this week in broadway

THE KITE RUNNER

Amir (Amir Arison) reads a story to Hassan (Eric Sirakian) in The Kite Runner (photo by Joan Marcus)

THE KITE RUNNER
Hayes Theater
240 West 44th St.
Tuesday – Sunday through October 30, $69-$199
thekiterunnerbroadway.com

The third time is not a charm for The Kite Runner.

Khaled Hosseini’s bestselling 2003 debut novel sold more than seven million copies in the United States. Director Marc Foster and screenwriter David Benioff’s 2007 film version was nominated for two Golden Globes, including Best Foreign Language Film, and for a Best Original Score Oscar. But Matthew Spangler’s 2009 theatrical adaptation, which opened July 21 at the Hayes Theater on Broadway, fails to live up to the promise of its forebears, rarely taking flight.

The play begins in San Francisco in 2001, with Amir (Amir Arison) explaining to the audience, “I became what I am today at the age of twelve. I remember the precise moment, crouching behind a mud wall on a frigid winter day in 1975 . . . peeking into a deserted alley. It’s wrong what they say about the past, about how you can bury it, because the past claws its way out.” For more than two and a half hours (plus intermission), Amir serves as both narrator and character, portraying himself from an Afghan child in 1973 to an adult in California. The story is told in scenes that are treated like individual set pieces that often merely depict what Amir has already described instead of offering more; when he is not in the scene itself, he is an observer, not taking action, which becomes the core of the plot.

The young Amir lives in Kabul with his father, Baba (Faran Tahir), a proud, moralistic, successful merchant; Amir’s mother died in childbirth, and he hasn’t remarried. Baba’s longtime devoted servant, Ali (Evan Zes), stays in a shack on the estate with his young son, Hassan (Eric Sirakian), who spends most of his time playing with Amir; Ali’s wife ran off with a troupe of actors and musicians years before. Amir and Hassan can’t necessarily be called friends because as Sunni Muslims and members of the Pashtun ethnic group, Amir and Baba are of higher status than Ali and Hassan, who are ethnic Hazaras and Shi’a.

Hassan loves listening to Amir reading stories to him, primarily from Ferdowsi’s tenth-century Persian epic poem Shahnamah; Amir wants to become a poet himself, which angers his father, who wants a tough, athletic son who can defend himself against bullies. “Real men don’t read poetry, and they certainly don’t write it! Real men play soccer, just like I did when I was your age!” Baba bellows. Baba tells his business partner, Ramir Khan (Dariush Kashani), “A boy who won’t stand up for himself becomes a man who can’t stand up to anything.”

Amir is determined to win the annual winter kite-fighting tournament, in which contestants try to cut the lines of everyone else’s kites, then have their runner track down the final fallen kite. Amir is one of the best kite cutters, but Hassan, who is devoted to Amir, is considered the greatest kite runner around. At the end of the competition, Hassan, in possession of the last kite, is confronted by neighborhood bully Assef (Amir Malaklou) and his cohorts, Wali (Danish Farooqui) and Kamal (Beejan Land). Ali demands that Hassan hand over the kite, but the young boy refuses, determined to bring it to Amir no matter the cost. As Assef commits a horrific act against Hassan, Amir watches, doing nothing, then runs away. “I ran as fast as I could. I ran all the way home,” the older Amir remembers sadly.

Baba (Faran Tahir) offers advice to his son (Amir Arison) in Broadway debut of The Kite Runner (photo by Joan Marcus)

The event, which the two boys never talk about, leads Amir to manufacture an estrangement; Ali and Hassan leave the estate, much to Baba’s displeasure. In 1978, Baba and Amir sacrifice everything following the Soviet invasion, first escaping to a refugee camp in Pakistan, then starting all over in San Francisco. In 1984, Amir and Baba are selling junk at a flea market in San Jose when Amir meets Soraya (Azita Ghanizada), the daughter of General Taheri (Houshang Touzie), who has also been reduced to selling random wares at the market. Amir and Soraya fall in love, but he is still haunted by how he treated Hassan. When Ramir discloses what has become of Ali and Hassan, Amir is determined to right the wrongs of his past, even if it means risking his life.

The Kite Runner is laden with the shame Amir is burdened with, and its heaviness weighs down the show. Too many of the scenes are extraneous or go on for too long; for example, a wedding might introduce us to certain aspects of Afghan culture, but it adds little to the narrative. The first act does a decent job of setting up what is to come, but the second act is an avalanche of incredulity and melodramatic coincidence that quickly grow tedious.

Spangler (Albatross, Operation Ajax), who has also adapted T. C. Boyle’s The Tortilla Curtain, Mary Manning and Sinead O’Brien’s Striking Back: The Untold Story of an Anti-Apartheid Striker, and Hanan al-Shaykh’s The Story of Zahra, among other books, tries to include too much of the novel, so the plot meanders, getting stuck in the trees till it finally comes crashing to the ground. Director Giles Croft (Tony’s Last Tape, The Understudy) is unable to untangle the tale, which takes place on Barney George’s spare stage, anchored by an uneven wooden picket fence in the back on which William Simpson projects images.

Throughout most of the show, Salar Nader plays the tabla, sitting at the sides of the stage, adding to the Central Asian mood. Arison (The Blacklist, Aftermath) has difficulty navigating the time jumps as the unreliable narrator, delivering important facts at too slow a pace. Tahir, who recently played Othello and Richard III, brings a Shakespearean majesty to Baba, while Touzie (The Tibetan Book of the Dead, From Satellite with Love) is strong as the once-powerful general and Sirakian (The Jungle, Pericles) is more effective than Arison in portraying a child.

Spangler and Croft touch on key issues, from bigotry and immigration to bullying and the Taliban, but they feel less central to the plot than they did in the book, even in the wake of the controversial US pullout from Afghanistan in 2001; the name of the play refers to Hassan, but it is all about Amir, an unsympathetic character who is difficult to stick with in this disappointing adaptation.

MR. SATURDAY NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BroadwayCon 2022

Who: Anthony Rapp, LaChanze, Andrew Barth Feldman, Carolee Carmello, Ben Cameron, Erin Quill, Fredi Walker-Browne, Julie White, Telly Leung, Ilana Levine, Jacqueline B. Arnold, Jennifer Ashley Tepper, Vanessa Williams, Judy Kuhn, Lesli Margherita, Nik Walker, Ryann Redmond, Thayne Jasperson, Hillary Clinton, more
What: BroadwayCon 2022
Where: Manhattan Center, 311 West Thirty-Fourth St., and the New Yorker Hotel, 481 Eighth Ave.
When: July 8-10, day passes $80, general pass $200, gold pass $425, platinum pass $1,250
Why: BroadwayCon is back with an in-person edition taking place July 8-10 at the Manhattan Center and the New Yorker Hotel, right by Madison Square Garden and Penn Station and just a few blocks south of the Theater District. This year’s edition includes panel discussions, interviews, live performances, podcasts, a cosplay contest, workshops, photo and autograph sessions, singalongs, meetups, and celebrations of and inside looks at such shows as A Strange Loop, Six the Musical, Chicago, POTUS, Dear Evan Hansen, Beetlejuice, Thoughts of a Colored Man, Kimberly Akimbo, SpongeBob SquarePants, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, The Kite Runner, Assassins, and Hamilton.

Among those participating at the three-day festival are Anthony Rapp, LaChanze, Carolee Carmello, Ben Cameron, Erin Quill, Julie White, Telly Leung, Vanessa Williams, Judy Kuhn, Lesli Margherita, and Hillary Clinton, talking about such topics as racial and gender diversity, disability, understudies, anxiety, body positivity, and Stephen Sondheim.

Below are select highlights for each day:

Friday, July 8
Ensemble screening, with Telly Leung, 10:00 am, followed by a talkback at 11:20, Crystal Ballroom, the New Yorker Hotel

BroadwayCon 2022 Opening Ceremony, with Ben Cameron, Manhattan Center Grand Ballroom, 12:40

Here’s to the Ladies: Hillary Rodham Clinton Live at BroadwayCon, with LaChanze, Julie White, and Vanessa Williams, moderated by Hillary Clinton, Manhattan Center Grand Ballroom, 1:00

Making a Living and Having a Life in Theatre Production, with Jameson Croasdale, Mary Kathryn “MK” Blazek, Rebecca Zuber, Lauren Parrish, and Gary Levinson, moderated by Naomi Siegel, Sutton Place Suite, the New Yorker Hotel, 2:20

Lights, Overture, Stage Fright! Breaking Down Performance Anxiety, with Kira Sparks, Sutton Place Suite, the New Yorker Hotel, 3:40

POTUS is one of several Broadway shows that will be featured at BroadwayCon (photo by Paul Kolnick)

Saturday, July 9
Black Lives Matter on Broadway, with T. Oliver Reid, Britton Smith, Emilio Sosa, Michael Dinwiddie, and Lillias White, moderated by Linda Armstrong, New Yorker Hotel Grand Ballroom, 10:00

Broadway Livestreaming: Expanding the Reach of Live Theatre, with Timothy Allen McDonald, Sean Cercone, Luke Naphat, Tralen Doler, Nathan Gehan, and Jen Sandler, moderated by Joshua Turchin, Gramercy Park Suite, the New Yorker Hotel, 11:20

Getting the Show Back on the Road: The Pandemic and Its Impact on Touring Broadway, with Jacob Persily, Sutton Place Suite, the New Yorker Hotel, 2:20

Paul Gemignani and Sondheim’s Musical Legacy, with Margaret Hall and Meg Masseron, Crystal Ballroom, the New Yorker Hotel, 3:40

BroadwayCon Cabaret, with special secret guest, hosted by Ben Cameron, Manhattan Center Grand Ballroom, 5:00

Sunday, July 10
Cheers to Understudies: The Broadway Cast Live!, with Amber Ardolino, Mallory Maedke, Tally Sessions, and Lauren Boyd, hosted by Ben Cameron, New Yorker Hotel Grand Ballroom, 10:00

Body Liberation on Broadway, with Amara Janae Brady, Shantez M. Tolbut, and Evan Ruggiero, moderated by Stephanie Lexis, Gramercy Park Suite, the New Yorker Hotel, 10:00

Directors on Debuts, with Zhailon Levingston and Tina Satter, moderated by Zeynep Akça, Crystal Ballroom, the New Yorker Hotel, 1:00

Tell Me More! Tell Me More!, special guests TBA, Manhattan Center Grand Ballroom, 2:20

Broadway Anecdotes II: Golden Age Gossip, with Kenneth Kantor, Joshua Ellis, and Mimi Quillin, moderated by Ken Bloom, Gramercy Park Suite, the New Yorker Hotel, 5:00

A STRANGE LOOP

Jaquel Spivey makes his Broadway debut in Pulitzer Prize–winning musical A Strange Loop (photo by Marc J. Franklin)

A STRANGE LOOP
Lyceum Theatre
149 West 45th St. between Sixth & Seventh Aves.
Tuesday – Sunday through January 15, $49 – $225
strangeloopmusical.com

In his 2007 book I Am a Strange Loop, Pulitzer Prize–winning scientist Douglas Hofstadter writes, “In the end, we are self-perceiving, self-inventing, locked-in mirages that are little miracles of self-reference.” In her song “Strange Loop” from her seminal 1993 debut album Exile in Guyville, Liz Phair sings, “The fire you like so much in me / Is the mark of someone adamantly free. . . . I can’t be trusted / They’re saying I can’t be true / But I only wanted more than I knew.”

Hofstadter and Phair are among those who served as major influences on Michael R. Jackson’s dazzling, Pulitzer Prize–winning musical, A Strange Loop, which is bringing down the house at the Lyceum on Broadway following an earlier run at Playwrights Horizons. As the show opens, the protagonist, Usher (Jaquel Spivey), is ushering the audience back to their seats for the second act of The Lion King, adding some unexpected bonus information: “In the background, there will be a young overweight-to-obese homosexual and/or gay and/or queer, cisgender male, able-bodied university-and-graduate-school educated, musical theater writing, Disney ushering, broke-ass middle-class politically homeless normie leftist black American descendant of slaves who thinks he’s probably a vers bottom . . . but not totally certain of that obsessing over the latest draft of his self-referential musical A Strange Loop! And surrounded by his extremely obnoxious Thoughts!” Usher later explains that his self-referential musical is “about a black, gay man writing a musical about a black, gay man who’s writing a musical about a black gay man, who’s writing a musical about a black gay man, etc.”

To bring the loop full circle, Jackson himself is a young overweight homosexual who has been obsessing over his self-referential musical, A Strange Loop, for nearly twenty years; it started off as a monologue in 2003, written when Jackson was working as an usher on Broadway for The Lion King and other Disney extravaganzas and listening to “dat-blasted white girl music” by Phair, Tori Amos, and Joni Mitchell.

Six thoughts come to colorful life at the Lyceum Theatre (photo by Marc J. Franklin)

Usher’s never-ending fears and worries come to life in the form of six thoughts that roil around in his brain and comment on his decisions like a Greek chorus, including Supervisor of Your Sexual Ambivalence (L. Morgan Lee), Daily Self-Loathing (James Jackson Jr.), Head of Corporate Niggatry (Jason Veasey), and Financial Faggotry (Antwayn Hopper); it’s like a queer Black version of the 1990s cis white sitcom Herman’s Head, in which a young magazine employee’s thoughts of professional and romantic success are debated by four actors playing various parts of his psyche. The actors portraying Usher’s thoughts also take turns as his mother (John-Andrew Morrison), father (Veasey), agent (John-Michael Lyles), and various historical Black figures.

Usher is haunted by his consciousness, especially when he is given the opportunity to ghost write a gospel play for Tyler Perry. Usher feels that writing for Perry would compromise everything he believes in, calling Perry “toxic” and arguing, “The crap he puts on stage, film, and TV makes my bile wanna rise.” However, his thoughts and family want him to do it for the money and because “Tyler Perry writes real life” and “Tyler Perry loves his mama.” The guilt runs deep as Usher pursues both professional and personal opportunities, desperate to make himself seen and heard in a world that too often treats him as if he’s invisible, what he refers to as his “exile in Gayville.” Although not all of the details in the show are autobiographical, Jackson shares a lot in common with Usher, except now everyone knows who Jackson is.

A Strange Loop is stylishly directed by Stephen Brackett (Be More Chill, The Lightning Thief) with a balls-out sense of humor that is furthered by Raja Feather Kelly’s wickedly sly choreography, which has fun with Spivey, who is not your typical Broadway leading man. Arnulfo Maldonado’s set isolates Usher, making his loneliness palpable, while giving each Thought its own doorway, like the different compartments of the brain. Montana Levi Blanco’s costumes are highlighted by Usher’s red usher outfit, which is counteracted by his black T-shirt that includes such crossed-out words as “Imperialist” and “White Supremacist” above the clearly legible “bell hooks,” a tribute to the Black author and activist (Black Is . . . Black Ain’t, I Am a Man: Black Masculinity in America) who passed away in December 2021 at the age of sixty-nine.

The ninety-minute show looks and sounds terrific, with colorful lighting by Jen Schriever, vibrant sound by Drew Levy, music direction by Rona Siddiqui, and wonderful orchestrations by Charlie Rosen, played live by a six-piece band. In his Broadway debut, Spivey, taking over for Larry Owens, who played Usher in the off-Broadway production, is an utter delight. From the opening moments, when he declares, “Everyone, please return to your seats; the second act is about to begin!” to his later acknowledgment that “These are my memories / Sweet sour memories / This is my history / This is my mystery,” he has the audience firmly on his side. You don’t have to be a queer Black man to identify with Usher’s fears and desires, to understand his loneliness. Jackson has done a masterful job of making A Strange Loop an inclusive story while also challenging conceptions of what a Broadway musical can be; this is not The Lion King or Aladdin, and it is most certainly not for kids.

In Gödel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid, Hofstadter writes, “The self comes into being at the moment it has the power to reflect itself.” A Strange Loop works because it reflects on itself, and on all of us, in one way or another.

MJ THE MUSICAL

Myles Frost stars as the King of Pop in MJ the Musical (photo by Matthew Murphy)

MJ THE MUSICAL
Neil Simon Theatre
250 West Fifty-Second St. between Broadway & Eighth Ave.
Tuesday – Sunday through December 30, $84-$299
mjthemusical.com

The most important official line about MJ does not come from two-time Pulitzer Prize winner Lynn Nottage’s book or fifteen-time Grammy winner Michael Jackson’s lyrics; instead, it can be found on the title page of the Playbill: “By special arrangement with the Estate of Michael Jackson.”

The jukebox musical features a star turn by former Voice contestant Myles Frost as the King of Pop. The show opens at his Neverland Ranch as MJ is preparing for a world tour in support of his eighth solo album, 1992’s Dangerous. The extensive, exhausting rehearsals — Jackson is a perfectionist, making demands on the dancers and designers — are being documented by music journalist Rachel (Whitney Bashor) and cameraman Dave (Joey Sorge) for MTV, including occasional access to Jackson himself.

The plot quickly glosses over child abuse allegations — the LAPD would begin investigating Jackson in August 1993 — and has a brief scene dealing with his addiction to painkillers. (Jackson’s death in June 2009 at the age of fifty was attributed in large part to his overdependence on prescription medication.)

The main conflict, and it’s a big stretch, is whether Jackson is willing to put Neverland up for collateral in exchange for a loan that will pay for his spectacular entrance sequence at the start of his concerts. It’s a paper-thin narrative even as we root for Jackson not to lose his beloved home, where many of the alleged abuses purportedly took place. More time is given to talk of his Heal the World Foundation, a charity to help disadvantaged children, than to any accusations. Although one certainly gets invested in seeing just how close the company comes to re-creating Jackson’s songs and movement, that can’t sustain a 150-minute show (with intermission).

Director-choreographer Christopher Wheeldon cuts between rehearsals and key scenes from Jackson’s childhood in the Jackson Five, with the young Michael (Walter Russell III, Christian Wilson, Tavon Olds-Sample) joined by his brothers Marlon (Devin Trey Campbell, Zelig Williams), Jermaine (Lamont Walker II), Tito (Apollo Levine), Randy (Raymond Baynard), and Jackie (John Edwards) as they are discovered and nurtured by Motown founder Berry Gordy (Antoine L. Smith) and producer Quincy Jones (Levine) as parents Katherine (Ayana George) and, especially, the controlling Joe (Quentin Earl Darrington) carefully watch their career.

The songs are terrifically orchestrated and arranged by musical supervisor David Holcenberg and musical director Jason Michael Webb, regularly igniting the crowd. And what a setlist it is: “ABC,” “Bad,” “Beat It,” “Billie Jean,” “Black or White,” “Dancing Machine,” “Man in the Mirror,” “Smooth Criminal,” “Thriller,” and “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’,” among others. The show is a tech success, with sets by Derek McLane, lighting by Natasha Katz, costumes by Paul Tazwell, sound by Gareth Owen, and projections by Peter Nigrini; Charles Lapointe does a great job with hair and wigs.

Darrington (Once on This Island, Ragtime) stands out doing double duty as tour manager Rob and Joe Jackson, as Nottage (Sweat, Ruined) and Tony winner Wheeldon (An American in Paris, Cinderella) make direct comparisons to the two men’s influences on Michael’s personal and professional lives and how they protect him. But it’s not enough to offset everything that is left out of the story, which looms over the production like a dark cloud.

In the song “Keep the Faith” from the Dangerous album, Jackson sings, “If you call out loud / Will it get inside / Through the heart of your surrender / To your alibis / And you can say the words / Like you understand / But the power’s in believing / So give yourself / A chance.” MJ the Musical feels like a chance for the Michael Jackson Estate to exploit those alibis without really looking at the man in the mirror.

AMERICAN BUFFALO

Sam Rockwell, Darren Criss, and Laurence Fishburne star in latest Broadway revival of David Mamet’s American Buffalo (photo by Richard Termine)

AMERICAN BUFFALO
Circle in the Square Theatre
1633 Broadway at 50th St.
Tuesday – Sunday through July 10, $79.50 – $299.50
americanbuffalonyc.com

In 1981, at the downtown Circle in the Square on Bleecker St., a high school classmate of mine named Rich and I saw David Mamet’s American Buffalo, a searing three-character drama starring Al Pacino, Clifton James, and Thomas G. Waites as a trio of luckless losers in a Chicago junk shop plotting a low-level heist. Last month, Rich and I saw the third Broadway revival of the play, at Circle in the Square in the Theater District, a still-sizzling play with another all-star cast: Sam Rockwell, Laurence Fishburne, and Darren Criss.

A lot has changed over the last forty-one years. Rich and I both moved out of Long Island; he is a married insurance defense lawyer in Queens with two kids, while I’m a married culture writer and managing editor in Manhattan. Mamet, for decades celebrated as one of the country’s most important and talented playwrights and filmmakers — he’s been nominated for two Oscars, three Emmys, and two Tonys and won the Pulitzer Prize for 1983’s Glengarry Glen Ross — has now been turned into a pariah by the left because of his Trumpist political views and condemnation of liberalism, which dates back to around 2011, along with the toxic masculinity and misogyny that appear throughout his work.

The last decade has witnessed a quartet of disasters by Mamet — the oh-so-brief Broadway debuts of The Anarchist and China Doll, an ill-fated revival of Glengarry Glen Ross, and the world premiere of the disappointing The Penitent — but all of that has little to do with Neil Pepe’s powerful new staging of American Buffalo; my only quibble is that the intermission gets in the way of the flow of the drama, which is only eighty-five minutes without the break. (Most of Mamet’s works are between sixty and one hundred minutes, so he certainly has a way of getting right to the point.)

Donny (Laurence Fishburne) gets an earful from Teach (Sam Rockwell) in American Buffalo (photo by Richard Termine)

American Buffalo takes place in an impossibly crowded downstairs junk shop. It’s a Friday morning, and middle-aged store owner Donny Dubrow (Laurence Fishburne) is talking with Bobby (Darren Criss), a young simpleton who helps him out on occasion. In this case, Donny has asked Bobby to keep watch on a guy who had come into the store and purchased a buffalo nickel from him for ninety bucks. Donny compares the stranger to their friend Fletcher, who just won a stash playing cards.

“You take him and you put him down in some strange town with just a nickel in his pocket, and by nightfall he’ll have that town by the balls,” Donny says. “This is not talk, Bob, this is action. . . . Skill. Skill and talent and the balls to arrive at your own conclusions.”

While Donny goes out of his way to teach Bobby about life, their friend Walter Cole (Sam Rockwell), better known as Teach, isn’t seeking out any teaching moments. He whirls into the shop, complaining about this and that, finding offense in minor incidents, lashing out with a slew of curses as he recounts supposed wrongs done to him. “Someone is against me, that’s their problem,” he barks. “I can look out for myself, and I don’t got to fuck around behind somebody’s back, I don’t like the way they’re treating me. Or pray some brick safe falls and hits them on the head, they’re walking down the street. But to have that shithead turn, in one breath, every fucking sweetroll that I ever ate with them into GROUND GLASS — I’m wondering were they eating it and thinking ‘This guy’s an idiot to blow a fucking quarter on his friends‘’ . . . this hurts me, Don. This hurts me in a way I don’t know what the fuck to do.” When Donny tries to calm him down, the bloviator says, “The only way to teach these people is to kill them.”

Amid a series of Pinteresque discussions, each more absurd than the last as they talk about English muffins, bacon, the weather, coffee, cheating at cards, pigirons, and loyalty, they plot a heist, deciding to rid the buffalo nickel customer of all of his coins later that night. What could possibly go wrong?

American Buffalo is a character-driven masterpiece about low-level dreams gone awry, about people who started with nothing and have no idea how to get their piece of the pie, or at least not legally. It’s field day for three actors; past productions have featured such trios as Robert Duvall, Kenneth McMillan, and John Savage; William H. Macy, Philip Baker Hall, and Mark Webber; John Leguizamo, Cedric the Entertainer, and Haley Joel Osment; and Damian Lewis, John Goodman, and Tom Sturridge.

Daren Criss holds his own with big-timers Sam Rockwell and Laurence Fishburne in Mamet revival (photo by Richard Termine)

The current Broadway revival, staunchly directed by Neil Pepe (Hands on a Hardbody, Dying for It), who has helmed many of Mamet’s works — including the 2000 revival at the Donmar Warehouse and the Atlantic Theater, which was cofounded by Mamet and Macy and where Pepe has been artistic director for thirty years — is another acting tour de force, with Criss (How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying, Hedwig and the Angry Inch) sublime as the gentle Bobby, Fishburne (Two Trains Running, Riff Raff) steadfast as the straightforward Donny, and a mustachioed Rockwell (A Behanding in Spokane, Fool for Love) right on target as the unsettling, unpredictable Teach, his polyester slacks practically a character unto themselves. (The costumes are by Dede Ayite.)

Scott Pask’s set is like a character unto itself as well, consisting of hundreds of items cluttering the floor and filling the ceiling over the men’s heads; these pieces of junk are like parts of their brain, all the thoughts and desires swimming around their skulls, likely to never come to fruition, just taking up space in these ne’er-do-wells who can’t see clearly ahead of themselves.

Right before the show started, Rich reminded me that when he had taken a stab at acting and stand-up comedy after college, his go-to audition speech was from American Buffalo, Teach’s first words: “Fuckin’ Ruthie, fuckin’ Ruthie, fuckin’ Ruthie, fuckin’ Ruthie, fuckin’ Ruthie.” After experiencing the play with him again after four decades, that choice made perfect sense to me.

PARADISE SQUARE

Races and dance styles mix it up in Paradise Square (photo by Kevin Berne)

PARADISE SQUARE
Ethel Barrymore Theatre
243 West 47th St. between Broadway & Eighth Ave.
Tuesday – Sunday through July 17, $39 – $250
www.paradisesquaremusical.com

Paradise Square gets off to a rousing start, with exciting choreography by Bill T. Jones, a fabulous set by Allen Moyer, a terrific cast led by Joaquina Kalukango, splendid period costumes by Toni-Leslie James, historical projections by Wendall K. Harrington and Shawn Boyle that establish the time and place, and thrilling music by Jason Howland and Larry Kirwan. But once Nathan Tysen and Masi Asare’s lyrics and the book, by Christina Anderson, Craig Lucas, and Kirwan, kick into full gear, the whole thing falls apart, leaving us to wonder what could have been. Not even two-time Tony-nominated director and National Medal of Arts recipient Moisés Kaufman can put it back together.

It’s 1863, the middle of the Civil War, and Nelly Freeman (Kalukango) is running the (fictional) Paradise Square pub in Five Points, at the corner of Baxter and Worth Sts., what she proudly calls “the first slum in America!” It’s a place where everyone, regardless of race, gender, or religion, can come for a “little bit of Eden.” As she sings, “All we have is what we are / Inside here we all feel free / We love who we want to love / With no apology / If you landed in this square / Then you dared to risk it all / At the bottom of the ladder / There’s nowhere left to fall.”

Nelly is married to Willie O’Brien (Matt Bogart), an Irishman who is captain of the Fighting 69th Infantry. Willie’s right-hand man is Lucky Mike Quinlan (Kevin Dennis); Nelly runs the saloon with Willie’s sister, Annie (Chilina Kennedy), who is married to the Reverend Samuel Jacob Lewis (Nathaniel Stampley). Willie and Mike are about to head back to the war. “We’ll be back before ya blink,” Mike promises. “On me word, Nelly. I’ll bring him to ya with all his workin’ parts still workin’.”

Annie’s nephew, Owen Duignan (A. J. Shively), arrives, looking to make a fresh start in a new land where the streets are supposedly paved with gold. Also showing up is Washington Henry (Sidney DuPont), an escaped slave seeking shelter until he is reunited with his wife, Angelina Baker (Gabrielle McClinton), who was separated from him in the woods. Meanwhile, a drunk piano player named Milton Moore (Jacob Fishel) comes in looking for a job; Nelly does not realize that he is actually Stephen Foster, who has already written some racist anthems (and who really did live — and die — in Five Points).

Broadway musical looks at slavery, immigration, war, and personal sacrifice (photo by Kevin Berne)

Keeping a close watch on everything that happens at the Paradise is uptown party boss Frederic Tiggens (John Dossett), who wants to close the establishment because it is the center of Black and Irish anti-South and anti-business voters, “a haven of social depravity and political ascension.” He confronts Nelly, calling her “a facilitator of prostitution, gambling, and drunken mayhem.” She humbly replies, “I am just one woman who runs a saloon.” He bites back, “Don’t play coy. A degenerate who somehow wields power in New York politics doesn’t get to be coy.” To which she responds, “But enough about you —.”

It all devolves quickly once Nelly decides to hold a dance-off in which the winner will get three hundred dollars, the exact amount needed to buy one’s way out of President Lincoln’s newly implemented draft for the Union army. “Three hundred dollars?! That’s more than a year’s wage!” an Italian longshoreman declares. “I won’t go,” a German longshoreman adds. “If you do not go, you will be considered a deserter and a criminal,” a provost marshal explains. “This is a rich man’s war that the poor and immigrant will have to fight,” an Irish longshoreman says. When two Black longshoremen are ready to sign up, the marshal tells them, “No coloreds. Only citizens and immigrants.”

The contest and its aftermath turns what was a compelling drama about immigrants, slavery, poverty, and war into a cliché-ridden narrative that will leave you exasperated, as Tiggens becomes more and more like cartoon villain Snidely Whiplash and the lines between good and evil might as well be drawn with a giant crayon, eliminating any nuance or subtlety. It really is a shame, since so many of the individual elements are outstanding; Anderson, Lucas, and Black 47 leader Kirwan don’t have enough faith that the audience will be able to weave its way through a more complex and realistic story, instead opting for the lowest common denominator. I nearly screamed at a plot development late in the show that still has me seeing red.

Two-time Tony nominee Kalukango (Slave Play, The Color Purple) is almost reason enough to see Paradise Square, but I had to wonder whether the showstopping standing ovation she received for her blazing solo “Let It Burn” was genuine or was at least partly egged on by an excerpt of a review on the theater’s facade that highlights the standing O from the Chicago production. The song includes such mundane lyrics as “I know why you have come here / What you want to erase / But I know that our spirit / Is bigger than this place.”

Paradise Square wants to make serious statements about issues that are still relevant a century and a half after the Civil War, but it can’t stop stepping on its own toes, unable to leap beyond the obvious.