#1
Posted: 3/5/09 at 10:22pm
What a well-designed piece of garbage. Scott Pask, Catherine Zuber, Natasha Katz and Elaine McCarthy have all outdone themselves on this awful, uninvolving, unnecessary, unfortunate play.
Someone should tell Michael Jacobs that plays are supposed to ask a dramatic question, 'cause he obviously missed that class. What we have no are two snobby unaffected New Yorkers (one who talks with a funny accent) who work in an art gallery where the paintings come to life to tell their life stories.
Interesting premise - uninvolving script. Nobody cares. That's the problem. These aren't characters, they're 2-dimensional stereotypes of Chelsea snobby New York elite. Who the hell wants to see a play about that? You know they're gonna fall in love, but who cares? I saw no plot by the end of the first act (what a strange place for an intermission), so I scooted out the door.
Jeremy Irons and Joan Allen have absolutely no chemistry or, by the looks on their faces, no real desire to be there. Marsha Mason is wasted; Andre de Shields is play a role that's possibly more stereotyped and disgusting than the monkey that get's jerked off. The other ones can't act, especially that young woman, Margerita something. Good God.
Audience response was tepid at best, they were filming B-roll. The place was no doubt heavily comped with friends of the cast and production team (if I had one more person ask me if I'm here for 'Eliot' or 'a different code name,' I was ready to shoot myself for actually paying).
The highlight of the night, by far, was overhearing the conversation between Mike Nichols and John Guare as I was fleeing. Said Mike, his famous SH*T eating "I'm better than you" grin on his face, "Well, it plays exactly the same way as it reads."
Someone should tell Michael Jacobs that plays are supposed to ask a dramatic question, 'cause he obviously missed that class. What we have no are two snobby unaffected New Yorkers (one who talks with a funny accent) who work in an art gallery where the paintings come to life to tell their life stories.
Interesting premise - uninvolving script. Nobody cares. That's the problem. These aren't characters, they're 2-dimensional stereotypes of Chelsea snobby New York elite. Who the hell wants to see a play about that? You know they're gonna fall in love, but who cares? I saw no plot by the end of the first act (what a strange place for an intermission), so I scooted out the door.
Jeremy Irons and Joan Allen have absolutely no chemistry or, by the looks on their faces, no real desire to be there. Marsha Mason is wasted; Andre de Shields is play a role that's possibly more stereotyped and disgusting than the monkey that get's jerked off. The other ones can't act, especially that young woman, Margerita something. Good God.
Audience response was tepid at best, they were filming B-roll. The place was no doubt heavily comped with friends of the cast and production team (if I had one more person ask me if I'm here for 'Eliot' or 'a different code name,' I was ready to shoot myself for actually paying).
The highlight of the night, by far, was overhearing the conversation between Mike Nichols and John Guare as I was fleeing. Said Mike, his famous SH*T eating "I'm better than you" grin on his face, "Well, it plays exactly the same way as it reads."