Whether it’s Shakespeare in the Park (gargantuan lines for free tickets to Chekhov’s The Seagull featuring Meryl Streep, Kevin Spacey and Kevin Kline) or a simple stroll up the new, Disneyfied Times Square, New York has plenty to offer the wide-eyed neophyte as well as the seasoned city dweller.
My wife and I recently visited the Big Apple (something we manage to do every four years or so), and we were lucky enough to soak up the best of the Broadway season as well. We soaked up lots of other things, too – sun, perspiration, a nice foamy beer here and there – but Broadway is the place for any self-respecting tourist to flock in the summer.
So that’s where we were, checking out the hottest shows in town. There are several tricks to obtaining tickets for Broadway’s best. One is, if you know someone living near or in NYC, ask them to snag some tickets for you months in advance. (Promise to pay them back.)
The other way has become a bona fide tourist tradition: line up at either of the TKTS kiosks in town (the one in Times Square or the slightly less-crowded booth at the World Trade Center) and get tickets for most same-day Broadway shows at a 50 percent discount. TKTS stands for "tickets," of course, and, through the city’s tourism efforts, the outlet offers "seats for a song" – plus a small service charge. Wise ticket buyers go on weekdays (not Fridays) and study the bulletin board for updates on what’s sold out already. Have a backup show in mind in case your show’s not available. And always bring cash; they won’t accept credit cards.
With these tips in mind, we managed to run down tickets for The Producers (Tony for Best Musical, 2001), Proof (Best Play and Best Actress, Mary Louise-Parker), Contact (Best Musical, 2000), Cabaret (this time featuring Gina Gershon) De La Guarda (Argentinean circus musical) and Stones in His Pockets (a two-man comic tour de force set in Ireland).
Remember, also, that Broadway ticket prices have become very steep. Choose your shows carefully, since the average price is about $50-70. Some shows, like The Producers, are impossible to line up for; scalpers are reportedly getting $500 per ticket for this smash musical comedy starring Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick.
It’s a gas to say you’ve been to the hottest Broadway shows in town, but not everything is so out of reach: part of the pleasure of exploring Broadway is simply the experience of sitting in an intimate theater – whether it’s the mezzanine on a matinee or orchestra center on a Saturday night – when the lights go down and the magic begins.
The Producers. What’s all the fuss about this Mel Brooks musical? You could give most of the credit to Nathan Lane, who, as Broadway producer Max Bialystock, powers his way through half the song and dance numbers in this outrageous comedy. Perhaps "outrage" is the key to the play’s success: after all, it’s based on Mel Brooks’ 1967 movie of the same name, the centerpiece of which is a faux-Broadway number entitled Springtime for Hitler. As Bialystock and his nerdy accountant-turned-producer Leo Bloom labor to create the biggest flop in Broadway history, prepare for huge belly laughs and political correctness meters to spin out of control. Much of the humor seems dated, in a way: the play takes place in the 1950s, so sexual innuendo, gay jokes and ethnic stereotypes abound. It’s the kind of show revival-crazy Broadway loves: big and brassy, self-referential, and harking back to lighter, more innocent days. With rousers like What Did We Do Right? and Never Say Good Luck on Opening Night, the play’s 19 catchy numbers are a great showcase for seasoned shouter Nathan Lane as well as Broderick’s deft dancing, not to mention a huge coup for Brooks, who wrote all the music (it’s a far, far cry from Spaceballs).
Proof. The stage opens on a young, disheveled woman awakening on lawn furniture, surrounded by empty liquor bottles. You’d never guess she was a mathematics genius. Or is she? As Catherine, Mary Louise-Parker brings just the right combination of slacker edge and adult angst in her performance, one that bagged her a Tony. She’s whiny, slovenly, and suspicious of most people’s intentions – including her sister Claire and a math groupie named Hal. Onstage, Parker focuses her trademark white trash acting style into a convincingly human character. David Auburn’s play focuses on the daughter of a mathematics genius who becomes his caretaker after his mental breakdown. Did she inherit more than just his mental illness? The play uses math as a metaphor for trust and faith, but it’s also a sly inward look at Generation X: how much we achieve, or don’t achieve, compared to previous generations. A fascinating study driven by four strong performances and Tony’s Best Drama winner for 2001.
Cabaret. Natasha Richardson originated this revival’s Sally Bowles and since then, both Jennifer Jason-Leigh and Brooke Shields have stepped into the bowler and fishnet stockings. The version we saw featured Gina Gershon, and was a few shades darker than the much-loved Bob Fosse film from 1973. Part of it’s due to American Beauty director Sam Mendes, who brings a seedy realism to his stage version of pre-war Berlin. Another nice touch was putting on Cabaret at the old Studio 54 lounge: what’s a more perfect setting for this decadent tale of love and loss? Cafe tables and sofas replace conventional theater seating. We were actually front center stage, about a foot away from the writhing German showgirls (and boys) who warmed up the audience. You could see every scar, cigarette burn and skin rash in close-up detail. ("Close enough to catch a disease," as one patron put it.) As the Emcee, Matt McGrath (also seen in Hedwig and the Angry Inch) was a standout: perfectly sinister, oddly sympathetic in the role of the perfect chameleon. The songs still work like a charm (Money, Two Ladies, and of course, the world-weary Cabaret) and it’s only the doomed romance between Gershon and Matthew Greer that sags dramatically.
Contact. A sharp musical full of bold color and movement, Contact is about the power of dance to connect people. At least that’s how I saw this three-part musical performed at the Lincoln Center’s Vivian Beaumont Theater. Director Susan Stroman currently has two of Broadway’s hottest plays under her belt – this and The Producers – and one can see why: each vignette is a showpiece for superior decor, lighting, design and choreography that literally transforms and transcends. The music runs the gamut from classical to Van Morrison’s Moondance, with plenty of joy and movement tying it all together. Tonys went to Stroman and Karen Ziemba, a standout as the daydreaming wife of a mafioso. Most people either end up jitterbugging out the exits or signing up for dance lessons after seeing this one.
De La Guarda. You’re standing in a dark theater, staring up at the ceiling. Suddenly, figures suspended from bungee cords poke through the thin paper membrane above your head, darting and bouncing off the walls in acrobatic fury. Sound like fun? It’s actually Argentina’s biggest theater export, a piece of performance art with a bit of audience participation called De La Guarda. It’s a little bit Blue Man Group, a little Cirque Du Soleil, hell, even a little Stomp thrown in. Does the burst membrane signify birth? Are those winding and intertwining movements in mid-air sexual in nature? Decide for yourself, though expect to get a little wet, or even a little groped, by the gibberish-speaking De La Guarda troupe.
Stones in his pockets. Some 15 roles are undertaken by the remarkable Conleth Hill and Sean Campion in this two-act play about the effects of an American movie production on a small Irish town. The two actors literally switch characters in the blink of an eye, changing voices, dropping and picking up mannerisms, as though they couldn’t afford to hire a full cast. It’s really a lot of fun, though the tone of Marie Jones’ play is marred somewhat by an attempt at drama somewhere in the middle. Just go for the fun of watching two actors whipping themselves into a frenzy onstage. Then laugh as the two appropriately take bows for all 15 characters at curtain call.