this week in theater

IVO DIMCHEV: IN HELL WITH JESUS / TOP 40

Get ready for the wildly unexpected in Ivo Dimchev’s In Hell with Jesus / Top 40 at La MaMa (photo by Krasimir Stoichkov)

Who: Ivo Dimchev and company
What: Interactive performance
Where: The Downstairs, La MaMa Experimental Theatre Club, 66 East Fourth St. between Second Ave. & Bowery
When: November 16-26, $10-$30
Why: Bulgarian theater director, performance artist, activist, choreographer, singer-songwriter, and visual artist brings his unique talents to La MaMa with 2022’s In Hell with Jesus and the US premiere of 2023’s Top 40. The former is a musical, centered around an audition, that challenges political correctness in theater and beyond, conceived and directed by Dimchev and performed by him and Andrew Fremont-Smith, Cassondra James, Louis Schwadron, Xavier Smith, and Chris Tanner in madcap costumes; it asks the question, “Big dick, big house, or great sense of humor?” Dimchev, the founder and director of Bulgaria’s Humarts Foundation, wrote and choreographed the latter, which features songs from previous shows of his and a hefty amount of audience participation.

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

GEOFF SOBELLE: FOOD

Geoff Sobelle enjoys quite a meal in Food (photo by Stephanie Berger)

FOOD
BAM Fisher, Fishman Space
321 Ashland Pl.
November 2-18, $20
718-636-4100
www.bam.org
www.geoffsobelle.com

In his 1825 book Physiology of Taste or Meditations on Transcendental Gastronomy, French lawyer and culinary expert Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin wrote, “Tell me what you eat and I shall tell you what you are,” which eventually morphed into the simpler, more familiar phrase “You are what you eat.”

If that is true, I have genuine concerns for theater artist Geoff Sobelle.

The Brooklyn-based Sobelle is back at BAM’s appropriately named Fishman Space — yes, seafood is on the menu — with Food, his latest foray into magical storytelling that includes HOME and The Object Lesson. But getting a ticket might be harder than reserving a table at one of the city’s hottest restaurants.

The eighty-minute piece might feed your hunger for unique and unusual entertainment, but it won’t satisfy your stomach; no food or drink is served, although it will be seen, sniffed, and touched. But Sobelle will satiate your appetite for pure, unadulterated pleasure with the show, in which he reimagines the concept of “farm to table” as he explores humanity’s overconsumption and preference for capitalism at the expense of the natural environment.

Sobelle is an ingenious storyteller, incorporating unexpected props, analog technology, and audience participation into his presentations. Food unfurls around a large dinner table with fancy place settings, evoking both Judy Chicago and Luis Buñuel; ten audience members are seated on each of three sides, with several rows of traditional rafters behind them. Above the table is a large chandelier made of recycled plastic kitchen items, including bottles, cups, knives, spoons, and containers.

Geoff Sobelle pours wine in ingenious solo show Food (photo by Stephanie Berger)

Sobelle appears about fifteen minutes before the official start time, speaking with the ushers and scouting the crowd for potential contributors. He begins the evening with a meditative session asking the audience to close their eyes and imagine themselves back in the primordial ooze from which life emerged, all the way through to the current age, where human greed is on the verge of destroying the planet.

He then pours wine for those sitting at the table and gives several people menus; he brings each a plate with a microphone on it and takes their orders. The menus contain prompts that kick off food-related shtick that is very funny while also making salient points about where our food comes from and how and where we eat it. For example, when the person next to me ordered a baked potato, Sobelle planted seed pieces in dirt and then pulled the potato from the mound, wrapped it in aluminum foil, held a lit match under it, and had our side of the table pass the “hot potato” to the expectant orderer.

Some of the prompts ask the audience member to describe a favorite meal and how to make it, leading to some exquisitely detailed recipes related off the cuff. As I hungrily listened to these descriptions, my mind raced, wondering what I would say if Sobelle brought the microphone to me.

A significant portion of the enjoyment of the show relies on the improvisatory skills of the audience, which will of course change every night. Judging from photos I’ve seen of what Sobelle has eaten at other performances — I don’t want to give anything away, but he does devour a rather unique meal, one that is beyond awe-inspiring and far from mouthwatering — his menu changes each evening as well, a commentary on gluttony of all sorts, not just comestibles.

Sobelle accomplishes various tricks and sleight-of-hand with frequent collaborator Steve Cuiffo, an illusionist who revealed his lifelong relationship with magic in Lucas Hnath’s A Simulacrum. Also contributing to the warm and intimate atmosphere of fun and fascination are lighting designer Isabella Byrd and sound designer Tei Blow. Sobelle codirects the show with Lee Sunday Evans, who has helmed such unique theater pieces as Dance Nation, Intractable Woman: A Theatrical Memo on Anna Politkovskaya, and Sobelle’s HOME, in which dancers and designers build a house onstage and move in.

A chandelier of recycled plastic hangs over an immense dinner table in Food at BAM (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

Once Sobelle is finished with his “meal,” he transforms the table into something else entirely and takes off on another narrative into the past, with a series of surprises that are simply dazzling and filled with amazement. Again, I don’t want to spoil it, but I do have to admit that one particular object, a well-known holiday toy, took me back to my childhood, as did a discussion of diners. Suddenly I was ten years old, ordering the twin-cheeseburger platter and asking my father if, like him, my “potato and vegetable” side dishes could be French fries and French fries. Sobelle’s show goes from the macro to the micro, revealing the who, what, where, when, and how behind the cultivation, acquisition, consumption, and cost of food and other items, making us question their impact on the health, and wealth, of our nation.

But a final word of caution: You are probably better off eating before the show than after, as the environmental cost of food will have a deep-seated effect on your appetite.

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

ARMS AND THE MAN

Raina (Shanel Bailey) asks her mother (Karen Ziemba) to be quiet about an uninvited guest (Kesha Moodliar) in Arms and the Man (photo by Carol Rosegg)

ARMS AND THE MAN
Theatre Row
410 West 42nd St. between Ninth & Tenth Aves.
Tuesday – Sunday through November 18, $71.50
gingoldgroup.org
www.theatrerow.org

It’s seldom a good sign when the actors onstage are having more fun than the audience. Such is the case with Gingold Theatrical Group’s (GTG) latest George Bernard Shaw adaptation, Arms and the Man. Continuing at Theatre Row through November 18, the production features several scene introductions with the cast at the front of the stage, delivering their lines right to the seats, preparing the audience for what comes next. Director David Staller notes in the script that Shaw was going to use this convention of actors speaking directly to the audience in a filmed version of the play but they made Major Barbara instead. Staller explains, “Thanks to [Shaw biographer] Sir Michael Holroyd, notes and letters from [veteran Shaw actor] Maurice Evans, and documents at the British Library, we have attempted to honor Shaw’s bold notion of employing the actors’ direct address and to view this world through a world of a Victorian toy theater.”

The evening begins with the cast of seven welcoming the audience to the show and introducing their roles. “Don’t worry; it’s Shaw but it’s short,” one says. “We’re determined to create a world of magic for you,” another promises. It’s a charming beginning that can’t maintain its appeal.

Lindsay Genevieve Fuori’s set is adorable, an elegantly outlined space, evoking a toy theater, that serves alternately as a bedroom, drawing room, and garden patio of a fancy abode in Bulgaria where the Petkoffs live in splendor: Major Paul Petkoff (Thomas Jay Ryan), his wife, Catherine (Karen Ziemba), and their daughter, Raina (Shanel Bailey). They are taken care of by their maid, Louka (Delphi Borich), who sees it all, and the ever-efficient major domo, Nicola (Evan Zes).

The 1885 Serbo-Bulgarian War is well underway, where Reina’s fiance, the brave blowhard Major Sergius Saranoff (Ben Davis), is leading the charge. Amid a barrage of gunfire below, a ragged enemy soldier, Captain Bluntschli (Kesha Moodliar), sneaks into Raina’s bedchamber, just looking for a reprieve from the battle. After hiding him from a Russian officer (Zes), Raina reevaluates her relationship with Sergius as everyone takes stock of what they want out of life.

Major Paul Petkoff (Thomas Jay Ryan) and Major Sergius Saranoff (Ben Davis) share a laugh as Catherine (Karen Ziemba) and Raina (Shanel Bailey) look on sternly in Shaw adaptation (photo by Carol Rosegg)

The fourth of Shaw’s sixty-five plays, Arms and the Man debuted in 1894 on the West End and has been produced on Broadway seven times, most recently in 1985 at Circle in the Square with Kevin Kline, Glenne Headley, and Raul Julia, directed by John Malkovich. George Orwell famously raved, “It is probably the wittiest play [Shaw] ever wrote, the most flawless technically, and in spite of being a very light comedy, the most telling.” Alas, little of that is evident in Staller’s adaptation. The costumes (by Tracy Christensen) and the pacing were off; while we were told early on that there were to be three acts with two intermissions, that second interval never arrived, making me uncomfortable as I wriggled in my seat.

Shaw takes on class and war in this comedy of manners; we get plenty of class and war but unfortunately not much comedy in this rendition, which attempts to add contemporary relevancy. Scenes feel tenuously stitched together; characters are underplayed or overplayed, creating a mishmash of the narrative. The title comes from the opening words of Virgil’s Aeneid: “Arms and the man I sing, who, forced by fate / And haughty Juno’s unrelenting hate, / Expelled and exiled, left the Trojan shore,” an epic poem about war and power; that reference falls flat at Theatre Row.

GTG kicked off its Project Shaw in 2009, presenting just about everything Shaw ever wrote, from full-length and one-act plays to sketches. Their recent shows have been hit-or-miss, from the exquisite Mrs. Warren’s Profession to the less-charming Caesar & Cleopatra and Heartbreak House

At one point in Arms, Reina declares, “The world is really a glorious world for women who can see its glory and men who can act its romance! What happiness! What unspeakable fulfillment!”

If only more of that were evident in this wartime farce that lacks ammunition.

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

ALL THE DEVILS ARE HERE: HOW SHAKESPEARE INVENTED THE VILLAIN

Patrick Page explores the history of villainy in Shakespeare’s plays in captivating one-man show at DR2 (photo by Julieta Cervantes)

ALL THE DEVILS ARE HERE: HOW SHAKESPEARE INVENTED THE VILLAIN
Daryl Roth Theatre
103 East 15th St. between Irving Pl. & Park Ave.
Tuesday – Sunday through March 31, $110-$160
allthedevilsplay.com

In May 2021, Tony nominee Patrick Page presented a streaming version of his one-man show All the Devils Are Here: How Shakespeare Invented the Villain, recorded in Shakespeare Theatre Company’s empty Sidney Harman Hall in DC. At the time, I wrote, “Page knows what of he speaks; in addition to having portrayed his fair share of Shakespeare baddies, he has played Scar in The Lion King, Scrooge in A Christmas Carol, the Green Goblin in Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark, Hades in Hadestown, and the Grinch in Dr. Seuss’s How the Grinch Stole Christmas, villains all in one form or another. His command of Shakespeare and the concept of evil is bold and impressive, but he is down-to-earth enough to throw in plenty of surprising modern-day pop-culture references to keep it fresh and relevant to those who might not know much about the Bard or Elizabethan theater.” His bravura performance provided a vital dose of theater to the drama-starved during the lockdowns, and I named it Best Solo Shakespeare Play in twi-ny’s third Pandemic Awards.

He has now brought the show to the Daryl Roth Theatre in Union Square, adapting it for a live audience in the intimate space that seats a mere ninety-nine people. Arnulfo Maldonado’s set features a desk and a chair in front of a red curtain, with various props stored on lighting scaffolds on either side of the stage. Primarily dressed in a red velvet outfit with a vest (the costumes are by Emily Rebholz, with chilling lighting by Stacey Derosier and sinister sound by Darron L West), Page makes only minor garment changes and uses minimal props, including a skull, a dagger, a book, and other items, as he portrays Lady Macbeth (Macbeth), Richard of Gloucester (Richard III), Shylock (The Merchant of Venice), Malvolio (Twelfth Night), Claudius (Hamlet), Angelo (Measure for Measure), Iago (Othello), and other villainous Shakespeare creations. He connects the development of these evildoers to Shakespeare’s own maturation as a playwright, comparing Barabas from Christopher Marlowe’s The Jew of Malta to Aaron the Moor from Titus Andronicus. Exploring the mindset of psychopaths, Page draws a through line among the characters.

“Think of it: It’s a superpower!” he proclaims. “You might become a wizard on Wall Street or an Academy Award–winning producer. You might even become president of the United States. That is a psychopath.”

Page regularly drops in contemporary references, from Facebook and House of Cards to Succession and Uma Thurman as well as a bit of juicy gossip about the Bard.

With his deep, resonant voice and buff body, Page is a mesmerizing performer; it’s easy to be carried away by his imposing stage presence, and the audience’s trust in him is well placed. Simon Godwin, the artistic director of Shakespeare Theatre Company, previously directed Page as King Lear and expertly lets him strut his stuff in All the Devils Are Here as Page delivers a master class in villainy.

Patrick Page beckons the audience to join him on a unique Shakespeare ride in All the Devils Are Here (photo by Julieta Cervantes)

At a talkback after the show I saw, I asked Page about how he adapted the streaming film into the current live play. He responded, “A one-man show is already such a strange thing for an actor because acting is by its very nature a reciprocal process. You really are a reactor. You don’t generate a lot of stuff when you’re in a play with people. You’re simply reacting, listening, reacting, listening, reacting, listening, reacting. So in a one-man show, it’s different. With no audience, of course, you have to make up a lot in your imagination of what might be going on. Now I still have to make up some, but at least you’re there.

“So I feel the vibrations, I feel the energy, I feel the listening, I hear the laughs (as much as I can hear), and that you become my acting partner in the show. And my overall objective, of course, is to communicate this story to you as clearly as I can. And it’s very, very helpful to have someone there listening and thinking, you know, how you would tell a story differently to different people. And so I’m aware that there are people in the audience who have, let us say, a depth of experience with Shakespeare. I’m aware that there are people who’ve had very little experience with Shakespeare. I’m aware that there are people who have had only bad experiences, which many of us have had. It’s likely that you have had bad experiences. And someone tried to get you to read King Lear when you were in high school and, of course, it was completely indecipherable, never meant to be read in that way. So I’m aware of that as I’m telling the story. And that’s part of what animates it.”

With humor and gravitas, Page (Coriolanus, Cymbeline, Casa Valentina, Spring Awakening) deepens our experience of Shakespeare, offering a gift that will stay with you as you continue on your personal adventures with the Bard.

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

HOW TO BE A DANCER IN 72,000 EASY LESSONS

The Dancer (Rachel Poirier) whips the Dance Man (Michael Keegan-Dolan) into shape in semiautobiographical show (photo by Teddy Wolff)

HOW TO BE A DANCER IN 72,000 EASY LESSONS
St. Ann’s Warehouse
45 Water St.
Through November 5, $39-$69
718-254-8779
stannswarehouse.org

“Don’t look back,” Michael Keegan-Dolan says near the beginning of the exceptional How to Be a Dancer in 72,000 Easy Lessons. “But I want to look back.”

The Irish choreographer and director takes a unique look back in his triumphant return to the stage after two decades, joined by his longtime collaborator and life partner, French dancer Rachel Poirier. The semiautobiographical ninety-minute show — the first dance-theater work to be presented by St. Ann’s Warehouse — starts and ends with a story about an egg, signaling birth and rebirth. Keegan-Dolan is the Dance Man and Poirier the Dancer as he relates episodes from his past. Driven by his deep desire to be a dancer, he walked a long road to success with his pigeon-toed feet that included being bullied by other boys for dancing like a “queer” and a bruising stint in musical theater, among other adventures.

Michael Keegan-Dolan returns to the stage in How to Be a Dancer in 72,000 Easy Lessons at St. Ann’s (photo by Teddy Wolff)

The Dance Man prefers Gene Kelly to rugby, ballet to musical theater. Across forty-one brief scenes, the character introduces us to his mother and father, his best friend, his choir priest, his ballet teacher, his first girlfriend, Belgian choreographer Anne Teresa de Keersmaeker, his brother Paul, and a famous Australian conductor. He includes the high and low points, the moments that forged his future as he sought the freedom to be who he wanted to be, anchored by his meeting the Dancer, who moves about the stage and interacts with him in often outrageously funny and deliciously wicked ways as he shares his tales.

Each vignette features playful props that Keegan-Dolan and Poirier remove from a large wooden box and scatter about, from a child’s bicycle and a red balloon to a mirror and a helium tank, from cinderblocks and shoes to a dartboard and a ladder. A long white rope hangs down from the ceiling, offering danger and escape. White tape forms a large rectangle on the floor and back wall, but Keegan-Dolan, in a black suit and white shirt, and Poirier, in a black dress, ignore it, refusing to be contained.

The set and costumes are by Hyemi Shin, with lighting and direction by Adam Silverman and sound by Sandra Ní Mhathúna, creating an anything-goes atmosphere. Keegan-Dolan often carries a boombox with him, playing such songs as Jacques Brel’s “J’arrive,” Men Without Hats’ “The Safety Dance,” Depeche Mode’s “Just Can’t Get Enough,” Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody,” and Charles Penrose’s “The Laughing Policeman,” in addition to pieces by Stravinsky, Strauss, Handel, and Verdi.

“Psycho Killer,” with its touch of French, plays a pivotal role, as the Dance Man points out, “If there is a place in the world for the Talking Heads’ lead singer and front man David Byrne, then there must be a place in the world for me.” Poirier brings down the house with an exhilarating and exhausting fifteen-minute solo to Maurice Ravel’s “Bolero in C Major” that is breathlessly exquisite.

Nearly every minute provides something singular and unexpected, running the gamut of emotions, as exemplified when the Dance Man runs around the stage. “I have a voice!” he declares early on. “And it’s not, the endless monologue in my head, in my head voice. This is my voice.”

Keegan-Dolan found his voice through dance; his latest show, subtitled “A Performance Ritual in Four Parts for Two Performers,” is a clarion call for everyone to seek out and find theirs.

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

MEET MISS BAKER: PARTNERSHIP

Sara Haider (center) is mesmerizing in Mint production of Elizabeth Baker’s Partnership (Todd Cerveris Photography)

PARTNERSHIP
The Mint Theater at Theatre Row
410 West 42nd St. between Ninth & Tenth Aves.
Tuesday – Sunday through November 12, $39-$79
minttheater.org
www.theatrerow.org

The Mint completes its wonderful “Meet Miss Baker” trilogy with Partnership, another exquisite production of a work by early-twentieth-century playwright and office typist Elizabeth Baker, following 2019’s The Price of Thomas Scott and last year’s Chains. Born in 1876, Baker was a teetotaler raised in a strict, religious lower-middle-class family that was in the drapery business; she didn’t go to the theater until she was nearly thirty and didn’t marry until nearly forty. Her debut, Chains, is a 1909 working-class drama about capitalism and social convention, while Scott, from 1913, also deals with those issues, through a lens involving religion and a family’s clothing store.

A fancy women’s clothing store in Brighton is at the center of Partnership, which explores two types of alliances: business and personal. Kate Rolling (Sara Haider) is a young, single woman who owns a fashionable shop that is poised to make it big. Kate has impressed the fussy and ultrafashionable Lady Smith-Carr-Smith (Christiane Noll), who promises Kate she’ll recommend her shop to “the Duchess,” ensuring a steady, if demanding, stream of wealthy customers.

Kate’s staff gets excited by the possibility, including vivacious salesperson Maisie Glow (Olivia Gilliatt), cynical seamstress Miss Blagg (Gina Daniels), and mousey shop assistant Miss Gladys Tracey (Madeline Seidman), who is engaged to the hapless Jack Webber (Tom Patterson), who is jealous of another of Gladys’s suitors. Jack works for successful haberdasher George Pillatt (Gene Gillette), who has made a surprise appointment with Kate.

“I wonder what Pillatt wants. There’s one thing, I suppose, and that is, he won’t propose,” Kate says to Maisie, who replies, “And he’d be a catch if you like. It’d be better than fighting him, wouldn’t it?”

The space next to Kate’s store has become available, and Pillatt is interested in taking it over — joining forces with Kate, who has been considering leasing the space as well. Pillatt is a dry, grim, darkly serious man with no sense of humor; speaking to Kate privately, he offers, “I have a plan to put before you Miss Rolling, but I will say at the outset that if you don’t care about it, we can drop it and go on as before, without prejudice. It need make no difference, I hope, to our present friendly business relations. If it commends itself to you I shall be very much gratified. Has the idea of a partnership ever entered your head? . . . Your business and mine.”

Kate is flattered by his kind words about her store, but then Pillatt ups the ante in one of the least romantic proposals imaginable: “I want to suggest, to propose a partnership — in another sense, and that is — marriage. Being a plain businessman, I wish to be quite frank in the matter, and so I have not hesitated to put the business part of the plan foremost. I am sure you, as a business woman, thoroughly understand this. . . . I am not a sentimentalist, but then you, a woman of business, do not wish for any expression of sentiment.”

When Kate admits that marriage was not on her radar, Pillatt assures her, in his cold, dispassionate manner, “That part of it will make no more difference than the other.” He then presents her with a formal contract, relating to both the business and the marriage. He is not exactly bursting with love and affection when he tells her, “I have thought it out very carefully. If you can see your way to accept it, I am sure it would work out satisfactorily.”

It’s a phenomenal scene that beautifully develops the characters and sets the stage for what comes next, twisting societal gender conventions and the male-dominated power structure. It takes place in the back private room of Kate’s shop, which features fashion drawings, various materials, shelves of boxes and files, stairs to the upper apartment, and a sharply dressed, realistic-looking mannequin known as Sally that essentially represents how women should be seen and not heard, treated as objects and not free-thinking human beings.

Discussing with Kate and Maisie how all men are fools, Miss Blagg contends, “Dress anything up in a smart blouse and a coiffure and men will make love to it. I’d like to put Sally here just inside the door and see how many of the idiots would come in to have a look at her.”

Lawrence Fawcett (Joshua Echebiri), Elliman (Tom Patterson), Maisie Glow (Olivia Gilliatt), and Kate Rolling (Sara Haider) take a break in the South Downs in Partnership (Todd Cerveris Photography)

When Pillatt’s friend and former classmate, the shy and awkward Lawrence Fawcett (Joshua Echebiri), enters, he is startled by Sally. “Christopher! — I thought she was real,” he calls out. “She’s just ‘it’! I’ve met dozens like her in flesh and blood.” Pillatt, wearing a persnickety, upper-crust striped suit and wielding a cane, and Fawcett, in a plain, unimpressive brown suit and hat, are the same age, but Fawcett looks much younger and has more interest in the outside world. (The stylish costumes are by Kindall Almond, with lighting by M. L. Geiger and sound by Daniel Baker.)

Fawcett has given up his lucrative family corset business to get into dyes, specifically orange. Pillatt has no respect for his decision, telling him, “What fool’s talk is this? You mean, I hope — though I can’t say I follow you quite — that you’re investing money in a dyeing business?”

Kate, in a resplendent cutting-edge fashionable suit and vest with a lacy cravat, purple bowtie, and black buttons and trimmings, is intrigued by Fawcett. When Fawcett, who is on a monthlong vacation, mentions that he is on his way to the South Downs — a national park with diverse landscapes, rich wildlife, spectacular views, unspoiled areas, and small communities — Kate decides that she, Fawcett, Pillatt, and Maisie should have tea on the Downs, and Maisie promises to bring her friend Elliman (Tom Patterson), who has a motorcar.

Up on the Downs — Alexander Woodward’s simplified set for the second act consists of a few rocks in front of a re-creation of James Hart Dyke’s colorful, tranquil 2021 painting, Winter Evening Light on Windmill — Fawcett is in his element, while Pillatt is uncomfortable and perturbed. Kate is intrigued by the freedom Fawcett is experiencing; it’s like he’s a different man in these natural surroundings.

“You are one of the lucky ones who can do as they like,” Kate says, to which Fawcett responds, “Can’t you? I thought you were your own mistress?” The planting of that seed leads to Kate taking another look at her life in the third act.

Miss Gladys Tracey (Madeline Seidman) and Miss Blagg (Gina Daniels) gossip in Elizabeth Baker rediscovery (Todd Cerveris Photography)

Director Jackson Grace Gay (A Little Journey, Transfers) nimbly dances around a gaping plot hole surrounding the question of whether a woman can have it all, success in love and business. Daniels (Becomes a Woman, Network) and Gilliatt (Chains, Mother of the Maid) provide playful humor, Echebiri (Merry Wives) builds charm, Gillette (Pushkin, Orpheus Descending) could not be any more dour, and Tony nominee Noll (Ragtime, God of Carnage) has a ball chewing up the scenery.

But the show belongs to Pakistani singer-songwriter and actress Haider, who is mesmerizing in her off-Broadway debut; you can’t take your eyes off her as Kate, a strong, independent woman, weighs the different parts of her life and must choose which path to follow. We might not always like the choices she makes, but she has every right to follow her heart and mind, wherever they may lead her. Anyone who partners with Kate, or Haider, her has made a wise decision indeed.

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

NOSFERATU, A 3D SYMPHONY OF HORROR

Theater in Quarantine’s Nosferatu is livestreamed right to your phone in 3D

NOSFERATU, A 3D SYMPHONY OF HORROR
NYU Skirball online
October 27-31, 7:00 & 9:00, $20
nyuskirball.org
www.youtube.com

My 3D glasses didn’t arrive in time but I still got chills from Joshua William Gelb’s livestreamed Nosferatu, a 3D Symphony of Horror, which is being presented by NYU Skirball through Halloween night.

During the pandemic, Gelb converted a 2′ x 4′ x 8′ closet in his East Village apartment into Theater in Quarantine, where he staged virtual dance and drama in the claustrophobic white space. He has now returned with a thirty-five-minute Halloween special inspired by Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel, Dracula, and F. W. Murnau’s 1922 silent masterpiece, Nosferatu.

The show is meant to be viewed on your cellphone, your own private, portable miniature closet, and listened to on headphones that make it seem like the characters are moving inside your head. An early title card, in a creepy, old-fashioned font, explains, “Nosferatu: Does this word not sound like the deathbird calling your name at midnight? Beware you never say it — for then the pictures of life will fade to shadows, haunting dreams will climb forth from your heart and feed on your blood.”

Gelb portrays the eerie Count Orlock, Nick Lehane is the real estate agent who has no idea what he’s in for, and Rosa Wolff is the agent’s true love, who knows something dastardly is afoot. The scenography is by Normandy Sherwood, with scary sound by Alex Hawthorn and video by Gelb. The closet turns from bright white to deep black as such props as a cross-laden door, bed, window, and miniature ship spur the action. Be sure to stick around for the time-lapse behind-the-scenes montage after the story concludes.

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