Theater: The Outsiders

I can’t remember if I’ve ever read or seen The Outsiders (a 1967 novel adapted into a movie in 1983), but the plot seemed vaguely familiar when I saw this mighty stage version. And WOW does it pack an emotional (and visual and visceral) punch.

Written when the concept of “teenagers” was still finding its footing as a cohesive demographic beyond an age bracket, it’s a complex, touching, violent, heartbreaking coming-of-age story told through the lens of a brutal gang rivalry between the working-class Greasers and the upper-middle-class Socs (pronounced so-shiz, short for Socialites) in 1960s Tulsa, Oklahoma.

 
Ponyboy Curtis, the 14-year-old protagonist and a fledgling Greaser, maintains the Greasers’ point of view throughout the narrative, which in this stage adaptation explodes in a mix of gutteral choreography, an indie-rock score tuned to a wide range of intensities, thoroughly inventive staging (the floor is hilly and covered in dirt and a massive car drives through it at one point), and stage combat that is both brutal and balletic.

 
The show got its early buzz from an all-out gang rumble choreographed in flashes of slow motion and real time, murky dark and blinding light, and an orchestral score that throbs ominously and occasionally explodes in shrieks of terror … all while it’s literally raining onstage. It’s both gorgeous and gripping—and though it ends badly (as violent rumbles do) it generated cheers and applause from my audience.

The story and the characters are imperfect and complex, and the world they occupy is relentlessly unfair—and every visual and musical aspect of the show supports and amplifies those baselines. It’s all truly breathtaking. But it’s also built on a foundation of violence, brutality and profound heartbreak, so it might not be for everyone.

 
If you weren’t aware, every show that includes lifts or fights has an onstage lift call and/or fight call before the audience is let into the house. In the interest of absolute safety, these focused runthroughs ensure the intricacies of lifting and carrying people and/or believably fighting with them are fresh in the actors’ and dancers’ bodies. I’ve been in shows with enough stage fighting that our fight calls were 30 minutes long. Given the frequency (and intensity) of the fights in this show, I can’t even imagine how long and focused the fight calls are. But what they allow to happen live onstage is unforgettable.

Theater: Oh, Mary!

I want to be Cole Escola’s best friend.

 
They—meaning Cole—wrote Oh, Mary! in response to the idea that maybe Lincoln’s assassination wasn’t such a bad thing for Mary Todd … and then while reportedly never looking up more history than how to spell Abraham and Mary, they took the idea and ran it into the most ridiculous places most of us only wish we could imagine.

 
Cole and I desperately need to hang out some night, do each other’s hair, call boys and giggle, and crack each other up until dawn.

Speaking of cracking up, Oh, Mary! is exponentially funnier than I even dreamed. It’s slapstick meets droll humor meets bizarre characters meets massive plot twists meets very dubious history meets ridiculous wigs and costumes … all at a pace that doesn’t give the actors time to laugh at what they’re doing.

 
I’ve never been a very demonstrative laugher—people have actually accused me of not having fun or of being judgmental and dismissive because I wasn’t busting a gut with them in an audience. (Seriously.) I smile and chuckle, but that’s pretty much all my body ever does to show glee.

 
Reader, let me assure you that I laughed so hard I almost wet myself watching this delightfully ridiculous piece of brilliance.

 
Cole Escola originated the role of Mary and has since been replaced by Titus Burgess (who will soon be replaced by Jinkx Monsoon). I’ve seen Cole Escola perform so I know their pacing and humor and aptitude for ridiculousness, but this role felt perfectly tailored for Titus Burgess’ brand of ridiculousness. And I’m sure Jinkx Monsoon will chew the scenery with it too.

 
The show is profoundly clever, gaspingly hysterical and way more than any person’s diaphragm can handle. Go see it if you’re in NYC. Or just wait a bit—I’m sure every theater in the country will be snatching it up once the licensing begins.

 
AND I CALL DIBS ON PLAYING MARY.

Theater: Call me Izzy

A one-woman play about a battered wife in rural Louisiana who escapes her trauma by writing poetry, Call Me Izzy doesn’t give itself much room to explore plot points and character development outside of exactly what you’d expect.

 
And that’s pretty much all it does. No unexpected side narratives, no quirky character details, no monsoons or mortgage foreclosures or school shootings or other outside forces that could reframe the story in a fresher context … and no overlooked elements that the audience would tacitly expect after reading my 18-word summary above.

 
Don’t get me wrong; I very much liked it. It didn’t set me on fire, but I was never bored or upset that I didn’t feel whisked away to someplace I haven’t seen outside of a TV movie of the week.

 
The script is charming when it needs to be and traumatic when it needs to be. But you kinda know where it’s probably going to end before it even starts. (I’m not going to tell you if you’re right or wrong in the interest of avoiding spoilers, but I saw it ending one of three ways and I was only a little bit off.)

I think the show wouldn’t have much emotional traction without a familiar (and beloved) name on the marquee. Because OF COURSE we all root for Izzy, but we wouldn’t really care if we couldn’t also root for Jean Smart.

 
She’s everything you want to see and more, by the way. She brings Izzy a mix of humor, humanity, heartbreak and hopelessness (I swear I didn’t plan all that alliteration when I started this sentence) in a nuanced, emotionally controlled (and sometimes not controlled) performance that makes you want to hug her protectively and also shake some damn sense into her.

 
On a side note: She spent almost the entire show sitting down with her leg up and being helped to move between scenes by tech crew. I assumed it was because of an injury Izzy’s violent husband inflicted on her and it would eventually be addressed. But it never was. And when I got home and googled the show I learned that Jean herself was injured and forging ahead with the show nonetheless. Which is both impressive and profoundly kind to her many fans.

 
Another side note: Patrick Paige and Paige Davis sat right in front of me. So I got to see some Broadway royalty to kick off my Belated Birthday Broadway Binge!