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PRAYER FOR THE FRENCH REPUBLIC / APPROPRIATE

Patrick (Anthony Edwards) watches his family in Joshua Harmon’s Prayer for the French Republic on Broadway (photo by Jeremy Daniel)

PRAYER FOR THE FRENCH REPUBLIC
Samuel J. Friedman Theatre
261 West Forty-Seventh St. between Broadway & Eighth Ave.
Tuesday – Sunday through March 3, $94-$318
www.manhattantheatreclub.com

Success off Broadway is no guarantee of a hit on Broadway. Transferring to a bigger house, the passing of time, tweaking the script, cast changes, and sociopolitical events can all have an impact on a play or musical moving to the Great White Way.

While such shows as Hamilton, The Humans, Fun Home, Sweat, Fat Ham, and Into the Woods were sensational on and off Broadway, others ran into trouble.

Girl from the North Country was inspired at the Public but felt stale at the Belasco. Ntozake Shange’s for colored girls who have considered suicide/ when the rainbow is enuf was electrifying at the Public but was completely reimagined at the Booth, and not for the better. Slave Play was provocative at New York Theatre Workshop but lost its power at the Golden. At Playwrights Horizons in 2018, Larissa FastHorse’s The Thanksgiving Play was a brilliant farce, but five years later at the Helen Hayes, with a new cast and creative team, it was dry and disappointing, like overheated leftovers.

Molly (Molly Ranson) and Elodie (Francis Benhamou) argue about Israel in Prayer for the French Republic (photo by Jeremy Daniel)

I loved Prayer for the French Republic when it debuted at MTC at New York City Center, but two years later, it doesn’t feel as sharp and incisive at the Samuel J. Friedman, and I’ve been scratching my head to try to figure out why. Joshua Harmon’s play is still an impressive piece of work, but it doesn’t have the same power now that it had then. It was named Outstanding Play at the 2022 Drama Desk Awards, receiving my vote, but I wouldn’t have voted for this current version.

The story takes place in Paris in 1944–46 and 2016–17, following the trials and tribulations of the Salomon family, who have been making pianos since 1855. During WWII, Irma and Adolphe choose to remain in France as they worry about the fate of their children. In contemporary times, their descendants face a vicious antisemitism that forces them to question whether they have to leave their home. The script and the creative team are essentially the same, including the director, David Cromer, who guided The Band’s Visit to a slew of awards both on and off Broadway. Only five of the eleven cast members are back, so that could be part of the issue. One is notably stronger than his predecessor, but another sadly falters in a key role.

However, the scintillating scene between Elodie and her distant cousin Molly as they argue about Israel is played by the same actors on the same set, yet it fails to ignite as it previously did. I think it was more than just moving to a bigger venue; the events of October 7 and the aftermath involving Hamas’s terrorist attack and Israel’s military response have impacted everyone’s views of the Middle East. The glue that held the off-Broadway show together was Rich Topol as Patrick, the Salomon brother who also serves as narrator and who has a different view of Judaism than the rest of his family. Notably, Topol just finished a run as a Jew who leaves Poland shortly before a brutal 1941 pogrom in Igor Golyak’s poignant and inventive adaptation of Tadeusz Słobodzianek’s Our Class, which is filled with a frightening sense of urgency.

Two previous Harmon shows — Significant Other and Bad Jews — were just as good, if not better, when they transferred to bigger venues; Prayer is a conundrum.

Three siblings battle over their family’s legacy in Appropriate (photo by Joan Marcus)

APPROPRIATE
Helen Hayes Theater
240 West 44th St.
Tuesday – Sunday through March 3, $209-$269
Moving to the Belasco Theatre March 25 – June 30, $79-$318
2st.com

Ten years ago, I saw Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’s Appropriate at the Signature. The play is about three siblings of the white Lafayette family who have returned to the clan’s dilapidated southern plantation to sell it to pay off debts following the death of their father. The siblings are not very close — youngest brother Franz has not been heard from in a decade — but their relationships are further strained when a home-made book of photographs of lynched black men is found in the house. The possibility that their father was a racist infuriates Toni, who cared for the ailing patriarch, and she becomes even more incensed when her Jewish sister-in-law, Rachael, who is married to Bo, claims that he was antisemitic as well.

The Signature show was directed by Liesl Tommy and starred Johanna Day, Michael Laurence, and Maddie Corman as the siblings. In 2014, I wrote, “Appropriate begins with solid character development while raising intriguing social and moral issues without getting didactic. But the story goes off the rails in the second act as various secrets emerge and the vitriol reaches even higher levels. Perhaps most unfortunate, there’s a moment that seems like the perfect ending; the lights go out, and just as the audience is ready to applaud, the play continues through a disappointing, unnecessary coda. Jacobs-Jenkins clutters what is a fascinating premise with too many disparate elements.”

I still feel the same about the ending, even with an insightful added finale, but everything else about the play, at the Helen Hayes through March 3 before moving to the Belasco for three more months, is better this time around. Jacobs-Jenkins (The Comeuppance, An Octoroon), a relentless reviser, has improved the script immensely, with dialogue that hits harder and deeper. Director Lila Neugebauer grabs hold of the complex plot and never lets go; the confrontations among the siblings, their significant others, and the next generation are scintillating; at times it’s so severe and merciless, so intimate, that you feel guilty for watching it unfold but you can’t look away for a second.

Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’s Appropriate is reborn on Broadway (photo by Joan Marcus)

Sarah Paulson is a force of nature as Toni, an embittered woman with deep scars and no filter, exploding with vitriolic accusations she will never be able to take back. Corey Stoll goes toe-to-toe with her as Bo, who is having financial difficulties that may be affecting his ethics, while Natalie Gold is tough as nails as Rachael, who is not afraid to get in the ring with them. Michael Esper imbues Franz with a gentleness that belies the character’s past, while his younger girlfriend, a flower child named River played sweetly by Elle Fanning, stands firmly by his side. And the set, by dots, becomes more of an integral element, both what’s inside and lurking outside.

The Broadway production of Appropriate, the title of which has several different meanings and pronunciations, feels both of its time and timeless, an intense tale about the Black experience in America that has no people of color in its cast. A lot has changed in the world since 2014: Barack Obama finished his second term, followed by Donald Trump, both having defeated Hillary Clinton, the former in the primary, the latter in the general. The police killing of George Floyd led to the Black Lives Matter protests and a reckoning with this country’s shameful legacy of slavery and racism. And antisemitism is again on the rise, with October 7 only making it worse.

This vital new adaptation of Appropriate captures all of that and more in unforgettable ways.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

THE IMMERSIVE COFFEE CANTATA EXPERIENCE

Christine Lyons, Bernard Holcomb, and Philip Cokorinos star in The Immersive Coffee Cantata (Dan Wright Photography)

THE IMMERSIVE COFFEE CANTATA EXPERIENCE
The Lost Draft
398 Broome St. between Lafayette & Mulberry Sts.
February 14-25, $40
osopera.org
thelostdraft.com

I have never been a coffee drinker. In fact, I have not had a sip of any type of java in more than forty years. But On Site Opera’s (OSO) latest site-specific production, The Immersive Coffee Cantata, is my kind of cuppa.

Coffee first made its way into Germany around 1670. In 1735, composer Johann Sebastian Bach and poet and librettist Christian Friedrich Henrici, known as Picander, teamed up for Coffee Cantata (Schweigt stille, plaudert nicht, BWV 211), a tasty tale of a father who insists his daughter give up coffee if she ever wants to get married.

OSO, which has staged shows at Wave Hill, at a barbecue market, in a soup kitchen, and on board ships at the South Street Seaport, this time moves into the Lost Draft coffee shop in SoHo, which, in its mission statement, explains, “Art is an expression that can never be perfected. It is indefinite, ever-evolving. Artists reveal the highest versions of themselves when they are lost in their work. There is no final draft. There is only the draft that best represents you as an artist. And what artist doesn’t love coffee? That is the inspiration behind the Lost Draft. A creative space for creative people who love coffee.”

The Lost Draft is a long, narrow shop with the counter on the left and small tables on the right. On each table are several empty coffee cups, two boxes of popcorn, and freshly baked cookies that you can start on while the four-piece band warms up. (If you’re lucky, you’ll get the scrumptious passion fruit red velvet delights along with the chocolate espresso cookie.) You can also take a coffee quiz by scanning the QR code on the card on your table.

The Immersive Coffee Cantata takes place in the Lost Draft coffee shop in SoHo (Dan Wright Photography)

The show begins with Joe, the barista and narrator (tenor Bernard Holcomb), advising us, “If you’ll pipe down, and put your phones on mute, / You’ll overhear a family dispute: / Here comes Herr Schlendrian, / His daughter Lieschen close behind. / He’s about to lose his mind — / Or maybe it’s already gone.”

Schlendrian (bass-baritone Philip Cokorinos) enters, upset that his daughter, Lieschen (soprano Christine Lyons), is late and never listens to him. When she finally arrives, he yells at her, “You stubborn child, don’t drink that gritty mixture!,” but she declares, “My whole world floats in a cup or mug, / Revolving around Heaven’s true wonder drug / Thirsty for nectar from above. / Coffee, coffee: I’ve got to have it, / And it’s such a victimless habit. / Coffee is my liquid love!”

The sweet new libretto by Geoffrey McDonald, who also did the lovely orchestrations, quickly makes it clear that coffee is a stand-in for a man; fathers usually complain about a daughter’s choice in partners, but soon Schlendrian is checking the online matchmaking site Duetto to find Lieschen an acceptable future husband. Among the stickers on the back of Lieschen’s laptop is one of the iconic New York Greek coffee cup.

“Marital bliss: / Father, I want true love’s kiss! / Yes, a spouse! / Raise a family, buy a house!” she sings. “But I want a worthy suitor, / One who treats me like a queen. / I’ll agree to quit caffeine, / If you’ll serve as my recruiter!” And off they go, determined to make their dreams come true, demonstrated by a clever use of large and small paper coffee cups.

Schlendrian (Philip Cokorinos) is concerned for his daughter’s future in The Immersive Coffee Cantata (Dan Wright Photography)

During the forty-five-minute presentation, the actors and staff pour three tastings, Mama Mina, Kahawa Chungu, and the Queen’s Cup, the last also available in a go-cup. Meanwhile, the score is performed in a near corner by members of the American Modern Ensemble, featuring Valeriya Sholokova on cello, Nikita Yermack on violin, John Romeri on flute and recorder, and Dan Lippel on guitar, not all instruments Bach intended, but it works.

The Immersive Coffee Cantata is the first production under new OSO artistic director Sarah Meyers, who helms the show with an intimate, friendly touch. Cofounding general and artistic director Eric Einhorn, who stepped down at the end of last year, was chosen as one of Lieschen’s potential suitors in an earlier performance.

Met Opera veteran Cokorinos is terrific as the concerned father who wants only the best for his daughter, his face bold and expressive. Holcomb is welcoming as the amiable Joe, and Lyons is charming as Lieschen, who is forced into choosing between mocha and a man. Cokorinos’s diction is impeccable; you might have to refer to the online libretto for certain lines sung by Holcomb and Lyons, both of whom have exceptional voices.

My only quibble with the show is that it’s too short; I wanted to spend more time with the cast and crew, if not with the coffee itself.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

BETWEEN TWO KNEES

Justin Gauthier serves as the narrator while playing numerous other roles in Between Two Knees (photo by Jeremy Daniel)

BETWEEN TWO KNEES
Perelman Performing Arts Center (PAC NYC)
251 Fulton St.
Tuesday – Saturday through February 24, $29-$79
pacnyc.org
www.1491s.com

White people receive quite a spanking in the New York premiere of the 1491s’ irreverent, hilarious, and scattershot theatrical history lesson, Between Two Knees.

The 1491s are a Native American sketch comedy troupe from Minnesota and Oklahoma whose members have been involved in such television series as Rutherford Falls and Reservation Dogs. In Between Two Knees, they lead the audience on a wild ride from the Wounded Knee Massacre of December 29, 1890, to the American Indian Movement’s (AIM) occupation of Wounded Knee beginning on February 27, 1973. The narrative traces several generations of an Indian family as they try to find their place in a country that only knows how to take from them, treating them with disrespect and violence every step of the way.

As the crowd enters the theater at the Perelman Performing Arts Center (PAC NYC), themed music plays, including such songs as Cher’s “Half-Breed.” Regina García’s set features a thrust stage and a backdrop with cardboard cutouts of former Cleveland Indians logo and mascot Chief Wahoo (the team was recently renamed the Guardians), the Chicago Blackhawks’ logo of an Indian head (inspired by the real-life Black Hawk of Illinois’s Sac and Fox Nation), and the Land o’ Lakes woman with a target on her stomach. A red curtain opens and closes as scenes change like vaudeville acts. Props range from a covered wagon, US army and FBI rifles and guns, and a tiny western house to a small kitchen, a hippie pedestal, and Custer’s Last Stand Bar. Lux Haac’s costumes are often tongue-in-cheek versions of traditional Native clothing.

The fun kicks off with the opening announcement telling everyone to turn off their phones, followed by a riff on the standard land acknowledgment. Introducing the play, the emcee, Larry (Justin Gauthier), provides a content warning: “Good evening, fellow Indians, and other. Take a deep breath. Ahhh, you smell that? It smells like inherited wealth, privilege, and a tad bit of guilt in this room. White people! It’s good to see you here, aho! Bet you haven’t heard that in a while. Thank you for coming to this Native American Indian show. I just want you to know, you’re about to see some heavy stuff. I mean, let’s be honest here, we’re talking about INDIANS. And Indians have been through some pretty dark shit. I mean, DARK shit. All caused by you people. Yup. You all tried your best to wipe us out and clean us off the map. I mean, can you imagine how hard it was to cast this play? We had to use a Chinese guy to play one of the Indians.”

The actor steps forward and explains, “Actually, Korean. But whatever,” a revealing joke about personal identity.

Members of the 1491s pose as a museum diorama in New York premiere at PAC NYC (photo by Jeremy Daniel)

Larry continues, “We’re gonna make this fun. We’re gonna talk about war and genocide and PTSD and molestation. So it’s ok to laugh. You are going to feel some guilt watching this. But don’t worry. That’s just what it feels like to be confronted with the source of your social power. That’s why we are passing a donation bin around the audience tonight. For just the price of a cup of coffee, you . . . can help a grown Indian child in need. Yup, yup. Just pass the can along. Don’t be cheap now. I promise, when you leave, you will still own everything. And Indians, if you’re in the audience and you got those free tickets, I better hear some quarters dropping into that can. C’mon, don’t be a stereotype. Everybody already thinks we get free college.”

The first skit involves spinning the Wheel of Indian Massacre, which first stops on the Pound Ridge Massacre, then the Raritan Massacre, and finally Wounded Knee, which gets the main plot underway. But Larry promises, “THIS is not a story about death. This is a story about life.”

Over the course of a far-too-long two hours and forty-five minutes (including intermission), Pale Face and Witko try to protect Ina from a white soldier; an Indian baby is sent to a Christian reeducation boarding school and renamed Isaiah, where he meets the feisty Irma, who refuses to give in to the evil priest and strange nuns; Indians are sent off to fight in WWII and Vietnam; and AIM returns to Wounded Knee, proclaiming, “Time to unite and defend the people!” Through it all, a pair of tiny baby moccasins ties everything together, passing along trauma and hope to the next generations.

Eight ensemble members — Gauthier, Rachel Crowl, Derek Garza, Shyla Lefner, Wotko Long, James Ryen, Shaun Taylor-Corbett, Sheila Tousey — portray more than seventy characters, from Jesus, Satan, Ghost of Lakota Woman, and Singing Deer to a sexy temptress, a man with an eagle in his pants, Vanna White, and the Vietnam War as Interpretive Dance. Along the way we learn about and are reminded of various anti-Indian laws, manifest destiny, spirit animals, cultural appropriation, Native American rituals, colonization, and “the atrocities of the United SNAKES of Amerika.”

Much of the show is clever and heartfelt, its sociopolitical points emerging sharply from all the joking around, performed by likable actors who make connections with the audience, which, at the matinee I attended, was filled with more Native Americans than I had ever seen in a theater before. The Indians and the non-Indians didn’t always respond the same way to certain lines and bits; the 1491s are expert at making white people laugh at themselves amid the guilt and privilege but are careful not to cause too much discomfort.

However, some scenes are others are over-the-top farce that lose their power with random silliness. Obie-winning director Eric Ting (The Far Country, The World of Extreme Happiness) lets too many scenes run on, with a bevy of stray parts. The DIY feel extends to Elizabeth Harper’s playful lighting, Ty Defoe’s humorous choreography, and Shawn Duan’s projections, but the self-deprecating emphasis on the company’s supposed lack of technical expertise peters out. The five musical numbers, including “Touchy Touchy Tickle Touchy,” “The Song of Eddie Wolf,” and “Aimstas Paradise,” are as hit-or-miss as the comedy sketches.

The lavish PAC NYC is the right place for Between Two Knees. At intermission, I walked outside to the 9/11 Memorial, the moving tribute to the nearly three thousand men, women, and children killed in the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. The World Trade Center — among numerous other NYC buildings — was built by hundreds of Mohawk Skywalkers, and Native Americans arrived in force to the site after 9/11 to help in the dangerous cleanup. So Native Americans know all about 9/11, but non-Indians know little or nothing about December 29, a critical date in the history of this nation.

After intermission, Larry says, “Good evening, friends and relatives. Welcome back to Between Two Knees, an intergenerational tale of familial love, loss, and triumph. Thanks for returning. I know it can be a real slog to sit through these diversity shows. But if you’re still here with us, you’ve clearly been gifted with elevated artistic tastes. Everyone else ran home to rewatch their favorite Yellowstone spin-offs. Please note that those who left in a huff during intermission have been refunded the fair market value of their ticket, in beads. Aho, good trade.”

The show continues at PAC NYC through February 24. Tickets are $29 to $79; beads are not accepted.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

FIRE OVER WATER — FILMS OF TRANSCENDENCE: ONLOOKERS

Kimi Takesue’s Onlookers is a uniquely visual film that looks at tourists and locals in Laos

ONLOOKERS (Kimi Takesue, 2023)
Metrograph
7 Ludlow St. between Canal & Hester Sts.
Opens Friday, February 16
212-660-0312
metrograph.com
www.onlookersfilm.com

“Seeing comes before words. The child looks and recognizes before it can speak,” John Berger writes in the seminal text Ways of Seeing. “But there is also another sense in which seeing comes before words. It is seeing which establishes our place in the surrounding world; we explain that world with words, but words can never undo the fact that we are surrounded by it. The relation between what we see and what we know is never settled.”

In documentary filmmaker Kimi Takesue’s Onlookers, which opens theatrically February 16 at Metrograph as part of the series “Fire Over Water: Films of Transcendence,” there are no words, no dialogue — just seventy-two minutes of stunning visuals exploring what we see and what we know, what we are present for and what we are absent for.

The film takes place in various parts of Laos as director, producer, cinematographer, sound recordist, and editor Takesue sets up her camera and leaves it there as scenes unfold in real time and with natural sound, from a breathtaking fourteen-second sunset to five and a half minutes of six women sitting by the side of the road, preparing to fill begging bowls for a long line of Buddhist monks. Animals graze in a temple courtyard as bells chime. Women sell goods at an open-air market. Rivers flow, wind rustles trees, roosters crow, birds chirp, a cat rests on a step, a man relaxes in a hammock, all taking their time, no one in a hurry.

Then the tourists arrive; a few run up to take pictures of a monk beating a drum, then walk away, not actually stopping to watch and listen. A woman snaps a photo of three fellow sightseers standing atop a small, raging waterfall as a man fishes below. A local worker waits as a woman checks her cell phone, as if he isn’t there, standing next to her. A group of backpackers gets a prime view at a boat racing festival while locals observe from the shore. On a mountain, six tourists search for the best angle to take selfies. Visitors at a guest house sit in an outdoor lounge and watch Friends.

Born in Colorado and raised in Hawai’i and Massachusetts, Takesue has previously made Where Are You Taking Me? in Uganda, Heaven’s Crossroad in Vietnam, and 95 and 6 to Go in Hawai’i, about reconnecting with her grandfather. In Onlookers, she is not necessarily criticizing the tourists or celebrating the Laotian locals; she’s merely showing how people witness and experience the world, particularly when it comes to travelers and residents. (95 and 6 to Go and Where Are You Taking Me? will both be available to stream on Metrograph at Home beginning February 16.)

Takesue beautifully captures this relationship in a short but captivating scene that begins with a static shot of an old religious shrine that looks like it hasn’t been in operation for years. A young woman enters the frame, sits down, poses for a selfie, stands up, snaps a photo of the shrine, then saunters off, never once stopping to just look at the shrine itself. The camera lingers on the building for several seconds, with nobody around, just the decaying structure set against a blue sky and between lush greenery.

We see what we want to see, when we want to see it, not always recognizing what is right in front of us, whether we’re at home or on vacation. It reminded me of people who go to a museum and take pictures of classic artworks but only see them through the lens of their phone rather than experiencing them with their own eyes. In fact, each frame of Onlookers is composed like a painting that slowly comes to life.

“The way we see things is affected by what we know or what we believe,” Berger writes in his book. “Yet this seeing which comes before words, and can never be quite covered by them, is not a question of mechanically reacting to stimuli. (It can only be thought of in this way if one isolates the small part of the process which concerns the eye’s retina.) We only see what we look at. To look is an act of choice. As a result of this act, what we see is brought within our reach — though not necessarily within arm’s reach. To touch something is to situate oneself in relation to it. . . . We never look at just one thing; we are always looking at the relation between things and ourselves. Our vision is continually active, continually moving, continually holding things in a circle around itself, constituting what is present to us as we are. Soon after we can see, we are aware that we can also be seen.”

In all films, the audience might not have a choice of what they’re looking at, but they can decide for themselves what they’re seeing. And in the case of Onlookers, what they’re seeing is a gorgeous portrait of ourselves that no selfie can catch.

Kimi Takesue’s Where Are You Taking Me? will stream on Metrograph at Home

Takesue will be at Metrograph for introductions and Q&As before and after four screenings: February 16 with Inney Prakesh, February 17 with Dessane Lopez Cassell, February 18 with Lynne Sachs, and February 21 with Ari-Duong Nguyen.

“Fire Over Water” also features Michaël Dudok de Wit’s The Red Turtle, Phạm Thiên Ân’s Caméra d’Or winner Inside the Yellow Cocoon Shell, and Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s Cemetery of Splendour.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

FAMILY PORTRAIT: JAPANESE FAMILY IN FLUX

Yoko is making its US premiere at in Japan Society / IFC Center series

FAMILY PORTRAIT: JAPANESE FAMILY IN FLUX
Japan Society, 333 East 47th St. at First Ave.
IFC Center, 323 Sixth Ave. at West Third St.
February 15 – March 22
www.ifccenter.com
japansociety.org

In February 2021, as part of the ACA Cinema Project, Japan Society and Japan’s Agency for Cultural Affairs teamed up for “21st Century Japan: Films from 2001-2020,” a three-week virtual festival of Japanese films from the previous twenty years, followed in December by “Flash Forward: Debut Works and Recent Films by Notable Japanese Directors,” a three-week hybrid series pairing directors’ most recent works with their debuts. Since then, they have also presented “Emerging Japanese Films” and “The Female Gaze: Women Filmmakers from Japan Cuts and Beyond.”

The festival is now back with “Family Portrait: Japanese Family in Flux,” ten films that explore familial bonds. The selections range from Yasujirō Ozu’s 1967 Tokyo Twilight and Kohei Oguri’s 1981 Muddy River to the New York premiere of Ryota Nakano’s 2019 A Long Goodbye and the US premieres of Teruaki Shoji’s Hoyaman and Keiko Tsuruoka’s Tsugaru Lacquer Girl. Nakano will take part in a Q&A and reception following the February 23 New York premiere of Her Love Boils Bathwater, and he will be on hand for a discussion after the February 24 showing of his latest work, The Asadas, which was inspired by real-life photographer Masashi Asada.

All screenings take place at Japan Society except for the February 22 US premiere of Kazuyoshi Kumakiri’s Yoko, which will be shown at IFC Center; the film stars Pistol Takehara, Jun Fubuki, Oscar nominee Rinko Kikuchi, and TV, film, and music favorite Joe Odagiri.

“‘Family Portrait: Japanese Family in Flux’ is a richly thematic series celebrating the rise, fall, and rebirth of the Japanese family,” Japan Society director of film Peter Tatara said in a statement. “Showcasing films from across the past sixty-five years, audiences will find an ever-evolving image of what family means in Japan, and the universally human sorrow and joys at its core.”

Below are select reviews from the series.

Hirokazu Kore-eda’s STILL WALKING is a special film about a dysfunctional family that should not be missed

Hirokazu Kore-eda’s Still Walking is a special film that honors such Japanese directors as Naruse, Ozu, and Imamura

STILL WALKING (ARUITEMO ARUITEMO) (Hirokazu Kore-eda, 2008)
Japan Society
Thursday, February 15, 7:00
japansociety.org

Flawlessly written, directed, and edited by Hirokazu Kore-eda (Shoplifters, After Life), Still Walking follows a day in the life of the Yokoyama family, which gathers together once a year to remember Junpei, the eldest son who died tragically. The story is told through the eyes of the middle child, Ryota (Hiroshi Abe), a forty-year-old painting restorer who has recently married Yukari (Yui Natsukawa), a widow with a young son (Shohei Tanaka). Ryota dreads returning home because his father, Kyohei (Yoshio Harada), and mother, Toshiko (Kirin Kiki), are disappointed in the choices he’s made, both personally and professionally, and never let him escape from Junpei’s ever-widening shadow. Also at the reunion is Ryota’s chatty sister, Chinami (You), who, with her husband and children, is planning on moving in with her parents in order to take care of them in their old age (and save money as well).

Over the course of twenty-four hours, the history of the dysfunctional family and the deep emotions hidden just below the surface slowly simmer but never boil, resulting in a gentle, bittersweet narrative that is often very funny and always subtly powerful. The film is beautifully shot by Yutaka Yamazaki, who keeps the camera static during long interior takes — it moves only once inside the house — using doorways, short halls, and windows to frame scenes with a slightly claustrophobic feel, evoking how trapped the characters are by the world the parents have created. The scenes in which Kyohei walks with his cane ever so slowly up and down the endless outside steps are simple but unforgettable. Influenced by such Japanese directors as Mikio Naruse, Yasujiro Ozu, and Shohei Imamura, Kore-eda was inspired to make the film shortly after the death of his parents; although it is fiction, roughly half of Toshiko’s dialogue is taken directly from his own mother. Still Walking is a special film, a visual and psychological marvel that should not be missed.

Ryuhei Sasaki (Teruyuki Kagawa) has trouble facing his sudden unemployment in Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Tokyo Sonata

TOKYO SONATA (Kiyoshi Kurosawa, 2008)
Japan Society
Sunday, February 18, 7:00
japansociety.org

Winner of the Un Certain Regard Jury Prize at Cannes, Tokyo Sonata serves as a parable for modern-day Japan. Ryuhei Sasaki (Teruyuki Kagawa) is a simple family man, with a wife, Megumi (Kyōko Koizumi), two sons, Takashi (Yu Koyanagi) and Kenji (Kai Inowaki), and an honest job as an administration director for a major company. When Ryuhei is suddenly let go — he is being replaced by much cheaper Chinese labor — he is so ashamed, he doesn’t tell his family. Instead, he puts on his suit every day and, briefcase in hand, walks out the door, but instead of going to work, he first waits on line at the unemployment agency, then at an outdoor food kitchen for a free lunch with the homeless — and other businessmen in the same boat as he is. Taking out his anger on his family, Ryuhei refuses to allow Kenji to take piano lessons and protests strongly against Takashi’s desire to join the American military. But then, on one crazy night — which includes a shopping mall, a haphazard thief (Koji Yakusho), a convertible, and some unexpected violence — it all comes to a head, leading to a brilliant finale that makes you forget all of the uneven missteps in the middle of the film, which is warmly photographed by Akiko Ashizawa and about a half hour too long anyway.

Kagawa (Sukiyaki Western Django, Tokyo!) is outstanding as the sad-sack husband and father, matched note for note by the wonderful pop star Koizumi (Hanging Garden, Adrift in Tokyo), who searches for strength as everything around her is falling apart. And it’s always great to see Yakusho, the star of such films as Kurosawa’s Cure, Shohei Imamura’s The Eel, Rob Marshall’s Memoirs of a Geisha, and Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Babel, seen here as a wild-haired, wild-eyed wannabe burglar.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

THE APIARY

Zora (April Matthis) and Pilar (Carmen M. Herlihy) try to save the bees in Kate Douglas’s The Apiary (photo by Joan Marcus)

THE APIARY
Second Stage Theater
Tony Kiser Theater
305 West 43rd St. between Eighth & Ninth Aves.
Tuesday – Sunday through March 3, $62-$106
2st.com/shows

There is no evidence that theoretical physicist Albert Einstein ever said, “If the bee disappeared off the face of the Earth, man would only have four years left to live.” That doesn’t mean that the apocryphal viral quote doesn’t have some truth in it, as explored in Kate Douglas’s The Apiary, making its world premiere at Second Stage’s Tony Kiser Theater.

As the audience enters the space, Pilar (Carmen M. Herlihy) is working at a desk stage right in a beekeeping suit, filling test tubes with dead bees, one by one, while listening to beloved 1970s hits by ABBA and others. There’s a similar desk stage left (which curiously goes unused); in the center is a lab shrouded in floor-to-ceiling netting, which contains four small beehives, a rolling table, industrial lighting, and a large yellow-tinted cube known as the graveyard. It’s not only bees who are endangered; the play is set twenty-two years in the future, but it could just as easily be tomorrow.

Cece (Nimene Wureh) walks in, sits in a chair in front of the lab, and talks to an unseen person about the proper way to treat bees. “Mama said — ‘If you don’t tell the bees about important events in your life, the bees will die. And lay a curse on the whole family.’” She then describes how, when her brother got married and did not tell the bees, the bees stopped making honey and nearly died until her mother intervened, showing the bees the wedding album. “They recovered,” Cece explains. “That time, they recovered.”

Gwen (Taylor Schilling) has some intriguing questions for Bryn (Nimene Wureh) in Second Stage world premiere (photo by Joan Marcus)

The employees in this synthetic apiary are attempting to restore the fading bee population, facing disappointment after disappointment. Pilar is joined by Zora (April Matthis), a biochemist who has left a plum position in pharmaceuticals to become a low-level functionary in the downstairs of this mediocre facility, where “upstairs” never deigns to visit. When Pilar asks Zora why she made the change, Zora answers simply, “I like bees.” Pilar compares the job to be being a palliative caregiver, warning Zora, “This may be hard for you then. A lot of sweeping up dead bees. A lot of dead bees. A lot a lot of dead bees.” Zora replies, “I think it’s important. Not everyone wants to be there for the end. But someone should be here. Give them that.”

Their supervisor is the ultraserious, by-the-book Gwen (Taylor Schilling), who is immediately angry that proper hiring procedure and notifications have not been followed. She is suspicious of Zora, telling her that it is a bare-bones operation. “This isn’t some flashy experimental job with lots of funding and vacations and a 401K, okay. This isn’t — space exploration,” she states.

Zora is soon suggesting methods that might get the bee numbers back up, but Gwen, who has an ambitious five-year plan to become project director, argues that she is too busy trying to save their jobs to write reports requesting more funding, which could take months and months. Zora says that she’ll pay for all the materials herself, which intrigues Gwen. After one research method fails, a second, more promising and secretive one falls in Zora’s lap — but at a formidable cost.

Cece (Nimene Wureh) offers insight into how to restore the bee population in The Apiary (photo by Joan Marcus)

The bees’ life force is represented by Stephanie Crousillat, who occasionally pops up in the graveyard and performs interpretive dance; the more energetic she is, the more time the bees have, and, sadly, the more tired and withdrawn she is, the closer the bees are to the end. Her tight-fitting, barely there costume includes a vaguely insectlike mask, a stark contrast to the white lab suits worn by Zora, Pilar, and Gwen. (The costumes are by Jennifer Moeller, with scenic design by Walt Spangler, lighting by Amith Chandrashaker, sound by Christopher Darbassie, and original music by Grace McLean.)

At one point, Gwen, condemning space travel, shouts, “Like WE HAVE THINGS TO DO ON THIS PLANET YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!!!” The cry gets to the heart of Douglas’s sharply stinging plot, which is as much about the bee crisis as the human one. When Cece describes how her mother related to bees, she could have just as well been talking about how people relate to one another and to the natural world; personal communication is vital, and in 2024, as well as 2046, people need to interact with others and with the earth’s creatures. When Zora explains about being there at the end for bees, she could have just as well been talking about how humans face death, that people need to be cared for and not merely left alone to die.

Director Kate Whoriskey (Clyde’s, Sweat) cleverly pollinates the story as it evolves into a taut thriller. Emmy nominee Schilling (Orange Is the New Black, A Month in the Country) is on target as Gwen, who has trouble seeing the forest for the trees as she battles so much red tape and personal ambition. Lucille Lortel nominee Herlihy (Bachelorette, A Delicate Balance) is sweet as honey as Pilar, who always tries to find the good in everything. Obie winner Matthis (Primary Trust, Toni Stone) again demonstrates her impressive range as Zora, who is determined to do whatever is necessary to save the planet. [ed. note: Matthis will be replaced by two-time Tony nominee Kara Young for the final week of the run, due to a scheduling conflict.] And Wureh shines in four roles, giving Cece, Kara, Anna, and Bryn distinct characteristics as they get involved in the project in a surprising way.

“The bees are very sensitive and so so smart,” Pilar tells Zora. “They dance! They tell jokes.”

She’s not just talking about the bees.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

THE UNEXPECTED MAN

Revival of Yasmina Reza’s The Unexpected Man runs February 16-25 at IATI Theater (photo by Marina Levitskaya)

THE UNEXPECTED MAN
IATI Theater
64 East Fourth St. between Bowery & Second Ave.
February 16-25, $49.87
www.eventbrite.ca

“I’m prepared to risk any kind of adventure with you,” Martha imagines telling Paul in French playwright Yasmina Reza’s The Unexpected Man. Martha then imagines Paul responding, “Come on, Martha, life is short.”

STEPS Theatre and Art Against Humanity are presenting a unique revival of the show February 16-25 at IATI Theater in the East Village, starring Roman Freud as the man and Mickey Pantano as the woman. As the play opens, they are sitting in the same train compartment, going from Paris to Frankfurt; Martha recognizes Paul as the author of the novel she is reading, The Unexpected Man, but she hesitates to take it out of her purse and read it right in front of him, believing it would be insensitive. Over the course of ninety minutes, they deliver internal monologues about their lives.

“Can never sleep on a train. Hard enough in bed, let alone on a train. Strange this woman never reads anything,” he wonders to himself.

“I like traveling. As soon as I set foot in Frankfurt, I shall be another person: the one who arrives is always another person, And so it is that one progresses, from one person to another, until it’s all over,” she explains to herself.

Their “conversation” touches on a wide range of topics, from art and religion to friendship and ex-lax. As the train approaches its destination, so does their connection.

The Unexpected Man debuted in England in 1998, starring Eileen Atkins and Michael Gambon. Two and a half years later, Christopher Hampton’s translation ran at the McGinn/Cazale Theater, with Atkins and Alan Bates, earning a slew of award nominations.

This new version is directed by Slava Stepnov (White on White; Enemies, A Love Story) and produced by Polina Belkina, with set and costumes by Arcady Kotler and Elina Kotler. Reza’s previous works include two Tony winners for Best Play, Art and God of Carnage.

“Today I was thinking about what The Unexpected Man and Yasmina Reza brought to my life,” Freud recently posted on social media. “One of the huge accomplishments of this play is that so many characters are left outside the main storyline — friends, lovers, spouses, critics, writers, kids. They are mentioned frequently throughout the play, which creates a crowded feeling, as if you’re in the presence of many people, some invented on the spot, some already dead. The play has a cast of probably twenty people, reflected by only two storytellers. All those offstage characters live and breathe in the play. Also, The Unexpected Man — the book in the heroine’s purse. After my first reading of the play, this imaginary book became a point of obsession for me.”

The play runs for ten performances; tickets are $49.87.

“Did I write what I wanted to write? No, never. I wrote what I was capable of writing, not what I wanted to,” Paul says, encapsulating the human experience. “All you ever do is what you’re capable of.”

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]