this week in theater

TWI-NY TALK: ANTHONY BARILE / 1-2-3 MANHUNT

Anthony Barile with Ilene Kristen in Tony DiMurro’s 1-2-3 Manhunt, opening October 10 at Theater for the New City

1-2-3 MANHUNT
Theater for the New City
155 First Ave. between Ninth & Tenth Sts.
Thursday – Sunday through October 24, $15-$18
theaterforthenewcity.net
www.123manhunt.com

“I really thought I had a place in telling stories in film or theater,” actor, restaurateur, Realtor, and kung fu instructor Anthony Barile says to me over Zoom. “People like me are needed. I feel I have a story to tell; I can portray a person like me who has a story to tell.”

I’ve known Barile since high school on Long Island, where he lettered in football and basketball; I never expected that all these years later, I’d be interviewing him about his performance in a play, Tony DiMurro’s 1-2-3 Manhunt, which opens October 10 at Theater for the New City. The show is set on a Lower East Side tenement roof and deals with Alex (Santo Fazio), an old school Italian American man returning to the neighborhood, and Alec (Chris Paul Morales), a Chinese American teenager dreaming of a career as a professional baseball player. Barile portrays Alex’s best friend, Frankie, which came relatively easy; in real life he’s best friends with Fazio, who he met in 1985. They last appeared onstage together in a 1994 revival of Michael Gazzo’s Hatful of Rain at the Actors Studio, helmed by original director Frank Corsaro, that attracted such luminaries as Norman Mailer and Shelley Winters.

Barile’s path to becoming an actor was a circuitous one.

“It was completely by accident,” the Brooklyn-born Barile explains. “I was going through a lot of changes at this particular point of my life. It was around 1990. I was in a long-term relationship that had ended, and, with that kind of life jolt, I decided to take the time for myself to explore things.”

He quit college the day Led Zeppelin drummer John Bonham died, drove a bread truck, then moved to Manhattan in the mid-’80s and started snapping a lot of pictures around the city. He took a photography class at SVA, a martial arts class — “I thought, I kinda like to fight, so this would be good” — and studied film production at NYU, a connection that led him to acting.

“A lot of friends I met, through my roommate at the time, were actors,” he remembers. “I was invited to a barbecue on the Fourth of July, and one of his friends was studying with Sandra Seacat. She was at this barbecue and got to speaking with me and invited me to her acting class. It was unrelated to acting — she wasn’t that kind of person. She’s a wonderful human being, a phenomenal acting coach; she was just interested by me. I don’t know, she embraced me. She was thinking, ‘This guy’s been through some stuff, he’s leaving his twenties — he should come to my class.’

“Because that’s what her classes were about, finding out who you are, in a healing way. I’m like, I don’t think so; it’s not really my thing. But then I’m thinking that if I want to work with actors in film, maybe it’s a good idea I understand how they think, how they operate, what the process is. So I go.

Former Three of Cups co-owners Anthony Barile and Santo Fazio reunite onstage for the first time in twenty-five years

“I still have my notes, my journal from that day — it was mandatory that you take notes. I read it every once in a while, and I was writing, ‘These people are nuts. They’re super self-indulgent and just out of their minds. This is an insane way to spend a day.’ But I continued in her class because I was fascinated. I’d go to her special workshops, where there would be people who would come from all over the country, some big names. I was never really starstruck; being a New Yorker and living in New York City, especially in the ’80s and then the ’90s, you see famous people all the time. But now I’m watching their process. It was amazing. And now she wants me involved, she wants me acting; she snuck it in on me.”

Barile, wearing a Mets hat and Pretenders T-shirt, shakes his head and laughs as he recalls what happened next.

“We’re doing all kinds of Chekhov pieces. Now, I’m going to be honest with you; I’d never read Chekhov. I don’t know who Chekhov is. This is not my world. Okay, I’ll read it. So I read it and I’m like, ‘Well, this is pretty crazy stuff. Do I understand this even? And then she gives me a scene partner, a name actor, and another friend of mine. We’re doing a scene from Kafka’s The Trial. Again, this is so foreign to me.

“The name actor is getting ready to audition for a major motion picture, so he’s there to get his chops together. So I go up to Sandra and I say, ‘Sandra, you think I should tell him that I’ve never acted before?’”

He laughs again. “And she’s like, ‘Oh, no. Oh, no no no no no. What’s acting? You’ll only make him nervous. There’s no reason for that. Just go, go live, go do the work I’m telling you to do, and go live this scene.’ So I did, and it was kind of phenomenal. So that was the beginning of the bug.”

Barile learned a lot more than acting from the workshops.

“As a human being, it was like an exorcism of my soul. We did dreamwork and numerology and method sensory work, we studied Indian philosophers and poets, Jungian psychology. It made me look at my life and go, ‘What has been going on?’”

Anthony Barile and Santo Fazio share a moment while appearing together in Hatful of Rain at the Actors Studio

His next teacher literally threw the book at him.

“I went on to study with Susan Batson — that was another insane experience where I wasn’t fully prepared for what I was walking into at all. The first time she saw me, she said to the other students, ‘Who’s the Anthony Quinn–looking motherfucker?’ It was an audition class; I didn’t know that. She would have us dance in a circle, speak our thoughts, and then she would write a monologue every day and have you perform it in front of a director and casting agent. Your job was to get the job.

“But she was so brutally tough. She threw things at me at times. She would sit in her apartment with her back against a bookcase. This one time, I remember, my character was supposed to cry in this emotional moment. And my crying was so phony that she just reached back, grabbed a book off the shelf, and flung it at me. I didn’t see it coming, so I got hit in the head by it. She’s like, ‘What the fuck is that? Don’t ever fucking do that in my fucking class again. Get the fuck out of here. If you really gotta cry, pull a hair out of your nose, but don’t do that shit.’

“I didn’t go back for weeks after that, but then I went back, and she tells me, ‘You’re either very brave or very stupid.” Barile also studied with such other prestigious teachers as Marcia Haufrecht and Sheila Gray.

In December 1992, Barile, Fazio, and a third partner had opened the Three of Cups, a Southern Italian restaurant on First Ave. Three of Cups cook Anthony Alessandro was an Actors Studio member, and when one of the supporting actors in Hatful of Rain wasn’t working out, Alessandro asked Barile to take over the role of Chuch, a junkie who was played by Harry Guardino in the 1956 original Broadway production.

“I was scared shitless. What an amazing experience. But I was terrified,” Barile readily admits. “I had gone knee deep into studying; I was entrenched. But all of that work went out the window because I was so fucking scared. Fortunately, the actors in this play were so good that all I really had to do was listen — listen backstage, listen onstage, and I was in it. I just opened my heart and listened, learning to just really be free.”

His next show changed his life. His friend Mark Nassar, a Three of Cups regular, had originated the role of Tony in the hit immersive play Tony n’ Tina’s Wedding. Nassar suggested that Barile join the cast in 1995, portraying the groom’s best friend. At the end of his one-year run, Barile started dating Justine Rossi, who played Tina. The two later married; they now live in Bayside and have two kids in college.

“What a great gift it’s been,” Barile says of Tony n’ Tina. Before the pandemic, he was asked to come back as the priest, Father Mark, and has performed the role in New York as well as in Oklahoma, North Dakota, South Dakota, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Florida, and New Orleans. He’ll be playing Tony’s father in Chicago in November, and recently his daughter appeared in the show, which includes a heavy amount of improv.

“Owning Three of Cups was very helpful in that. What they call it in Tony n’ Tina’s Wedding is table work, because it’s a wedding, you’re dealing with dinner guests. So my interaction with my customer base at Three of Cups got me ready for that. By nature, I’m a ballbreaker. I like comedy; I’m not afraid to break horns or just tell you what I think. So all of those things helped each other. And that training makes me a stronger actor for sure.” He would later appear in plays by David Mamet and John Patrick Shanley in black box theaters, including inhabiting a half dozen characters in Mamet’s Edmond. Three of Cups, where Justine had also worked before they were married and which hosted live music and comedy in its downstairs space, closed in April 2018.

Anthony Barile stands outside his beloved Lower East Side restaurant, Three of Cups

In 1998, Barile played the brutally violent Sally Hipps in DiMurro’s fabulously titled Moe Green Gets It in the Eye at La Tea Theater at the Clemente Soto Velez Arts Center on the Lower East Side.

“I connect to Tony’s writing,” Barile says. “He’s very New York, writing about the Italian American experience. I’m very familiar with that because a lot of the characters he writes about I know very well, whether they be family members, acquaintances, friends, people I’ve worked with. I like his language, and he’s a super guy as well.”

In 1-2-3 Manhunt, which is directed by William Roudebush with set design by Julie DiMurro, Tony’s wife, Barile plays another tough guy, Frankie. They were supposed to begin rehearsals in March 2020, but the pandemic canceled that. Since then, DiMurro has made small changes to incorporate the coronavirus crisis and other current events. They chose not to rehearse or do any readings over Zoom, getting together instead for the first time about a month ago.

“My favorite thing about my character is his enjoyment of a good laugh,” Barile explains. “He loves a good laugh, and he’s a ballbreaker. Listen, the writer knows me. Tony put things in the piece that are straight references right out of Three of Cups, because he used to visit me there all the time.”

Barile is also thrilled to be working with Fazio again.

“It’s like, wow. He’s my best friend in the show,” he tells me. “I’ve known Santo since 1985. It’s fun telling him stories onstage in character, because he’s my best audience. He can recognize when I’m in truth.”

A huge Mets fan — he was at Shea Stadium and Citi Field for the deciding World Series games in 1986, 2000, and 2015 — he is not thrilled with where the club is after a disastrous year.

“It will be a blow-up off-season, from top to bottom, starting with the front office,” he says. “They suck. It’s a curse. I was miserable. I can’t even believe my investment emotionally.”

I ask him what it’s like wearing a Yankees hat in the show.

“Frankie is definitely a baseball fan, and I figured that him being from Staten Island, he’s a Yankees fan. It also was a way for me to know I was playing someone else, not myself, because I’m most comfortable and successful in characters that aren’t too far removed from who I am.
In my approach to a character I like to have at least one part of my costume/wardrobe anchor me to him. In this case it’s the Yankees hat, for sure. As the great Lee Marvin once said, ‘Show up on time, know your lines, and let the clothes do the acting.’”

Barile and his wife also starred together as a couple preparing to go out for the first time since the pandemic took hold in Kevin Alexander Leonidas’s short film You Can’t Fix Stupid, and Barile, aka Mummy, appeared in David Shapiro’s seven-part documentary series Untitled Pizza Movie, about famed pie man Andrew Bellucci.

“I enjoy a good story,” Barile says. “You just want to be natural about it. Just tell the story.”

MATRIARCH: SHE’S WIDE AWAKE SHINING LIGHT . . .

Morgan Danielle Day delivers one of six monologues about motherhood in Matriarch

Who: The Roots and Wings Project
What: Livestream of six monologues
Where: Houston Coalition Against Hate online
When: Friday, October 8, free (donations accepted), 7:00 (available on demand through October 30)
Why: The Roots and Wings Project and the Houston Coalition Against Hate have teamed up to present Matriarch, a collection of six monologues and a song exploring the complex relationship between mothers and children in a patriarchal society. Filmed in front of a live, masked audience in the small backyard of the MKM Cultural Arts Center in Los Angeles, the show begins with Lioness, in which writer and Roots and Wings co-executive producer Jesse Bliss rails at an unseen man chastising her for breastfeeding in her parked car. “Fuck that,” she argues. “I’ll feed my baby wherever we need to handle it and it should elicit no kind of reaction and cause no kind of problem. . . . I birthed her, care for her, feed her. I could scream loud as fuck right now and it won’t bother her because we are a team. She wants me to chew your ass out. . . . . You’re trying to make shame out of something beautiful,” immediately establishing motherhood as a nurturing necessity and connection.

In The Truth about Perfecta, written by Obie winner Diane Rodriguez, who died of lung cancer in April 2020, Cristina Frias plays a mother defending herself against racist stereotypes. “I bet when you people look at me, you make assumptions about who I am, where I come from, who I belong to, who I love, how I love, where I live, how I live, who my friends are, how I manage my life, how much money I make, how I treat my kids. Well, don’t do that; you don’t know who I am, and you don’t know how I was raised.”

Some Things You Should Know about My Mom is a eulogy written by Gabriel Diamond and Tamar Halpern and performed by Diamond in front of a music stand. “You’ve been talking about Sandy the friend, the playwright, the sister, the calligrapher, the painter, the poet, all these things,” he says. ”I’m gonna talk about her as the mommy,” proceeding to tell stories about her decision to be a single mother and detailing her death.

Morgan Danielle Day is explosive as a young woman fighting the system in Taylor Lytle’s The Formula. Wearing a durag and face tattoos, Day fiercely proclaims, “I was criminalized long before I was ever incarcerated. I remember it like it was yesterday.” She recounts how her drug-addicted, sexually abused mother sent her off to foster care. “Now, it may be to you all a surprise that I was actually happy to get a foster home. Now, don’t get the wrong idea. I had a beautiful mother. I admire this woman for her strength. She was loving and caring and did what she could with what she had, period. . . . But there wasn’t a lot of room in this world for a single mother of twelve on welfare.”

Bahni Turpin sits down for Sigrid Gilmer’s Remember This . . . in which she portrays Margaret, a mother who is preparing her daughter for her impending death. “Oh, Angela. Please, dear,” she pleads. “Please, don’t. No tears, my darling. Stop it. I’m not going to discuss it. It is just dying. . . . I will not suffer any more than I have to. I will not waste away. You know, you don’t have to be here when I go.” She also admits, “I should have never had children.”

The evening concludes with Roger Q. Mason’s Age Sex Location, in which a fab Ramy El-Etreby dances onstage in glittery drag and proclaims, “Fat bitch / Black queen / Mixed breed mishap / Round nosed fag hoe / That’s what you think of me / As I walk down the street / My wide hips waddling / My fleshy neck obscuring a too-soft jawline.” He goes on to tell how he was rejected by his mother, father, and doctor, none of whom even tried to understand who he was, who he needed to be. The show also features a song by Sheila Govindarajan in which she sings, “Let me go / set me free,” along with snippets from Lizzo, Talking Heads, Nina Simone, Bob Dylan, Ella Fitzgerald, and Roberta Flack.

Created and directed by Bliss and photographed by Ivan Cordeiro, Matriarch debuts online October 8 at 7:00, followed by a panel discussion with several of the performers and Houston-area domestic violence prevention advocates, including Dr. Nusrat Ameen of Daya and Barbie Brashear of the Harris County Domestic Violence Coordinating Council, moderated by HCAH executive director Marjorie Joseph, and will be available on demand on YouTube and Facebook through October 30.

PASS OVER / SANCTUARY CITY

Moses (Jon Michael Hill) and Kitch (Namir Smallwood) are startled by the arrival of a white man (Gabriel Ebert) in Pass Over (photo by Joan Marcus)

PASS OVER
August Wilson Theatre
245 West Fifty-Second St. between Broadway & Eighth Ave.
Tuesday – Sunday through October 10, $39-$199
www.passoverbroadway.com

A pair of three-actor plays dealing with contemporary social issues, with spare sets and unique staging but curious endings, were among the first to open following the pandemic lockdown. Following earlier versions at Steppenwolf in Chicago in 2017 (which was filmed by Spike Lee) and at Lincoln Center’s Claire Tow Theater in the summer of 2018, Antoinette Chinonye Nwandu’s Pass Over, which deals with police brutality and the dreams of young Black men, made its Broadway debut at the August Wilson Theatre in August. Meanwhile, Martyna Majok’s Sanctuary City, a New York Theatre Workshop production at the Lucille Lortel, looks into the lives of DREAMers trying to stay in America.

Pass Over is a reimagination of Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot filtered through the biblical story of the exodus of Jewish slaves from Egypt along with the fairy tale “Little Red Riding Hood.” Kitch (Namir Smallwood) and Moses (Jon Michael Hill) are like brothers, two men hanging out on a ghetto street, rambling on about life. Wilson Chin’s set is a slightly raised sidewalk with a few pieces of detritus and a central lamppost evoking Beckett’s tree. The script explains that the time is “the (future) present / but also 2021 CE / but also 1855 CE / but also 1440 BCE,” identifying Moses as “a tramp / a n*gga on the block / but also a slave driver / but also the prophesied leader of God’s chosen” and Kitch as “a tramp / a n*gga on the block / but also a slave / but also one of God’s chosen.” Moses, the wiser of the two, tells his best friend, “yo ass gon rise up to yo full potential too / gon git up off dis block / matter fact / man / i’m gon lead you.” Kitch replies, “Amen!”

Moses (Jon Michael Hill) searches for the promised land in Pass Over (photo by Joan Marcus)

They are surprised when a white man (Gabriel Ebert), dressed in a white suit like a plantation owner, suddenly arrives out of nowhere, holding a picnic basket and telling them his name is Master. “What da fuck,” Kitch says upon hearing that. Master, who uses such trite language as “gosh golly gee” and “salutations,” offers them food from the basket he was going to bring to his mother before getting lost, but while Kitch wants to dig in, Moses is suspicious of this unexpected largesse.

Shortly after Master departs, Kitch and Moses are visited by Ossifer (Ebert), a uniformed police officer who says he will protect them but soon pulls out his gun and commands that they put their hands behind their heads. When the cop leaves, Moses is furious, but Kitch philosophizes, “damn man / we still here / sun comin up yeah / iss a new day / and we still on dis block / but damn n*gga / it cud be worse / we cud be dead / we still here / mean we still livin / so tomorrow / tomorrow.”

Fluently directed by Danya Taymor and featuring three all-star performances, Pass Over is riding smoothly until the final scenes. Nwandu significantly changed the ending for Broadway, and not necessarily for the better. It now attempts to make a grander statement about the times we live in and a possible future, with an added dash of stagecraft that is beautiful but feels out of place. It might be more hopeful, but it’s head-scratchingly confusing and strays too far from the tight, succinct narrative that led up to it. In the script, Nwandu writes, “This play should NOT have an intermission. If Moses and Kitch cannot leave, neither can you. (And if, by the end, the magic has worked, you shouldn’t want to.)” The same should have gone for the finale.

Childhood friends B (Jasai Chase-Owens) and G (Sharlene Cruz) encounter immigration issues in Sanctuary City (photo by Joan Marcus)

SANCTUARY CITY
New York Theatre Workshop at the Lucille Lortel Theatre
121 Christopher St.
Tuesday – Sunday through October 17, $30 (20% off with code FRIEND)
www.nytw.org/show

Sanctuary City takes a head-scratching turn as well as the ending approaches, detracting from everything that came before it, which was powerful and moving, as is the case with Pass Over. The play takes place in Newark between 2001 and 2006, as childhood friends B (Jasai Chase-Owens) and G (Sharlene Cruz) contemplate their immigration status, wondering whether they should stay in the United States or move back to their native countries. They walk across Tom Scutt’s spare stage, a cantilevered platform that more than hints at unease. Isabella Byrd has filled the Lucille Lortel with standard and unusual varieties of lighting, on the floor, on the walls, on the ceiling, and in unexpected places. Various lights flash on and off after short scenes that sometimes repeat themselves and travel through time, reminiscent of Nick Payne’s Constellations on Broadway, which also had a set by Scutt (and lighting by Lee Curran).

“She’s goin back,” B says about his mother. “She’s afraid of stayin in the country. There’s some shit at work, she said. Boss keeps takin money from her tips cuz, y’know, he can, what’s she gonna do? report it? to who? And she’s afraid what happened to Jorge’s gonna happen to her and so she’s goin back. And cuz of September. Cuz of the towers.”

G spends a lot of time at B’s apartment, often sleeping over in order to avoid repeated beatings by her stepfather. She skips school, pretending to be sick, but she is running out of excuses. “She’s scared they’ll send us back if they find out what’s goin on at home. She’s scared they’d separate us,” she says about her mother. “Who would send you back?” B asks. G: “America. If they wanted to investigate. If they like — checked. She worked with a fake social security for years. He’s threatened to report her before. Everyone’s more, y’know—” B: “Yeah.” G: “—cuz of September. Cuz of the towers. Or maybe they’d put me in some kind of — some place for kids — separate us. I don’t know if she even knows specifically what to be afraid of but she is. She’s scared.”

Sharlene Cruz and Jasai Chase-Owens star in new play by Martyna Majok (photo by Joan Marcus)

Without the DREAM Act, they are always in danger of being deported, so they can’t apply for student aid or other benefits. Since she sleeps over so much, G offers to pay rent to help B out, but he refuses to accept it. They grow closer and closer and soon are asking each other personal questions about their lives, preparing to get married strictly so B can get a green card. While G looks like she might be interested in something more, B stands back, keeping things platonic. A few years later, Henry (Austin Smith) enters the picture, creating an entirely new dynamic.

Pulitzer Prize winner Majok (Cost of Living, Ironbound), who was born in Poland and contributed short works to A Dozen Dreams and the Homebound Project during the pandemic, and director Rebecca Frecknall (Summer and Smoke, Three Sisters) have our full attention for two-thirds of the play, maintaining a compelling mystery about B and G as well as numerous plot intricacies, and Chase-Owens (The Tempest, A Midsummer Night’s Dream) and Cruz (Mac Beth, The Climb) are appealing as the two leads.

It all comes to a screeching halt when Henry arrives, through no fault of Smith (An Octoroon, Socrates). “Did I just fuck everything up?” Henry asks. Till then, the play had avoided theatrical clichés, challenging the audience to keep pace. But from this point on, it all becomes standard, losing the edge that had made it so compelling. The flash lighting is gone, and instead of quick, staccato scenes with cut-off, incomplete dialogue, the scenes become longer and more drawn out, crossing every T and dotting every I. As with Pass Over, Sanctuary City pulls us into its claustrophobic, carefully built world but then, when opening up, leaves us behind, no longer trusting its own dialectic.

MOVEMENT WITHOUT BORDERS: A DAY OF PERFORMANCE TO CELEBRATE NEW YORK IMMIGRATION COALITION, UNLOCAL, AND GENTE UNIDA

Wladimiro Politano, The Expression of the Soul XLIX, 2010

Who: Mariana Valencia, Jimena Paz, Shamel Pitts, Francesca Harper, Francisco Cordova, Ernesto Breton/Rudy Perez, Edivaldo Ernesto, Horacio Macuacua, Emilio Rojas, Claudia Rankine, Margo Jefferson, Antonio Sánchez Band, Jonathan Mendoza, Gina Belafonte, Xaviera Simmons, Enrique Morones, Roger H. Brown, Raoul Roach, Adelita-Husni-Bey, Reverend Micah Bucey
What: Dance, poetry, music, film, and activism at historic location
Where: Judson Memorial Church, 55 Washington Square South between Thompson & Sullivan Sts.
When: Saturday, October 2, free with RSVP (suggested donation $20), 11:00 am – 6:30 pm; ninety-minute recorded version the next day at the Jersey City Theater Center
Why: An all-star lineup of artists and activists are coming together October 2 at Judson Memorial Church for “Movement without Borders: A Day of Performance to Celebrate New York Immigration Coalition, UnLocal, and Gente Unida,” honoring three organizations fighting for immigration rights. From 11:00 am to 6:30 pm, dancers and choreographers, musicians, poets, authors, visual artists, and more will honor the work being done by New York Immigration Coalition, UnLocal, and Gente Unida. Among the presenters are dancer/choreographers Mariana Valencia, Ernesto Breton/Rudy Perez, Jimena Paz, Francisco Cordova, Horacio Macuacua, Francesca Harper, Edivaldo Ernesto, and Shamel Pitts/TRIBE, multidisciplinary artist Emilio Rojas, the Antonio Sánchez Band (with Sánchez, Thana Alexa, Jordan Peters, Carmen Staaf, Noam Wiesenberg), Adelita Husni-Bey (who will screen her film Chiron), visual artist Xaviera Simmons, poets Jonathan Mendoza and Claudia Rankine, Gente Unida founder and director Enrique Morones, Sankofa executive director Gina Belafonte, music producer and activist Raoul Roach, and others. Conceived, directed, and produced by Richard Colton, “Movement without Borders” will also be available in a ninety-minute recorded version on October 3 at the Jersey City Theater Center as part of the third annual Voices International Theater Festival.

ENCORE PRESENTATION: WORLDS FAIR INN

Worlds Fair Inn explores nuclear annihilation and serial killing with a vaudeville sensibility (photo by Regina Betancourt)

ENCORE PRESENTATION: WORLDS FAIR INN
Axis Theatre
One Sheridan Sq. between West Fourth & Washington Sts.
Thursday – Saturday through October 23, $10-$30, 8:00
866-811-4111
www.axiscompany.org

On March 11, 2020, I was in Axis Theatre Company’s small, intimate downstairs space at One Sheridan Square, getting ready to watch artistic director Randy Sharp’s adaptation of Henry James’s Washington Square. Shortly before the show started, a few of us chuckled as a woman roamed the aisles, unable to choose a seat. (The venue is general admission.) When she was right behind me, I heard her mutter, “I’m not going to get sick. This virus is not going to get me.” A few of us looked at one another, thinking she had gone a bit overboard. Little did I know that Washington Square would be the last live theater with actors and an in-person audience I would experience for nearly fifteen months because of a virus that has killed more than six hundred thousand Americans and shuttered live entertainment venues around the globe.

On June 4, 2021, there I was, back at the Axis Theatre, to see my first indoor play with actors and an audience since the pandemic lockdown was lifted. It was the premiere of Sharp’s Worlds Fair Inn, performed by a cast of five to an audience of fifteen people in masks. Not only was it thrilling to be in the theater, but the hourlong work is a fab absurdist journey through madness and tragedy, a strange and enticing mix of Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley’s Frankenstein, and the Three Stooges.

Axis producing director Brian Barnhart stars as Frank, a creepy character right out of a low-budget Roger Corman horror-comedy, a composite of Victor Frankenstein, the fictional mad scientist who built a creature out of dead bodies; theoretical physicist J. Robert Oppenheimer, “the father of the atomic bomb”; and H. H. Holmes, a con artist and serial killer who owned the World’s Fair Hotel, aka the Murder Castle, near the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair. Two loony bowler-hatted fellows, Eric (George Demas) and Bill (Jon McCormick), arrive at the inn, seeking shelter and company. All three men wear dark clothing and giant Frankenstein-style shoes on a set littered with dozens of bottles of whiskey, a hotel front desk that doubles as a killing casket, and a neon sign advertising the name of the place. The set is designed by Sharp, with period costumes by Karl Ruckdeschel, fun props by Lynn Mancinelli, eerie lighting by David Zeffren, and playfully sinister sound and music by former Blondie member Paul Carbonara.

“What do you think it would take to make a living man out of a bunch of cut-up dead people? I mean if you cut them up and glued them together?” Frank, who boasts that he’s a scientist, a doctor, an American, and an architect, asks.

“Why wouldn’t you use whole dead people and bring them back to life?” Eric answers, pauses, then adds, “Oh! Maybe you need separate parts so you can see how to make them work? Then stick them back?”

“Right,” Frank responds. “Or maybe I would just use the whole person. I’m an architect. It’s scientific. I just want to see what happens.”

Eric and Bill jump at the chance to help Frank in his unnatural mission, displaying no hesitancy at the prospect of killing people, chopping them up, then assembling the pieces into a new whole. “We’re builders,” Bill offers. “Not scientists. Just to be sure. We can fix things! Hard workers! . . . We’re contractors!”

Frank’s first two victims are Machine (Edgar Oliver), an erudite oddball, and Lady (Britt Genelin), a coquettish factory worker; both fall for the men’s ruse, undone by their own pride in their willingness to embrace new ways.

Lady (Britt Genelin) brings light to the dark proceedings of Worlds Fair Inn (photo by Regina Betancourt)

Worlds Fair Inn feels like a uniquely charming, deranged vaudeville act with Moe/Shemp (Frank), Larry (Bill), and Curly (Eric) filtered through Corman’s Tales of Terror. The cast is wonderfully over the top, highlighted by the risible interplay between Demas (Maverick, Last Man Club) and McCormick (Dead End, Donkey Punch). Pay particular attention to McCormick even when he’s not talking; he moves in herky-jerky fits and starts, overcome by nerves and fear, often leaving his thoughts unfinished as his eyes dart about the stage.

Barnhart (High Noon, Dead End) channels Angus Scrimm from Phantasm and John Carradine in Woody Allen’s Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid to Ask) as he delivers his lines with great bombast. It’s fab to see Oliver, a solo specialist who has presented In the Park, East 10th St.: Self Portrait with Empty House, and Attorney Street at Axis, as part of an ensemble; he and Genelin (Washington Square, High Noon) are adorable as vaudeville versions of the Creature and the Bride of Frankenstein, trapped in a skit they don’t fully comprehend.

Writer-director Sharp (Strangers in the World, Seven in One Blow) adeptly maneuvers between high and low comedy as she takes on nuclear annihilation, a different kind of rather effective serial killing — Frank, Eric, and Bill bow every time Japan is mentioned — and melds Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory, Oppenheimer’s Los Alamos, and Holmes’s murder hotel into a supremely funny and memorable show. As we finally emerge from this dark year, we may not have much hope for the future of humanity, but Axis gives us hope for the future of theater. (And I hope the woman I foolishly chuckled at in March 2020, before Washington Square at the Axis, is alive and well and gets to catch this terrific satire, as you should too. And now you have an added opportunity, as the play is back for a well-deserved encore run September 30 through October 23.)

TWI-NY TALK: AYA OGAWA AND THE NOSEBLEED

Aya Ogawa portrays their son and father in new play at Japan Society (photo by Maria Baranova)

THE NOSEBLEED
Japan Society
333 East 47th St. at First Ave.
October 1-3 & 7-10, $30
212-715-1258
www.japansociety.org
ayaogawa.com

The Nosebleed chronicles my journey of confronting what I think is one of the biggest failures of my life, which is that when my father died almost fifteen years ago, I failed to do anything to honor him or his life because of the nature of our relationship,” Japanese American playwright-director Aya Ogawa says in a promotional video for their latest work, the final version of The Nosebleed, running October 1-3 and 7-10 at Japan Society. The absurdist, comic show, previously known as Failure Sandwich and in which four actors play Ogawa while Ogawa portrays their own son and father, serves as a healing ritual for Ogawa and the audience, especially as the coronavirus crisis continues and nearly everyone has experienced some kind of loss.

Over the summer, the Tokyo-born, Brooklyn-based Ogawa, a 2021 Barbara Whitman Award finalist, mounted an online version of Ludic Proxy, an interactive virtual play that takes place in the past (Pripyat, post-Chernobyl), the present (Fukushima, post-disaster), and the future (New York, underground), inspired by the death of their mother. Ogawa previously adapted the text for Alec Duffy’s Our Planet, an immersive production that led a small audience through the historic Japan Society building; they have also directed Haruna Lee’s Obie-winning Suicide Forest at the Bushwick Starr and A.R.T./New York Theatres (where its run was cut short by the March 2020 lockdown) and have written and directed Oph3lia at HERE, Journey to the Ocean at the Rubin Museum, Artifact at the Performance MIX Festival, and A Girl of 16 at Clemente Soto Velez’s Latea Theater.

Copresented with the Chocolate Factory, The Nosebleed is performed by Ogawa, Lee, Drae Campbell, Peter Lettre, Aya Saori Tsukada, and Kaili Turner. I have seen Ogawa at numerous events at Japan Society, where they used to work in the Performing Arts department, but now they are returning as the center of attention. “To be able to come back there, as an artist, and to be so welcomed by former colleagues, is a huge blessing,” they explained. Opening night will be followed by a reception with the artists.

Taking a break from rehearsals, Ogawa discussed motherhood, family relationships, the immigrant experience, theater during the pandemic, and more with twi-ny.

twi-ny: The Nosebleed deals with your complex relationship with your father; Ludic Proxy was partly inspired by the loss of your mother. In researching and writing each work, did your thoughts about your parents, and your relationship with them, change?

aya ogawa: Ludic Proxy was an exploration of my own grieving process — an exercise in imagining how to find the strength to continue living after the death of my mother — had I not had children of my own. It was less about my actual relationship with her, so I would say in that case, my relationship with her did not change.

The Nosebleed, however, is explicitly about my father and my relationship with him — my perceptions and memories of him (which are subjective and flawed). The process of writing the play forced me to recall and examine a lot of things I had not thought of for many years, and this revisiting and especially the embodying of his character has definitely changed my feelings toward him.

twi-ny: How has The Nosebleed developed from earlier iterations at BAX and the Public?

ao: The script is not that different from when it was presented at the Public. (I wrote in a new character after my showing at BAX). However, the staging for each presentation has been unique and tailored to each space. I’ve been blessed to retain most of the original cast. I’ve had to replace one actor (who is now in grad school abroad), and I feel blessed again to have found someone who is not only a stellar performer but a collaborator who is able to bring her whole self and lived experience into the rehearsal room.

twi-ny: What was the rehearsal room like?

ao: We have very strict COVID safety protocols in place, which I discussed with the company before we began this process. I’d heard nightmares about other shows shutting down or having to replace actors, etc. I can’t afford to replace actors, or stop a rehearsal process and pick it up again at another time, so I had to plan for the most conservative measures to keep us all safe. Everyone on my team is fully vaccinated, rehearse masked, take PCR tests every week, and have rapid home tests available if anyone is feeling under the weather.

Despite all of these measures, or perhaps because of the assurance and safety they provided, the process has been joyful and very productive. The piece was originally conceived as an immersive performance, but we have decided to prioritize safety and put the audience in the house.

twi-ny: In the show, you play your son and your father, linking three generations. What is that experience like every night onstage?

ao: This is the first time I have ever appeared in my own play. It was never something I craved doing; in fact, the thought is kind of embarrassing. I decided to appear in the play as my father because the piece demanded it. The crux of this piece, and for it to work as it was intended — as something transformative and healing — I had no choice but to take responsibility for it and play the part. The experience of playing my son and my father is cathartic and exhausting.

One thing that really came to the forefront when creating an autobiographical play was just how violent the act of embodying a character can be. It takes a great deal of responsibility and trust to hand over the portrayal of my life to other people, and trust is needed in both directions.

Aya Ogawa wrote, directed, and stars in The Nosebleed (known as Failure Sandwich in an earlier iteration above) (photo © Ryutaro Mishima)

twi-ny: For your work in progress Meat Suit, you describe motherhood as a “shit show.” You have two children; what was the pandemic lockdown like for you and your family?

ao: At first, it was kind of wonderful. Suddenly we had so much time together, so much unstructured time. There was no panic to make lunches or rush to get them to school on time, etc. We spent time gardening, cleaning the house, cooking. But then, of course, we figured out how to function in the lockdown. School happened on Zoom, as did a lot of my work. I was grateful to have work, and it was a fruitful time, in many ways, to be forced to develop work with great limitations, but it was also exhausting. Pandemic parenting continues right now — and remains pretty trying.

twi-ny: Do you still have family in Tokyo? If so, how often do you generally go back, and have you been able to do so recently?

ao: I am the only person in my immediate blood family living in the U.S. All of my relatives and family are in Japan. Since having kids, I have made it a point to visit every summer. We have not been able to visit since 2019 and it’s really painful.

twi-ny: This past March, you reimagined Ludic Proxy as an interactive online production. What are your thoughts about streaming theater? Do you see it as just a stopgap, or do you anticipate creating more online work in the future?

ao: The second act of Ludic Proxy was conceived with video game mechanics embedded into the script, so it was clear to me that it could very naturally translate to the screen as long as we could retain the audience interactivity. I actually don’t think the pandemic is going to ever “go away,” so it is important for theater-makers to think about how our medium is being transformed. As soon as The Nosebleed closes, I’m going into a video shoot for a puppet play that was originally conceived as a live, in-person puppet show but is now a performance film made for camera.

twi-ny: One of your themes throughout your career has been immigration and cultural identity. How has that changed for Japanese Americans since your first works, going back twenty years?

ao: The experience of the immigrant is not a static, monolithic story. It is varied and complex and ever-changing — so I can only speak for myself, not the larger Japanese-American population. I happen to be positioned in a particular place where I feel like I have access to multiple lenses — I am an immigrant myself but pass as a child of an immigrant. I have Japanese-Taiwanese-American children who I’ve made sure have access to their Japanese culture, but I’m also torn between wanting them to have their own experiences and interactions with the culture and sharing my experience of leaving Japan, a deeply sexist culture. Japan can be rich and beautiful. It can also be toxic and suffocating. So can America.

BOOMERANG THEATRE COMPANY: THE COMEDY OF ERRORS

Who: Boomerang Theatre Company
What: Live, free Shakespeare
Where: The Ladies Tea Room at the Prince George Hotel, 15 East Twenty-Seventh St.
When: September 24-26, free with advance RSVP (donations accepted)
Why: Just because summer is officially over on September 22 doesn’t mean that there will be no more free Shakespeare. Boomerang Theatre Company, the troupe that has been bringing the Bard to city parks since 1999, is kicking off its fall season with a free, indoor, modern-day production of William Shakespeare’s popular farce, The Comedy of Errors. The show will have four performances September 24-26 in the elegant Ladies Tea Room at the Prince George Hotel, featuring Erika Amato as the Abbess, Emily Ann Banks as Angelo, Nicholas-Tyler Corbin in several roles, Amy Crossman as Dromio of Syracuse, Jessica Giannone as Dromio of Ephesus, Anthony F. Lalor as Antipholus of Ephesus, Roger Lipson as Balthazar, Anthony Michael Martinez as Antipholus of Syracuse, Lance C. Roberts as Egeon and Pinch, Shannon Stowe as the Courtesan, Yeena Sung as Adriana, Logan Thomason as Luciana, and Viet Vo as Duke Solinus.

The Comedy of Errors, which is at its heart about mistaken identity, reconciliation, and new possibilities, reminds us that comedy and escapism can be a way to cope with the challenges life presents us. At this moment of reopening, it is important to not only reflect on the last eighteen months but also celebrate coming together again,” director Scott Ebersold said in a statement. “So, that is exactly what the ensemble and I are doing: We’re getting all dressed up, and we’re throwing a party! We’re celebrating the return of live theater, the joy of artistic collaboration, and just how fun it is when things go terribly wrong!” Although advance tickets are sold out for what is Boomerang’s twentieth free Shakespeare production, there is a waiting list and walk-up possibilities. As Balthazar says in Act 3, Scene 1, “Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.”