The name Carolines is synonymous with comedy. All year, Caroline Hirsch produces shows at her club Carolines on Broadway, several comedy festivals and some one-off shows such as her upcoming evening Carolines @ The Beach at Guild Hall on August 5. On a recent Friday, I caught up with Caroline by phone, en route to her home in Watermill. She stops at Exit 70 for phone meetings, at a parking lot where this doyenne of laughs knows there’s a good signal.
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Against a wall proclaiming “Make America Great Again” in blood red, an electric chair did not seem out of place. Not for nothing was the Watermill Center’s annual gala called “Fada: House of Madness.” Created by Pussy Riot, the work augured the ironies of installations throughout Robert Wilson’s foundation’s ample grounds. Even though rain threatened the evening’s anarchy, bronze angels spouted eerie wisdom and monitors flickered in the woods. -
Comparisons to the original long-running 1982 musical, Cats, will be inevitable, but even if you have never seen Cats before, as I have not, the revival of Cats at the Neil Simon Theater is simply splendid. I remember when it opened back in the day and so many viewers pondered, what’s the story? Just cats in radiant display, all kinds, cavorting on John Napier’s brilliant set, back alley debris in relief, and ensemble showstoppers and ballads, now part of the canonical Broadway songbook. But Andrew Lloyd Webber, who incidentally has three plays on Broadway—(Phantom of the Opera and School of Rock) as I write, with Trevor Nunn, who directed, managed to fashion a completely moving show from songs based on T. S. Eliot’s 1939 Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, creating a poet’s layered vision of mortality, transcendent and glorious. -
As you contemplate US leadership in this election process, it is essential to check in with the bard: in play after play he asks, what makes for a solid, dependable ruler? Shakespeare’s Macbeth, a towering character, shows more flaws and foibles than any tyrant in the public eye; fear and paranoia abound in his psyche. As performed by Ty Jones in the current Classical Theater of Harlem production at Marcus Garvey Park, under Carl Cofield’s superb direction, he is also physical, sexually charged, an adept swordsman. And as his Lady Macbeth, Roslyn Ruff, gives as good as she gets, as this iconic political schemer. This is a great night of choreographed magic, betrayal and violence under the night sky. -
Bespectacled and bowtied, James Schamus introduced his movie, Indignation, his directorial debut from Philip Roth’s novel, at MoMA, with the observation that a premiere at MoMA makes up for not having had a bar mitzvah. Hold that Jewish joke. In fact, the film starts with a brief image of war, and a Jewish funeral, a shiva—you can tell by the smoked fish at the buffet—for a fallen soldier. The grieving family is related to the Messners, the Newark butchers at the story’s heart, and their only son Marcus who goes off to college in Winesburg, Ohio (Sherwood Anderson’s fictional domain) where he falls hopelessly in love with a blond shiksa, Olivia Hutton, from a divorced family with a penchant for oral sex and self destruction. -
Jack Lenor Larsen’s LongHouse Reserve, home to a spectacular sculpture garden including Yoko Ono’s “Wishing Tree,” became the site of great music, food, and art, in “serious moonlight,” its 25th year celebration. As maidens in midnight flowy frocks danced around a reflecting pool, partiers slurped oysters and sipped peach bellinis, gathering for a piano recital by Nico Muhly, last year’s honoree. Robert Wilson, Ralph Gibson, Mary Jane Marcasiano, Jack Youngerman, Eric Fishl, April Gornik, some of whom had paintings on display for a silent auction to benefit the Longhouse program for young artists, sought a breeze on this steamy night. -
In Woody Allen’s new movie, Café Society, Kristen Stewart plays a girl from Nebraska who tries her luck in 1930’s Hollywood, an era of big stars like Barbara Stanwyck and Joan Crawford. Jesse Eisenberg plays a boychick from New York who tries his luck in L.A. too, working with his uncle Phil, a big time agent played by Steve Carell. Jesse’s Bobby falls for Kristen’s Vonnie at first sight, and why not? Close ups of her–Vittorio Storaro’s wonderful cinematography makes this film special in Woody Allen’s already outstanding oeuvre–show Kristen Stewart’s transcendent appeal, a look that’s old glamor, and new. This movie, one of Allen’s most poignant on the subject of youthful dreams, love, marriage, and missed chances, should establish Stewart as the actress of her generation. -
One of the many revelations in Jeff Feuerzeig’s riveting documentary Author: The JT LeRoy Story, was that Laura Albert, the mastermind behind her fictive persona JT LeRoy, an author of some renown, also worked with director Gus Van Sant on his 2003 Elephant, a movie of a Columbine-like mass shooting at a school. She was commissioned to write the script, which was then discarded, the movie retaining only the image of a fat girl in the library, the shooter’s first victim. In the post-screening Q&A at Guild Hall for the Hamptons International Film Festival’s SummerDoc series, Alec Baldwin enthused about Elephant, a coincidence for him to realize the connection to Laura Albert. -
Funny woman Sandra Bernhard joins this week’s list of funny women performing at Guild Hall. There was Kathy Griffin, and if you count the many personae of Charles Busch, this Friday night makes the third for her show titled, “Feel the Bernhard.” A few days before, Sandy interrupted her viewing of Venus Williams’ tennis match at Wimbleton—“She’s winning!” –to talk about what she’s bringing to the stage at the beach. -
What is beat? From down and out through saintly beatitudes, beat is an attitude. As a literary movement, the Beat Generation is an American phenomenon, but every geographic area that experienced it, takes ownership, and the French are no different. In Paris, at Centre Pompidou’s 6th floor neighboring a retrospective of Paul Klee, a vast exhibition devoted to the culture of The Beat Generation –with principals Jack Kerouac, William S. Burroughs, and Allen Ginsberg— provides essential visual and auditory material for an understanding of this literati’s global influence. -
Onstage, gravediggers at an excavation site discover a crooked spinal cord. That could only belong to one figure, Richard III. Flashing back to Shakespeare’s play, his history, in the person of Ralph Fiennes unfolds in the Almeida Theater’s stunning production under Rupert Goold’s direction, the image of the misshapen bone only begins to tell you what’s in this man’s heart. Having just murdered Lady Anne’s father and husband, he woos her, Shakespeare’s language suggesting everything you can possibly do with a cane. -
Peter Beard occupies the last house on the East End, and from his perch the expanse of the Atlantic Ocean is compelling. Having made art, collages and photography for decades, both here and on exotic travels, and featuring an array of celebrities including Mick Jagger, Jerry Hall, Bianca Jagger, Lee Radzivill, the two Edie Beales, Karen Blixen, Kamante Gatura, his wife Nejma, and himself often with his head in a fish, he’s taken more than a note about fame from Andy Warhol, his erstwhile neighbor. At Guild Hall’s new exhibition, “Last Word from Paradise,” celebrities and animals mix it up: there’s more than a hint of nostalgia for travels to remote places. Beard’s artwork juxtaposes party photos from Studio 54 with pictures of endangered animals like the elephant, or alligators that live best in the wild suggesting lost worlds: What about precious, fragile Nature on our planet? -
Two Joans were on display at Christie’s on June 16, one was the much-missed Joan Rivers with a sampling of her sequined gowns adorning mannequins in the auction house entrance, going on the block the following day. The other was the famed subject of a 1950 letter to Jack Kerouac from his pal, Neal Cassady, long thought lost. You may have read about it 18 months ago, when Jean Spinosa found the letter among her father’s papers in Oakland, California. Then came a bit of legal wrangling among Cassady’s heirs, the Kerouac estate, and the letter’s finder. Because Kerouac claimed this letter was inspiration to his spontaneous prose, the letter has entered legend. Cassady, famed for fast driving and cocksmanship, met Joan Anderson on a Greyhound bus, convincing her to make it with him, the writing fast, rambling, and rhapsodic. Now on display on the auction floor, with only the first of 16-pages showing, the letter held some surprises. -
A whiff of David Bowie hung over the air at the Café Carlyle as Lena Hall opened her two-week run. Whipping her head punk style, Hall treated her audience to her bad girl history with boys as a way of explaining how a nice girl got here, musically. “I’m pretty sure no one has done a Sex Pistols song at Café Carlyle,” Hall introduced “Holiday in the Sun,” a John Lydon collaboration with John Beverly, Paul Cook, and Steve Jones, and went on to cover The Beatles (“I Want to Hold Your Hand”), Billy Joel (“We Didn’t Start the Fire”), and Elton John (“Someone Saved My Life Tonight”). Rocking on, Lena Hall gave details about the various boys, and her dark side, but it is her voice that emerges, and a story of how music saved her from marriage to the wrong guy. -
Meryl Streep can do anything. In her new movie, Florence Foster Jenkins, she is the title character, a real life self-created diva, Florence Foster Jenkins, who was the subject of ridicule for her very bad voice, at the same time that she had a cult following of fans—and still does. This period movie directed by Stephen Frears in gorgeous saturated color emphasizes Streep’s extravagant brocade wardrobe and her peachy cheeks as she portrays this turn-of-the-century heiress, paying off her singing coach, her pianist Cosme McMoon (“Big Bang Theory”’s Simon Helberg really playing), and whoever, so as to promote her singing career. The penultimate moment is her performance at Carnegie Hall. Aided by her husband, St. Clair Bayfield, a sublime Hugh Grant—trust me, if you are remembering him as the callous beau in the Bridget Jones movies, here he is positively tender, she is mocked until a floozy (Nina Arianda is just adorable) quiets the laughing audience. Renee Fleming, who knows a thing or two about voices, said of Streep, introducing a special screening, you have to have a really good, versatile voice to play one so bad. -
Directors Noah Baumbach and Jake Paltrow pay tribute to Brian De Palma in the best way possible in the documentary, De Palma, by showing his work. With an interview with this Hitchcock-influenced filmmaker at its core, the film features clips of De Palma’s extraordinary career, with lots and lots of anecdotes about craft, compromises, and critical reception. De Palma is a master class with a master. -
Typical of Yo Yo Ma: he hides behind the scenes. A prime mover of musical happenings, this world famous, prodigy cellist recedes into the backdrop, even when the event is about him, as in Morgan Neville’s new documentary, The Music of Strangers. You expect an interview with the maestro about his life and work, some talking heads, and what you get is that, including an archival appearance on “Mister Rogers,” and so much more: the story of the international musicians he works with on a global scene, often natives of war-torn countries, Afghanistan, Syria, and contemporary post-revolution Iran, so the film limns the political landscape of our time, and some unusual instruments, such as Kayhan Kalhor’s kamancheh, making beautiful Persian music that transcends a tragic personal story. -
As anyone who has ever spent time in a hospital room knows, the laughs are few. On opening night of Halley Feiffer’s “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Gynecologic Oncology Unit at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center of New York City” at the Lucille Lortel Theater on Tuesday, the audience filing in did not think otherwise: two beds separated by a curtain, two people asleep, a set so familiarly appointed, prepared for the worst, you might think nothing comic could happen here, not even on the television monitor perched above woman stage left, until you see Karla (Beth Behrs of tv’s “2 Broke Girls”), in oversized sweater and goofy knit cap, as she moves antic testing a monologue for her stand-up act. (Picture: a younger Sandra Bernhard.) With mom (Lisa Emery) in bed, Karla’s got a captive if comatose audience. As she contemplates—loud—the joys of rape with her vibrator, an anguished schlep named Don (Erik Lochtefeld) enters stage right to usher his mom (Jacqueline Sydney) to her final rest. For Feiffer, and for director Trip Cullman, it’s a set up made in comedy heaven. -
Running up to the Tony Awards, a special lunchtime event celebrated Broadway last week: Stars in the Alley, that’s Schubert Alley fitted with a special stage and eats by Junior’s. Moderated by Sean Hayes and Mo Rocca, two comedians of the first order who kept things funny and zipping along, this show comprised of bits from most shows is a yearly treat. Sean Hayes is now appearing in Act of God in the neighboring theater, “the only theater named after the brother of an actor who killed a president in another theater.” Got it? -
Herb Alpert kept checking in about his pin stripes, asking a rapt audience, some of whom traveled from Florida just to hear him perform at the Café Carlyle for opening night this week: “Was I wearing this suit?” Like a woman who does not want to repeat an outfit for the same group, he joked, told stories, and played that sweet trumpet, bringing in the crowd for an entertaining night of his greatest hits. Beside him was his wife of 42 years, Lani Hall, whose crystalline vocals in Portuguese and Spanish perfectly put everyone in the Tijuana/ Jobim mood. “I love it when she talks to me in Yiddish,” he laughed, as their ensemble with Bill Cantos on piano, Hussain Jiffrey on a six-string bass he can play like a guitar, and Michael Shapiro on drums created a musical dialogue all their own. -
Movie icon—and lately best known for her role on American Horror Story— Jessica Lange has performed on Broadway only twice before, in two Tennessee Williams masterpieces, The Glass Menagerie and A Streetcar Named Desire, and now she’s in Eugene O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey Into Night. As Mary Tyrone, morphine addled matriarch of the Tyrone family, and wife to James Tyrone (Gabriel Byrne), her presence descending the stairs of the family Connecticut home in the 1920’s, illuminated like a specter in the play’s final moments, is unforgettable. Mother to Jamie and Edmund (Michael Shannon and John Gallagher Jr. respectively), she is frail, a wounded bird, and symbol of shattered hope, loss, loneliness, and heartache. -
“Of all of our movies, this one changed my life,” Chris Hegedus said, introducing her new documentary, Unlocking the Cage at a special HBO screening prior to its theatrical release at Film Forum this week. That’s a lot to claim from the filmmaker pair, Chris Hegedus and D. A. Pennebaker who together made films from inside “the war room” during the Clinton campaign of 1992 to the pastry chefs of France. The cute and cuddly gorillas at play in Unlocking the Cage’s opening situate you at once in a riveting film that follows an endearing nonhuman animal rights advocate, Steven Wise, into the courtrooms to fight for animal personhood. -
Really? Anthony Weiner wants unconditional love. This big baby, as he appears for real in Josh Kriegman and Elyse Steinberg’s entertaining documentary Weiner, the former congressman wants to parlay his dick on the Internet, and be elected for office. That’s the size of it. After having been outted for this offense, Weiner ran for mayor, the occasion for the film. Josh Kriegman used to work for him and had the politician’s confidence. By Weiner’s side, his wife, the formidable Huma Abedin, aide to Hillary Clinton, grimaces but stands by her man. She is the most compelling reason to take this guy seriously; unrepentant the first time, he does it again. This bizarre self-destruction may belong to the Eliot Spitzer school of politics, but in the Alex Gibney documentary about the New York governor, Client 9, at least he could identify his hubris. Not Anthony Weiner! But still, for this movie, he is a relentless, charismatic star. -
It would be great to think of 2008 as a bygone past, and the dire consequences for workers phased out in a bad economy yesteryear’s news, but the play Skeleton Crew, an Atlantic Theater Company production at the Linda Gross Theater, Dominique Morisseau’s powerful look at Detroit autoworkers, now moved to the, registers a cycle that’s still out of control for many Americans. In a locker room, four characters take breaks, bicker, and make for a company family, an ensemble of workers: -
Okay. So The Nice Guys is a Russell Crowe / Ryan Gosling film bromance, a hilarious romp, featuring car chases galore, broken glass and bones, bloody bodies, and a startling, zombied Matt Bomer. Still, there’s a touch of nostalgia for an early Russell Crowe who came to the aid of Kim Basinger in a film set in Los Angeles. Remember L. A. Confidential (1997)? In The Nice Guys, Basinger plays a smallish but pivotal role, yet another character in search of a young woman named Amelia (Margaret Qualley). She, a misguided, rebellious porn star, just happens to be her daughter, and Basinger’s job is head of the government’s clean up squad. Talk about acting out.
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