Alphabetical New York II

Date: 2010.04.26 | Category: Music, Theater, Travel | Tags:

“Fela!”: As a world music fan, I’d been eager to see this Broadway show, which features the music of the legendary Nigerian performer Fela Anikulapo Kuti (if you’ve never heard of him, don’t worry — I’m sure most Americans haven’t, which makes the success of the play a pleasant surprise). Unlike any other show I’ve ever seen on Broadway, “Fela!” offers an immersive  experience that begins as soon as you enter the theater — a band (Brooklyn Afrobeat combo Antibalas) is already playing onstage, and the inside of the Eugene O’Neill Theater is covered in African flags, posters and graffiti. A bank of seats has been removed from the middle of the orchestra, allowing the performers to leap offstage and move through the audience, which they do frequently. The show is so demanding that two actors share the title role, alternating performances. We saw Sahr Ngaujah, and he was a dynamo, commanding the stage from start to finish. The conceit of the play is that Fela is performing at his beloved nightclub The Shrine in Lagos, and telling his life story to the audience. Apparently the first version of the show was much lighter in the story department, but since most audience members won’t know anything about Fela, the structure makes sense, and it works. There’s tons of great music and plenty of emotional moments (we are told that Fela’s mother recently passed away, partly as a result of her son’s frequent run-ins with the Nigerian military and government, which harassed him mercilessly, as Fela dared to speak out about the country’s corruption; at one point, the military stormed Fela’s compound and threw his 82-year-old mother out an upstairs window). It’s nice to see that something as edgy and “foreign” as “Fela!” can coexist happily with the likes of “Mamma Mia” and “The Lion King.”

“Fences”: This was my #1 pick to see during our trip, and not just because Denzel Washington is starring in it — I’m on a quest to see all the plays in August Wilson’s Century Cycle, and “Fences” was just opening in previews during the week we arrived. It was sold out, so thanks to Patrick at Shotgun Players for scoring us the tix. I understand, but am not a big fan of, the whole phenomenon of huge movie stars appearing on Broadway in order to boost sales (there’s no way “Fences” would be packing the large Cort Theater without Denzel). I’ve seen enough fabulous local talent here in S.F., from Marco Barricelli to James Carpenter, to know that it’s the talent, not the name brand, that makes for great theater. So even though Washington is an undeniably gifted movie star, I was a little dubious as to how his skills would translate to the stage. Well, I needn’t have worried. He was fabulous. Within a few minutes, I forgot that I was watching DENZEL and just focused on the story of his character, Troy Maxson, a former Negro League player turned Pittsburgh garbage man. Yes, the Hollywood heartthrob makes you believe he is a garbage man. Viola Davis, whom we had seen in “Doubt” a few years back, has perhaps the juiciest part in the play as Maxson’s put-upon wife, and a heavily emotional scene in Act 2 led to the sort of audience response which I rarely experience in a theater (apparently it happens a lot during the “Madea” plays). B’way audiences are not the most diverse around (even “Fela!” attracted a pretty old, white crowd) but “Fences” had a large percentage of African-American theatergoers. Anyone who’s ever attended a black church or movie theater (as I did back in Baltimore when I lived a few blocks away from the good ol’ Boulevard) knows that they come from a more interactive cultural experience, which led to conflicting cries of “You deserve better than him, Rose!” and “Sssssssshhhhhh!”

The Frick Collection: I am an avid museumgoer, but I hate battling crowds, so I often try to seek out smaller, quirkier institutions. A couple of friends said I had to check out the Frick, which I finally did on this trip. It’s far from a hidden gem — it’s got some of the most famous paintings in the world — and yet I never felt the least bit crowded or rushed. In fact, I’d describe it as serene, especially its gorgeous enclosed central garden courtyard; if I lived in New York, I’d spring for a membership and visit frequently. If you value quality over quantity, the Frick, located on Fifth Avenue on the Upper East Side, might just be the finest museum in the country. Housed in what was once an almost unimaginably lavish private home (belonging to strike-breaking steel magnate Henry Clay Frick, recently named one of the worst American CEOs of all time by Portfolio magazine), the Collection boasts three Vermeers, along with works by Rembrandt, Degas, El Greco, Goya, and many more. The $18 entrance fee includes a self-guided audio tour, so you can listen to a curator talk in detail about any painting you’re especially interested in, and skip those you’re not. Its manageable size means you can view pretty much everything in just a couple hours, or you could linger all afternoon.

I was lucky enough to see the famous mid-’90s Vermeer exhibit at the National Gallery of Art in D.C., but my main memory is how you practically had to queue up to get within a foot of each painting before being shoved out of the way (attendance was limited via a timed ticket, but with only 23 paintings on display, it was still super-crowded). At the Frick, you can spend five or 10 minutes in front of a masterpiece and feel like you have it all to yourself.