Category Archives: Theater

Given that at this moment I’m watching a total of two TV shows (two more than usual, and they are, quite psychotically, Mad Men and the Real Housewives of New Jersey), a play about the invention of television would seem to be the last thing to captivate me. Yet that is exactly what the current production of ‘The Farnsworth Invention’ manages to do at the Albany Civic Theater.

Masterfully directed by Aaron Holbritter and written with the deft, quick-worded brilliance of The Social Network’s Aaron Sorkin, it ostensibly sets out to document the creation of television, but manages to display layers of human drive, greed, hope, and innocence along the way. This is a mannered, thoughtfully-paced, and intricately-nuanced production, but its complexities play out in charmingly entertaining fashion, as much a testament to the talents of the director as to the strength of the cast.

At its center is the fictional interaction between media mogul David Sarnoff (Isaac Newberry) and Philo Farnsworth (Tom Templeton) as they compete to be the first to bring television to the world. Their relationship propels the show forward, and Newberry and Templeton ground the evening with an ever-evolving emotional arc between two very different men who came from similarly-barren pasts. As moving as they are, it is the ensemble as a whole that works together to flesh out the unexpectedly gripping drama as it unfolds. The supporting cast works wonders, creating around 60 characters between them, and somehow making every one distinct. Stand-outs include Ken Goldfarb and Joey Hunziker, who each get a few luminescent moments to shine.

There are a number of passages that soar, such as the exuberant explosion of the cast’s joy upon seeing the first glimpse of a moving picture on the small screen, or the comical juxtaposition of both witness teams in the lawsuit, and all of it serves to underscore the riveting dynamics between Newberry and Templeton.

In the hands of a less-skilled director or a less-restrained cast, the Farnsworth familial portion of the play might have verged on cloying – here, under the guidance of Holbritter, and the desperate yet contained grief conveyed by Templeton and Kyrie Ellison, it is an effective moment that sets up the final act. (One of the only minor complaints that can be made is the fault of Sorkin, who has yet to prove he can write a compelling, three-dimensional woman – whether that’s really his own flaw, or a product of the time period in which this subject took place is a debate that can rage elsewhere). That said, this production is one of the most subtle yet powerful stagings I’ve had the privilege of seeing in quite some time, and credit goes mainly to the cast and the director.

Ironically, or intentionally tellingly, what they manage to do – and what can only be done in live theater – is something that you can’t capture on television – that moment between actor and audience, when you inhabit the exact same time and space, breathe the same air, live in the same world – and feel as if you are actually there, sharing their heartbreak and happiness, striving and yearning along with them, aching in their grief.

It’s easy to root for the good guys, to be given a clear sense of who’s right and wrong and follow that simple path – but so much more rewarding and challenging, so deliciously tense, to be presented with complicated, fully-human characters complete with flaws, ambitions, hopes, and failings. We are given such a glorious dilemma here, and Newberry, as the first and final narrator, exemplifies this gorgeous ambivalence, shining light upon this human connection that brings us all together – not unlike television once did.

There’s something thrilling about seeing a show you’ve never seen before. Yet even if you have the faintest familiarity with a production, when that red curtain rises it erases everything that came before – including 100 plus years of history and acclaim – and it’s as if it’s happening for the very first time. You can never recapture that moment, not with the grandest revision or the wildest reimagining, so I’m thankful that my first brush withThe Pirates of Penzance came at the hands of the Cohoes Music Hall.

I knew nothing of the show, other than the fact that it was created by the legendary team of Arthur Sullivan and W. S. Gilbert, and I’d had no more than a fleeting bit of pop culture exposure courtesy of the ‘Major General’s Song’. Beyond that I was pirate virgin, waiting for my pirate booty to be plucked and plundered with a snappy bit of song and dance. I’m happy to report that my Pirates of Penzance cherry was perfectly popped in the current production running in Cohoes until February 19.

A light-hearted frolic, wispy as the clouds of the opening set, Pirates is directed with a deftly-nuanced touch byC-R Productions own Jim Charles. Far from the darker fare peddled by modern day movies or real-life news, the pirates here wink and cajole, winning over the audience before the rest of the participants, a tribute as much to the stellar ensemble as to the original brilliant score, which soars and floats gloriously amid the February doldrums.

An operetta demands a blithe hand, and this romp is a broad, and at times earnestly moving, bit of escapism. Completely engaging as an effortlessly-amusing good time, it finds the pirates on the comical rather than fearsome side of things. The Pirate King is more Johnny Depp than Captain Hook, played with charismatic scene-stealing debauchery by Jesse Coleman. Mr. Coleman commands and pilots the proceedings with swashbuckling fierceness, moving convincingly between compassion, empathy, anger, and haplessness with delicious abandon. Anchored by the dulcet tones of John Farchione as Frederic and the glittering coloratura of Kellie Cundiff as Mabel, the production sails grandly towards its happy ending, pausing only at the show-stopping rendition of the Major General’s Song, sung flawlessly by Jerry Christakos, who brings the added depth of heart necessary to set the second act on fire.

Whenever ‘Pirates’ broad humor threatens to be too much, it suddenly offers forth a bit of wit and cleverness to keep it in check, standing up to the test of time, if not improving upon the original material. While the first act builds and builds, the second lands running, with an enchanting other-worldly set, and the non-stop entertainment that doesn’t give out until it’s over.

If it’s a witty frolic and some good old-fashioned entertainment you’re on the hunt for this winter, I highly recommend this pirate’s life for you.

Have we been wrong about Cats all this time? That’s the question and challenge posed by the brilliant production currently prowling the Cohoes Music Hall. The reviews are glowing, the cast is perfection, and this incarnation defies all the jokes that have ever been made about the show. This is the Cats of the original hype, but without the inflated disappointment. It has caused more than a few of the jaded to rethink their thoughts on the material, and it stands up remarkably well 30 years after its premiere.

The first time I actually saw the show was when it was touring in the mid 80’s – we caught a performance in Toronto I believe – the most memorable part of the whole thing being the set, and my Dad’s uproarious imitation of the cats after it was all over, raising his hand like a paw and cracking me and my brother up. He was, to say the least, not impressed, but I didn’t hate it with the gleeful animosity that most people did. In fact, I felt none of the disdain that so many theater snobs seemed to take such joy in expelling. It wasn’t the second-longest running show on Broadway for no reason – there are some decent songs (courtesy of Andrew Lloyd Webber) and some incredible choreography. However, with all the hype of its premiere I think most people went into it expecting some sort of miracle transcendental moment – and this isn’t that kind of show. The power of Cats lies in its performance – in the energetic trooping of its hoofers and a power ballad or two. There is a weak storyline of journeying to the Heaviside Layer, and as much anthropomorphic meaning as you wish can be read into the evening’s festivities, but above all this is about song and dance.

Under the expert direction and choreography of Jacob Brent (who performed in both the Broadway and London productions of the original show), that song and dance is given a gorgeous whirl that majestically captures the graceful movements of the dancers while perfectly melding them into feline form. Along with the always-excellent musical direction of Joshua Zecher-Ross, whose musicians, though few in number, completely fill the space with the necessary bombast for the rigorous dance routines, while subtly pulling out the most delicate harmonies in the quieter moments, the structure and bones of this animal are stalwartly intact. From there it growls, prances, and claws its way into the pantheon of fine performances that the Cohoes Music Hall has seen over as many years as a cat has lives. (This is the start of their ninth season.)

There are several stand-outs in a show rich with remarkable performers, most notably Tony Rivera strutting his stuff and chewing the home-turf scenery as Rum Tum Tugger (he is the very definition of charisma), Chaz Wolcott as the magical Mr. Mistoffeles (he is the embodiment of elegant electricity), John Farchione as Gus/Growltiger and Lucy Horton as Jellylorum/Griddlebone (together the essence of comedic genius). Ruthie Stephens gets the big number, ‘Memory’, and acquits herself admirably as Grizabella.

The rest of the cast is across-the-board superb, with nary a weak paw in the place. Sean Hingel as Munkustrap anchors the show with a convincingly-cat-like regal bearing, while Kelly Briggs as Old Deuteronomy adds the proper imperial note (even holding the stage focus for a cat-nap during intermission). In the end, though, it’s the company as a whole that makes the magic that carries the night – the thrilling Jellicle Ball episode unfolds with one amazing dance sequence after another, unfurling like some indefatigable wind-up toy brought to thrilling human form.

The folks at Cohoes Music Hall have a way of revitalizing new and old shows with integrity and exuberance, both of which elevate this production of Cats into a theatrical experience rich and worthy of exaltation. Go see it now, because this one won’t be around forever.