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Curtain Call
Queer stage report from London and New York City
by Jon Kretzu
uring the past six months I have made two
trips each to London and New York City
to catch up on the 2007 theater/music
seasons, and the results were a hit dispirit
ing. True, there were some remarkable
moments and some brilliant performances, but in
general the work this season has been marked by
complacency, giving old formulas glittering facelifts
and overinflated praise by the press and public alike.
And all of it at ever-increasing, fundamentally
ridiculous prices.
Most of the work 1 saw in London this season
was almost worth rhe inflated price. Actress Fiona
Shaw and director Deborah Warner, one of the
theater world’s most respected collaborative teams,
created a production for the Royal National
Theatre of Samuel Beckett’s Happy Days that had
the lacerating intensity of a comic nightmare. It
will be hard to shake off the memory of Shaw’s
face—one moment shining with joyous affirma
lan McKellan starred in an overblown,
tion, the next a grimacing, howling death’s head—
shamelessly theatrical version of King Lear.
set against a vast expanse of collapsed rubble.
Together, Shaw and Warner made Beckett’s
total odds with the arid, passionless, internally des- -
despairing aria of hope into unforgettable music.
iccated analyst); and John Napier has distorted his
Nearby at the poshly renovated English National
original rough magic design into something resem
Opera, Warner was also responsible for a visionary
bling a cross between a W Hotel lobby and a Greek
new production of Benjamin Britten’s finaLmaster-
bathhouse. Of course, commercially none of this
piece, Death in Venice. This operatic adaptation of matters, as the show completely sold out its London
Thomas Mann’s classic novella became a shimmer-
run and no doubt will easily sell out its upcoming
ing dreamscape in Warner’s hands, and abetted by
transfer to Broadway next spring.
Tom Pye’s shifting designs of light and shadow and
By far the most shining light on the West
the incredible lan Bostridge’s quietly devastating
remains Stephen Daldry’s production of the new
account of the beauty-obsessed protagonist, it was
musical Billy Elliot. The show had its premiere two
a most memorable evening.
years ago (and finally reaches Broadway next sea
Less memorable was the inexplicably successful
son) and is hands down the most exhilarating new
West End revival of Cabaret. Director Rufus Norris
British musical I’ve seen since Les Miserables.
loaded his Weimar-chic production with loads of
Based on Daldry’s heartwarming 2000 film, Billy
full-frontal male and female nudity, bisexuality,
Elliot tells the sweet tale of a young boy growing up
porn-shop gymnastics and S/M costuming—and
in the harsh world of a Northeast England mining
yet it all added up to a dull, inert evening that
town who dreams of escaping the stifling surround
could not hope to erase the memory of Sam
ings and becoming a ballet dancer. Set against the
Mendes’ haunting revival of a few seasons ago.
The biggest news on the West End front was, of
course, the appearance of little Harry Potter,
1 mean Daniel Radcliffe, in a much-heralded
revival of Peter Shaffer’s Equus. The good news was
that Master Radcliffe gave an accomplished, hon
est performance in what was a courageous choice
for his onstage debut. After all the media furor
surrounding his appearance in a series of explicit
press photos for the show (which resembled gay
porn as shot by Walt Disney) and prurient jokes
about his extended nude scene (yes, Harry Porter
was nude, and yes, he has all the proper accouter
ments), what was most effective about Radcliffe’s
work was his focus, intensity and vulnerability. The
image I will take away from the show is his wide-
eyed, somewhat shocked expression at the uproar
greeting his curtain call—the look of a 17-year-old
boy thrust before a clamoring mob.
Unfortunately, the production surrounding
Radcliffe is anything but definitive. Hot director of
the moment Thea Sharrock has found nothing new
to say about Shaffer’s somewhat dated script outside
of adding a lot of dry ice; the marvelous Richard
Griffiths is totally miscast as the tormented David Hyde Pierce earned a Tony Award for
Dr. Dysart (his life force passion and bonhomie at Kander and Ebb's swan song. Curtains.
D