ScheckOnTheater

If Charles Busch’s artistic to the late Charles Ludlam was made evident by such parodies as Vampire Lesbians of Sodom and Red Scare on Sunset, then his latest effort reveals the influence of another comedic master, Neil Simon. Like his hit Broadway play The Tale of the Allergist’s Wife, Olive and the Bitter Herbs combines hilarious jokes with just enough heart to elevate it above mere sitcom level. As performed by an expert troupe of farceurs in this Primary Stages production, it’s a consistently fun romp.

As might be gleaned from the title, the play’s centerpiece is a Passover Seder conducted by the titular character (Marcia Jean Kurtz), an aging character actress whose biggest claim to fame is a starring role in a definitely non-kosher sausage commercial.

Among the guests are a wacky group of characters including Wendy (Julie Halston), Olive’s friend who puts up with her acerbic manner; Trey (Dan Butler) and Robert (David Garrison), the gay couple next door whose monthly cheese binges drive Olive to distraction due to the smell; and Sylvan (Richard Masur), a courtly three-time widower visiting from Buenos Aires who soon develops a romantic interest in her.  

The slight premise binding both the characters and plot is the spectral presence in Olive’s living room mirror, apparently the ghost of Wendy’s late brother, Howard. As is eventually revealed in a riotously funny if over-the-top climactic scene, it turns out that all of the characters have had fateful interactions with Howard, affecting their relationships in vastly different ways.

This effort doesn’t have much more depth than Busch’s last comedy, the religious movie spoof The Divine Sister. But the playwright is so adept at crafting facile one-liners that it’s easy to overlook the flimsy set-ups. As delivered by the expertly comedic cast under the direction of Mark Brokaw, they produce a steady stream of laughs, perhaps the biggest of which comes from the simple phrase “Gimme the sausage.” To get that joke, you’ll have to see the show.

59E59 Theaters, 59 E.59th St. 212-279-4200. www.primarystages.org. 

Anyone who saw Rent in its original incarnation at the New York Theatre Workshop will no doubt be discomfited to see that it has now become a theatrical brand. Just three years after it closed on Broadway after a twelve-- year run, it has returned in a fresh production at the New World Stages, that subterranean theatrical venue where dead or dying Main Stem shows go to be reborn.

The revival, its producers have freely admitted, is born less of creative than financial reasons. Although some of its technical elements have been rejiggered and a fresh young cast has been assembled, this is essentially the same show that existed before, with original director Michael Greif once again holding the reins.

As a purely commercial venture, it’s likely to succeed. Rent was a touchstone for a certain generation when it premiered in 1996, and a new younger audience seems prepared to embrace it as well. Its milieu of a rundown, drug-ridden East Village has largely been obliterated by gentrification—even at its premiere the work had a nostalgic tinge. By now, its setting is probably as exotic to younger audiences as the 19th century Paris of its inspiration, La Boheme.

This tale of a ragtag group of artists dealing with poverty, drug addiction and AIDS, among other things, was always hampered by its rather unwieldy book and scattershot characterizations. What made it work originally--besides the emotional impact of creator Jonathan Larson’s sudden death the night before the first preview—was the truly exciting rock music score and the pitch-perfect performances by a largely unknown cast, many of whom would go on to stardom.

Larson’s score, performed here as it was before by a five-piece band, is still a powerhouse, but its impact is somewhat lessened by muddy acoustics that often render the lyrics incomprehensible. But it doesn’t seem to matter to its viewers, who lustily cheered when they heard the familiar opening notes of the show’s anthem, “Seasons of Love.”

The young ensemble, competing with the memories of such breakout stars from the original as Taye Diggs, Idina Menzel, Jesse L. Martin, Daphne Rubin-Vega and Anthony Rapp (most of whose performances were preserved in the ill-fated 2005 film version), certainly bring raw energy to the proceedings. Sadly, they mostly pale in comparison to their predecessors: the exceptions are Adam Chanler-Berat, whose eerie resemblance to Larson (accentuated by a similar haircut), brings an emotional frisson to his turn as the filmmaker Mark; and Annaleigh Ashford, whose giddy exuberance as the performance artist Maureen is an interesting contrast with Menzel’s more acerbic interpretation.

Rent fanatics will notice that the once largely open set design has been replaced by one divided into smaller configurations that more evocatively convey the cramped apartments of the East Village, and that the lighting and choreography are altered, to not much different effect.

It was probably silly to hope that a fresh approach would have been applied to a clearly successful concept. But it’s also a shame that this Rent feels like more of a museum piece than the wonderfully vital revival of Hair that is currently competing for those nostalgia dollars.

New World Stages 340 W.50th St. 212-239-6200. www.telecharge.com.

It’s not easy to kill Death Takes a Holiday. This old chestnut about the Grim Reaper taking a much needed vacation was a Broadway hit way back in the 1920s, spawned a successful 1934 movie adaptation starring Fredric March, and was the basis for the much maligned 1998 remake Meet Joe Black, starring Brad Pitt. Its latest incarnation is an off-Broadway musical presented by the Roundabout Theatre Company featuring a score by Maury Yeston, who’s had some experience with the subject with his Tony Award-winning score for Titanic.

The project was begun years ago as a collaboration between Yeston and author Peter Stone, who died in 2003. The book is credited to both Stone and Thomas Meehan, ofThe Producers and Annie fame.

As might be expected from its subject, the show is a tasteful, dignified, and fairly stodgy affair, albeit one with some lovely moments. The creators have wisely not updated the story, setting it in 1921 shortly after World War I, so it’s not surprising that an overworked Death (Julian Ovenden) would need a break.

He takes the human form of Nikolai Sirki, a Russian prince who shows up unexpectedly at the lakeside Italian villa owned by Duke Vittorio Lamberti (Michael Siberry). Not surprisingly, all of the women on hand immediately swoon for the handsome stranger, including the duke’s daughter Grazia (Jill Paice), engaged to the boorish Corrado Montelli (Max von Essen).

The duke, aware of the interloper’s real identity and under strict instructions not to reveal it under threat of, well, death, tries to warn everyone to keep their distance from him. But to no avail, as Grazia quickly forgets about her fiancé and promptly falls in love with Sirki, who, much to his surprise, finds himself returning her affections.

Other characters thrown into the mix include the Duke’s wife (Rebecca Luker); Grazia’s dementia-afflicted grandmother (Linda Balgord) and the elderly doctor (Simon Jones) who’s long loved her; and Grazia’s best friend (Alexandra Socha) and sister-in-law (Mari Davi). Showing up briefly is an American aviator (Matt Cavenaugh) who flew with Grazia’s late brother in the war.

Stone and Meeham’s book strains to give all of these characters their due, with the result that Death is given rather short shrift. More problematic is the general somber tone, alleviated only by the occasional sly touches of humor--“I rarely get many laughs,” admits Death at one point.

Yeston’s operetta-style score is similarly subdued. Although the music and lyrics are certainly proficient, they are rarely inspired, with only one number, “Life’s a Joy,” rising above the dense pack.

Working amidst admittedly modest circumstances—the small stage doesn’t provide much leeway in terms of scene changes and the orchestra is a modest ten pieces—director Doug Hughes doesn’t manage to provide much energy or imagination to the staging.  

The show’s biggest asset is British actor Ovenden in the leading role. This 35-year-old performer is clearly a star on the rise. Displaying matinee idol handsomeness, a chiseled physique (you could practically hear the sighs when he takes off his shirt), a gorgeous tenor voice, and genuine charisma, he single-handedly lifts the show to another level. Hugh Jackman, watch your back.

Laura Pels Theatre, 111 W. 46th St. 212-719-1300. www.roundabouttheatre.org.

The latest in a seemingly endless series of plays about crumbling marriages, Michael Weller’s Side Effects never manages to transcend its formulaic aspects. This companion piece to the playwright’s Fifty Words-- presented a few seasons back at the same theater--is yet another portrait of two people who are clearly in love but have reached a crossroads in their relationship.

Theatergoers need not have seen the earlier work to be immersed in the world of Hugh (Cotter Smith) and Melinda (Joely Richardson), a seemingly picture-perfect couple. He is a handsome, successful businessman being groomed for big things in Midwestern politics. She’s an acclaimed writer whose lithe gorgeousness is only accentuated by her perfect sense of style.

But not surprisingly, there are cracks beneath the glossy surface. The emotionally closed Hugh, the heir to a successful manufacturing company, has seen his business begin to fail. Melinda suffers from bipolar disorder, a condition that is worsened by her refusal to hew to her pharmaceutical regime.

During the course of several encounters depicted over ninety minutes, we watch as the pair’s relationship unravels in the face of dual infidelities, political machinations, and a potential scandal involving the couple’s teenage sons.       

Although the playwright’s gifts for incisive characterizations and sharply tinged dialogue, previously exhibited in such works as Loose Ends and Spoils of War, remains undiminished, his pile-on of melodramatic incidents here has a contrived, artificial feel. When Melinda makes a furtive phone call to her lover (a character from Fifty Words) merely seconds after Hugh has left the room, it smacks more of plot machination than reality, even if the character’s recklessness has been well established.

Director David Auburn, a celebrated playwright in his own right (Proof), is unable to bring much credibility to the proceedings. What makes the evening work to the extent that it does are the finely calibrated performances by the two actors. Smith, an expert at playing tightly wound, Type-A alpha males, well conveys Hugh’s underlying vulnerability, while Richardson, delivering her character’s sharp retorts with enjoyable gusto, perfectly captures both Melinda’s emotional volatility and her irresistible allure.

 Also adding to the overall effect is Beowulf Boritt’s set, which starts out as a tasteful representation of a beautifully appointed suburban home that, like the relationship between the characters inhabiting it, is ultimately reduced to an empty shell.

Lucille Lortel Theatre, 121 Christopher St. 212-279-4200. www.ticketcentral.com. 

Tennessee Williams apparently had a bottomless drawer filled with forgotten plays and scripts, so it’s no surprise that in recent years they have begun to pop up with regularity. The latest example is Moises Kaufman’s adaptation of One Arm. Based on a 1944 short story which the playwright later adapted into an unproduced screenplay, this short, pungent drama isn’t truly successful enough to stand on its own terms. But it represents a fascinating coda to the prolific Williams’ career, and it has been given a vividly theatrical production courtesy of the New Group.

Kaufman’s self-reflective adaptation uses the device of a narrator (Noah Bean) reading aloud both verbatim passages from the short story and camera directions from the screenplay.

Set in 1967, it centers on Ollie Olsen (Claybourne Elder), a magnificent male specimen despite the fact that he only has one arm. A former Naval boxing champion, Ollie lost his limb in a car crash, and has since resorted to supporting himself as a male hustler serving both male and the occasional female clients.

“I would never let a man kiss me, I’m not gay trade,” declares the proud Ollie, who picks up his seedy clientele on the streets of New Orleans and other cities. Highly desired despite his incomplete physicality, he eventually finds himself working in a porn film, where a violent encounter with the director leads to his landing on death row for murder.

Aficionados will recognize the playwright’s familiar themes on display, with the piece featuring a sexual frankness he was necessarily forced to obscure in his earlier works. 

While the symbolic resonance of both Ollie’s missing appendage—he’s referred to at one point as looking like “a piece of antique sculpture”--and his eventual dire fate is laid on a bit thick, the work nonetheless has enough fascinating elements to make its excavation more than welcome.

Director Kaufman has provided a vividly atmospheric production which makes excellent use of music and sound effects to augment its bare-bones staging. And the chiseled Elder is so physically commanding (and suitably emotionally blank) that he makes the lead character’s irresistibility entirely credible.

Acorn Theater, 410 W. 42nd St. 212-239-6200. www.telecharge.com.