“House/Divided” – a mélange of dazzling videography, startling and inventive lighting/props/stage craft, and spoken snippets of John Steinbeck’s quasi-Biblical prose – does not add anything new to our understanding of the current national malaise.
The challenges of this musical are to keep things buoyant yet insightful (and with some backbone) about a subject many of us dread, namely work and its drudgery.
This expansive biography of Ted Williams is not awash in sentimentally, thanks to Ben Bradlee’s praiseworthy search for the facts, no matter where they lead, and his command of language, honed during his 25-year career as a reporter and editor at “The Boston Globe.”
Would it be all that nervy to ask if, in the coming years, there might be more, not less, musical experimentation? Couldn’t the Boston Pops commission a new seasonal work and showcase it?
“Becky’s New Car” turns out to be a ride worth taking, especially if we suspend our disbelief long enough to embrace the notion that malice is not necessarily aforethought even though our actions might be construed to suggest otherwise.
This remains a vision of a dystopian universe, but in the hands of these performers “Waiting for Godot”‘s angst exudes as much antic warmth as it does cold angst.
Tennessee Williams was a prolific writer, and each season the Festival presents an unfinished play or little known work from his vast canon.
While luminary thespians and film stars such as Brian Dennehy and Christopher Plummer have trod the Stratford Festival boards, let me sing the praises of two actresses: Martha Henry and Michelle Giroux.
Part of the nostalgia of seeing Joan Baez and Sting was the opportunity to relive the experiences of attending their concerts at a more youthful time in our lives.
Theater taught me how to draw parallels, to condense, to delete triviality and to recognize significance.