Lowering the curtain on 2010

All the reviews have been written and the curtain has dropped on my year of living theatrically, 2010 edition.

Unfortunately, it was not a record-setting year. I saw fewer shows than I did in 2009, since I wasn't able to get to New York in the spring and I didn't make it to Boston at all. But it's quality not quantity, right? And I still saw a lot of memorable theatre.

Before I get to the highlights in an upcoming post, a few odds and ends:

I checked two more Broadway theatres off my list: the Longacre and the Cort. There are only six left that I've yet to step inside: Ambassador, American Airlines, August Wilson, Golden, Majestic and Sondheim. The Longacre reopened in 2008 after a two-year, $12-million renovation by the Shuberts, and it's beautiful. The Cort, well, I hope it's next on the list for a facelift. And speaking of the Sondheim, when are they going to dot the i? Has anyone else noticed that it's still missing?

Among the seat-selection lessons I learned this year: just because the front row in a particular theatre is fine for one play, that doesn't mean it'll be fine for another play. I sat in the front row at the Friedman for The Royal Family and it was perfect. But I was a little too close for The Pitmen Painters. The stage seemed to be higher and deeper. I never realized the dimensions could change that dramatically!

Another question: Does the director ever sit in the audience to make sure everyone can see from every vantage point? A row of speakers blocked my view of the actors' feet in Xanadu. Not good in a musical with roller-skating dancers. A chair blocked my view for a couple of scenes in The Pitmen Painters and a piece of the set that popped up from the stage did the same during Act II of A Free Man of Color at the Beaumont. (To be fair, I had changed my seat at intermission, moving down to an empty spot in the front row. There's no leg room in the Beaumont, even in the orchestra.)

As always, I had many wonderful stage-door experiences. Among them: Saycon Sengbloh of Fela! graciously took me onstage at the O'Neill.

I tracked down Tony winner Douglas Hodge in a bar after La Cage aux Folles and he was great, taking a few minutes to talk to me and sign my Playbill. I consider that one of my more intrepid stage-door adventures.

I met Michael Shannon from Mistakes Were Made at the Barrow Street Theatre. He was so nice, asking me where I was from, how I travel to New York and what other shows I was seeing. He asked me my name so he could personally inscribe my program. (I think I startled him because "Esther" is his character's secretary in the play). And he even drew a little smiley face for me!

Another first: I met a playwright! David Hirson was at the stage door at La Bete, a work I really loved and I got to tell him so. I also had the opportunity to renew my acquaintance with David Hyde Pierce. I told him how much I enjoyed him in Curtains and he showed me that he was wearing the show jacket from the musical - which I thought was sweet in a theatre geek kind of way.

By far the rudest audience behavior I witnessed this year was at Trust, at the Second Stage Theatre off-Broadway.

I was in the third row and at the beginning of Act II, a woman sitting on the aisle snapped a couple of pictures of Zach Braff. It was so brazen, as well as rude and dangerous to the actors. It's a small theatre, too, 327 seats. So it's not like no one would notice.

I'm pretty sure that if she'd waited until after the play, he would have posed for a picture with her.

Trust

Trust, at the 2nd Stage Theatre off-Broadway.
Gratuitous Violins rating: ** out of ****

The description on the 2nd Stage Web site says Trust "explores the corrosive effect of power on relationships."

Actually, Power would be a better title. Paul Weitz' play deals with what happens when one person has the upper hand and how that can change depending on the circumstances, sometimes in the blink of an eye.

Weitz is best known for working with his brother Chris as a director and screenwriter (About a Boy, American Pie). But he's also a playwright and he's penned a quirky dark comedy about two couples in failing relationships whose lives intersect.

What drew me to Trust was the cast, notably Zach Braff and Bobby Cannavale, two actors whose films I've enjoyed - Braff in Garden State and Cannavale in The Station Agent.

Braff plays Harry, an Internet millionaire who sold his company before the dot.com bust and spends his days giving money away through his charitable foundation. He's sweet, funny, a little neurotic, not all that happy with his life.

On a whim, Harry visits a dominatrix. She turns out to be his former high school classmate Prudence, a no-nonsense Sutton Foster. If you only know Foster from musical comedy, it's almost worth it just to see her in a very different role.

Ari Graynor as Harry's wife, Aleeza, and Cannavale as Morton, Prudence's boyfriend, do a good job with unsympathetic characters. Aleeza, a painter who's stopped painting, struck me as a whiny and grating. Morton is a brilliant but hot-tempered tough guy who never realized his potential.

The problem is, there's not much depth to Trust. The characters were so broadly drawn, it was hard to feel much of anything for them or their problems. And while the play has its humorous moments, in the end it seemed slight and inconsequential.

I did enjoy the opening scene, with Foster in her skimpy black getup, all the tools of her trade laid out on a metal cart, and Braff as her nervous customer. The interaction between the two of them was pretty funny.

Besides shocking us with the dominatrix angle and a plot twist or two, I'm not sure of the point that Weitz was trying to make. Sometimes I think contemporary drama can be like modern art - I enjoy looking at it but the deeper meaning escapes me.

Still, I don't regret seeing Trust. It's always interesting to take in a new play. And to be fair, I saw an early preview. Perhaps this one simply was too weird for me.

Moving to the third stage

As much as I love a Broadway show, and regular readers know how much I do love them, I also enjoy taking in some theatre off Broadway whenever I can. (And sometimes, it's just barely off Broadway). I regularly check out the listings at Playbill of upcoming off-Broadway shows, and a lot of them sound very tempting.

Unfortunately, I haven't had much opportunity to sample the fare off Broadway because my time in New York has been limited. But I have been to a couple of plays - The Receptionist and From Up Here - at the Manhattan Theatre Club at City Center, and in May, I saw Good Boys and True at the Second Stage Theatre.

While Good Boys and True didn't get the best reviews, I found it thought-provoking, with some compelling performances. Plus, it gave me a chance to see a new American play just a block away from Times Square in a theatre where I'd never been before. It's safe to say that most people who visit New York don't realize how much great theatre there is all over the city. I know I really didn't realize it.

I guess before I went to New York, I thought of off-Broadway as something that wouldn't really be worth my time or money. I didn't realize how many Broadway show that I've loved started there. For example, I didn't know that one of my favorite recent musicals, The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, was at Second Stage before it moved to Broadway.

So I was very interested when I read yesterday that the nonprofit Second Stage is acquiring the Helen Hayes Theatre, currently home to the musical Xanadu, to use it as a Broadway home beginning in 2010. It'll become the fifth Broadway theatre operated by a nonprofit. The Playgoer has an interesting perspective on the purchase, with a lot of good points that I have to admit I hadn't thought about.

According to its Web site, Second Stage was founded in 1979 by director Carole Rothman and actress Robyn Goodman "to give 'second stagings' to contemporary American plays that originally failed to find an audience due to scheduling problems, inappropriate venues or limited performance runs."

An Associated Press story noted that Second Stage currently leases the two theatres it operates off Broadway. "You can't make plans when you are renting,'' Rothman said. "You have to find a way to really sustain an institution over a long period of time."

Rothman tells The New York Times that Second Stage will raise $35 million to purchase and renovate the 597-seat Helen Hayes, which "will be the only theater company on Broadway dedicated exclusively to the development and presentation of contemporary American drama."

Personally, I think this sounds promising. We all know how difficult it is for any type of play to be successful at a time when Broadway caters mostly to tourists who want to see big, splashy musicals with familiar titles. So I'm in favor of anything that provides a home for homegrown drama. And Rothman was equally emphatic to the Associated Press: "We only do plays by contemporary American writers. We don't do classics or go shopping for plays in London."

Many of the stories about the sale have noted that Helen Hayes' name was on a theatre that was demolished to make way for the Marriott Marquis hotel in Times Square, and now the name is in danger again, since the rights will most likely be sold. But Ellen Richard, the executive director of Second Stage, tells Bloomberg News that "Helen will definitely have a presence at the theater.''

Good Boys and True

Gratuitous Violins rating: ***1/2 out of ****

Brandon Hardy is at the top of the high school food chain in Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa's Good Boys and True, currently playing off-Broadway at the Second Stage Theatre.

Hardy is the captain of the football team at St. Joseph's, his Catholic boys school outside of Washington, D.C., and he's been admitted early decision to Dartmouth. As portrayed by Brian J. Smith, he's a polite, personable, confident overachiever who makes his parents very proud. Even his last name evokes an all-American wholesomeness.

But the perfectly formed life that Brandon has created for himself is in danger of falling apart. His coach, Russell Shea, played by Lee Tergesen, has come into possession of a videotape in which a boy who looks suspiciously like Brandon is seen having rough sex with a girl. Brandon's father is a doctor off on some lifesaving medical mission to Central America, so Shea calls his mother, Elizabeth, played by J. Smith-Cameron, to the school and confronts her with the tape.

Tergesen plays the coach as someone whose primary concern is to protect the school's reputation. He seems perfectly willing to sweep the whole incident under the rug, as long as it's kept quiet. And if it can't be kept quiet, well Brandon will be offered up as a sacrificial lamb.

It turns out that Brandon is hiding something - from his coach, his teammates, his family, and most importantly, from himself. He's had a secret relationship with a classmate, Justin, played with great sensitivity by Christopher Abbott, and he's desperate to ward off even the slightest hint that he's gay.

In some ways, Good Boys and True left me feeling a bit unsatisfied. Some plot points are only vaguely hinted at, the story seems a little rushed at 90 minutes and it ends rather abruptly. Despite those shortcomings, this is a play that had me thinking about how we define masculinity, how teenage boys treat teenage girls, about how athletes get treated, and about what a confining, threatening place high school can be for a gay teenager.

Smith vividly portrays a 1980s teenager struggling with his sexual orientation. I know that coming-out stories aren't exactly a novel concept in 2008, but this is the first one I've seen on stage and there were a couple of scenes in particular that were heart-wrenching for me to watch.

Brandon is living with a fear that I can't even contemplate. He knows the taunts that get piled on gay boys, including Justin. He believes that as a gay man, his future won't be as bright. It's to the point where the fear warps his judgment. To be what his teammates would consider a "real man," he hurts everyone around him. He may even have ruined the bright future that he's expended so much energy working toward. It's also telling that the girl on the videotape, played by Betty Gilpin, isn't from the same wealthy, private-school world. In one sad scene, Gilpin's Cheryl tells Elizabeth how she's been horribly scarred by the incident.

As Derek McLane's trophy-filled set design drives home, he lives in a very jock-oriented culture. The locker room, the gym, the football field are places where being gay is light years away from being accepted. In fact, for Brandon, it's preferable to practically be considered a rapist. He doesn't even really understand why the incident on the videotape is such a big deal. He's shocked that when the scandal becomes public knowledge, the school won't protect him.

As the story unfolded, I expected Smith-Cameron to be angrier as she tries to draw the truth out of her son. But I realized that she's an affluent, educated woman, a doctor like her husband. Even Tom Broecker's costume design signals tasteful, expensive, restrained. I realized that this is not a family where people get too emotional or spend a lot of time discussing their feelings.

Naturally, Smith-Cameron cannot believe that the boy on the videotape is her son. Her inclination is to protect Brandon. But she also remembers a pretty disgusting testosterone-filled incident from her own youth, involving Brandon's father, and she worries that history is repeating itself. Elizabeth's sister Maddy, played by Kellie Overbey, bluntly reminds her that this "boys will be boys" attitude has been going on for a long time.

I was impressed at the way, under Scott Ellis' direction, Good Boys and True doesn't squander its emotional capital by overdoing it. The two loudest, angriest, most emotional scenes occur when Brandon denies that he's gay. During the first one, I got choked up as he hurls vile, homophobic insults at Justin. He's going to have a better life, he taunts Justin, he'll make more money, be more successful, be happier, because he's not going to be gay. It's as if he could will himself to be straight.

At first, I felt horrible for Justin. But Justin is actually in a much better place than Brandon. He's hurt by the taunts of his classmates, but like most gay teens - and adults - he hasn't let those taunts destroy him. He's further along in accepting the fact of this sexual orientation. Hopefully, he'll find a partner and he'll be fine. As for Brandon, I remember thinking, he'll either come to terms with being gay or in 30 years, he'll end up like Larry Craig in an airport men's room.

In its earlier incarnation, at the Steppenwolf Theatre Company in Chicago, the ending of Good Boys and True apparently was different, more clear cut. The play was also about 30 minutes longer. But I think a more vague ending works better. Elizabeth brings up Justin in a way that strongly hints she knows about their relationship, but when Brandon heatedly denies it, she drops the matter. Brandon doesn't seem at all ready to come out, to his mother or anyone else. Elizabeth is left frustrated and bewildered. She thought she knew everything about her son. She blames herself for his involvement with this scandal and she's disgusted by his nonchalant attitude toward the matter.

In the end, what got to me is that Brandon didn't have anyplace to turn for help when he feared his relationship with Justin would become public knowledge. He couldn't go to his coach. His mother gave an indication that she'd be supportive, but I wasn't completely sure. I also wasn't sure about how his father would react to having a gay son. I hope his parents would still love him and still be proud of him. Whatever you have to go through in life, whatever challenges you face, your family's love should never be in doubt.

When I was growing up, I had parents, a community to tell me what it meant to be Jewish. Brandon is going through something much tougher, and he's going through it all alone. I just wish he'd had someone to talk to, someone who could have eased his fears about what it means to be gay. I wish someone could have told him that it's simply a matter of who he loves, a part of who he is like his hair color or eye color, that it doesn't change any of the other things about him. He's still a great athlete, a good student, a caring son, a model citizen, the same wholesome, clean-cut all-American kid that he's always been.

I wish someone had reassured him that he would survive the hateful name-calling, the taunts and the doubt, that he didn't have to live his life as a lie, in a sham marriage, closeted and miserable. I wish someone had told him that he could have his dignity as an open, confident gay man, that he could meet his true love, find a successful career, have a wonderful life filled with great adventures and close, supportive friends. I wish someone had told him that he was a good boy and true, and that he would grow up to become an equally good man.