Fathom Events' Met Opera's "Otello": Venetian Blind with Jealousy

Sonya Yoncheva, Aleksandrs Antonenko & Cast of the Met Opera's "Otello"
(photo: Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera)

The Metropolitan Opera opened the current season last month with its new production of Verdi's “Otello”, perhaps the most successful and revered operatic adaptation of a play by Shakespeare. The libretto by Boito is one of the primary reasons for its acceptance and endurance, as he kept the central story very close to Shakespeare's tale, although omitting and condensing some characters. Consisting of Verdi's more mature and complex orchestrations, it remains one of the finest works in all of opera, with one of opera's clearest and most credible stories. Initially, the decision not to utilize dark makeup for the role of the Moorish Otello for this production evoked some controversy, but in these days of nontraditional casting, in the end it was easily forgotten, despite some early pleas: “please sir, may we have some Moor?”.

Otello (tenor Alexsandrs Antonenko), the “Lion of Venice”, arrives home from a triumphant win over the turkish army, only to be met with not very veiled suspicions spread by his ensign Iago (baritone Željko Lučić) about Otello's wife Desdemona (soprano Sonya Yoncheva). Iago tells the young Roderigo (tenor Chad Shelton), who has fallen in love with Desdemona, that he will help him win her, meanwhile managing to get Otello's newly-promoted officer Cassio (tenor Dimitri Pittas) drunk and into a fight with the former governor Montano (baritone Jeff Mattsey). This leads to Otello's withdrawal of Cassio's promotion. Iago gets Desdemona to intercede on behalf of Cassio, making Otello more suspicious and jealous, and steals her handkerchief that her maid Emilia (mezzo Jennifer Johnson Cano) has retrieved, planting it in Cassio's room. At last Iago has his twisted revenge as Otello strangles his (innocent) wife, then stabs himself, as the crowd (including bass Gũnther Groissbőck as Lodovico and baritone Tyler Duncan as a Herald) enters. Otello seeks one last kiss and dies.

In this production (updated to the late nineteenth century), as with most performances, its impact depended greatly on both excellent singing and acting, both heightened of course in an HD Live Broadcast. This cast provided both. Antonenko and Luĉić were magnificent in solos and duets, and Yoncheva was poignant and heartbreaking. The Metropolitan Opera Chorus (once again under the direction of Chorusmaster Donald Palumbo) gave a wonderful performance (but inexplicably got no curtain call). The HD Host for the broadcast was Eric Owens, who was excellent and had done his homework for the intermission interviews, when Bartlett Sher (whose production this was) mentioned that they decided to use glass sets when it was noted that Boito stated that he and Verdi had created “glass cages” for their characters to inhabit. The Conductor Yannick Nézet-Séguin was terrific, energetic and involved. Sher's production was great, and very ably Directed for Live Cinema by Gary Halvarson, with Set Design (the transparent panels were perfect for plotting) by Es Devlin, somber Costume Design by Catherine Zuber (all harmoniously created to enhance the complex political intrigues), even more somber Lighting Design by Donald Holder and superb Projection Design by Luke Halls (especially the storm scene in the first act).

Overall, this was a very moving and memorable revisit to the operatic dramatic shores of the Mediterranean, yet another example of how ubiquitous the presence of the Metropolitan Opera has become. The last outing, of the company's “Trovatore”, was in fact number eleven on the box office list of grosses in the current issue of Variety. The HD Live Broadcast series has proven to be more popular than ever.

Encore presentation of "Otello" to be broadcast Weds. Oct. 21 at 6:30pm at participating theaters.

ART's "Song of a Convalescent": Art As Open Heart Surgery

Michael Yates Crowley (as Tinky Holloway) in "Song of a Convalescent..."
(photo: ART) 

The title of ART's latest offering at their Oberon venue, “Song of a Convalescent Ayn Rand Giving Thanks to the Godhead (in the Lydian Mode)” doesn't exactly come trippingly off the tongue. Nonetheless, the performance piece created and performed by Wolf 359, in the persons of Michael Yates Crowley and Michael Rau, is an example of the meeting of several creative minds leading to some impressive verbal gymnastics. In addition to the genius of the two actors themselves, the production profits from historical input from the likes of such greats as Beethoven, Emily Dickinson and Ayn Rand herself, all in the pursuit of presenting the medical (and artistic) history of migraines. On the part of Crowley, it's a very personal search, as his diary shows in its meticulous chronicling of his own lifelong frequent bouts with intense headaches. After encountering the theory of pain as expressed by Rand (namely that it's imaginary), Crowley developed this piece consisting of a theme and twenty-four variations, about whether you can think your way out of pain. He suggests that you approach the work as though you were attending a concert of words, ideas and characters. It focuses on Rand and her seemingly deliberate silence about pain and the suffering it causes, insisting that it not be taken seriously. The same could be said about this production, which, tongues firmly in cheek, proceeds to tackle the subject via portrayals of the sublime (Beethoven) to the less so (Alan Greenspan, Maury Povich), a drag queen at an open mic session in a strip club in Peoria (“a stage is a stage”), a teenager on You Tube, various doctors who assure you won't be cured but it will still cost you, and a love scene from Rand's “Fountainhead” that climaxes (so to speak) in pain. All this in a rapid-fire ninety minutes.

The title, in case you were wondering (as you no doubt were) refers to an extraordinarily long movement in a Beethoven string quarter which uses an ancient tonality known as the Lydian mode. It was written by him in response to his apparent recovery from illness (which proved to be illusory) and his gratitude to God. Heard at the beginning of the show and repeated at the end, it bookends the process that Crowley experienced in confronting his pain from suffering from a scourge that is very little understood even after centuries of research. While this might sound a bit too dry and scholarly a topic, its presentation is anything but. Crowley is a master of understating and Rau is as dry and droll as they come. Written by Crowley (who also provided some of his own original music) and Directed by Rau, it starts out as (intentionally) rather amateurish and disheveled, but swiftly becomes more focused on their treatment of a condition that has no treatment, a disease with neither known cause nor cure. The technical contributions are all suitably minimalist, from the Scenic Design by Sara Walsh to the Costume Design by Valérie Thérèse Bart, the Lighting Design by Derek Wright, the Sound and Video Design by Asa Wember and the Music Direction by Josiah Reibstein.

As the aforementioned drag queen, Tinky Holloway by name, puts it, “life is depressing, but at least I wrote a song about it”, and even more tellingly describes her art as open heart surgery. It's not a show for everyone, especially those who aren't fans of performance art in general; this show might even give them a headache. But if you're open to a novel approach to an unusual subject, you might well find yourself amused, bemused, and provoked to thought. Again in the immortal words of the irrepressible Tinky Holloway, may we “all have long and rational lives”.

New Rep's "A Number": All My Sons

Dale Place & Nael Nacer in New Rep's "A Number"
(photo: Andrew Brilliant/Brilliant Pictures)

The current production-

by New Rep-

“A Number”-

as in “a number of"...

a short 2002 work-

by Caryl Churchill-

five brief scenes-

just under an hour of...

often a subject without-

sometimes a predicate without...

cryptic-

Pinteresque...

nature vs. nurture-

a two-hander-

sort of...

but not-

and in the end-

rather than resolutions...

Welcome once again to the fragmented communication typical of the dystopian world of Caryl Churchill, a sort of theatrical haiku. It's hard to process the fact that Churchill, known for such works as Far Away, Cloud 9, Top Girls and Serious Money, was first heard of as far back as almost fifty years ago. In program notes by Eden Ohayon, this play is described (as was the case with several others by her) as questioning our identity in the sense of what makes us individuals in the face of scientific threats to make individuality meaningless. Elsewhere in the program, Director Clay Hopper notes that this play is an exploration of several themes, “the intersection of genetics, identity, masculinity, abuse, neglect, redemption, and ultimate responsibility”, and of course the relationships between fathers and sons, all in the context of biological determinism. To reveal anything more specific would be to unravel the metaphorical onion that Churchill very painstakingly reveals, slowly, tantalizingly, and frustratingly (and only partially). There are allusions to others as “things” that weaken one's identity, events that are unforeseen and unforeseeable, “always not being happy”, sparing someone vs. squashing, and where some one finds joy. Mention is made of the fact that humans share 99% of the same genes with other humans, 79% with chimpanzees, and 30% with lettuce (the last conveying to one person a sense of belonging). And that's all that will be divulged here (except perhaps for the slight spoiler in the header above).

The entire cast consists of Dale Place (as Salter) and Nael Nacer as (Bernard 1, Bernard 2, and Michael Black), with the setting succinctly given as “where Salter lives”. The two actors are positively brilliant in their portrayals of a father and his progeny. Place and Nacer have never been better, and Hopper keenly brings out of them the intensity their roles demand. Their excellence is matched by the extraordinarily apt black and white stark Scenic Design by Cristina Todesco in tandem with the monochromatic Lighting Design by Mary Ellen Stebbins, as well as the minimalist Costume Design by Penney Pinette (with elements such as the subtle appearance of a wedding ring), and suitably eerie Sound Design by Phil Schroeder.

It's a very cerebral effort, and you could easily have heard the proverbial pin drop during the course of the performance, as the audience seemed suitably rapt. Since Churchill is concerned with posing complex ethical questions rather than providing simplistic answers, the whole exercise may well leave you wanting more. And maybe that's the point. If you enjoy being challenged by witty and clever prose delivered by two actors in their prime, this is a verbal rollercoaster you just have to see. And hear...

Fathom Events' Met Opera's "Trovatore": Anvil Salesmen

Dimitri Hvorostovsky in the Metropolitan Opera's "Trovatore"
(photo: Met Opera)

The Metropolitan Opera's first live in HD broadcast of the season is “Il Trovatore” by Giuseppe Verdi, with Libretto by Salvadore Cammarano, based on the play by Antonio Gutierrez. In this production by David McVicar, the Met has prudently chosen to combine Acts I and II for a single first act, with a thirty minute intermission, followed by Acts III and IV, also combined, for a single second act. The relatively brisk result helps immeasurably in glossing over the more glaring absurdities of Cammarano's libretto. Supertitles almost did it in, giving away the ridiculousness of the plot (she threw the wrong baby into the fire?). But, first performed at the Met in1883, it remains one of the Met's most popular pieces, having been produced 636 more times since then, the eleventh most performed opera in the Met's history. Its original debut in Rome in1853 was some ten months after “Rigoletto” , and just a couple of months before “La Traviata”. So the opera, even with its laughable libretto, endures.

And quite a libretto it is. Spain is torn asunder by civil war. Count di Luna (baritone Dmitri Hvorostovsky), commander of the Prince of Aragon's troops, is in love with Leonora (soprano Anna Netrebko), a member of the queen's court. Ferrando (bass Stefán Kocan), captain of the guard, tells the story of a gypsy woman burned at the stake years ago for bewitching the count's infant brother. The gypsy's daughter sought revenge by kidnapping the (wrong) child and throwing him into the flames. The Count has looked for that daughter ever since. Meanwhile, Leonora is being serenaded by a strange troubadour, who turns out to be Manrico, (tenor Yonghoon Lee), leader of the partisan rebels. Di Luna challenges him to a duel to the death, which occurs between acts (as much of the plot does).

Manrico won the duel but spared the Count, and Manrico's mother the gypsy Azucena (mezzo Dolora Zajick) nurses Manrico back to health, even as she laments that she had meant to kill the Count's infant son years ago but mistakenly threw her own son into the fire, perhaps the opera's most preposterous plot point. News arrives that Leonora, thinking Manrico dead, plans to enter a convent, so he rushes off to find her. Both the Count and Manrico storm their castle, and the lovers escape in the confusion (of which there is much in this libretto). The Count pursues them and captures Azucena, who is recognized by Ferrando as the gypsy who is believed to have murdered the Count's son. The Count orders her burned at the stake. Inside the castle, the lovers are about to wed when they learn of Azucena's capture, so Manrico prepares to save her. Between acts (again), Manrico is defeated and both he and his mother are condemned to death. Leonora offers herself in exchange, though she has taken poison in the meantime. She dies in Manrico's arms. The Count arrives in time to witness her death, sending Manrico to his death. Azucena cries out that at last her mother is avenged, as the Count has killed his own brother. Now, what could be simpler?

As Zajick put it in an intermission interview with Met Opera hostess Susan Graham, there's a priceless bottle of rare vintage wine in a bar somewhere which awaits the first person who can relate successfully a sensible synopsis of the plot of this opera, as yet unclaimed. Fortunately, the vocal performances effortlessly manage to distract us from nagging holes in the story, notably by Zajick herself, who first sang the role of Azucena twenty-five years ago at her Met debut, and has played it numerous times since, still strong and forceful. Netrebko's Leonora is lovely to see and hear, in her tenth Live in HD broadcast. But it's Lee's Manrico that's the surprise, as he hit every high note with perfect pitch (though his grimaces made it look painful for him, a mistake that further broadcast exposure should help him correct) . And the stalwart Hvorostovsky's Count, despite his recent battle with brain cancer, truly resonated with the audience and his fellow musicians; his courageous performance was the high point of the opera. Even those in more supporting roles, such as Ines (Maria Zifchak), a Gypsy (bass Edward Albert), a Messenger (tenor David Lowe) and Ruiz (tenor Raúl Melo) all excelled. Conducted by Marco Armiliato, with Set Design by Charles Edwards, Costume Design by Brigitte Reiffenstuel and Lighting Design by Jennifer Tipton, it was memorable on many levels. The chorus (most notably heard in the famous “Anvil Chorus”), was once again under the leadership of Chorus Master Donald Palumbo. With such famous arias as “di quelle pira” and “stride la vampa” (the latter while watching an immolation), the opera is a real favorite with today's audiences, and justly so. Now if they could only tackle that libretto.....

Encore presentation of "Trovatore" on Wednesday October 7 at 6:30pm at participating theaters

BLO's "Boheme": Paying the Rent

James Maddalena in BLO's "La Boheme"
(photo: T. Charles Erickson)

“It's all about the music with this one”, as the program notes for Boston Lyric Opera's current production of Giacomo Puccini's ageless tale of star-struck lovers, “La Boheme”. As the title indicates, it was the story of a group of Bohemians in 1830's Paris. This version, updated to1968 during the Parisian student revolution, depending on one's taste, is either an enhancement or a distraction from the central love story (and more about this later). The music is intact and as sublime as ever. As Directed by Rosetta Cuchi and Conducted by BLO Music Director David Angus, this is easily one of BLO's most memorably sung offerings. It's an extraordinary cast which embodies this enduring love story.

 

It remains a simple story that has withstood the test of time. A near-starving poet, Rodolfo (tenor Jesus Garcia) and a painter, Marcello (Baritone Jonathan Beyer), along with their friends, the philosopher Colline (Bass-baritone Brandon Cedel) and the musician Schaunard (Baritone Andrew Garland), are about to leave for the Cafe Momus, to celebrate Christmas. They're delayed by the arrival of their landlord Benoit (Baritone James Maddalena) who's looking for his rent. They put him off and again start to leave. Staying behind briefly, Rodolfo meets his neighbor, the tubercular seamstress Mimi (Soprano Kelly Kaduce). They fall instantly in love (this is Paris, after all). At the Cafe they all congregate, including Marcello's old flame Musetta (Soprano Emily Birsan), who arrives with her new rich beau, Alcindoro (Maddalena again). Musetta dumps the new boyfrend for Marcello again. Weeks later, Mimi bemoans Rodolfo's jealousy. Rodolfo wants them to separate because he fears for Mimi's health in his destitute condition. They swear to remain together until spring. Later, having separated from their girlfriends, Rodolfo and Marcello express how lonely they are. Musetta arrives with Mimi, who is now mortally ill. Musetta runs off with Marcello to sell his coat to buy food and medicine, leaving Rodolfo and Mimi alone to relive their formerly happy days. Soon after the others return, Mimi dies, and Rodolfo is heartbroken.

In a small but potent ensemble, Garcia first stands out, not only for his powerful voice but also for his engaging acting. It's easy to see how he shared a Tony Award for the 2002 production on Broadway. Kaduce becomes his match when given the opportunity to sing and emote more fully in Act Two, especially in her last scene. Beyer, Cedel, and Garland all possess fine vocal chops as well, as does local favorite Maddalena. Birsan delivers in her Act I aria, this opera's most popular one (made permanently unforgettable in a pop song by Della Reese). The chorus, under Chorusmaster Michelle Alexander, doesn't disappoint. It's a joy to hear.

But not necessarily to see. While the concept of placing the story in mid-twentieth century Paris, with its atmosphere of student unrest, free thinking, free love and unencumbered creativity, is a bold one, it lends little to the central story (and pales in comparison with that other updated version, the rock musical “Rent”, which of course ditched all that glorious Puccini music). The mid-nineteenth century bohemian class was clearly in opposition to its well-to-do bourgeoisie class, but that backdrop worked well for the story of these struggling artists. The updating of the context with its revolutionary ideas of sexual liberation, experimention with drugs and burning idealism, its visual symbols of Che, Godard and such, while novel, simply doesn't work. It's rather like a schizoid dream (or nightmare) without a center. The technical contributions, while all expert, adhere to this overall concept, in the Set Design by John Conklin (including the scene of a checkpoint becoming a monochromatic barricade, as though designed by Louise Nevelson for a production of “Les Miserables”), Costume Design by Nancy Leary, Lighting Design by D.M.Wood, and Projection and Sound Design by Seaghan McKay.

As for the original story set to such wondrously moving music, one could do worse than to echo the words of the conductor: “the word that sums up Puccini's music is passion”, and this company has surely proven that in this undeniably passionate production.

SpeakEasy's "appropriate": Ev'rything Is Satisfactch'll

Tamara Hickey, Eliott Purcell, Melinda Lopez & Brian T. Donovan in "appropriate"
(photo: Nile Hawver/Nile Scott Shots)

SpeakEasy Stage's first production of the current season, “appropriate”, by playwright Branden Jacobs-Jenkins, a former anthropology major who identifies as queer (though he questions what such labels really mean) both promises and threatens to confront an audience with an abundance of questions. It's a truly oxymoronic work, a play about the South without any Southerners, written by a black playwright with an all-white ensemble and a title with two possible meanings (as well as pronunciations). For the record, those would be an adjective and/or a verb. The former would connote “suitable or fitting”; the latter, “take possession of” or “to steal”. Thus he deals with what we might deem inappropriate family dysfunctional behavior as he appropriates various elements, plot points, and character development from classic American Family Dramas (such as “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”, “Long Day's Journey Into Night” and the like). He refers to this as a “Frankenstein” play, assembled utilizing archetypes such as the responsible sibling who stays to guard the home, the sibling who's left to pursue a new life and identity, the Prodigal Son, the Bad Seed, the interfering stranger, and the (deceased) family patriarch.

That patriarch would be Ray Lafayette, whose funeral is the occasion for a family disunited reunion. The site is a former Arkansas slave plantation owned by generations of the Lafayette family that has seen better days, where three siblings and their significant others battle over the inheritance and legacy of their father, as they discover centuries of sinful history. That family consists of three disparate and dispersed family units: there's the recently-divorced Toni (Melinda Lopez) and her troubled teen son Rhys (Eliott Purcell); transplanted New Yorker Bo (Bryan T. Donovan) and his Type A wife Rachael (Tamara Hickey), his teen daughter Cassidy (Katie Elinoff) and younger son Ainsley (Brendan O'Brien); and the black sheep younger brother Franz (Alex Pollock), AWOL for a decade or so, with his hippie girlfriend River (Ashley Risteen). As they gather to remember their ancestral common ground, it's not only the almost deafening sound of cicadas that disturbs the evening. It swifly becomes a melodrama about ownership and belonging, confronting their notion of identity as well as many other questions brought about by their uncovering of a long-kept secret and what it means.

Employing basically naturalistic dialogue in some rather surreal situations, the playwright sets out these numerous questions (without answering any of them). These include, as Director M. Bevin O'Gara notes, whether the sins of our fathers are passed down to us, how one escapes one's personal and cultural history, what makes a villain, what makes a family, what you have the right to profit from, who has the right to tell a story, and even whether ghosts or spirits exist. The playwright states that it's really not about these questions as such, but how we don't answer them. That's a whole lot of expositional ground to cover in Act One (“Book of Revelation”). The play has so much to absorb that it becomes a bit of a mess, especially when in Act Two (“Book of Genesis”) the train wreck of a family goes off the rails, making “August: Osage Country” seem like a tea party (with a nod to Fight Choreography by Angie Jepson). It's fascinating, frustrating, off-putting and absorbing, often all at the same time. One thing it most definitely never becomes is boring. It's basically indescribable, and theatergoers are unlikely to be lukewarm about it. One either accepts the wacky goings-on and goes along for the rather bizarre ride, or doesn't; Jacobs-Jenkins is consistent in the dichotomy department. As for this critic, you are strongly urged to see this controversial crazy quilt of a play.

In this production, O'Gara superbly helms a terrific cast, especially Lopez, whose character is the most developed of all, Pollock's mesmerizing rant of an “eleven o'clock number”, and the crucial gothic trick-or-treating apparition of young O'Brien. The technical elements are wonderful, from the Scenic Design by Cristina Todesco (“early eclectic” and awe-inspiring, right down to the exposed and rotting lathes), to the (dare one say appropriate?) Costume Design by Tyler Kinney, to the eerily effective Lighting Design by Wen-Ling Liao, and the spookily concocted Sound Design by Arshan Gailus. One would also be remiss if not acknowledging the usually unsung hero, Props Supervisor Misaki Nishimiya (with enough props to furnish several seasons of shows) and the expert Dialect Coaching by the multi-talented Amelia Broome (also represented currently in Lyric Stage's “My Fair Lady”).

At one point near the end of the play, as the family considers its deceased patriarch's legacy, one member states that “hurt is for the living”. Another describes the family as “a handful of stories to explain how trapped you feel”, and cheated. However you react to such views, you are certain to be talking about this work long after the last verbal and/or physical blow lands. Despite his intention to write this as a family drama, Jacobs-Jenkins laments that, since he is black, he still gets asked about race in this work. So it's fittingly sardonic that this production ends with the use of the song “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah” from Disney's film “Song of the South” (long ago banished to the Disney basement due to its naïve, politically incorrect, patronizing depiction of African Americans such as Uncle Remus, who sings the song). As the lyric goes, “It's the truth, it's actual, ev'rything is satisfactch'll”. “Doo-Dah” indeed. Given the myriad of props strewn everywhere, do take care on the way out not to trip over the irony.

New Rep's "Broken Glass": Run of the Miller?

Anne Gottlieb & Jeremiah Kissel in "Broken Glass"
(photo: Andrew Brilliant/Brilliant Pictures)

As its first production of the current season, New Rep is presenting “Broken Glass” by Arthur Miller, and attention must be paid to such a man. First unveiled in New York in 1994 (over four decades after his monumental “Death of a Salesman”), this was one of the revered writer's last works, yet it lasted just a scant couple of months (though it did win Britain's Olivier Award as Best Play later that year). Directed here by the company's Artistic Director Jim Petosa (who previously helmed the piece for Maryland's Olney Center, just two years after Broadway), it's not difficult to understand its initial critical and popular reception, given its highly melodramatic nature, but it's still the work of a writer who is arguably this country's finest playwright. As such, audiences should be thankful that this company has afforded us the opportunity to see and hear the play. Originally entitled “Gellburg”, the eventual title refers to the shattered shards of the American Dream.

The setting is 1938 Brooklyn, days after the infamous “Night of Broken Glass”, or Kristallnacht

in Germany. Sylvia Gellburg (Anne Gottlieb), a Jewish American housewife, has apparently been paralyzed by the event, quite literally. Her husband Phillip Gellburg (Jeremiah Kissel) has sought help from local general practitioner Harry Hyman (Benjamin Evett), who posits that hers is a hysterical paralysis resulting from her seeing “some truth that other people are blind to” about the worsening situation of Jews in Europe. It later develops that she sees hers as a wasted life she “gave...away like a couple of pennies; I took better care of my shoes”. Phillip in turn is gradually revealed to be racked with self-loathing and disgusted with his own ethnicity. In conversations with Dr. Hyman and with his stereotypically WASP employer, Stanton Case (Michael Kaye), he grows ever more uncomfortable with his Jewishness. Commenting on his case are Dr. Hyman's wife Margaret (Eve Passeltiner) and Sylvia's sister Harriet (Christine Hamel). As it slowly (very slowly) builds to a climax, there are no real surprises, and the ending pretty much validates one's suspicions. Without revealing too much, it may be safely said that Sylvia finds herself unable to walk because her husband is an emotional cripple. Dr. Hyman states that we are all born with fear, and that it's how we deal with it that matters. He adds that in his view everyone is persecuted by someone, though he never sees anyone in the actual act of persecuting. In the end, it's the entire Jewish psyche that Miller is exposing.

The Direction by Petosa and the acting of the entire ensemble couldn't conceivably be better. Kissel is in his typically towering form even as he sinks into an abyss right before us, and Gottlieb is easily his equal, though more restrained and simmering. The rest of the cast, though not given a great deal to do, also measure up to Miller's wordy demands. As for the technical creatives, there is the terrific revolving Set Design by Jon Savage (full of glass elements), the suitably character-centric Costume Design by Molly Trainer, the strikingly stark Lighting Design by Scott Pinkney, and, above all, the evolving Sound Design by David Remedios (with ever more deafening tinkling glass).

This is a worthy start to a promising season, and, even if this play isn't top tier Miller, it gets a very respectable treatment. Any opportunity to experience anew the poetic words of such a master makes for rewarding theater. You might, after all, echo Phillip's ironic statement, at the play's end, that he “finally got the joke”.