live performance

THIS LAND IS OUR LAND: SAFE HOUSE BUILDS A BUNKER AT THEATRE ROW

A family faces a series of crises in their new basement bunker in L. B. Browne’s Safe House (photo by Viktorija Mickute)

SAFE HOUSE
Theatre Row
410 West 42nd St. between Ninth & Tenth Aves.
Tuesday – Sunday through September 13, $39-$67
www.splitdecision.co
www.theatrerow.org

It’s a shame that L. B. Browne’s Safe House is having such a short run at Theatre Row, playing a mere twelve performances through September 13, because it’s a superb drama, a microcosm of what’s happening in America today.

It takes place in a bunker being built by a tough right-winger named Rock (Marc Kudisch) with the assistance of his enabler wife, Slipper (Karen Ziemba), in their suburban Pennsylvania house. Forest Entsminger’s set is a somewhat claustrophobic basement with wood beams, two doors, a couch, a table, shelves of canned goods, tools and other supplies, and several rifles and pistols hanging on a wall.

“I think we’re the only folks around here reinforcing a basement pantry against nuclear fallout,” Slipper says. Rock, a former longtime Department of Defense contractor and army vet, responds, “Pantry? This isn’t soup and flour. It’s infrastructure, it’s freedom.” Rock is concerned that if the upcoming presidential election goes a certain way, a second civil war would be imminent.

They have two daughters: Ashley (Anna Roman) is a prim and proper family court lawyer, while Claire (Grace Church) is a teenager who ran away from home the year before. The twenty-seven-year-old Ashley had been finally planning on getting her own place, but the painful disappearance of her sister, ten years younger, caused her to remain to help her parents deal with the crisis. They hadn’t heard from Claire until she suddenly returns, with a little surprise that sets off everyone’s feelings and beliefs about various hot-button issues; Claire’s left-wing radicalism does not sit well with Rock’s ever-more-extreme views. The hot-headed Rock wants her gone, but Slipper and Ashley convince him to let her stay for at least a few nights.

Dr. Calvin Merritt (Justin Lee Miller) drops by unexpectedly to chat privately with Rock about his alarming diagnosis eleven months earlier and whether he’s told his wife and kids yet. Rock, who has not done so, insists he’s as strong as an ox, pointing out the bunker as proof, despite his occasional twitches and shakes. “You know these tests get mixed up all the time. Nothing like that runs in my family,” Rock says matter-of-factly. “The General, Ma, when their time came, they were healthy enough to make death cruel.”

When Dr. Merritt reminds Rock that his father, the General (Glenn Seven Allen), died in Vietnam when Rock was a child, his father, in uniform, enters from a far corner. Rock talks to the hallucination as if it were real, momentarily forgetting that the doctor is there; the words Rock speaks relate to both his father and Dr. Merritt in a potent way, as exemplified in this exchange:

The General: You couldn’t hold steady enough to hit the broad side of a barn.
Dr. Merritt: Your father had the gene; just didn’t live long enough to find out.
Rock: I was a boy.
Dr. Merritt: Yeah, you couldn’t have known. Are you okay?
Rock: I told you, I’m feeling great.
Dr. Merritt: Your hand’s shaking.
The General: Like the first time you brought a buck to its knees.
Rock: I’m not shaking.
Dr. Merritt: You don’t even feel it, do you?
The General: Shameful sight, the way you shook on that trigger.
Rock: I didn’t shake!

It’s a clever plot device that is effectively used several times through the rest of the play, with Rock encountering both the General, as if her were alive in the present, and seven-year-old Claire (Julianna Layne), reliving scenes from the past.

As Claire’s situation grows more dire because of Rock’s unyielding, unsympathetic reactions, the bunker is in danger of collapsing like a house of cards.

The past and present merge for Rock (Marc Kudisch) in timely debut by L. B. Browne at Theatre Row (photo by Viktorija Mickute)

Safe House is a sparkling debut for novelist, editor, Fulbright Fellow, and physician Browne; she has crafted a gripping, timely story with well-drawn characters caught up in circumstances that are not always in their control, fraught in family dynamics and the difficult legacies parents leave for their children. At first, it’s not clear what political side anyone’s on. Rock declares, “Things are only getting worse. Grid’s thinner, egg prices are climbing, and crooks are running the whole damn show. You know I’m right.” He could be talking about the Democrats or the Republicans, although he eventually rails against the Democratic Socialists, referring to them as “commie goons” who are going to steal the election; he gets into a heated argument with Claire, who holds nothing back, while Slipper seeks a détente.

The family itself represents the divides in America today, without ever mentioning any politicians or parties by name: Rock is the far-right fearmonger lacking empathy and compassion for his fellow human being and not trusting science, although that can be perhaps attributed at least in part to his illness; Claire is the Democratic Socialist who believes in universal health care and government programs for the poor; Ashley is the intelligent, successful single woman who knows precisely what is going on but tries to avoid getting overly involved in controversy, focusing on her career instead; and Slipper goes about her business as nice and sweet wife and mother, saying nothing to upset anyone except when she worries that Ashley needs to find a man, something her daughter does not appreciate.

Three-time Tony nominee Kudisch (Thoroughly Modern Millie, The Wayside Motor Inn) gives a powerful, boldly physical performance as the aptly named Rock, a determined, serious man unwilling to accept his vulnerabilities, dead-set on protecting his family even as his delusions threaten to overwhelm him, always on the verge of exploding. Tony winner Ziemba (Contact, Curtains) is gently touching as Slipper, imbuing her with an innate good-heartedness that covers her inability to stand up to her husband. A thoughtful, impressive Roman, who made her off-Broadway debut in July when she took the stage for Juliana Canfield in Girl, Interrupted at the Public, provides a steady balance as Ashley, who the others take for granted as she tries to hold it all together. In her professional theater debut, recent NYU grad Church is deeply affecting as the teenage Claire, an idealist at odds with not only her family but the world itself, searching for her place, wise beyond her years. Miller, Allen, and Layne deliver admirable support in their key roles.

Director Benjamin Viertel (The Peepholeman) expertly navigates the cast through the space, which becomes ever-more confining as the tension mounts, highlighted by a shocking twist. Several beams at the front both allow the audience to see into the bunker and invite us in, implicating us in the conflicts; each one of us either is or knows these fictional characters all too well. Browne’s dialogue is quick-witted and intense, brutally honest in its depiction of 2026 America, where friends and families are torn apart over politics. She also throws in some Easter eggs, beginning with the preshow music, which ends with Woody Guthrie’s “This Land Is Your Land,” the oft-misunderstood patriotic protest anthem that was a response to Irving Berlin’s “God Bless America” and that originally contained two verses critical of the state.

The play could use some tweaking — the night I went, both Viertel and Browne were there, taking notes — but I think that’s why it’s at Theatre Row for only twelve days, hopefully a tryout/showcase for a much longer run, which it richly deserves. That is, if we don’t have another civil war. . . .

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

ASKING THE WRONG QUESTIONS: SHIFTERS AT THE CHERRY LANE

Des and Dre travel through time and space as they explore the past, present, and future of their relationship (photo by Marc J. Franklin)

SHIFTERS
Cherry Lane Theatre
38 Commerce St.
Tuesday – Sunday through September 20, $69-$149
www.cherrylanetheatre.org

Ah, what might have been — or still could be?

Charity Bedu-Addo and Daniel Ezra are electrifying in British Congolese playwright Benedict Lombe’s Shifters, a sizzling two-character drama at the Cherry Lane that posits that destiny is a choice. It begins when Des (Bedu-Addo), short for Destiny, and Dre (Ezra), both thirty-two, meet up at the wake for Dre’s beloved Nana. They’ve known each other since high school, when they were sixteen, but haven’t been in touch for eight years, a period during which their lives changed significantly.

Over the next 105 minutes, Lombe and director Lynette Linton take the audience back and forth from the past to the present as Des and Dre go from sixteen and seventeen to twenty-four and twenty-seven, their relationship shifting from classmates and friends to possible lovers; in the script, scenes are identified by such titles as “Allies,” “Fractures,” and “Fugitives.” Through the play, they each break out of the narrative to recite monologues and make brief points to the audience.

“This is the moment when I finally [see] that time is an illusion,” Dre explains to us after greeting Des. “Because the walls of the world we built, the walls where time is linear and finite — start to crumble. And in this moment, I — you — are both here and there and time is moving and standing still as memory is made skin — yesterday, today, tomorrow — all real, all happening, all at the same time. And suddenly — ”

Des is the new girl in school, and she is in philosophy class with Dre when they get into an argument about the decisions people constantly face as he tries to get her to join the debate club. “There are more than two sides and more than two choices,” Des says. Dre responds, “Still gotta be for something to know what you’re against though, innit?” When Des offers that decisions should not be the most important thing, Dre replies by asking how anything would get done if there were no decisions. “You’re asking the wrong question,” Des says.

The story shifts from the wake to key moments in their life together, when decisions had consequences that brought them together and tore them apart, including some choices that are still haunting them. While Dre sees him and Des as “two little Black kids destined to oppose each other push each other shift each other until they could be formed again,” Des doesn’t believe in destiny, telling us, “If destiny is the path laid out for you — you still have to walk it. Choose it.”

It’s the choices they made when they were younger that brought them to this moment, at the wake, where they continue to dance around asking, and answering, the right questions.

Charity Bedu-Addo has replaced Heather Agyepong in Benedict Lombe’s Shifters at the Cherry Lane (photo by Marc J. Franklin)

Most of the choices made by the cast and crew work extremely well. Alex Berry’s compelling set is a dark, open rectangle with two added rows of seating on the far side of the stage, which is draped with narrow LED tubes of varying lengths and at different angles that change colors based on mood. (The lighting is by Neil Austin.) The characters, in Berry’s contemporary costumes, occasionally move around black storage boxes that they sit on and open to find pieces from their past, as if reaching into their memories and psyche. Tony Gayle’s sharp sound incorporates Xana’s entrancing, award-winning score and John Hiatt’s 1987 track “Have a Little Faith in Me,” heard on an old turntable. “When the road gets dark / And you can no longer see / Just let my love throw a spark / And have a little faith in me,” Hiatt sings.

Shifters evokes Nick Payne’s Constellations and Rajiv Joseph’s Gruesome Playground Injuries, two other outstanding plays in which a man and a woman revisit the past as they explore their relationship. Ezra (Twelfth Night) and Bedu-Addo (The Bolds, Stocking Fillers), replacing Heather Agyepong when the show was extended, as she did in the original London run, have an instant chemistry. Both of the characters are complex and unpredictable, and the two actors imbue them with a fresh, beguiling honesty that keeps the audience’s emotions swirling as Dre and Des seek out their crisscrossing paths.

The play is about ten or fifteen minutes too long, as it gets bogged down with a bevy of revelations of tragedy and trauma in the final scenes; Lombe (Lava, for which she won the 2022 Susan Smith Blackburn Prize) and Lynton (The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind, Not Your Superwoman) already have us invested in Dre and Des, so this added information is unnecessary and detracts from the proceedings. Otherwise, Shifters is a triumph.

In a program note, Lombe writes, “Shifters was born from this intentionality and specificity — a universal love story between a British Congolese woman and a British Nigerian man — that shifts in and out of time and space and feeling, demanding nothing less than to shift the theatrical canon itself.” Lombe is clearly on the right path.

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

MAKING CONNECTIONS: THE CIRCUIT SEARCHES FOR LOVE IN DUMBO

Danielle Louise Bowen portrays the guest in site-specific immersive DUMBO dance journey The Circuit (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

THE CIRCUIT
Begins at Superfine restaurant
126 Front St., Brooklyn
Through September 7, $39.62-$82.20
www.nytheatrecompany.com

So let me get this straight: New York Theatre Company’s The Circuit is a site-specific immersive journey through several of DUMBO’s most spectacular locales, inspired by Arthur Schnitzler’s 1920 play, La Ronde, and Max Ophüls’s classic 1950 film? I’m in! And you should be too.

Ophüls’s French adaptation begins with a new character not in the play, a master of ceremonies elegantly portrayed by Anton Walbrook. In the famous five-minute opening scene, filmed in one continuous take, the emcee walks along the streets of Vienna, telling the audience, “You can tell from the scent in the air that love is just around the corner, can’t you?” Approaching a carousel he calls “the merry-go-round of love” while revealing he is on a movie set, he says, “Love comes calling, sudden and fleeting. And they all dance to love’s same tune.” La Ronde depicts a series of couples meeting up in the city, with one person from each pas-de-deux heading off and encountering another potential romantic partner.

The Circuit: An Immersive Silent Disco Ballet reimagines La Ronde for DUMBO, taking full advantage of the area’s cobblestone passages, iconic views, and unique landscape. Audience members put on silent disco headphones, through which they hear dialogue and EDM, and follow guides who lead them from site to site using multicolored LED batons, as characters find each other, dance while engaging in various aspects of hooking up — or not — and then go on their way.

The tale of bisexual love and loneliness, betrayal and ecstasy, written by Connor Wentworth, starts with the guest (a terrific Danielle Louise Bowen, who alternates with Manatsu Aminaga), who performs a solo in a plaza before joining dancers in the Archway (swing ensemble Kaitwan Jackson, Kurt Horney, dance captain Anna Nader, and Katie Baik). Soon she becomes involved with the doll (Luke Swaller), who harbors a secret; next, the doll chances upon the almighty (Tessa Fungo), who confronts the keeper (Gigi Hausman), who happens upon the gentleman (Fabricio Seraphin), who has a rendezvous with the lover (Arzu Salman). Each couple moves to an original score by Jacob Ryan Smith and choreography by Josh Zacher, who codirects with John Kroft.

It’s part walking tour, part silent disco, part flash mob as the group makes its way among tourists, random passersby, native New Yorkers, and others going about their business, snapping pictures in and around Brooklyn Bridge Park, walking their dog, pushing their baby in a stroller, knitting on a bench, or picking up dinner. Some immediately take videos of the proceedings, some completely ignore them, and others appear to think, well, this is just another night in the city with who-knows-what going on. At one point a young woman was grooving atop a small DOT orange-and-white traffic barricade; a few of us went toward her, believing she was the next character, but it turned out she was simply having fun with friends, perhaps dancing to love’s same tune. With darkness descending, the guides use handheld colored lights and the cast’s smartphones glow, as text messages are incorporated into the plot.

The main independent elements of The Circuit — the narrative, the music, and the choreography — might not necessarily stand out on their own, but they merge beautifully in the tremendously fun and thoroughly engaging show. The title relates to making connections, between people as well as electrical devices, which essentially are running our lives in 2026. A deep connection is also made between the audience, the performers, and DUMBO itself, with a gorgeous, contemplative finale occurring under the Brooklyn Bridge.

Yes, it’s a site-specific immersive silent disco ballet, but it also has a lot of heart as it explores coming together and breaking apart in a city that can be difficult to navigate when one is alone, although love could be waiting right around the corner.

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

WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS: THE BATHROOM ATTENDANT AT 124 BANK STREET

Tina (Kate Miller), Connor (Evan Klein), and Johnny (Dan Patrick Brady) concoct a blackmail scheme in The Bathroom Attendant (photo by Scott Fetterman)

THE BATHROOM ATTENDANT
124 Bank Street Theater
124 Bank St.
Through August 30, $38.10
sparkplugproductions.com

I’ve previously written about my anxieties around public bathrooms and theatrical productions several times, from a show at SoHo Rep in which they waited for me to finish my business to being walked in on prior to a play in a hotel room in which one of the actors made actual use of the facilities, with the door open.

So I absolutely had to see a new play called The Bathroom Attendant, at 124 Bank Street Theater through August 30.

On line to check in, I decided to go to the bathroom; there was a sign saying “Private” on the door, so I asked other people if they knew if we could use this, and one woman said yes, she had just seen someone exit it. I slowly reached for the handle and, feeling that it was unlocked, opened the door — to find a young man sitting on the bowl, not exactly happy that everyone on line could see him.

I closed the door and apologized profusely, completely commiserating with him, and used a second bathroom instead, making sure to lock the door.

I was somewhat disappointed to learn that the play does not take place in a can, and the protagonist’s job is mentioned only a few times: He works part-time as an attendant in the Mob Museum rest room. (There really is such an institution in downtown Vegas.)

Written by Tom Kelly (Bleached Blonde Betty, The Gangster and the Busboy) and directed by Andrew Block (Small Engine Repair, Fat Cat Killers), The Bathroom Attendant is set in a ramshackle apartment in the Dean Martin Houses, not exactly the luxury condo tower known as the Martin on Dean Martin Dr. It’s a sad-sack room with a torn-up icky yellow couch, a microwave, a sorry excuse for a stove, a ridiculously old television playing an episode of the late 1970s series Vegas starring Robert Urich as a PI catching the bad guys in glittering Sin City, and a view of the Strip through dirty windows. Designed by Scott Fetterman, it’s a claustrophobic nightmare, about as lousy as it gets. On the back wall is a poster of Johnny “the Street Fighter” Knight from the 1984 Golden Gloves finals at Madison Square Garden, a constant reminder to the apartment’s resident of his long-ago glory days, of what might have been.

Bambi (Mari Blake) is not quite a femme fatale in gritty crime thriller (photo by Scott Fetterman)

It’s August 2018, but Johnny (Dan Patrick Brady) is still stuck in the past, unable to gain any kind of foothold; he’s three months behind on his rent, is in debt to a local mob, and swills Mike’s Hard Lemonade that he stole from another apartment. His only friend is Tina (Kate Miller), a former porno star who is now part of the evangelical community, focused on helping young women in trouble; she is currently trying to save a teenager named Jade who is being abused by her drunk junkie father. Johnny is shocked when a sixteen-year-old boy named Connor Donahue (Evan Klein) knocks on his door; Connor is the nephew of one of Johnny’s best friends from his Brooklyn days.

Decked out in Mets gear, Connor is in Vegas with his father but has brought along memorabilia for Johnny to sign; he has heard all the old stories from his father about Johnny’s prowess in the 1980s.

He also has an ulterior motive; the previous night, he videotaped Mets superstar Mickey Logan, potentially the first-ever $500 million player, viciously beating up a teenage girl, Bambi (Mari Blake). (The incident recalls Super Bowl winner Ray Rice, who was caught on video attacking his fiancée in 2014, and Sean “Puffy” Combs assaulting his girlfriend in 2016.) Connor, who learned about the underworld by bingeing The Sopranos, has already pitched the video to the National Enquirer and TMZ but believes he could make a much better score by blackmailing Logan, with Johnny’s assistance. Tina asks in as well and they set out to pull off the big haul, although Logan’s right-hand man, Marcus (Jon Krupp), has other ideas, ready to do whatever is necessary to protect Logan.

At more than two hours (including intermission), The Bathroom Attendant is too long and feels far out of time; it starts slowly, has a more gripping middle section, but then devolves into convoluted plot devices and huge plot holes. The acting is hit or miss, the staging gets confusing, and the sound effects (cellphones, barking dogs) are not only way too loud but seem to come from all over the theater, which makes no sense. I did care about a few of the characters, but others have inexplicable motives and are in need of heavy tweaking.

You don’t always know who to root for when you really start thinking about it, which is a good thing, and the show contains some excellent crime-thriller elements, but the finale goes off the deep end, throwing in too many new facts late in the game. It feels more like an episode from a 1970s television series, like Mannix, Cannon, Baretta, or, well, Vegas, where you can get away with various shortcomings, but that’s not the case with live theater.

In the meantime, please double check that you’ve locked the bathroom door.

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

THE MUSIC OF THE NIGHT: PHANTOM REEMERGES AS IMMERSIVE MASQUERADE

Phantom has been resurrected in Midtown in dazzling production (photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)

MASQUERADE
218 West Fifty-Seventh St.
Tuesday – Sunday through January 31, $1795-$395
masqueradenyc.com

You can’t keep Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber down.

Cats, the British composer’s beloved but much-maligned adaptation of T. S. Eliot’s Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, ran on Broadway from 1982 to 2000, followed by a 2006–17 revival and a disastrous 2019 all-star-laden film. It was then reinvented in 2024 as Cats: The Jellicle Ball at PAC NYC, brilliantly setting it in the world of queer ballroom culture, breathing new life into the old kitty. The Broadway transfer lacked some of the key elements but closed early, on August 8, despite winning three Tonys.

Lloyd Webber’s 1993 musical, Sunset Blvd., was revived on Broadway in 2016 and 2024–25, while 1976’s Evita is returning next spring.

Which brings us to The Phantom of the Opera. Based on the 1910 novel by Gaston Leroux, the show features music by Lloyd Webber, a book by Lloyd Webber and Richard Stilgoe, and lyrics by Charles Hart (with additional lyrics by Stilgoe.) The original production, which earned seven Tonys, ran at the Majestic from 1988 to 2023 for an astonishing 13,981 performances. But just as Cats was resurrected and reinvented, so has Phantom, as the shrewdly clever, thoroughly entertaining, and fully immersive Masquerade.

Tony-winning director Diane Paulus (Pippin, Porgy and Bess) has transformed Phantom into a thrilling interactive production that moves audiences up, down, and across six floors of the old Lee’s Art Shop on West Fifty-Seventh St., by Carnegie Hall, performed by six casts. The audience is asked to dress in black, white, or silver and wear a mask; a black one will be provided if you don’t have one. Heels are verboten, all bags must be checked, and stickers reading “Let the spectacle astound you” will be placed over your phone’s camera.

For those unfamiliar with the Gothic horror romance, Phantom is about a strange figure (Kyle Scatliffe) living under the Paris Opera House who is determined to have little-known soprano Christine Daaé (Eryn LeCroy) sing the role of Marguerite in Charles Gounod’s Faust instead of the company’s star, Carlotta Guidicelli (Stephanie Jae Park). The Phantom is jealous of Christine’s childhood friend and suitor, the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny (Gregory Lee Rodriguez), and is critical of the opera house’s new owners, Firmin (Alex Ross) and André (Schyler Vargas). Meanwhile, the Phantom attempts to get opera employees Madame Giry (Marce Johnson) and her daughter, Meg (Haile Ferrier), on his side, although stagehand Buquet (Jacob Lacopo) has other ideas. Caught in the middle is egotistical tenor Piangi (Sean Seamus Thompson).

Audience and cast become one in fully immersive Masquerade (photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)

Aside from a violinist who pops up occasionally (Nikita Yermak), the music for Masquerade is prerecorded and loud, but all the singing is live. While the songs and basic melodies are from the Broadway version, they have more oomph in these surroundings, in part because the actors are right there with you every step of the way. At one moment, I was tapped on the shoulder and turned around to see the Phantom seeking to get past me as he was singing in his resonant baritone. At another, I was handed a rose to toss at Christine, the Phantom’s object of desire. And later I was nearly hanged by the Ropes of Judgement.

Each room is spectacularly decorated, with lovely and frightening detail, from candles and mirrors to luxurious draping and hidden clues. There is limited seating in each space, so be prepared to do a lot of standing. Don’t worry; the classic Phantom elements have been accounted for, with new takes on the boat and chandelier, and the sideshow scene boasts a real blockhead (Anna Monoxide) and master of pyromancy (Joseph Kerr) in addition to a barker (Matthew Curiano), carny (Judah Frank), boy in a cage (Joshua Ike).

The creative team deserves a bevy of accolades, from production designer James Fluhr, art director Jessie Flynn, props designer Kathy Fabian, and hair, wig, and makeup designer J. J. Janas to costume designer Emilio Sosa, lighting designer Ben Stanton, sound designer Brett Jarvis, and magic and visual effects designer Skylar Fox. The intricate choreography, making sure the performers don’t get cornered by the audience, is by Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui, and Shai Baitel is in charge of the fine art, which is highlighted by specially commissioned ironwork gates by Bob Dylan. Among the other art collaborators are Marina Abramović, Barry X Ball, Z Behl, Paul Cummins MBE, Yigal Ozeri, and Kenny Scharf.

The narrative has been tinkered with, so some songs are out and others have been moved around, and there is more back story, delving into the mind of the Phantom as a child, who is told by his mother in a letter, “From now on, the carnival will be your home. You are a child of the devil. Among freaks and monsters you will find your kind. Forget you ever had a mother.” There are elements from various stage productions as well as the 2004 Joel Schumacher film, which starred Gerard Butler as the Phantom, Emmy Rossum as Christine, Patrick Wilson as Raoul, Miranda Richardson as Madame Giry, and Minnie Driver as Carlotta.

As with all immersive shows, you more you put into it, the more you will get out of it; to heighten that involvement, there are lots of mirrors where you can see yourself amid the action. In addition, after the grand finale, the audience is invited into a dark bar where you can sip cocktails and pose with some of the major props.

It’s a great deal of fun in which the score is only part of the enchantment, making it a must for Phantom fans, Phantom detractors, and everyone in between.

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

OPPRESSED BY OUR SURROUNDINGS: THE REAL IVANOV ASKS, “WHY”

Sam Underwood wonders what he has gotten himself into in The Real Ivanov (photo by Russ Rowland)

THE REAL IVANOV
Lynn F. Angelson Theater
136 East Thirteenth St. between Third & Fourth Aves.
Monday – Saturday through September 19, $49-$99
www.realivanov.com

In 2014, Laura Strausfeld presented The Real Vanya, her mockumentary of Anton Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya, as a staged reading at Classic Stage, featuring Josh Hamilton, Marylouise Burke, Sam Underwood, and others; it was filmed by director Andrew Wonder for Columbia’s Harriman Institute.

After extensive Googling, I couldn’t find anything more about it; it seems to have disappeared, at least from public view (although a friend of mine remembers having seen it).

Perhaps the same will happen with Strausfeld’s follow-up, The Real Ivanov, which opened tonight at Classic Stage’s Lynn F. Angelson Theater, starring Underwood in the title role. One can only hope.

The works of Chekhov, and William Shakespeare, invite reinterpretation and reimagination like no one else’s in the canon. Part of their brilliance comes from how timeless they are, how they can be adapted to relate to the modern era.

The Real Ivanov, based on Chekhov’s first produced play, Ivanov, from 1887, is a four-act melodrama with dark humor and deeply psychological elements. Although it is rarely performed, I have seen two commendable adaptations, one by the Russian State Theatre of Nations at City Center in 2018, with Evgeny Mironov as its moody, depressed, seemingly apathetic protagonist, and this year’s stirring New American Ensemble version at the West End Theatre, with Zachary Desmond portraying the weak, pathetic antihero. Each clocked in at approximately 165 minutes but were fast-paced and involving.

The Real Ivanov is a mere 100 minutes but felt like three hours.

Strausfeld is a respected Chekhov scholar who has curated the annual Chekhov celebrations at Symphony Space and City Winery for fifteen years, is working on the book How to Be Less Miserable: Insights from Anton Chekhov, was a visiting scholar at the Harriman, and is a lawyer who cofounded Period Law, which focuses on the tampon tax and women’s menstruation. In 1997, she saw Lincoln Center’s Ivanov, starring Kevin Kline, noting in a statement, it “punked me. It also changed my life. Chekhov revealed to me my own despair — and, for the first time, gave me hope that I could be living better. Despite my years of therapy, it was Chekhov who had the answers I was looking for. Chekhov is scripture to me. It’s not overblown to say I owe him my life.”

Alas, The Real Ivanov provides no answers, instead asking questions that do it no favors, many beginning with “Why?”

The actors in The Real Ivanov seem to all be in a different play (photo by Russ Rowland)

Adapter and director Strausfeld has streamlined the narrative to its basics. Nikolai Ivanov (Underwood) is a landowner married to Anna (Ivory Aquino), whose Jewish family disowned her when she decided to wed Nikolai and convert to Christianity. Nikolai is in debt to Zinaida (Sarah Long) and her husband, Lebedev (Spencer Aste), but Nikolai can’t even afford to pay the interest. He has also fallen out of love with Anna, who has tuberculosis and is being treated by Dr. Lvov (Hagan Oliveras), who chastises Nikolai, complaining, “Please recognize that the best cure for tuberculosis is absolute peace of mind, and your wife has none whatsoever. She’s chronically anxious about your feelings toward her. Forgive me, I’m agitated and compelled to be forthright: Your behavior is killing her. I’d like to think better of you.” Nikolai responds, “What you say is true. I’m terribly guilty but also confused. I feel paralyzed by a kind of stupor; I’ve stopped understanding myself or anyone else.”

Indeed, Nikolai, suffering from textbook depression and melancholia, is lost in a stupor, sleepwalking through life; while the others, nearly all foolish, eat and drink and laugh, he mopes around, staring off into emptiness. Zinaida and Lebedev throw a twentieth birthday party for their daughter, Sasha (Amelia Mason), at which she, inexplicably, declares her love for Nikolai. Also attending the festivities are the widow Marfusha Babakina (Kimberlee Walker), who is flirting with Ivanov’s cousin, Count Shabyelsky (Jordan Lage), who proudly declares, “Everyone’s a scoundrel and hypocrite, myself especially”; the wealthy and single Avdotya (Soph Metcalf), who plays bridge with Lebedev and excise officer Kosyk (William DeMeritt), who is generally ignored by others; and the ever-scheming Borkin (Sam Adegoke), who manages Nikolai’s estate and brings real and metaphorical fireworks to the shindig.

Earlier, in Ivanov’s home, he tells Lebedev, “I’m boring you.” Lebedev replies, “I know what’s the matter; you’re oppressed by our surroundings.”

Precisely.

The audience is seated on all four sides of the stage, but that doesn’t immerse you in the tepid narrative, which does nothing to illuminate the profound affliction that haunts Nikolai and his unexamined psyche. Jiyoun Chang’s spare set occasionally features a small bench or table, a large rug, and a narrow red carpet for the odd finale. The actors seem to be speaking in their regular voices, so there are British, American, and other accents, amplifying the feeling that each of them is in a different play. Although Chekhov’s original contained elements of farce, satire, comedy, and tragedy, Strausfeld’s version meanders among them with little sense or reason; it’s dry and stiff, confusing and disconnected. Plot developments are forced, the characters cardboard — it’s hard to care about any of them. It may not be one of Chekhov’s better plays, but having seen other companies present compelling adaptations, I found this one to be even more disappointing.

The only thing I truly understood about the production is why Underwood (Candida, The Picture of Dorian Gray), as Ivanov, looks like he would rather be anywhere else than where he is.

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

AN MC ESCHER NIGHTMARE: THE VESSEL AT 59E59

Sofonyas, Will Ingram, and Anastasia Locke serve as parks ambassadors in The Vessel (photo by Jacob Ruth)

THE VESSEL
59E59 Theaters
59 East 59th St. between Park & Madison Aves.
Tuesday – Sunday through August 30, $42
www.59e59.org

As a frequent visitor to the Shed and the High Line, I’ve been obsessed with the Vessel since it first started construction as the centerpiece of Hudson Yards on the Far West Side of Manhattan. Initially, there was little publicly known about the structure, which I considered a bit of a monstrosity as it proceeded toward the heavens. Ultimately, we learned that it would be a 150-foot-tall tourist attraction with 8 levels, 154 flights of stairs, and 2,500 interconnected steps, offering photogenic 360-degree views of the city to up to as many as 1,000 visitors at a time.

“Vessel is one of the most complex pieces of steelwork ever made . . . assembled ahead of schedule and with astonishing geometric accuracy,” Thomas Heatherwick, head of the studio that built it at a cost of approximately $200 million, said at the topping-out in December 2017. Vessel — officially, “the” is not part of its name — opened on March 15, 2019.

It closed in January 2021 after a third person jumped off it, dying by suicide.

Brendan George’s finely tuned play, The Vessel, takes place around three critical days, December 22, 2020, and January 11 and July 29, 2021, in the Vessel’s history. Drake (Sofonyas) and Missy (Anastasia Locke) are two twentysomethings and good friends working as parks ambassadors on the installation; their nearly impossible job, Missy explains to new hire Vïggo (Will Ingram), is to “help anyone who needs it. We can’t go up to every person, so our task is to be a ‘supportive and accessible presence.’” Essentially, they have to look out for anyone who seems uncomfortable or appears to be in distress and might be thinking of killing themselves.

The suspicious Drake has a tendency to go down online rabbit holes that he insists are not conspiracy theories, spending a lot of time watching videos that depict real violence. Missy is a more fun-loving person whose spirit animal is a dolphin and who appreciates working outside. Giving background of the Vessel to Viggo, Drake shares a December 2016 quote from the Architect’s Newspaper in which journalist Audrey Wachs wrote, “When you build high, folks will jump.” Missy is not happy that Drake starts Viggo’s indoctrination that way, arguing, “We don’t need to talk about it! Unless it’s absolutely unavoidable. And now is not one of those times.”

Viggo, meanwhile, is curious why they stand around chatting with each other so much on the job, but Missy explains that it is necessary to keep them alert. Viggo tries to fit in but is often awkward, especially when enthusiastic, and he seems to be hiding something — but then he will come up with a fascinating statement.

At one point he compares the Vessel to a panopticon, which he describes as “a special prison where one person can see all the inmates. Because of the shape of the prison.” Drake replies, “But maybe we are the prisoners?” Viggo adds, “Actually, there wouldn’t even need to be a guard at all because each person would police themself thinking they’re being watched. That’s the irony, each person in a panopticon becomes both prison guard and prisoner unto themself.”

It’s an apt metaphor for any human being and the worlds each of us creates in our heads, our own unique vessels, as we contemplate the next steps.

Three twentysomething parks ambassadors are on the lookout for potential jumpers in The Vessel (photo by Jacob Ruth)

Over ninety minutes, Drake, Missy, and Viggo discuss life’s little and bigger issues, offer surprising personal details, and explore ideas about death; Viggo in particular spouts how people should be able to choose how they go, no matter how, where, or when.

Scenic designer Tony DiBernardo’s claustrophobic set is a small triangular central platform with lines and grooves that echo the shape of the Vessel, with the limited audience sitting on all four sides; occasionally the characters walk off the platform to speak with an unseen visitor they think may need help. It can be odd when they stand in the corner as the action continues on the platform, but there’s nowhere else for them to go in the tiny theater. It also feels strange when they talk so loudly that any visitors would be able to hear them — would these chatty ambassadors actually make anyone feel safe?

George and director Peter Charney, who previously collaborated on the Drama Desk–nominated A Eulogy for Roman, deal with some difficult subjects in the absorbing play, and they do so admirably, steering clear of clichés, although there is some repetition, and the narrative finds a few rabbit holes of its own. In their off-Broadway debuts, Sofonyas (Romeo and Juliet, The Pillowman), Ingram (World’s Greatest Lover, The Liar), and Locke (By the Way, Meet Vera Stark; She Comes Home) form an appealing trio who will grow on you. At the heart of the show is how, in many ways, we are all guards and prisoners, unable to always recognize potential problems with friends, relatives, strangers, and ourselves who may be considering extreme actions.

“What a vulnerable vessel the human body makes for the human soul,” poet, novelist, and playwright Greer Macallister surmised in her 2020 novel, The Arctic Fury. After Drake defends his obsession with violent videos and online research of the government, Missy says, “I don’t think we need the footage. Personally. I really do not want to see it. None of us should. Because, look. Look at what it does to your eyes. And your soul.”

Following a fourth suicide, in the summer of 2021, this time a fourteen-year-old boy, the Vessel was closed for three years before reopening with additional safety measures, including steel-mesh nets and the top two levels off limits to visitors. Admission, which was initially free, is now ten to twenty dollars and is free for New York City residents on Thursdays; there is also a fifty-dollar Vessel Run training class. I am not planning on going anytime soon.

When I walk past it on my travels to the area, I can’t help but wonder if the people taking pictures of it know the full story as they smile and pose for the camera.

In Eric Levenson’s August 2021 CNN article “After latest suicide, the Vessel in New York City’s Hudson Yards ponders its future,” retired CCNY Spitzer School of Architecture lecturer Jacob Alspector posits, “The Vessel is like some MC Escher nightmare. It’s kind of relentless. It’s very gaudy, it’s very cold. It’s thrilling . . . It’s not the most friendly and life-affirming and inclusive kind of space or structure. It’s kind of empty. What’s the point of it? Just to walk up and walk down?”

You’re much better off seeing The Vessel at 59E59, which is far more friendly, life-affirming, and inclusive.

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