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PARADE

Lucille (Micaela Diamond) and Leo Frank (Ben Platt) fight for justice in Parade (photo by Joan Marcus)

PARADE
Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre
242 West 45th St. between Broadway & Eighth Ave.
Tuesday – Sunday through August 6, $84-$288
paradebroadway.com

At intermission of the first Broadway revival of Parade, based on a true story of anti-Semitism, racism, and a terrible miscarriage of justice, several colleagues and I asked the same question: “Why is this a musical?” We found out in the far superior second act.

The show, directed by Harold Prince, with music and lyrics by Jason Robert Brown and a book by Oscar and Pulitzer Prize winner Alfred Uhry (Driving Miss Daisy), debuted at the Vivian Beaumont in 1998, running for thirty-nine previews and eighty-four regular performances, earning nine Tony nominations and winning for Best Book and Best Original Score. It is now playing at the Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre, in a version directed by Tony winner Michael Arden that transferred from Encores! at City Center and uses the 2007 Donmar Warehouse production, which included a few different songs from the original.

Parade begins with a prologue set in Marietta, Georgia, in 1862, as a young Confederate soldier (Charlie Webb) sings goodbye to his love and prepares to fight “for these old hills behind me / these old red hills of home. . . . in the land where honor lives and breathes.” The action then shifts to Atlanta in 1913, where the soldier (Howard McGillin), who lost a leg in the Civil War, is determined to help the South rise again, “honor” be damned.

It’s Confederate Memorial Day, and Lucille Frank (Micaela Diamond) wants to go on a picnic with her husband, Leo (Ben Platt), but he instead decides to go to work at the National Pencil Company, her father’s factory where Leo is superintendent. Thirteen-year-old Mary Phagan (Erin Rose Doyle) arrives to collect her pay and is later found murdered in the basement. The police arrest Leo for the crime, but he doesn’t take them very seriously, since he is innocent — but when power-hungry district attorney Hugh Dorsey (Paul Alexander Nolan) starts building a strong case against him, constructed on a series of lies, Leo suddenly faces reality as Lucille seeks to uncover the truth and reveal the conspiracy to railroad her husband.

Mary Phagan (Erin Rose Doyle) enjoys one final moment of life with Frankie Epps (Jake Pedersen) in based-on-fact musical (photo by Joan Marcus)

Among those participating in the frame-up led by Dorsey are National Pencil night watchman Newt Lee (Eddie Cooper), janitor Jim Conley (Alex Joseph Grayson), and Frank family maid Minnie McKnight (Danielle Lee Greaves), all of whom are Black and manipulated because of the color of their skin; Governor Jack Slaton (Sean Allan Krill), who is more concerned with his upcoming reelection campaign than the fate of one perhaps innocent man; Mary’s friend Frankie Epps (Jake Pedersen), who wants to see the murderer “burn in the ragin’ fires of hell forevermore”; right-wing newspaper editor and publisher Tom Watson (Manoel Felciano), who calls out, “Who’s gonna stop the Jew from killin’? Who’s gonna swing that hammer?”; Judge Roan (McGillin), who’d rather be fishing than in court; and Britt Craig (Jay Armstrong Johnson), an ambitious reporter who declares, “Take this superstitious city / Add one little Jew from Brooklyn / Plus a college education and a mousy little wife / And big news! Real big news! / That poor sucker saved my life!” Mary’s distraught mother (Kelli Barrett) is the only one considering forgiveness.

The focus of the show shifts dramatically after intermission, during which Leo remains onstage, in his jail cell, contemplating his fate; while the first act was all over the place, squeezing in too much information alongside oversized production numbers, the second act zeroes in on the touching relationship between Lucille and Leo as they desperately try to prove his innocence. It’s a beautiful, romantic love story, highlighted by a prison picnic Lucille brings to Leo in which she first chastises him for not accepting her assistance. “Do it alone, Leo — do it all by yourself. / You’re the only one who matters after all. / Do it alone, Leo — why should it bother me? / I’m just good for standing in the shadows / And staring at the walls, Leo,” she sings. Later they duet on “This Is Not Over Yet,” as Leo proclaims, “Hail the resurrection of / the south’s least fav’rite son! / It means I made a vow for better! / Two is better than one! / It means the journey ahead might get shorter. / I might reach the end of my rope! / But suddenly, loud as a mortar, there is hope!”

Parade features archival projections throughout (photo by Joan Marcus)

Dane Laffrey’s set is centered by a large wooden platform on which most of the action takes place, evoking a gallows as well as a coffin. There are scattered chairs and pews on either side, where many of the characters sit when they’re not in the scene, which can get confusing, especially for actors who play multiple roles. Susan Hilferty’s period costumes put us right in the 1910s, while Sven Ortel’s projections feature archival photographs of the real people and locations involved in the story, along with newspaper articles and a memorial plaque, a constant, and effective, reminder that this really happened — along with a final shot providing one last shock. Lauren Yalango-Grant and Christopher Cree Grant’s choreography thankfully calms down in the second half. Heather Gilbert’s lighting and Jon Weston’s sound maintains the dark mood surrounding the events. Music director and conductor Tom Murray handles three-time Tony winner Brown’s (The Last Five Years, Mr. Saturday Night) compelling score with a rousing touch, while director Michael Arden (Spring Awakening, Once on This Island) ably navigates through Uhry’s (Driving Miss Daisy, The Last Night of Ballyhoo) busy book. (Notably, Atlanta native Uhry’s great-uncle owned the National Pencil Company at the time of the killing.)

Tony winner Platt (Dear Evan Hansen, The Book of Mormon) and Diamond (The Cher Show, A Play Is a Poem) are wonderful together, portraying a Jewish couple in the Deep South facing bigotry; Platt captures Leo’s unrealistic belief that justice will triumph in the end, while Diamond embodies Lucille’s growth as she confronts what is happening in her beloved hometown. Grayson (Into the Woods, Girl from the North Country) brings down the house with “Feel the Rain Fall,” although, in 2023, it teeters on the edge of appropriation. Courtnee Carter (Once on This Island, Sing Street) as Angela and Douglas Lyons (Chicken & Biscuits, Beautiful) as Riley provide necessary perspective in their duet, “A Rumblin’ and a Rollin’,” in which they assert, “I can tell you this, as a matter of fact, / that the local hotels wouldn’t be so packed / if a little black girl had gotten attacked.” Also providing strong support are Cooper (Assassins, The Cradle Will Rock), Tony nominee Krill (Jagged Little Pill, Honeymoon in Vegas), and Greaves (Hairspray, Rent).

The final projection as the musical ends is a potent reminder that this country still has a long way to go when it comes to entrenched racism, misogyny, and anti-Semitism, in states such as Georgia and too many others that appear determined to continue a legacy of bigotry and hatred, although there is hope with such political stalwarts as Georgia senator Raphael Warnock, the reverend who tells us, before the show starts, to silence our cellphones but, implicitly, not our voices.

NICK CAVE: FOROTHERMORE

Nick Cave, Untitled, mixed media including a bronze head and thirteen American flag shirts, 2018 (Ann and Mel Schaffer Family Collection / photo by twi-ny/mdr)

NICK CAVE: FOROTHERMORE
Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum
1071 Fifth Ave. at 89th St.
Through April 10, $18-$25
212-423-3587
www.guggenheim.org
forothermore slideshow

Nick Cave’s oeuvre consists of tantalizing, colorful objects and installations that are immediately eye-catching, inspiring childlike wonder. It was no surprise that when I was walking through “Nick Cave: Forothermore” at the Guggenheim, several kids were running around like they were in a playground. I actually had to stop two children from grabbing the small balls and dominoes carefully arranged in Forbidden and Desire (1998); while one boy’s father was grateful, the other’s mother gave me a stern look. I think she wanted to chastise me for saying anything to her child, but she realized that it was probably a good idea that her boy not touch the valuable artwork. When I mentioned to a security guard what I had experienced, they acknowledged that it was a continuing problem.

But the sixty-four-year-old Cave’s works are a lot more than intriguing, pretty pieces; the Missouri-born, Chicago-based multimedia artist explores loss, mourning, racial injustice, the importance of community, and joy through sculpture, painting, video, installation, and performance, incorporating found objects as he examines the Black experience in America.

On view through April 10, the show is divided into three sections: “What It Was,” “What It Is,” and “What It Shall Be,” examining the past, present, and future of Cave’s practice as well as the state of our society. Penny Catcher (2009) welcomes visitors to Tower 2, a depiction of a male figure in a black suit and black-and-white spats hanging on a wall, his mouth open to accept coins, a repurposed relic from a flea market. I Wouldn’t Bet Against It (2007) is centered by a miniature person praying in front of several dozen dice, surrounded by a halo that creates a dizzying optical illusion. Wall Relief (2013) comprises four large panels festooned in a thick morass of ceramic birds, afghans, strung beads, crystals, and antique gramophone speakers, with metal flowers emerging on all sides. Nearby is TM13 (2015), one of Cave’s signature Soundsuits, bigger-than-life mannequins that the queer Black artist began creating after the Rodney King beating during the 1991 LA riots; this one is based on Trayvon Martin, trapped in a net, one sneakered foot sticking out at the bottom, accompanied by vintage blow molds, including Santa, a bear dressed for Halloween, and St. Joseph from the Nativity scene.

In Tower 4, Sea Sick (2014) is a collage of eleven oil paintings of old-time sailing ships at sea, with a sculpture of a gold-colored plastic ship hovering over the head of a screaming Black man, hands lifted to his head, his red lips and white teeth defying stereotypes.

“I started to think about how racism’s transferred over into consumerism and product,” Cave (Until, Mass MoCA, 2017; The Let Go, Park Ave. Armory, 2018) explains on the accompanying audioguide, in a way that serves as a kind of artist statement for the entire exhibition. “I had this set of gold praying hands, but the way in which they’re positioned with Sea Sick is that they’re covering up his ears just to numb out the sound, this sort of anguish, this sort of rage. And then above is this gold bling-bling ship that pulls it right into this contemporary moment in which we exist right now. It’s surrounded by these ship paintings that I have found in thrift stores, reclaiming and repositioning how we engage in experience and talk about this voyage of sorts to the free world. And so all of that is in question because these objects are reconfigured in and renegotiating the role in which they present themselves today. So to me it’s not that it’s yesterday; it’s very much today. As I start to look at the work, I start to think about the community’s outreach, that I’m only a vessel. I feel that I’ve been the one chosen to deliver these deeds. I have a job to do; I am the voice for many people, and it’s really being able to celebrate our differences. . . . That I can I can stand here, you can stand here, and we can be in this moment collectively is that moment I’m wanting to talk about.”

Nick Cave, Time and Again, mixed media including vintage metal, found objects and wood, 2000 (courtesy the artist / photo by twi-ny/mdr)

Also in Tower 4 is the fourteen-minute video Bunny Boy (2012), in which Cave, who presented the performance “Heard•NY” in Grand Central in 2013, dances suggestively in one of his Soundsuits; Platform, which contains black gramophone speakers, a crow, and chains of arms grasping hands, either coming down from or going up to heaven; and Rescue (2013), in which several dogs are seated on couches and chairs. Chairs are a recurring theme, also seen in an untitled 2018 piece in which an empty pink high chair is in front of a table of praying heads and hands, evoking a missing child, and Time and Again (2000), an installation with a chair with a tiny white pig on it attached to a canvas laden with Cave’s late grandfather’s wooden and metal farming tools and crosses, rows of rusted agricultural dishes lined up on the floor.

The centerpiece of the exhibit are the Soundsuits in Tower 5, with more than a dozen on a white platform as if frozen in time during a fashion show. The mannequins are covered in a multitude of colors and objects, from vintage textile and sequined appliqués to toy globes, flowers, hip pants, spinning tops, little pales and shovels, sock monkeys, bunnies, and boots. Perched on the walls, and also used as faces for a few Soundsuits, are Cave’s circular kaleidoscopic wire mesh and beaded Tondos, which he says “is me looking at these brain scans of inner-city youth that live in extreme, violent zones, and the trauma that comes from that, and pairing that with extreme weather patterns — colliding these two forces together.”

It’s a visual feast for children of all ages — and once again needs security to make sure kids don’t jump onto the platform and touch the pieces. There were too many of them running around for even me to stop them, especially since I was having just as much fun. But as fun as they are, as with TM13, they make critical points about where we’ve been, where we are, and where we are going as a society. These feasts of visual exuberance bear titles such as 8:46 and 9:29, grounding them in time and space: The numerals refer to the murder of George Floyd by Minneapolis police.

JAN TILLEY: EXCERPTS FROM JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR

EXCERPTS FROM JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR
The Cutting Room
44 East 32nd St. between Madison & Fifth Aves.
Friday, April 7, $40.35, $25 food & beverage minimum per person, 7:30
212-691-1900
thecuttingroomnyc.com
www.jantilley.com

Right after the two Passover seders and before Easter Sunday, rock & roll guitarist and singer Jan Tilley offers a holiday spectacular on Good Friday, an evening of songs from Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice’s 1971 Broadway smash, Jesus Christ Superstar. Tilley, the cofounder of the Rude Girls and an early portrayer of Krzysztof in Hedwig & the Angry Inch, has led several special concerts at the Cutting Room and will next revive her portrayal of Jesus from last year, with vocalist Lisa McQuade as Judas, singer, composer, and multi-instrumentalist Rachelle Garniez as Mary Magdalene, and singer and actor Joe Dettmore as Simon Zealotes, Pontius Pilate, and King Herod. The band consists of Tilley with Roger Lipson, Tim Brannigan, Paul Leschen, and Junior Pauls, ready to kick some ass on such songs as “What’s the Buzz/Strange Thing, Mystifying,” “Everything’s Alright,” “Heaven on Their Minds,” “I Don’t Know How to Love Him,” and “King Herod’s Song.”

Jan Tilley brings their rock-and-roll take on Jesus Christ Superstar back to the Cutting Room on Good Friday (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

If you haven’t seen Tilley rock out before at their Time Capsule 1970s/’80s shows and Heart tribute, you’re in for a treat. And with Lloyd Webber’s Phantom of the Opera closing on April 16 and his Bad Cinderella living up to its title, this is unquestionably the best Sir Andrew gig in town. (Even Ted Lasso is getting in on it all, making two Jesus Christ Superstar references in its first three episodes of season three.) Tickets are $40.35, with a $25 food and beverage minimum; the menu includes latkes in addition to burgers, salads, tacos, pizzas, and fish.

La MaMa Moves! Dance Festival ’23

Nela H. Kornetová and Lærke Grøntved star in T.I.T.S.’s US premiere of Forced Beauty (photo courtesy T.I.T.S.)

Who: Kari Hoaas Productions, Nela Kornetová and T.I.T.S., Loco7 Dance Puppet Theatre Company, Nora Alami, Jadd Tank, Leyya Mona Tawil/Lime Rickey International, Baye & Asa, Wendy Perron and Morgan Griffin, Bobbi Jene Smith, Kayla Farrish, Kathryn Alter, Francesca Dominguez, Darvejon Jones, Cory “Supernova” Villegas/Soul Dance Co
What: Eighteenth annual La MaMa Moves! Dance Festival
Where: La MaMa, 74A East Fourth St. between Bowery & Second Ave.
When: April 6–30, free (with advance RSVP) – $30
Why: The eighteenth annual La MaMa Moves! Dance Festival runs April 6-30, consisting of ten programs featuring a dozen creators presenting a wide range of works exploring the theme “Research, Resilience, and Testimony.” Referring to the artists, curator Nicky Paraiso explains on the festival website, “They bear witness to the uncertain times we live in, with a deeply felt personal approach that our dance audiences will not easily forget. We are living, perhaps, in a not-yet-totally postpandemic world where emotional response continues to remain tender and raw.”

The festival opens with works by two Norwegian companies, beginning April 6-8 with the world premiere of Kari Hoaas Productions’ Shadowland, in which a group of soloists weave through a web of loss, and April 7-9 with the US premiere of T.I.T.S.’s Forced Beauty, in which choreographer Nela H. Kornetová and Lærke Grøntved, often topless, act out online hate and violence directed at women on the internet. The free panel discussion “Stop Calling Them Dangerous #5, Cinema Has Power” takes place April 8 at 2:00 at CRS (Center for Remembering and Sharing), with screenings of films by Yvonne Rainer and Charles Atlas, organized by Yoshiko Chuma and promising “surprise dance-filmmakers” in attendance.

The second week kicks off with Loco7 Dance Puppet Theatre Company’s Lunch with Sonia (April 12-16), followed by a pair of shared programs: Nora Alami and Jadd Tank’s 3rd Body, inspired by VR technology, and Leyya Mona Tawil/Lime Rickey International’s Malayeen Voices, a futuristic look at folk songs and dance (April 13-16); and Baye & Asa’s duet Suck it Up, which delves into commercial imagery, with Wendy Perron and Morgan Griffin’s The Daily Mirror 1976/2022, in which teacher Perron revisits a 1976 work, now joined by one of her students, featuring film and photography by Babette Mangolte (April 14-16).

The third week is highlighted by the New York premiere of Bobbi Jene Smith’s multimedia dance-theater piece Broken Theater with AMOC* (April 20-30). Kayla Farrish’s Put Away the Fire, dear, pt.2 explores the relationship between live performance and cinema, with Farrish, Jessica Alexander, Tatiana Barber, James Barret, Alexander Diaz, Kerime Konur, and Curtis Thomas (April 21-23). The final program is Hunter College’s Emerging Choreographers Showcase with works by Kathryn Alter, Francesca Dominguez, Darvejon Jones, and Cory “Supernova” Villegas/Soul Dance Co.

ASI WIND’S INNER CIRCLE

Asi Wind’s Inner Circle continues dazzling audiences at Judson Theatre through May 28

ASI WIND’S INNER CIRCLE
Judson Theatre
243 Thompson St.
Thursday – Sunday through September 3, $59.14 – $265.35
www.asiwind.com

“My goal is to create a moment that has no explanation,” magician and corporate mentalist Asi Wind told Penn Jillette and Raymond Teller in a 2019 episode of Penn & Teller: Fool Us. The Israeli-born, New York-based Wind creates seventy-five minutes that have no explanation in his masterful Inner Circle, which is wowing audiences at the Judson Theatre by Washington Square Park.

Wind might be a magician’s magician, but Inner Circle is more than just a magic show; it’s an investigation into identity and individuality, exploring multiple aspects of the human condition in unique and entertaining ways. And don’t bother trying to figure out how he does what he does; instead, just go with the flow.

Asi Wind uses a special deck for card tricks in magic show

“I’m going to lie to you . . . a lot,” the engaging Wind says near the beginning of his seventy-five-minute performance, centering around a deck of original, red- or black-bordered cards on which each of the one hundred audience members has written their name and initials. Wind and the thirteen people sitting around the table with him cut, shuffle, and examine the cards as Wind makes them (the cards, not the people) appear and disappear in surprising places and gets into personal conversations with several of the men and women whose cards were selected. We learn about their jobs, their families, their romantic partners, but they represent the audience as a whole; we are not anonymous in the semidark theater, which was constructed specifically for this event, nearly full circle except for a small curtained area behind Wind. (The set is by Adam Blumenthal.)

We also find out a bit about Wind himself, including a section devoted to some of his heroes and mentors, whose portraits, painted by Wind, hang in the lobby, from Juan Tamariz, Cardini, and Tommy Wonder to Ricky Jay, Harry Houdini, and David Blaine, who is presenting Inner Circle. Wind, who was born Asi Betesh in Tel Aviv, served as chief consultant for Blaine for ten years.

Wind, whose Concert of the Mind: Exceeding Human Limits played at the Axis Theatre in 2013, is an expert at drawing out the mystery; just when you think the trick is over, he adds another element or two. “We do need to build up the drama,” he says. The night I went, just about everything clicked, with every participant doing their part, leading to gasping, laughing, and even a few tears.

Asi Wind performs his jaw-dropping magic from central round table

Director John Lovick maintains an easygoing approach, keeping everyone involved whether their name is called or not. The set, consisting of four rising rows, is a little steep at the top, and if you’re sitting in a corner it might be hard to see some of the action. Occasionally a camera projects the cards onto the table so they are magnified but not always in focus, so you may still have to strain to see what is happening. But those are minor quibbles in what is otherwise a fun night of magic and observation.

“It’s about connecting people,” Wind, who knows how to play his audience, says at one point.

And that’s the best magic trick of all.

FAYE DRISCOLL: WEATHERING

Faye Driscoll’s Weathering makes its world premiere this weekend at NYLA (photo by Maria Baranova)

Who: Faye Driscoll, James Barrett, Kara Brody, Miguel Alejandro Castillo, Amy Gernux, Shayla-Vie Jenkins, Jennifer Nugent, Cory Seals, Eliza Tappan, Carlo Antonio Villanueva, Jo Warren
What: World premiere of Weathering
Where: New York Live Arts, 219 West Nineteenth St. between Seventh & Eighth Aves., 212-924-0077
When: April 5-8, 13-15, $32-$50, 7:30
Why: “Weathering is a symphonically active, luminously living, breathing, leaking sculpture of flesh, materials, breath, sound, smell that is a study of momentums that are thrusting from just beyond the perceivable,” New York–based choreographer Faye Driscoll explains in an “Inside the Pillow Lab” video about her latest work, having its world premiere April 5-8 and 13-15 at New York Live Arts. “I think the work is often about making the senses super activated so that we might notice the way we’re making the world.”

In such pieces as the Thank You for Coming trilogy, You’re Me, There is so much mad in me, and Stripped/Dressed, Driscoll has challenged the relationship among performers themselves as well as between dancers and the audience, resulting in works that are unpredictable, constantly surprising, and endlessly inventive, from the choreography to costumes to staging.

Known as “Touch Piece” when it was in progress, Weathering is an exploration of the body and the senses, asking the question “Where is the body and how far does it extend?” It partially evolved during pandemic Zoom classes Driscoll taught at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. “We experimented with touching each other with words and sound via the screen,” Driscoll wrote on Instagram. It was further developed at the Maggie Allesee National Center for Choreography at Florida State University and at Jacob’s Pillow. Jake Margolin and Nick Vaughan’s set features a squishy square white raft/bed that can be spun around, where James Barrett, Kara Brody, Miguel Alejandro Castillo, Amy Gernux, Shayla-Vie Jenkins, Jennifer Nugent, Cory Seals, Eliza Tappan, Carlo Antonio Villanueva, and Jo Warren weave together, at times like they’re one being.

The costumes are by Karen Boyer, with lighting by Amanda K. Ringger, sound and music direction by Sophia Brous, live sound and sound design by Ryan Gamblin, and composition, field recordings, and sound design by Guillaume Malaret. Driscoll’s presentations have always gone beyond dance, incorporating performance art and interactivity, making them unique events unto themselves. The entire run is nearly sold out, so act fast to get tickets; in addition, there will be a waitlist starting at 1:00 on the day of each show (call 212-924-0077 to reserve your place in line).

DRINKING IN AMERICA

Andre Royo plays multiple addicts in revival of Eric Bogosian’s Drinking in America (photo by Jeremy Daniel)

DRINKING IN AMERICA
Audible Theater’s Minetta Lane Theatre
18 Minetta Lane between Sixth Ave. and MacDougal St.
Monday – Saturday through April 13, $53-$98
drinkinginamericaplay.com
www.audible.com

In “Fried-Egg Deal,” the last of twelve monologues that comprise Eric Bogosian’s Drinking in America, a loaded man says to the audience, “I’m a good-for-nothin’ drunken bum, you shouldn’t even look at me.”

Written and first performed by Bogosian in 1986 when he was eighteen months sober, having kicked alcohol and hard drugs, Drinking in America examines different forms of addiction as a variety of characters attempt to be seen, on city streets, in hotel rooms, at work, and in theater itself.

The play is now being revived by Audible at the Minetta Lane, starring Bronx-born Andre Royo and directed by Mark Armstrong. Royo, who played Reginald “Bubbles” Cousins on The Wire, Mayor Robert “Bobo” Boston on Hand of God, and Thirsty Rawlings on Empire, originally wanted to do Bogosian’s Talk Radio, but rights issues led him instead to Drinking in America, which has a personal connection, as he is currently about eighteen months sober himself.

I did not see the original 1986 production at the American Place Theater, which earned Bogosian an Obie for Best Play and a Drama Desk Award for Outstanding Solo Performance. But this past January, I attended a benefit for the Chain Theatre at which Bogosian presented several pieces from the play as part of “An Evening with Eric Bogosian: Monologues, Digressions, and Air Guitar.” In addition, on Bogosian’s “100 Monologues” website, I’ve watched such actors as Bill Irwin, Sam Rockwell, Brian d’Arcy James, Dylan Baker, Anson Mount, Michael Shannon, and Marin Ireland perform scenes from the show.

Royo makes the play his own from the opening moment, when he introduces himself to the audience and ad-libs about who he is and where he is from. After a few minutes of personal banter, he segues into the narrative, which begins with “Journal,” reading the April 11, 1987, entry. “Today I began to understand one of the immutable truths with regard to my own existence,” he shares. “Today I discovered that I am not a being surrounded by walls and barriers but part of a continuum with all other things, those living and even those inanimate. I feel a new surge of desire for life, for living now, for getting out and becoming part of everything around me. I want to change the world and I know I can do it. I’m like a newborn baby taking his first steps. I was blind before to my inner self, my true desires, my own special powers and the universe itself. So many people live lives of pointless desperation, unable to appreciate that life is life to be lived for today, in every flower, in a cloud . . . in a smile.”

Andre Royo stars in Audible revival of Eric Bogosian’s 1986 solo show (photo by Jeremy Daniel)

While it sounds like it could be the memories of a man who has cleaned himself up and has a new lease on life, it quickly descends into a drug-fueled tale in which the man reconsiders his own importance. “I was literally on top of the world. I felt like GOD,” he declares. What follows are the stories of eleven more men addicted to drugs, alcohol, power, prestige, money, and sex, each with a tenuous grasp on reality. Royo fluently shifts from character to character, with changes in speech, body movement, and, minimally, costumes, as each man makes his case. They stumble across the stage, swing bottles around, and get into confrontations, lost in the haze of addiction. Kristen Robinson’s set features a few chairs, a table, a lamp, and a dark back wall with a doorway that beckons to another state of mind, a proverbial light at the end of the tunnel (or an entrance to hell?). The costumes are by Sarita Fellows, with sound by John Gromada and lighting by Jeff Croiter.

In “American Dreamer,” a street drunk yells out that he has a bevy of fancy cars and lovely ladies. In “Wired,” a Hollywood player snorts coke and swizzles booze in the morning as he talks on the phone about the availability of Lee Marvin or Richard Chamberlain for an upcoming film. (Although Bogosian has made small tweaks for Audible, which will be releasing an audio version of the show, he has left in the original references.)

In “Commercial,” a voice-over actor is pitching an upscale beer, narrating, “You’ve worked hard to get where you are today and you’ve still got a long way to go before you get to the top . . . You want your life to be good . . . so you surround yourself with the best . . . the very best . . . in clothes, in food, in people . . . You know you’re going to get there someday . . . and when you do, you’ll say ‘good-bye’ to your companions of a less prosperous time. But there is one thing you will never leave behind . . . And that’s your beer: Krönenbräu . . . The beer of kings.” Beer commercials make all kinds of promises, but as the characters in Drinking in America reveal to us, what booze often delivers is something else.

In “No Problems,” the character tries to assure us, and himself, “I have no problems. I’m happy with life. Things are fine as far as I’m concerned. I know some people have problems, some people have quite a few. I, fortunately, have none.” The monologue implicates the audience, speaking to all those in the theater who believe they are not like anyone they have seen onstage, that none of that could happen to them, since they’re satisfied with their existence.

Not only has Royo struggled with addiction but his Wire costar Michael K. Williams, despite all his professional success, died of an overdose in September 2021 at the age of fifty-four. No one is invulnerable. In “Godhead,” a tough-talking man claims, “I just wanna live my life. I don’t hurt nobody.” But addiction affects more than just the addict.

Andre Royo pauses to examine addiction and demons in Drinking in America at the Minetta Lane (photo by Jeremy Daniel)

Nearly forty years after its debut, Drinking in America still feels fresh and relevant. The toll of alcoholism and drug addiction grew even greater during the recent pandemic and its concurrent isolation, and there’s no end in sight. It hurts families, destroys relationships, impacts careers, and keeps men and women from reaching their potentials. Each vignette is straightforward and direct, with Royo skillfully depicting the characters, giving them unique idiosyncrasies and attributes, but in many ways they are similar as well. And, as Bogosian (subUrbia, Pounding Nails in the Floor with My Forehead) and Royo make clear, they are us, and we are them.

In “The Law,” a preacher asks, “What has happened to our country? Will somebody answer that question for me, please? We are in trouble. We are in serious trouble. Look around you, what do you see?” We might not be seeing the same world the preacher does — he rails against “crime, perversion, decay, apathy,” and abortion, proclaiming that “we are living in a nightmare” — but we are asking the same questions.

The eighty-minute play is adroitly directed by Armstrong (The Angel in the Trees, The Most Damaging Wound) and wonderfully performed by Royo, who fully inhabits each of the characters he portrays, some of whom he, as a recovering alcoholic, can specifically relate to. In addition, because he’s Black, the show has an additional edge as it tackles toxic masculinity and male fragility, terms that were not household words in 1986, although race has taken on an expanded meaning in recent years.

Unfortunately, many of the same sociopolitical issues are still affecting America, from racial inequality and injustice to immigration reform and religious hatred. It’s always too easy to just look away, saying to ourselves, “I have no problems. None. I’m happy. I’m healthy. I love my wife, I love my kid . . . good job . . . no problems. That’s what it’s all about . . . I guess.”