filtered through the biblical story of the exodus of Jewish slaves from Egypt along with the fairy tale “Little Red Riding Hood.” Kitch (Namir Smallwood) and Moses (Jon Michael Hill) are like brothers, two men hanging out on a ghetto street, rambling on about life. Wilson Chin’s set is a slightly raised sidewalk with a few pieces of detritus and a central lamppost evoking Beckett’s tree. The script explains that the time is “the (future) present / but also 2021 CE / but also 1855 CE / but also 1440 BCE,” identifying Moses as “a tramp / a n*gga on the block / but also a slave driver / but also the prophesied leader of God’s chosen” and Kitch as “a tramp / a n*gga on the block / but also a slave / but also one of God’s chosen.” Moses, the wiser of the two, tells his best friend, “yo ass gon rise up to yo full potential too / gon git up off dis block / matter fact / man / i’m gon lead you.” Kitch replies, “Amen!”

Moses (Jon Michael Hill) searches for the promised land in Pass Over (photo by Joan Marcus)

They are surprised when a white man (Gabriel Ebert), dressed in a white suit like a plantation owner, suddenly arrives out of nowhere, holding a picnic basket and telling them his name is Master. “What da fuck,” Kitch says upon hearing that. Master, who uses such trite language as “gosh golly gee” and “salutations,” offers them food from the basket he was going to bring to his mother before getting lost, but while Kitch wants to dig in, Moses is suspicious of this unexpected largesse.

Shortly after Master departs, Kitch and Moses are visited by Ossifer (Ebert), a uniformed police officer who says he will protect them but soon pulls out his gun and commands that they put their hands behind their heads. When the cop leaves, Moses is furious, but Kitch philosophizes, “damn man / we still here / sun comin up yeah / iss a new day / and we still on dis block / but damn n*gga / it cud be worse / we cud be dead / we still here / mean we still livin / so tomorrow / tomorrow.”

Fluently directed by Danya Taymor and featuring three all-star performances, Pass Over is riding smoothly until the final scenes. Nwandu significantly changed the ending for Broadway, and not necessarily for the better. It now attempts to make a grander statement about the times we live in and a possible future, with an added dash of stagecraft that is beautiful but feels out of place. It might be more hopeful, but it’s head-scratchingly confusing and strays too far from the tight, succinct narrative that led up to it. In the script, Nwandu writes, “This play should NOT have an intermission. If Moses and Kitch cannot leave, neither can you. (And if, by the end, the magic has worked, you shouldn’t want to.)” The same should have gone for the finale.

Childhood friends B (Jasai Chase-Owens) and G (Sharlene Cruz) encounter immigration issues in Sanctuary City (photo by Joan Marcus)

SANCTUARY CITY
New York Theatre Workshop at the Lucille Lortel Theatre
121 Christopher St.
Tuesday – Sunday through October 17, $30 (20% off with code FRIEND)
www.nytw.org/show

Sanctuary City takes a head-scratching turn as well as the ending approaches, detracting from everything that came before it, which was powerful and moving, as is the case with Pass Over. The play takes place in Newark between 2001 and 2006, as childhood friends B (Jasai Chase-Owens) and G (Sharlene Cruz) contemplate their immigration status, wondering whether they should stay in the United States or move back to their native countries. They walk across Tom Scutt’s spare stage, a cantilevered platform that more than hints at unease. Isabella Byrd has filled the Lucille Lortel with standard and unusual varieties of lighting, on the floor, on the walls, on the ceiling, and in unexpected places. Various lights flash on and off after short scenes that sometimes repeat themselves and travel through time, reminiscent of Nick Payne’s Constellations on Broadway, which also had a set by Scutt (and lighting by Lee Curran).

“She’s goin back,” B says about his mother. “She’s afraid of stayin in the country. There’s some shit at work, she said. Boss keeps takin money from her tips cuz, y’know, he can, what’s she gonna do? report it? to who? And she’s afraid what happened to Jorge’s gonna happen to her and so she’s goin back. And cuz of September. Cuz of the towers.”

G spends a lot of time at B’s apartment, often sleeping over in order to avoid repeated beatings by her stepfather. She skips school, pretending to be sick, but she is running out of excuses. “She’s scared they’ll send us back if they find out what’s goin on at home. She’s scared they’d separate us,” she says about her mother. “Who would send you back?” B asks. G: “America. If they wanted to investigate. If they like — checked. She worked with a fake social security for years. He’s threatened to report her before. Everyone’s more, y’know—” B: “Yeah.” G: “—cuz of September. Cuz of the towers. Or maybe they’d put me in some kind of — some place for kids — separate us. I don’t know if she even knows specifically what to be afraid of but she is. She’s scared.”

Sharlene Cruz and Jasai Chase-Owens star in new play by Martyna Majok (photo by Joan Marcus)

Without the DREAM Act, they are always in danger of being deported, so they can’t apply for student aid or other benefits. Since she sleeps over so much, G offers to pay rent to help B out, but he refuses to accept it. They grow closer and closer and soon are asking each other personal questions about their lives, preparing to get married strictly so B can get a green card. While G looks like she might be interested in something more, B stands back, keeping things platonic. A few years later, Henry (Austin Smith) enters the picture, creating an entirely new dynamic.

Pulitzer Prize winner Majok (Cost of Living, Ironbound), who was born in Poland and contributed short works to A Dozen Dreams and the Homebound Project during the pandemic, and director Rebecca Frecknall (Summer and Smoke, Three Sisters) have our full attention for two-thirds of the play, maintaining a compelling mystery about B and G as well as numerous plot intricacies, and Chase-Owens (The Tempest, A Midsummer Night’s Dream) and Cruz (Mac Beth, The Climb) are appealing as the two leads.

It all comes to a screeching halt when Henry arrives, through no fault of Smith (An Octoroon, Socrates). “Did I just fuck everything up?” Henry asks. Till then, the play had avoided theatrical clichés, challenging the audience to keep pace. But from this point on, it all becomes standard, losing the edge that had made it so compelling. The flash lighting is gone, and instead of quick, staccato scenes with cut-off, incomplete dialogue, the scenes become longer and more drawn out, crossing every T and dotting every I. As with Pass Over, Sanctuary City pulls us into its claustrophobic, carefully built world but then, when opening up, leaves us behind, no longer trusting its own dialectic.

HERSTORY OF THE UNIVERSE@GOVERNORS ISLAND

PeiJu Chien-Pott performs Amaterasu, part of site-specific dance presentation on Governors Island (photo by Slobodan Randjelović)

Who: Richard Move and MoveOpolis!
What: Site-specific dance performances
Where: Governors Island
When: Saturday, October 9 & 16, free with advance RSVP, 1:00 – 4:00
Why: Governors Island is an oasis in New York City, a historic area initially settled by the Lenape before being stolen by the Dutch and later taken over by the British and the United States. It was home to a fort and a castle that held Confederate prisoners during the Civil War and served as headquarters for the army and the coast guard prior to opening to the public in 2003 as a park. On October 9 and 16, the island will host its first-ever performance commission, the site-specific Herstory of the Universe@Governors Island by Richard Move and MoveOpolis! The three-hour show will move across the island, making six fifteen-minute stops, at Nolan Park, Hammock Grove, Outlook Hill, and Rachel Whiteread’s Cabin sculpture, among other locations. Robyn Cascio, Megumi Eda, Lisa Giobbi, Celeste Hastings, PeiJu Chien-Pott, Natasha M. Diamond-Walker, and Gabrielle Willis will perform such pieces as Demolition Angels, Ascent, and Amaterasu, making use of the trees, the buildings, the grass, the rocks, and other natural and manufactured elements of the beautiful island, celebrating its unique ecosystem, storied past, and outstanding views.

Gabrielle Wills and Natasha Diamond Walker rehearse Demolition Angels on Governors Island (photo by Slobodan Randjelović)

Commissioned by the Trust for Governors Island, Herstory invites the audience to follow along with a special keepsake map designed by Connie Fleming, which can be picked up at the Climate Museum in Nolan Park Building 18. A dancer, teacher, choreographer, and filmmaker, Move has previously created site-specific works for the European Capitol of Culture in France, the Guggenheim in New York, the Parrish Art Museum on Long Island, the Cannes Film Festival, the Asian Civilizations Museum in Singapore, and the LMCC Sitelines Festival as well as at a bus station in Sao Paulo. If you haven’t been to Governors Island in a while, Herstory provides an excellent opportunity to refamiliarize yourself with its majesty, which currently also includes installations by Duke Riley, Mark Handforth, Beam Camp City, NYC Audubon, Pratt Gaud, West Harlem Art Fund, the Endangered Language Alliance, American Indian Community House, Harvestworks, Flux Factory, the Swale Floating Food Forest, and others, all free.

FJK DANCE: RESET

Who: FJK Dance
What: Two world premieres and a repertoire work
Where: New York Live Arts, 219 West Nineteenth St. between Seventh & Eighth Aves.
When: October 7-9, $20-$45, 7:30
Why: Founded in 2014 by Fadi J. Khoury and Sevin Ceviker, FJK Dance is devoted to multicultural movement that breaks down barriers and borders. This week the New York–based company emerges from the pandemic lockdown with Reset, consisting of two world premieres and one repertory piece, running October 7-9 at New York Live Arts. The program includes Mirage, incorporating human stories from the Middle East, set to Schubert’s piano trio in E-flat, performed by Tim Ward, Sarita Apel, Estefano Gil, Khoury, and Elisa Toro Franky; Khoury’s solo Forbidden, about seeking love, with music by Abdel Wahab and Hossam Shaker; and Ravel’s Bolero, a 2019 work that investigates duality.

Bolero is one of three pieces FJK Dance will perform at New York Live Arts

The evening is dedicated to editor and FJK Dance founding board member Genevieve Young, who passed away in February 2020 at the age of eighty-nine. “In this time of reflection and finding hope, the production of this program is a dream dedicated to all the souls that we have lost during this pandemic,” the company announced in a statement. Khoury, who was born in Baghdad and raised in Iraq and Lebanon, added, “What began as a blended choreographic form has become something larger — my role is not to just create fusion choreography but to use dance as a message of peace for the world at large.”

DEEP BLUE SEA

Bill T. Jones’s Deep Blue Sea is set within an illuminating, immersive environment at Park Ave. Armory (photo by Stephanie Berger)

DEEP BLUE SEA
Park Avenue Armory, Wade Thompson Drill Hall
643 Park Ave. at 67th St.
September 28 – October 9, $40
212-933-5812
www.armoryonpark.org

Bill T. Jones is in the midst of yet another well-deserved moment, culminating in the spectacular Deep Blue Sea, continuing at Park Avenue Armory through October 9. During the pandemic, the legendary dancer, choreographer, Kennedy Center honoree, and activist, along with his troupe, the Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Company, streamed a reimagined version of 1991’s Continuous Replay. In May, after a one-month delay because of a Covid outbreak in the company, they staged Afterwardsness at Park Ave. Armory, a socially distanced and masked production that addressed racism, police brutality, classism, and the pandemic itself. In July, the documentary Can You Bring It: Bill T. Jones and D-Man in the Waters was released, a thrilling look at Jones’s seminal 1989 piece, D-Man in the Waters, exploring intergenerational tragedy and loss while drawing comparisons between AIDS and other crises.

Delayed a year and a half due to the pandemic, Deep Blue Sea is a one-hundred-minute multimedia meditation on being Black in America. As the audience enters the Wade Thompson Drill Hall, which features a large, rectangular central space with ten rows of rafters, starting about ten feet high, on all four sides, Jones, dressed in his trademark black, is moving determinedly across the floor, almost robotically. Some people recognize him; others walk right past him to their seats, oblivious. It’s Jones’s return to performing for the first time in ten years, when he appeared (nude) in a 2011 iteration of Continuous Replay at New York Live Arts. On every seat is a long sheet of paper with writing on both sides, in Jones’s handwriting; it reads in part: “Thank you, Mr. Melville! / Thank you for the Pip / Thank you for his music / Thank you for his fragile fear / Thank you for his loneliness in the ocean . . . / Thank you for not letting him drown. / Thank you for this floor we are moving on. Thank you for the ocean just now pretending to be a stage. / Thank you, Dr. King! . . . Thank you for words that I can shred, misunderstand, mangle and still they meet the air like singing.”

Bill T. Jones stands in the middle of it all in multimedia Deep Blue Sea (photo by Stephanie Berger)

The sixty-nine-year-old Florida native soon starts a long monologue in which he explains that he was disturbed to discover that, upon revisiting Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick, he had completely forgotten about Pip, the young Black cabin boy aboard the Pequod. “Pip was invisible to me,” he recalls. Using that as a metaphor, Jones, joined by ten dancers, delves into the lack of inclusivity in the word “we” in contemporary society. He incorporates text from W. E. B. DuBois’s The Souls of Black Folk, Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech, Kendrick Lamar’s “Never Catch Me,” and Moby-Dick, with live gospel, blues, and hip-hop performed by vocalists Philip Bullock, Shaq Hester, Prentiss Mouton, and Stacy Penson in red costumes and Jay St. Flono in more colorful African-inspired dress. (The costumes are by Liz Prince.) The dramatic score was composed by musical director Nick Hallett, accompanied by an electronic soundscape by Hprizm aka High Priest, Rena Anakwe, and Holland Andrews.

Choreographed by Jones, Janet Wong, and the company — Barrington Hinds, Dean Michael Husted, Jada Jenai, Shane Larson, s. lumbert, Danielle Marshall, Nayaa Opong, Marie Lloyd Paspe, Jacoby Pruitt, and Huiwang Zhang — Deep Blue Sea immerses the audience in a breathtaking visual environment designed by Elizabeth Diller, of Diller Scofidio + Renfro, with award-winning projection designer Peter Nigrini (Here Lies Love, Beetlejuice); the superb lighting is by Robert Wierzel. (You can watch an artist talk with Diller, Nigrini, and Hinds here.) I suggest wearing a white or light-blue mask for an added bonus when it gets dark.

The surprises are many, from a black spotlight following Jones to white spotlights on the other dancers that merge into amorphous bubbles, from mirrors that turn the space into a kind of three-dimensional infinity room to the appearance of a calming, gently rolling ocean. Snippets of text roll beneath the dancers. The face of a boy representing Pip dominates the floor, blinking up at us. Jones refers to the dancers by name several times, giving each their own identity and voice. Wearing everyday clothing, they run across the stage, form into a tight group, and line up on their backs, asserting themselves as individuals and a close-knit group. Jones expands the idea of community with an overly long though visually engaging conclusion in which ninety-nine local people share personal statements that begin, “I know . . . ,” after which the audience is encouraged to come down and mingle, becoming an ever-expanding “we.”

“[Pip] saw God’s foot upon the treadle of the loom, and spoke it; and therefore his shipmates called him mad,” Melville writes in Moby-Dick. “So man’s insanity is heaven’s sense; and wandering from all mortal reason, man comes at last to that celestial thought, which, to reason, is absurd and frantic; and weal or woe, feels then uncompromised, indifferent as his God.” At one point in Deep Blue Sea, the phrase “You can’t turn back” is projected onto the floor, Jones’s uncompromising approach to providing a way forward through indifference.