➤ THE AGGIES FOR 2019, from p.30
Love’s desperately important theme, but also
about genius stagecraft. His script’s dauntingly
audacious structure pays off magnifi cently in
climactic, honestly earned, and electrifyingly
eloquent moral excoriation. True collaborators
here are his fearless director, Stevie Walker
Webb, as well as his phenomenal cast (Jamyl
Dobson, Leland Fowler, Edward Mawere), who
are not only utterly fearless and bewilderingly
versatile, playing every kind of urban archetype,
including you, but utterly naked — in the
very best sense —as well. ( thenewgroup.org/
production/one-in-two/ )
3. A tie: The spirited revivals of “Kiss Me
Kate” and “Oklahoma” proved that you can do
the classics in two ways. One option is to scrupulously
honor their grand showmanship tradition,
as “Kiss Me Kate” did, with sterling lead
performances by the perfectly cast Kelli O’Hara
as Kate/ Lilli Vanessi, both silvery (her soprano
and glam look) and savage (as in savagely
funny), especially in the verite, probably painful
nightly battles she engaged in with an absolutely
sizzling Will Chase (ridiculously neglected
for a Tony nomination). I never thought the sublime
Brian Stokes Mitchell-Marin Mazzie 1999
revival could be matched, let alone topped, but
boy, did this “Kate” give that one a run for its
moola, with its “Too Darn Hot” number defi -
nitely superior, as ecstatically choreographed
by Warren Carlyle.
Daniel Fish, the director of “Oklahoma,” chose
a different approach — not only reinterpreting
but seriously subverting Rodgers & Hammerstein’s
seminal musical pioneer. There were
missteps, to be sure, such as Jud Fry’s scenes
all performed in total darkness and an extraneous
modern dance substitution for Agnes de
Mille’s dream sequence: Wha?! Still, its bracing
energy and in-your-face freshness forced my attention.
Key to its success was the sexy, brash,
horn dog charisma of Damon Daunno and,
especially, James Davis, as Curly and Will, respectively.
And then there was Ali Stroker, who
made theater history by appearing as a Broadway
lead in a wheelchair, proving that, physical
challenge aside, it was her radiantly enormous
talent and humanity that made her the defi nitive
Ado Annie for all time. Unlike Celeste Holm
and Gloria Grahame who acted the role before
her, Stroker truly was that character.
5. I frankly had no idea what to expect seeing
Wynonna Judd doing the loosey-goosiest, most
disarmingly informal cabaret set ever, which
welcomed obstreperous audience participation
at the Café Carlyle. But I totally fell in love with
her hard-core realness, Sahara-dry wit, phenomenal
pipes, and singularly regal, intriguingly
Mae West-like bearing — for all her selfprofessed
down-hominess. She remains a living
embodiment of Sondheim’s great female survivalist
showbiz anthem, “I’m Still Here,” but country
AARON R. FOSTER
Elizabeth Teeter and Brett Gray in Duncan Sheik, Susan Birkenhead,
and Lynn Nottage’s “The Secret Life of Bees,” which is headed to
Broadway after a run at the Atlantic Theater Company.
— she’d say “hillbilly” —all the way.
6. Melissa Errico also up-ended cabaret tradition
with her enduring affection for composer
Michel Legrand at Feinstein’s/ 54 Below, by
talking about him as much as she sang. Which
is no problem when you honor a genius so fascinating,
whose work has informed the romantic
lives of so many of us. Seeing and hearing
her literally throwing every fi ber of her clarionvoiced,
lovely being into “The Summer Knows,”
“His Eyes, Her Eyes,” “Watch What Happens”
and, of course, “What Are You Doing the Rest
of Your Life,” made me fall in love with the guy I
was sitting with, all over again, after 27 freakin’
years. What more can I say?
7. Representing the newbies on the scene was
the utterly gorgeous — in every way — Nicole
Vanessa Ortiz in her 54 Below appearance,
where she played homage to her myriad inspirations,
like Tina Turner, Cher, Whitney Houston,
and Pat Benatar. Ortiz is such a ferociously
gifted, uncannily natural stage animal that I’d
wager that if any of those divas were ever to witness
her Hedy Lamarr-level beauty, gauge her
masterful aplomb before an enthralled audience,
and hear a voice that is actually superior
to their own (except maybe Whitney’s) they’d be
paying homage to her.
8. The fabulous variety that informs cabaret
was further illustrated by “Twohander, ” another
54 Below show, in which Sherie Rene Scott
and Norbert Leo Butz possibly created an entirely
new genre within this genre: the Confessional.
Of course, Scott, has always been both
talented and way, way out there, possessing a
rare, ruling quality old queens used to bestow
on their most extreme favored divas — Judy,
Bette, Callas, LuPone — “demented.” Larger
than life, Scott also loves revealing her life, as
she did in her celebrated stage memoir “Everyday
Rapture,” while the also divinely demented
Butz can get pretty up close and personal himself,
when cabareting as himself. “Twohander”
was all about their lifelong almost-love affair,
the reasons for their being drawn to each other,
and why it never went as far as it might have.
It was a complex, extended, and very delicate
dance, there was some serious estrangement,
but the two are obviously best buds again. They
served up a uniquely mesmerizing program of
high hilarity, surprising poignancy, unsurprisingly
spectacular vocalizing, and juicy, juicy
gossip (especially about the breakup of Scott’s
marriage).
9. I’m ecstatic that the Atlantic Theater Company’s
“The Secret Life of Bees” is transferring
to Broadway so everyone will have a chance to
be deeply stirred by this luminous ode to the
power and beauty of Black women, not of today
— like Shange’s imperishable work, which
is somehow always set in the right now, whether
1975 or 2019 — but of the Jim Crow South.
These women employ phenomenal, inspiriting
wile and guile to deal with the hatred and ignorance
forever facing them. It had, quite possibly,
the strongest singing cast to appear together
in any show, ever, with each estimable
cast member repeatedly outdoing the others in
momentous song, written by the on-target team
of Duncan Sheik and Susan Birkenhead.
10. If “Bees” was the best sung show of the
year, running a super-tight second was a concert
I caught just this week, on December 12,
so good that it knocked one of my original 10
choices out of the running. Any program celebrating
Gay Harlem and the extraordinary
music icons of its heyday is a rare and beautiful
thing, and so was the New York Festival of
Song’s “T’aint Nobody’s Business If I Do,” lovingly
curated by artistic director Steven Blier
and historian Elliott Hurwitt, at Lincoln Center.
Among those honored were Ethel Waters,
genius Billy Strayhorn, Bessie Smith, tough as
nails Ma Rainey, Hall Johnson, Porter Grainger,
the great Alberta Hunter whose engagement at
the old Cookery in the Village was one my life’s
great music experiences, Gladys Bentley, who
performed in male attire and is currently enjoying
a major rediscovery, and Tony Jackson who
wrote the standard “Pretty Baby” — it turns out
— for his male lover. These artists were hailed
not just for their great talent, but also for being
boldly queer in a very unwelcoming time.
Doing them complete justice was the most
charmingly lovable quartet of absolutely magnifi
cent, classically trained young singers: Bryonha
Marie, Lucia Bradford, Joshua Blue, and
Justin Austin. All of them possessed impressive
operatic range, serious jazz/ blues/ funky
chops, and instinctively fl uent song-selling
know-how. The audience was absolutely transported
— though it’s a shame only a disconcerting
handful of non-white people were in the
house. I suggest an appropriate and necessary
transfer of this show — a defi antly gay “Ain’t
Misbehavin’” — to the Apollo, even if Harlem
has become mighty white these days, as well.
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