Intermission Talk

“The River” is

no “Side Show.”

It’s “The Real Thing.”

by TONY VELLELA

Count me among the millions of folks who love a good mystery.  I’ve even penned a mystery play [“What We Don’t Confess”] and a mystery novel [“By Book or By Crook”].  So discovering a ‘mystery’ element in the new play “The River,” by Jez Butterworth [“Jerusalem”] was a bonus, added to the prospect of seeing Hugh Jackman on stage again.  To my mind, he’s a true acting Renaissance man – he does it all, and exceedingly well.  The in-the-round playing space at Circle in the Square offered director Ian Rickson real challenges, and his has been well-served by the designs of the set and costumes [Ultz] and lighting [Charles Balfour], which all combined to give Jackman an environment as real as any actor could hope for.

Where are we?  It’s an isolated cabin on the edge of a lake in rural England [I assume, judging from everyone’s accents].  The central character, only referred to as the Man, has been visiting since he was a boy.  He has always made these trips to enjoy the thrills of trout fishing – physical, epicurial and spiritual.  When we meet him, he’s in the company of a comely young woman [called The Woman], and they appear to be in mid-sojourn, enjoying the aforementioned thrills, as well as others, particularly sexual and even romantic.  Jackman’s Man is perfectly comfortable here, right down to not worrying about that hole in his sock.  He seems eager to please her, and treads most carefully on the right side of the line that separates being respectfully engaged emotionally, a romancer, rather than being overtly aggressive, a seducer.  Until he doesn’t.

There’s been a surfeit of hedge-betting in much of the written commentary about this play.  It’s elliptical structure, in which we seem to be re-visiting moments we’ve seen before, as well as Butterworth’s bone-marrow simplicity in the setting-up of it, easily lend themselves to generating head-scratching among even the most attentive audience members.  Is this man dangerous?  Delusional?  Prone to fantasized re-enactments of some past traumatic event?  Fact is, we’re not meant to know the answers to these questions, as Butterworth exercises his considerable talents to generate a world as unknowable as the whereabouts of Godot.  And what about that Other Woman?

What’s there to recommend?  Jackman, of course.  Few working actors can create as much realism inside the characters they are contracted to portray, and I think it has something to do with an actor’s willingness to being seen unadorned, however acting-classy that may sound.  The same vulnerability that gave us his Curly [“Oklahoma!”], who never crossed over into overly-boastful arrogance is also present here.  Whatever the truth is, past and future, again and again, in that remote cabin, I’m willing to give that Man some latitude by assuming he’s got a pretty good reason.  Butterworth’s reason for writing such an unsatisfying puzzler?  Like the story itself – no clue.

In stark contrast to the exemplary design work that gives “The River” its aura of place authenticity, director Sam Gold has permitted [or been party to] real missteps in the production of the revival of “The Real Thing” at the American Airlines Theatre.  At rise, we see what appears to be an expansive contemporary [for the late ’80s] living room.  There’s the sofa.  There’s the sideboard.  There’s the armchair.  There’s the bookshelves.  There’s the area rug.  David Zinn’s stage-wide set does double [or is it triple?] duty as the homes of two separate couples in London, and with a few modifications that aren’t related to what they are to represent, a recording studio, and a train coach.

Why quibble about this?  Because Tom Stoppard’s [melo]drama about the coupling and uncoupling of one playwright [male], and three actors [two female, one male] wants us to be interested in their lives, their choices, their disorientations.  A new play by Henry [an endearing Ewan McGregor], meant to star Annie [Maggie Gyllenhaal, as charismatic in her Broadway debut as she has been on film], goes off the rails as his marriage comes apart, when Henry and Annie fall in love, as he also discovers his wife Charlotte’s infidelities.   His wife [the always-reliable Cynthia Nixon] becomes enamored with a young anti-nuke militant she has met on a train ride back from appearing on stage in Glasgow.  Her first husband, Max [a likeable Josh Hamilton] manages to figure in the mix as well.

This is Tom Stoppard, circa 1984, already a force to be reckoned with in the English-speaking theatre, his swoon-worthy dexterity with the spoken and the written word emerging more fully here.  When viewing the original production thirty years ago, I was absolutely gob-smacked  hearing a gentle diatribe [if that’s not a contradiction] delivered by Henry, relating his core philosophy about the value of how a carefully constructed sequence of words can deliver truths, and how a badly assembled sequence of words can pervert even the simplest of intentions.  The metaphor?  How a cricket bat is constructed – the choice of the wood, how it is shaped and assembled, to do its job very very well.  All of Stoppard’s splendid semantics is here in the service of what one might call an examination of what constitutes genuine love for someone else, despite any new revelations that surface about that person.  Here, it’s not simply the predictable discovery of sexual infidelity, but also the utter disbelief in how someone views the subject, and practice of opportunism.   The particulars here center around a willingness to bestow virtuous motives on someone who, to others, may seem short on integrity and long on self-aggrandizement.  Do you, as an actor, play a role for the sake of your or your playwright’s career, or reject the opportunity when that role challenges your basic principles?

While all this may sound very High-Minded, [and my recollection after seeing the original production is that it seemed so], the play has been short-changed in this revival.  It now merely serves as a platform for a handful of very engaging mid-career actors to ‘play’ in the land of Stoppard.    Surprisingly, very little believable, deep warmth, or emotional fervor  passes among them in any combination.   And after a while, it becomes distractingly tedious to try to decipher where we are, both in the scrambled interrelationships and in the free-form set design where they take place.

The tawdry world of Depression-era vaudeville is where we are, in the dazzling revival of  “Side Show.”  The original book and lyrics by Bill Russell and music by Henry Kreiger have been supplemented with additional book material by Bill Condon, who also directed the production, at the St. James.

Of the batch of revivals from twenty-five/thirty years ago that populate this season’s list of offerings, this one has done the best job so far of justifying the decision to bring it back.   In its original incarnation, the story of the lives of the British conjoined twins Violet and Daisy Hilton, followed them from being treated as property, sold to a ‘manager,’ who exhibited them as side-show oddities, through their discovery by a vaudeville impresario, their popular success as singers and the turmoil they suffered when private feelings were never able to be realized.  The same storyline unfolds here, but this time, the girls seem to have become the fully-actualized, three-dimensional people they longed to be.   This transformation may be due, in part, to the simple casting choices this time.  Alice Ripley and Emily Skinner, both first-rate talents by any standard,  portrayed the girls in the original cast, and from the first moment we see them, they had, in my recollection, a muted allure about them.  All it needed was nurturing.

Here, the equally talented Erin Davie [Violet] and Emily Padgett [Daisy] look as weary, as haggard, as beaten-down as their existence would have caused them to become.  This is not meant to suggest any lack of, how-to-say, attraction these women have.  What it does is give them, the characters, so much more room to grow, so much more history to overcome.   Their rescuers, played convincingly by Ryan Silverman and Matthew Hydzik, arrange a slow ascent from side show to vaudeville to popular theatre events and even briefly into film.  This time, legendary film-maker Tod Browning [“Freaks”] appears as the pivotal character he was in their real lives, including them in that iconic classic about the shadowy world of the lives of those circus curiosities whose physical oddities defined them as permanent outsiders, near-defenseless against exploitation and ridicule.

“Side Show” owes its revitalized new life in large measure to director Bill Condon’s application of the masterful story-telling he so expertly exhibited when helming the screen version of Krieger’s dynamic show-business opus “Dreamgirls.”  And his sensitivity to the particularities of human diversities, so vividly on display when he wrote and directed the films “Kinsey” and “Gods and Monsters,” are so well-utilized again, bringing us inside the lives of two young women whose outward identities are forever linked, while their inner personalities and desires could not be more different.  This time, we discover that distinction, and enjoy seeing the journey of discovery as they experience it.

Afterplay

Is the noise of city life getting to you?  Have you felt that true creativity no longer exists?  Take heart!  The world-renowned theatrical troupe Mummenschanz has taken up temporary Big Apple residence for a short time only.

They’re displaying their wordless, silent magical imagination-creations at the Skirball Center for the Performing Arts, at the south end of Washington Square Park.  If you’ve seen them before, renew your memories, and if not, make new ones, and share them with your children, or treat someone else’s to this wondrous event.  Visit www.Mummenschanz.com for details . . . another holiday  treat is available for families, as the longest-running musical in the world, “The Fantasticks,” offers a discounted package . . . and there’s a different special on display at the Merchant’s House Museum, a National Historic Landmark, as the Summoners Ensemble Theatre returns to re-tell Charles Dickens’ timeless classic “A Christmas Carol,” set in the museum’s authentic period dwelling, built in 1832, still featuring original family possessions.  Limited seating – details at www.merchantshouse.org.

On Book

Two engrossing new volumes help us trace the fascinating history of America’s most widely-revered popular art form – the musical theatre.  John Kendrick has reached way, way back, showing us how theatre in the mid-1800s sowed the earliest seeds of what we love to indulge in – a great big musical show.  In “Musical Theatre – A History,” Kendrick makes visits with Gilbert and Sullivan, the great Al Jolson, Richard Rodgers and both of his talented partners, Lorenz Hart and Oscar Hammerstein, the genius of Sondheim, the emergence of the Disney musicals, and much much more, from Continuum Press . . . In “Anything Goes: A History of American Musical Theatre,” the journalist Ethan Mordden, writing for Oxford University Press, takes us from the dawn of the last century up to the early 2000’s, with great detail, insight and a healthy dose of sheer adoration for America’s musical theatre world . . . and who are the people responsible for what we see on the Broadway boards?  In “Great Producers,” Iris Dorbian introduces us to a dazzling display of the talented behind-the-scenes makers and shakers who have shaped all that theatrical history, and more.  From Allworth Press, this comprehensive volume explores the work and worry of more than a dozen luminaries, from David Belasco and Florenz Ziegfeld, through David Merrick and Joseph Papp, to today’s moguls, including Michael David, Andre Bishop and the Weisslers.  It’s a real eye-opener.

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TONY VELLELA wrote and produced the PBS documentary series about theatre, “Character Studies.”  “Admissions,” his Best Play Award-winner [N.Y. International Fringe Festival] is published by Playscripts.  ArtAge Press published his play “Maisie and Grover Go to the Theatre.”  His articles about the performing arts have appeared in dozens of publications, including Parade, the Christian Science Monitor, Rolling Stone, Dramatics, Reader’s Digest and the Robb Report.  He has taught at several institutions, including Columbia University Teachers College, HB Studios and the New School.  He is currently conducting theatre-topic classes and sessions at the 92nd St. Y [visit 92Y.org for details], as well as small-group sessions and individual coaching from his home in Manhattan.

We’re “On the Town”

As “The Last Ship”

Is  Not “Disgraced.”

by TONY VELLELA

How someone professes to feel about The Big Topics – religion, politics, equality, sexuality, economics, education – has more often than not been shaped to a persuasive degree by how he or she was raised, and when and where.  Those imprints linger long, below the surface, while even the most studied discourses of a university classroom or the elegant prose of a Times non-fiction best-seller can fail to completely erase their effects.

In Ayad Akhtar’s stunning play “Disgraced,” now unfolding under the deft hand of director Kimberly Senior, in a wisely-economical eighty minutes at the Lyceum, the prejudices and self-definitions of five people interplay to a volcanic climax.  The premise, which suffers only slightly from the conveniences of minor theatrical agit-prop, revolves around Amir [a charismatic Hari Dhillon], a rising mergers and acquisitions attorney of Pakistani heritage and birth, now fully assimilated into the enviably comfortable echelons of the Upper East Side.  He is married to Emily [fetching Gretchen Mol], a Caucasian painter who has embraced all the realms of Islamic traditions in her art.  Despite her concentration on the intricacies of tile pattern renderings from centuries past, she is rendering a portrait of her husband at rise.  There is love, admiration and pride in how she approaches his image, even as it mimics a Velasquez portraiture of his Moorish assistant [slave?].

In quick order, we learn that their first-time dinner guests are Jory [a riveting Karen Pittman], another rising attorney at the firm where Amir works, and her husband Isaac [a convincing Josh Radnor], who just happens to be an important Whitney curator, in a position to offer Emily a berth in their upcoming show examining the sacred in art.  The arrival in future scenes of Amir’s young nephew Abe, formerly Hussein before a name change [Danny Ashok, a real gift to Broadway from the London stage], completes the dramatis personae.

Because both his wife and his nephew goaded him into offering free counsel in the case of an imam revered by Abe, who has been accused of raising funds for Hamas, Amir finds his photo and name in a Times articles, which identifies him using the name of his law firm, even though his single visit was personal, and not meant as the start of a formal association.  The law partners are furious with him.  Wife and nephew feel that he did the right thing.  When Isaac and Jory show up for the special dinner party, the topic meant to be ‘on the table’ is Emily’s inclusion in the exhibition, a major advance in her career.  But the news that Jory, and not Amir, has been named the new partner, blackens the proceedings.  Along the way, all four try to explain and justify how they feel about the emergence of an Islamic presence on the world stage(s), each one relating it to their own backgrounds and agendas.  We know about Amir’s perilous journey, extricating himself from his deeply religious upbringing to mainstream American society, requiring a name change, and a fabrication when identifying his genealogical roots [the town was in India, but was soon after part of Pakistan when the Brits re-drew the borders].  His fierce ambition and drive led him to plow in longer hours before and after everyone else at the office.  Unfortunately, only surface details about the others [gender, race, occupation] are revealed.  When incendiary topics such as the impact of 9/11, the rise of Islamic terrorism, the comparisons to what some see as Israeli aggression, how a Euro-centric emphasis in education colors the nuances of Islamic tradition, women wearing ‘the veil,’ and so forth, it only takes a few drinks, and some unexpected, critical revelations,  to scrape away the veneer of polite social intercourse.

How these four adults relate to the issues this Pulitzer Prize-winning play pulls out, and how you feel about them, depends on where they want to go now in their lives.  While Emily’s fascination with the Islamic/Moorish traditions and accomplishments from centuries past serve to inform and distinguish her art, there is an aspect of how she relates to her dark-skinned husband that may seem to border on romanticism – idealizing him for who he was, and where he came from, and therefore giving her an identity-by-association that is distinctive from ‘white American female.’  While Jory’s African-American heritage is obvious, little else is known, except that she has learned to play the corporate world game far better than Amir, and no one accuses her of identity-upgrade because she is married to a Jewish art world leader.

If there is one watchword to keep in mind when you see this compelling drama – and you really should – it is that you must always keep in mind where these people see themselves going in their lives.  The personal, sexual, corporate, religious and integrity-based issues that implode inside each of them because of how their actions intersect, even violently, must be balanced against a need to remember that internal pressure to become who you think you are or should be,  will very often override what your right-brain conclusions may be. Structurally, “Disgraced” mirrors elements of Yasmina Reza’s “God of Carnage,” although the issues seem higher, deeper and more universal – but that’s in the eye and ear of the beholder.   In the end, Akhtar has succeeded in presenting enough justification for even the most horrific behaviors, if one pulls back and takes it all in from a larger perspective.  Tough stuff.  Good stuff.

The rollicking Betty Comden-Adolph Green-Leonard Bernstein musical “On The Town,” now in revival at the Lyric, initially burst forth during World War II, a nearly mindless confection that follows three on-leave-for-one-day sailors ready to conquer New York City.  While most people are familiar with the 1949 film version that  Stanley Donen and Gene Kelly directed, and starred Kelly, Frank Sinatra, Vera-Ellen, Ann Miller, Betty Garrett and Jules Munshin [and the indomitable Florence Bates], this production features the complete score, rather than the pared-down playlist in the movie.  Among the standout musical moments we are treated to here is Bernstein’s composition, the compelling, melancholy cornet solo “Lonely Town.”

One of the tars [that’s what they used to call sailors], becomes enamored with the poster showing the graceful winner of this month’s Miss Turnstiles, a beauty contest sponsored by the MTA patterned after the real-life Miss Subways of that era.  His buddies agree to help him track her down.  They all find girls.  They all have robust numbers.  Everybody dances.

The audience is greeted with a proscenium-wide American flag, Patton-size, and instead of the overture,  a rousing rendition of our national anthem fills the auditorium, and everyone obediently stands while it’s played.   Bordering the initial shipyard set is a billboard proclaiming ‘America Must Have A Full Day’s Work From Every American.’  No worries here – director John Rando oversees the proceedings, guaranteeing that this is a hard-working, working-overtime cast, belting it out 110%, and at times they seem over-eager to please.   The always enterprising designer Beowulf Boritt has generated background after background of moving images that fill the stage, and costume designer Jess Goldstein has cannily kept the all-white sailor suits distinctive from the riot of colors among the passing parade.  One very amusing set piece, at the Museum of Natural History, involves a giant dinosaur come to life, a la the manipulated bigger-than-life animals in “War Horse,” but here with hilarious results.

While the cast’s most familiar member is the ever-popular Jackie Hoffman [who could easily present a one-woman show on the life and work of television comic icon Imogene Coca], the relative newness to the audience of the principals winds up being an asset – no one story line outweighs the others because of the fame of its presenter.  There is one stand-out worth mentioning, however.

As the sex-starved cab driver Hildy, [recall that frantic number “Come Up to My Place”], Alysha Umphress fills the stage with voice, presence, sparkle and shine.  [Aside to adventurous producers: consider a revival of the antic, zany “Hellzapoppin,” with Ms. Umphress in the role assayed by Martha Raye.  And if you’re not familiar with Raye beyond her comic cut-ups in “Four Jills in a Jeep,” “The Boys From Syracuse,” and the Big Broadcast movies, find somewhere to download her powerful scat-singing and her Merman-class belted vocals.  A knockout].

Well, everyone has a good time, everyone finds love [except Ms. Hoffman], and the best way to take this one in is to realize its history: when audience members left the theatre when it first ran, they stepped outside into a New York engulfed in a world of war terrors, near and far.  “On The Town” was meant to be a bright and sprightly antidote, and for two+ hours, it delivered the goods, just in time, before the lads need to get back on board their ship.

A very different sort of vessel is at the heart of one of this season’s most highly-anticipated properties, “The Last Ship,” with a book by John Logan [‘Red,’ ‘I’ll Eat You Last: A Chat with Sue Mengers’] and Brian Yorkey [‘Next to Normal,’ ‘If/Then’] and featuring music and lyrics by pop superstar Sting, in his first outing writing for the stage.

It might serve this work better were it to label itself a folk tale, or a fable, because as a story, resting on the need to relate a real-world assault on the lives of a small coastal town in northeast England, it falls short.  Wallsend has thrived for generations as a well-regarded ship-building location, with its inhabitants living like any other population in a ‘factory town.’  When the shipyard closes down, they are thrown into a downward spiral of despair and economic ruin.

Fifteen years earlier, a scrappy teen-ager named Gideon chose to abandon his home, to escape the brutal treatment from his father, and the tunnel vision lives that surround him.  His heartfelt dilemma – leaving his girlfriend Meg, with a promise to return with fame-and-fortune earnings, to carry her off to a new, bright and happy life.  It doesn’t happen.  His real world, which brings him as much cold, stark  defeat as callow Matt in “The Fantasticks,” leaves him dissolutioned, and he returns following his father’s death hoping to pick up with Meg.  In his place with her is Arthur, himself a former yard workhand, and who has chosen to head up the corporate transition to convert the area into a scrap-metal operation.  This makes him the object of embittered resentment among the townspeople, despite the fact that there is no other alternative on the horizon.

“The Last Ship,” like the locales in “Billy Elliot” and “Kinky Boots,” depicts the loss of identity for people who have known no other.  Gideon’s return only rubs salt in their wounds, seeing a wastel son return from what they imagine has been a life of adventure and accomplishment, compared to their own bleak existences, something the facts belie.  He does not receive a prodigal son’s welcome home.

If this all sounds like grim pickings on which to base a musical, well, you’re right.  Sting has drawn many of the story’s basic plot points from the early, unsettling  days of his own life, which has given him an advantage that other ‘pop’ musicians, such as Elton John and Cyndi Lauper did not have when they tested the tumultuous waters of the Broadway stage.  But what elevates it above the particulars of the story, however much is autobiographical,  is its soaring score, one that engulfs the theatre with rousing, muscular strength, forcing you to pay attention.   Sting has long been noted for inventive metrical structures.   Here, he relies on 3/4 time, a choice he has often made in his career, for the show’s signature song, which repeats several times through the proceedings, guaranteeing that it will stick in your head for days to come.  If I ran into you tomorrow, I could still hum ‘…’til the last [two, three]… ship [two, three] … sails!]  Sting’s stock in trade, through his thirty-plus years of composing, has always been to give us melodies, harmonies and messages in his songs that combine in ways that are fun to listen to, crafted from infectious grooves, often in unusual or mixed meters [see his “Ten Summoners Tales” album, for example].   He ‘scores’ again with that talent for variety, matching meter to mood again and again.

Director Joe Mantello, who can deliver memorable work in service of complex, unique content [“Take Me Out,”  “Assassins” – both Best Director Tony Award winners], as well as somewhat pedestrian traffic-manager work when given less-original material [“Other Desert Cities,” “The Ritz”], is at the top of his game here.  And he has been given a superior cast to work with.

As Gideon, “American Idiot” star Michael Esper draws out every emotion this multi-faceted character must display, all with a voice that sounds like a Sting clone [that’s a compliment].  As Meg, the girl he  left behind, London import Rachel Tucker makes you see the gentle soul who has hardened over time, all with the ability to be endearing.  Doing double duty as young Tom, and the earlier Gideon, Collin Kelly-Sordelet  makes a dynamic Broadway debut, keeping the mix of cocky and respectful in appropriate balance.  And Jimmy Nail, as union boss Jackie, trying to hold his men’s lives and hopes in cheque, truly blows the walls out of the Neil Simon Theatre whenever he delivers the anthem boasting that “we built the greatest shipping tonnage that the world has ever seen, and the only life we’ve known is in the shipyards.”

What Gideon also finds when he returns is a son.  He wasn’t aware [nor was she] that Meg was pregnant when he first abandoned ‘ship,’ and now, Meg has a life revolving around scrappy fifteen-year-old Tom, and a successful lover Arnold who is devoted to both of them [a rock-solid Aaron Lazar], who is still waiting for her to accept his constant marriage proposals.   The best representation of the push-pull of past versus future is embodied in Meg’s tortured challenge: marry Arthur, whom she genuinely loves,  and guarantee a future for herself and her son, or rekindle a romance that still has claims on her heart.  In the show’s most affecting number, Sting has repurposed his song “When We Dance,” as Meg slowly, painfully glides between the loving embraces of both men, in a kind of pas de tres [is that correct?], three people dancing a ballad that will be a gut-punch to anyone who has ever been unexpectedly revisited by a long-ago lover and the memory of that tender love, which has never ever really been forgotten.  In contrast to David Zinn’s metal and scaffolds, dark skies and blank walls, this number, in a solitary follow-spot, shines like a glistening pearl inside the grey interior of a clam shell – a stunner.

So what’s the story line?  Prodded by the town’s loveable pastor, done almost stereotypical justice by Fred Applegate [in years past in the pictures, it would be Frank Morgan or Barry Fitzgerald], the townspeople decide to defy the new corporate owners of the shipyard, take it over, and build one more ship, to save their reputation and put up a fight for their heritage.  What happens to it when it’s completed?  Good question.  Lemme know if you find out.

There are other noteworthy aspects to this big show – Steven Hoggett’s stomp-and-turn choreography fits the genre perfectly, an entre-act musical performance of defiant distaffers, led by the powerfully-voiced Shawna M. Hamic, and as Jackie’s wife Peg, Sally Ann Triplett threatens to rip the paint off the tavern walls with her chillingly delivered  “If You Ever See Me Talking to a Sailor.”  She’d be a shoo-in as Nancy in an “Oliver!” revival.

It’s disappointing that the plot holes nearly distract you from all the fine, creative and compelling work in “The Last Ship,” which suffers the same fate as the currently-running “If/Then,” leaving you scratching your head, trying to figure out how, or whether the parts fit together.  But that doesn’t last too long.  Within another few minutes, another Sting-based number reminds you why you’re there in the first place.

Afterplay

Tickets are now on sale for the annual Kids’ Night on Broadway week, starting January 9th.  This terrific annual event, sponsored locally by The New York Times and administered by the Broadway League, permits kids ages 6 to 18 to see a Broadway show for free, when accompanied by a full-paying adult.  Close to twenty plays and musicals are on the roster, and all the details are available at kidsnightonbroadway.com.  And readers outside the metro area should note that similar events are held in many cities across the country. . . the recent gala honoring Joel Grey and Jeanine Tesori at the National Arts Club benefitted the work of the highly-esteemed Encompass New Opera Theatre, which for thirty-eight years has been dedicated to the creation, development and production of adventurous new theatre and contemporary opera.  Its next production, Richard Pearson Thomas’ “A Wake or a Wedding” will be presented at the Baruch Performing Arts Center, starting on November 6  [visit encompassopera.org for details].

On Book

To see where “On the Town” fits into the broad pantheon of American musical theatre, consult Stanley Green’s “Broadway Musicals – Show By Show” [fifth edition], published by the Hal Leonard Corporation.  This exhaustive overview starts with the classic 1866 “The Black Crook” and covers hundreds of shows . . . another valuable compendium is Penguin’s  “The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Shakespeare’s Plays,” by Cynthia Greenwood.  The author covers the 21 major plays as well as the lesser-performed works, and expands her reporting to include references to significant speeches and quotations, and information on noteworthy productions . . . and for a look at the other side of the ‘successful theatre’ coin, check out Marilyn Stasio’s “Broadway’s Beautiful Losers – The Strange History of Five Neglected Plays,” in paperback from Delta.   You’ll be surprised to see S.J. Perelman, Saul Bellow and Hugh Wheeler among the also-rans.

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TONY VELLELA wrote and produced the PBS documentary series about theatre, “Character Studies.”  His play “Admissions,” published by Playscripts, received a Best Play Award at the New York International Fringe Festival.  ArtAge Press published his ” Maisie and Grover Go to the Theatre.”  He has also written seven other plays and musicals, all performed in New York and at other venues in the U.S.  He has covered the performing arts for The Christian Science Monitor, Dramatics, Theatre Week, Reader’s Digest, the Robb Report, Parade and Rolling Stone, among dozens of publications.  He has taught theatre classes at Columbia University Teachers College, HB Studio and several other institutions across the country, and currently conducts theatre classes at the 92nd St. Y [visit 92Y.org/InSession for details], as well as small group sessions and personal coaching from home [tvellelea@nyc.rr.com].