Joan of Arc at the Stake

Marion Cotillard and Eric Génovèse in Joan of Arc at the Stake. Photo: Patrick Berger

Marion Cotillard often portrays characters who are a mix of fragility and strength. Last month, I was fortunate to see her play one of these roles when she appeared with the New York Philharmonic in Arthur Honegger’s oratorio Joan of Arc at the Stake. Composed in 1935 with a libretto by Paul Claudel, the piece was performed in French by Cotillard (in one of the few speaking parts) along with the New York Choral Artists and the Brooklyn Youth Chorus.

Joan of Arc at the Stake opens with a dramatic prologue sung by the chorus about darkness having fallen on France. Added in 1943, it served to establish the situation of the country during Joan of Arc's life while simultaneously condemning the Nazi-occupation of France.

A seemingly dazed Joan appears. Having been found guilty of heresy, she is about to be burned at the stake. She conjures up an imaginary sympathetic friar, Brother Dominic, who has with him a book that tells the story of Joan's life. He reads to her, and we see flashbacks of Joan’s life, starting with her trial, which is represented as some sort of surreal circus with a jury comprised of sheep and a pig for a judge. When Joan asks Brother Dominic why she’s been condemned, he explains that she was a pawn in a card game, which is then shown being played by foolish royals. Joan recalls hearing the voices of her beloved St. Catherine and St. Marguerite, how she helped the King to claim his throne, and of happy moments during her childhood in Lorraine. Brother Dominic leaves, and Joan goes to her death with the Virgin Mary and a choir of angels watching over her.

While some of the farcical scenes like the animal trial were entertaining (if not a bit jarring), the piece was at its strongest when focused on Joan, who was portrayed perfectly by Cotillard. In one memorable scene, Joan shouts out the words that were thrown at her by her accusers—heretic, sorceress, apostate—as they are repeated back to her by the chorus. And the scenes between her and Brother Dominic, played by the excellent Eric Génovèse, were poignant and deeply moving. 

At times defiant, at other times scared, Cotillard's Joan was mesmerizing to watch. Often offering up childlike responses, she reminded the audience that while she may have led troops into battle, Joan of Arc was, after all, a young girl.

If you missed the New York performances, there's a DVD of an earlier production with Cotillard that can be purchased here.

Wolf Hall

Thomas Cromwell (Ben Miles) and Anne Boleyn (Lydia Leonard) in Wolf Hall. Photo: Photo: Johan Persson

“Divorced, beheaded, died. Divorced, beheaded, survived.” So goes the rhyme that lists the fate (in order) of the six wives of Henry VIII. Based on the number of books and films that have been made about them and the rest of the family, it appears that we (including myself) just can’t get enough of those crazy Tudors. And so this history nerd found herself last month at the opening night of a Broadway play that once again tells the story of King Henry and the tragic story of his first two wives.

Wolf Hall: Parts I and II (it’s so long the play is broken into two parts) is based on Hilary Mantel’s books Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies (as is the recent PBS series). It differs from other accounts of this oft-told tale by making the focus of the play neither king nor queen but a bureaucrat—Thomas Cromwell, the King’s chief adviser. This commoner, a “butcher boy from Putney,” rose to power in Henry’s court by orchestrating two of the most important events in his King’s life—the divorce from his first wife and the beheading of his second.

The action takes place on a bare, darkened stage with a concrete back wall embedded with a large cross. Fire sometimes rises from the floor. Occasionally a piece of furniture will appear. Part I opens with the Royal Shakespeare Company cast on stage performing a dance. Among them are Henry VIII (Nathaniel Parker) and Thomas Cromwell (Ben Miles) along with their friends and enemies.

Henry VIII (Nathaniel Parker) with members of his court in Wolf Hall. Photo: Johan Persson

We soon meet Cromwell and Cardinal Woolsey (Paul Jesson), and learn of Cromwell’s high regard for the older man who is not only a mentor but also a father figure to him. We watch as Cromwell’s position and power at court rises until he’s the only man that the king can trust. Unhappy with Catherine of Aragon (Lucy Briers), a wife who cannot bear him a son, Henry wants to get rid of her so he can marry a younger woman, Anne Boleyn (Lydia Leonard). Can’t Cromwell help his King?

Cromwell sets out to accommodate his ruler’s wishes. Soon Henry is breaking from the church and getting a divorce. Catherine is banished to the countryside and replaced by the dark haired Anne. All too soon Anne, who has a sharp tongue and opinions about everything, turns out to be a disappointment when she gives birth to a girl (the future Elizabeth I). Part I ends with a young blonde woman (Leah Brotherhead) on stage stating, “Oh, I’m nobody. I’m only Jane Seymour.” A portent of things to come in Part II.

Death is all around Cromwell in Wolf Hall starting with the sudden loss of his wife and daughters from the sweating sickness and the death of Woolsey, hastened by his fall from grace with the King. And then there is the execution of Cromwell’s frenemy, Thomas More, the man who in real life achieved sainthood by refusing to denounce the church, is depicted here in a very unsaintlike manner and Cromwell, in a reversal of the normal, is the hero.

In Part II, the death toll increases and so do the ghosts who come and go throughout the play. Cromwell’s beloved wife drifts by a few times but Woolsey’s ghost sticks around and has conversations with Cromwell. Even the King gets a visit from the ghost of his dead brother. Death, it would seem, does not mean seeing the last of some people.

Thomas Cromwell (Ben Miles) in Wolf Hall. Photo: Johan Persson

If Part I is a bit crowded with information and setting the stage for what’s to come, Part II runs at a rapid pace, with Cromwell finally getting his revenge. The man who has mastered the art of fading into the shadows, who has stood quietly by, watching and listening, puts his plans into action when the King, grown weary of Anne, claims that she bewitched him and that she must go. Cromwell is only too happy to oblige. In the process of getting rid of Anne, Cromwell eliminates his enemies as well, setting up the men who lampooned Woolsey after his death with charges of treason. Cromwell, it seems, never forgets. Anne and the men are beheaded, leading the way for the King to wed the mousy Jane Seymour. Cromwell has succeeded but at what cost?

Ben Miles does a fine job as Cromwell, winning the audience's sympathy and getting some laughs (there’s actually a surprising amount of humour in the play) before he turns menacing and starts settling scores. Nathaniel Parker, who I’ve always been fond of, is an excellent Henry, with the presence and stature of a king while also showing Henry at times to be nothing more than a spoiled child. Paul Jesson as Woolsey is a standout, often stealing scenes from his fellow actors. If there is a disappointment it's that I found Lydia Leonard as Anne to be a bit too shrill, often shrieking her lines although she redeems herself at the end.

Wolf Hall is long, almost six hours if you see both parts on the same day (as I did), but it’s well worth it. These are some familiar characters that you won't mind spending time with.

Wolf Hall is at the Winter Garden Theatre. For more information, visit here.

Contemplation

Almost a month has gone by since I've posted anything here. Without going into details, the past few weeks have been both busy and stressful with a lot of uncertainty thrown into the mix. I’ve been spending a good portion of my time contemplating my next move (running away to Paris to live in a garret and write is at the top of the list). As a result plans for posts that I wanted to write went out the proverbial window. There were the exhibits and gallery shows: Cubism and Madame Cezanne at the Met; Lincoln at the Morgan Library; Don Quixote tapestries at the Frick;  Marc Riboud’s photos of Asia at the Rubin Museum; and the gigantic Armory Show where I saw a lovely portrait by Moïse Kisling and a Robert Capa image from the Spanish Civil War. There was also a big Broadway show, On the Town, and Parallel Exit's delightful performance of Everyone Gets Cake. And, of course, movies.

Writing long posts take time so moving forward there may be fewer posts and sometimes shorter ones (a quick snippet and a photo or two) but there will be posts. I love sharing my thoughts about history and the arts with you and hope you enjoy reading them. In the meantime, be sure to follow me on instagram and twitter, and pinterest too (where I pin way too many photos of Frenchies and striped shirts). And if I wind up in that garret, I'll be sure to let you know.

PS: If anyone has any information about the photo above, please share. All I know is sitting around in ones lingerie, reading a book with a dog (even a stuffed one) seems ideal.

Art Roundup

"Woman Viewed from Behind" Edgar Degas (ca. 1879-1885)

This fall has been filled with loads of art from exhibits to performances to screenings. As much as I tried, I fell behind in trying to write reviews of everything so before the season is officially over, here’s a short wrap-up of some of the things I saw.

In the summer of 1937, an art exhibit was held in Munich comprised of 650 pieces of art deemed degenerate by the Nazi Party because it “insulted German feeling” among other things. At the same time another show, “The Great German Art Exhibition,” showcased Nazi-approved art. You can guess which one had the highest attendance: more than 1 million people saw the degenerate show in its first six weeks. In September, I caught the last day of a fascinating exhibit at the Neue Galerie, “Degenerate Art: The Attack on Modern Art in Nazi Germany, 1937,” which compared 80 works from both exhibits. Seen side by side, there’s no argument that the “degenerate” art was far superior; including works by Paul Klee, Wassily Kandinsky, and Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, it was a collection of some of the masters of modern art. Perhaps most striking of all in the exhibit was a room with empty frames symbolizing the art that was lost, most likely destroyed by the Nazis. The exhibition catalogue can be found here.

The Conformist (1970)

Film Forum showed a restored, director-approved version of Bernardo Bertolucci’s masterpiece The Conformist (1970). Based on Alberto Moravia’s novel, the story takes place in 1930s France and Italy where Marcello Clerici (Jean-Louis Trintignant) joins the Italian Fascist party and finds himself tasked with the assassination of one of his old college professors. The film cuts between the present and the past, showing how an attempted sexual assault and presumed murder during Marcello's isolated childhood caused him to grow up craving a normal life. There are numerous great scenes including the climatic encounter in the woods, which would later influence The Godfather, beautifully shot by Vittorio Storaro who incorporated Art Deco design and Fascist-era architecture with stunning effect. Available here.

For the 75th anniversary of the book about the little girl who lived in "an old house in Paris that was covered with vines,” the New York Historical Society celebrated with “Madeline in New York: The Art of Ludwig Bemelmans,” which showcased the Madeline books and their creator, Ludwig Bemelmans, whose own story seems invented. Abandoned by his father as a child, Bemelmans grew up in Germany and Austria, and worked at his uncle’s hotel before an incident involving a shooting led to his being sent to America. It was here in New York that he began to write the tale of Madeline. The exhibit was wonderful, filled with drawings from the Madeline books as well as ones from the Ritz Hotel (where he once worked) and panels from the Paris restaurant he owned. A selection of books and nearby sofa where one was encouraged to sit and read was an added bonus. The exhibit can currently be seen at the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art in Amherst, Massachusetts through February 22, 2015. For more info, visit here.

Anna May Wong's Certificate of Identity, August 18, 1924, National Archives at San Francisco.

Another, more serious exhibit I saw at the Historical Society was “Chinese American: Exclusion/Inclusion,” which looks at the history of trade between the US and China, and the plight of Chinese immigrants who, thanks to the Chinese Exclusion Act, were not legally allowed to immigrate to the US until 1943. From the beginning of the tea trade in the 18th century to the building of the railroads in the 19th to their successful fight to become citizens in the 20th, Chinese Americans have had an impact on this country. The exhibit includes items from the gold rush (a large reason for Chinese immigration in the 19th century), multiple oral histories, and a recreation of barracks at Angel Island near San Francisco where Chinese immigrants were held while their immigration status was confirmed or denied. Also included is screen star Anna May Wong’s Certificate of Identity, a card that all Chinese, no matter how famous, were required to carry at all times. The exhibit runs through April 19, 2015. For more info, visit here.

I will do almost anything to see a performance by the Mark Morris Dance Group (MMDG) and so I made sure to attend the opening night of the Fall for Dance Festival at New York City Center where Morris debuted a new work, Words, set to the music of Mendelssohn and specially commissioned for the event. One of four groups performing that evening, the MMDG was the last and best. With all 16 dancers dressed in simple outfits by Maile Okamura, their movements, as with so many of Morris’ work, led you down one path only to surprise you with a sudden twist or turn. A plain cloth carried by two dancers acted as a screen behind which dancers could enter and exit. It was in short, a complete joy to watch. For more about the MMDG, visit their site here.

Rossy de la Palma and Rossy de la Palma in Traveling Lady

Journalist Nellie Bly set out in 1889 to beat the around the world in 80 days record of Jules Verne’s novel; she came in at 72 and was a worldwide news sensation. Jessica Mitrani’s new multimedia piece, Traveling Lady, which premiered at the FIAF Fall Festival, is inspired by Bly and looks at feminine stereotypes via music, film, and well, dancing dresses. At the center of the piece is Pedro Almodovar muse Rossy de la Palma whose larger-than-life presence on stage and in some of the film clips made the show worth seeing.

Powerhouse, a play by Josh Luxenberg and the Sinking Ship Ensemble, tells the story of the eccentric composer Raymond Scott who in the 1930s attempted to reinvent Swing music with his band the Raymond Scott Quintette and who spent his life inventing countless electronic musical gadgets. Scott would likely be forgotten today if it were not for his music catalogue that he sold to Warner Brothers who in turn used many of the pieces for their Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies cartoons including the highly recognized “Powerhouse,” which is often used for assembly line scenes. The play, which includes musical performances, dance, and puppetry (some of the funniest scenes in the show), is more than just your run-of-the-mill story of a famous person's life—it shows the madness that is at the heart of creativity. 

Cabaret

Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome,

Im Cabaret, au Cabaret, to Cabaret

A revival of one of my favourite musicals, Cabaret, returned to Broadway this year with the Kit Kat Klub once again taking over the legendary Studio 54. The production is guided by the team of Rob Marshall and Sam Mendes who co-directed the 1998 production, and Alan Cumming reprises his Tony-winning role as the Emcee who instructs the audience to "leave your troubles outside."

Cabaret, with music by John Kander and lyrics by Fred Ebb, is based on the play I Am a Camera by John Van Druten, which itself was an adaptation of the novel Goodbye to Berlin by Christopher Isherwood. The musical first debuted on Broadway in 1966 with Joel Grey as the Emcee and Jill Haworth as Sally Bowles. Directed by Harold Prince, it ran for 1,165 performances and spawned multiple revivals in New York and London as well as an Oscar-winning film in 1972.

Set in 1930s Weimar Berlin, Cabaret opens at the Kit Kat Klub, a seedy nightclub where second-rate performers, including an English good-time girl named Sally Bowles, and their audience are overseen by an androgynous Emcee. Cliff Bradshaw, a bright-eyed American, arrives in the city with plans to write a novel. He rents a room from Fräulein Schneider, a spinster being wooed by one of her boarders, Herr Schultz, a Jewish fruit vendor. That night Cliff winds up at the Kit Kat Klub where he meets Sally who is immediately drawn to him. In a blink, she finagles her way into sharing Cliff's room and bed. At first life is beautiful and the actions of the rising Nazi party are ridiculed at the club (the Emcee “cheekily” displays a swastika on his behind) but soon reality creeps in. Herr Schultz’ shop is vandalized and Fräulein Schneider, afraid of losing the little she has, breaks off their engagement. Cliff, sickened by the realization that the errands he's been running for his friend, Ernst Ludwig, have been on behalf of the Nazi Party, is beaten up when he refuses to continue. He decides to return to America and begs Sally, who is now pregnant, to come away with him but Sally, unable to see beyond tomorrow, gets an abortion and returns to the club where she declares that “life is a cabaret, old chum" as Cliff departs and begins writing his book: "There was a cabaret, and there was a master of ceremonies ... and there was a city called Berlin, in a country called Germany ... and it was the end of the world." The plays closes as it opened on the Emcee, only this time instead of suspenders and a bow tie, he’s dressed in a striped concentration camp uniform adorned with both a yellow star and a pink triangle.

One of the reasons why I love Cabaret is its wonderful score filled with a bevy of memorable songs from the opening "Willkommen," in which the Emcee introduces the audience to the Kit Kat Klub boys and girls to the humorous "Don’t Tell Mama" to the naughty "Two Ladies," to the chilling "Tomorrow Belongs to Me" (first heard as a recording played on a turntable). And, of course, there's Sally’s swan song, "Cabaret," in which she promises that “when I go, I’m going like Elsie” (her roommate who died from excess). While most people remember the songs sung by the Emcee and Sally, there are also the songs by the older lovers, Herr Schultz and Fräulein Schneider, which shouldn't be overlooked: the sweet "It Couldn’t Please Me More" and the poignant 'Married."

And then there is the set. For this production, the orchestra and mezzanine of Studio 54 have been transformed into the Kit Kat Klub with cocktail tables and chairs replacing traditional theatre seats. The blurring of the line between stage and seating allows the audience to become part of the show as when the Emcee walks out and chooses people to dance with him. Another ingenious decision is placing the orchestra above the stage inside a large, lit-up picture frame. This use of space gives the actors an opportunity to make an entrance or observe the going-ons down below.

Much of the attention given to Cabaret has been about the performance of Michelle Williams as Sally. I was interested in seeing her but the night we went she was absent (she’s since left the production and Emma Stone is now donning the green nail polish) so her understudy, Andrea Goss, went on in her place. To be honest, I ended up not minding because Goss was a very good Sally. From her black-bobbed hair to her crisp English accent, she looked and sounded the part while her singing and dancing were great if sometimes almost too good (Sally, after all, isn’t suppose to be all that talented). Goss normally plays one of the Kit Kat girls, all of who showed off their various talents from doing slow cartwheels to baring their assets as did the Kit Kat boys.

There were also strong performances by Bill Heck as Cliff and Danny Burstein as Herr Schultz as well as Linda Emond who gave an especially moving performance as Fräulein Schneider. Yet the star was Alan Cumming as the Emcee—the man who guides you through the play and acts as witness to the disintegration of the world. To call Cumming fabulous sounds almost flippant; no one (apologies to Joel Grey) owns this role like Cumming. He is immensely talented and a pure delight to watch as he sings, dances (sometimes in drag), flirts with the audience, makes faces when he doesn’t get the laughs he wants, and finally stands as a symbol of what horrors the Nazis wrought.

Cabaret is at Studio 54 through March 29, 2015. For more information, visit here. Photos by Joan Marcus.

A Doll's House

Dominic Rowan and Hattie Morahan in A Doll's House.

Every now and then you see a performance that utterly engages your attention, one that draws you into the story and makes you unaware of everything else—the people sitting around you and the passing time.

This is what happened to me last month when I saw a production of Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House at BAM. In this often produced play from 1879, Nora Helmer (Hattie Morahan) is a middle-class wife and mother whose husband, Torvald (Dominic Rowan), is due for a promotion at his bank. On the surface things appear to be going well but unbeknownst to him, the wife who he treats like a child has a secret: a few years before when Torvald was ill, Nora borrowed money from a shady source (Nick Fletcher), forging a signature in the process, in order to take the family south for Torvald to recover. Now her fear of being found out is about to come true when the money lender tries to blackmail her. The result is the unveiling of truths and a realization for Nora about who she is and her place in the world.

I had seen many productions of the play before and was actually a little reluctant to see another. But I had heard good things about this production directed by Carrie Cracknell, which had originated in London at the Young Vic. And so off I went.

When Hattie Morahan first appeared on the stage, flitting around the room with Christmas presents and greedily gobbling up chocolates from a bag, I immediately leaned forward in my chair. And so I stayed for the remainder of the play, enthralled by an absolutely mesmerizing performance.

Throughout the play Morahan’s Nora is constantly changing. First there is Morahan's wonderful voice that goes from being high pitched and almost sing-song like to full-on throaty and flirty to downright steely. Then there is her appearance: one minute she appears to be a dainty and helpless little girl, the next she is a sultry grown woman, forever adapting her persona to suite the situation she's in.

She also has a way of taking command of a scene by her mere presence. Whether she is front and center, spinning around the floor dancing the tarantella, or sitting quietly on a bed exchanging stories with Kristine Linde (Caroline Martin), the focus is always on her.

A superb set by Ian McNeil, which allows the Helmer house to rotate 360 degrees, is used by Morahan to her advantage. She flies about the house from room to room, playfully chasing her children or hiding from her husband; she is the symbolic bird caught in a cage. As the play progresses, her flight becomes more frantic, giving the impression of someone spinning out of control.

In the final act of the play the truth about the loan is revealed, and Torvald explodes, accusing Nora of the cruelest things and swearing that she will never see her children again. When the blackmailer returns the note and the threat of exposure is gone, Torvald is ready to forgive and forget, reckoning that Nora, a silly woman, couldn’t have know any better. But Nora is a different woman from the one we met at the beginning of the play and announces that she is leaving him and the children so she can find out who she is. The bird is flying the coop.  

Morahan is absolutely electric in this scene. Finally calm and level-headed, Nora coolly tells Torvald that she has been just a doll for him to play with and that she has never had a chance to think for herself, to have her own opinions. She goes on to say that she doesn’t love him and that she realized that night, when he didn’t defend her, that he wasn’t the man she thought he was. With each pronouncement, you see Nora growing stronger, more confident in her actions while Torvald is stunned and confused. When Morahan turns to leave, her back ramrod straight, you know that Nora will somehow survive.

While the other members of the cast did a fine job in their roles, especially Dominic Rowan who was brilliant as Torvald, the play belongs to Morahan who, without a doubt, has created one of the best Noras in recent memory. I for one can’t wait to see what she does next.

Unfortunately, A Doll’s House has closed but there’s a short film by Carrie Cracknell, Nora, that is a response to the play that you can watch here.

All photos by Johan Persson.

A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder

Members of A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder. Photo: Joan Marcus.

During Broadway week, I managed to see the new musical comedy A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder. With book and lyrics by Robert L. Freedman and music and lyrics by Steven Lutvak, it's a delightful mix of English music hall and wicked humour set in Edwardian England.

For those of you familiar with the film Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949), the story will be familiar. Impoverished Monty Navarro (Bryce Pinkham) is mourning the death of his mother when one of her friends, Miss Shingle (Jane Carr), arrives and informs him that he is a member of the aristocratic D’Ysquith family and is eighth in line to inherit the dukedom.

Monty writes to the current Earl of Highhurst, Lord Adalbert D’Ysquith (Jefferson Mays), informing him of his newly discovered family connection and is rebuffed. Thinking a clergyman might be more sympathetic to his cause, he sets out to visit one of the heirs, the Reverend Lord Ezekial D’Ysquith (also Jefferson Mays). The Reverend, who refuses to help Monty, insists on showing him the view from the top of his church tower. When he loses his balance, Monty sees his chance to move up the line and lets him fall to his death. Soon the other D'Ysquith heirs begin to mysteriously drop like flies in a myriad of ways: falling through the ice while skating, being attacked by a swarm of bees, beheading by barbells. 

In between committing murder Monty juggles two women, the seductive social climber Sibella Hallward (Lisa O'Hare) and his sweet distant cousin Phoebe D’Ysquith (Lauren Worsham), all while managing to sing and dance.

From the opening scene where Monty is ensconced in a jail cell, penning his memoir, to the finale, the story gallops along with a bevy of rousing songs, dance numbers, and clever special effects (one of the deaths pays homage to Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo). Who knew the tale of a serial killer could be so entertaining?

One of the musical's selling points is its strong cast including the charming Bryce Pinkham, the hilarious Jane Carr, and Lisa O'Hare and Lauren Worsham, who are both fine singers. But the star of the show is Jefferson Mays who plays not one but all eight of Monty's victims, male and female. Mays' energy is astounding and makes one wonder what happens after he takes his final bow (I imagine him collapsing the moment he steps off the stage). He dies eight times every night, a record for Broadway, while making each character uniquely different. 

Add a colourful set by Alexander Dodge and perfect period costumes by Linda Cho, and you have one of the most enjoyable Broadway arrivals this season. 

A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder plays at the Walter Kerr Theatre. For more information, visit here. 

The Nance

Lewis J. Stadlen, Cady Huffman, Nathan Lane, and Jonny Orsini in The Nance.

Last month I saw Douglas Carter Beane’s The Nance, a funny and moving play about a burlesque company in late 1930s New York. Chauncey Miller (Nathan Lane) plays the "Nance," an effeminate man who minces about the stage, tossing out double entendres. This stock character is normally portrayed by a straight man but Chauncey is gay at a time when being out of the closet is not only unacceptable, it can get you beaten up and thrown in jail. It is a dangerous time in the city not only for gay men but for burlesque; Mayor LaGuardia is up for reelection and his vice squad is cracking down on the bawdy shows as a way to score points with voters. Will Chauncey and his fellow actors survive or will the lights go out for them?

Chauncey is a man divided. On stage, he is the silly joker without a care in the world whose goal is to make the audience laugh. Off stage he lives a life in the shadows, frequenting dingy automats and second-rate restaurants where other gay men gather for clandestine meetings. Chauncey begins the show toeing the line (he's a Republican, a nice twist to his character) but by the end gathers the courage to be true to himself and stand up to the law and the world, even if it means the end of his career.

The bleak scenes of Chauncey’s off stage life are juxtaposed with the performances and antics of the burlesque company, which were great fun. Corny jokes, shimmies and shakes, song and dance routines along with backstage bickering give the audience an idea of what a burlesque show was like when pretty girls in pasties shared the stage with vaudeville acts. The only thing missing was a dancing dog.

Nathan Lane was perfect as Chauncey. An actor who can win laughs from the audience one minute while making them cry the next, he conveyed the character's complexity in ways few others could. He was surrounded by a strong supporting cast including Cady Huffmann as the outspoken, communist dancer Sylvie, Lewis J. Stadlen as Efram, the straight star to Chauncey’s Nance with a spot on old-time New York accent, and Jonny Orsini as Ned, Chauncey's young lover and the newest addition to the company.

The set design by John Lee Beatty was great, from the rotating set that allowed the audience to simultaneously see a performer doing his/her routine on stage and the other actors backstage to the authentic automat where Chauncey and Ned first meet. This combined with the costumes by Ann Roth and music by Glen Kelly helped to paint a picture of a bygone time in all its faded glamour and ugliness.

The Nance has finished its run but you can read more about it and see some clips from the show here. 

That's Peggy O'Neil

Peggy O'Neil, 1914. Photo from here.

Photographs of theatre performers from the past always intrigue me. So few of them are remembered now yet many were big stars in their day with legions of fans. One such star was Peggy O’Neil, an actress who was once so popular that she inspired a hit song. Yet she has slid into near oblivion, not even earning a Wikipedia entry.

She was born Margaret O’Neil on June 16, 1898 in Gneeveguilla, Co. Kerry, Ireland (note: there is conflicting information about her birth and early life so I'm going with what was reported by the New York Times). Her family immigrated to America when she was a child, settling in Buffalo, New York. She began performing when still little and in 1910 made her professional stage debut in Chicago as a dancer in The Sweetest Girl in Paris.

Peggy O'Neil with her co-star in Peg O' My Heart, 1914. Photo from here.

Peggy O'Neil, Reginald Mason, and Christine Norman in Peg O' My Heart, 1914.

O'Neil had a few more small stage roles and starred in some film shorts for the Lubin Manufacturing Company before her big break on September 2, 1913. That day theatre producer Oliver Morosco auditioned more than 400 young girls for the lead in a road production of J. Hartley Manners' comedy Peg O’ My Heart. O’Neil won the part and the following year was sent to Chicago to star as Peg. The play was a hit and ran for 26 weeks.

The Chicago audience fell in love with the girl with the blue eyes, dark curls, and bubbly personality who embodied the quintessential Irish lass, a popular type on stage at the turn of the century. The play itself proved to be such a hit that at one point eight different versions were in production at the same time. Both Laurette Taylor (who originated the role) and Marion Davies would go on to star in film versions.

O'Neil's turn as Peg led to other roles. Morosco casting her in two other Chicago productions—A Tale With a Wag and Mavourneen. Back in New York she starred on Broadway in The Flame. After a run in Chicago with Patsy on the Wing, she returned to Broadway in 1919 for Tumble. The New York Times singled her out for that last performance as being “much of the life of the show” and Theatre Magazine said "the other performers might well benefit from watching her acting."

In 1920 she travelled to London where she had her greatest success playing the title role in the comedy Paddy The Next Best Thing. Adapted by William Gayer MacKay and Robert Ord from a novel by Gertrude Page, it was the story of a tomboy named Paddy (short for Patricia) whose father had wanted a son but got the next best thing. Opening on April 5, 1920, it ran for more than 850 performances at the Savoy Theatre, and O'Neil became the darling of London. One reviewer said of O'Neil's performance, "She has something of Ellen Terry's power of communicating her smiles and tears to the audience. I suspect that every young woman in the audience feels, in her heart, that she has been a Paddy."

Yet she had her detractors. On October 20, 1920, the papers reported that O’Neil had been sent a box of poisoned chocolates. She ate one and was ill for days. Her little dog was not so lucky. He died that evening after eating one of the candies. Tests later found that the chocolates contained arsenic and strychnine. No suspects were ever arrested.

In 1921, O’Neil inspired Harry Pease, Edward G Nelson, and Gilbert Dodge (two of whom were reportedly trying to court the actress who never married) to write a song in her honor. 

If her eyes are blue as skies, that's Peggy O'Neil

If she's smiling all the while, that's Peggy O'Neil

If she walks like a sly little rogue

If she talks with a cute little brogue

Sweet personality full of rascality

That's Peggy O'Neil

With its sweet melody and Irish tones, “Peggy O’Neil” proved to be a huge hit and at the Savoy, the song was played between the show's acts.

The success of Paddy was followed by a role in Mercenary Mary at the London Hippodrome. O'Neil would spend the 1920s primarily in London but did return to New York in 1927 for a part in the Ziegfeld Follies and again in 1930 to star in the comedy Unexpected Husband. 

Peggy O'Neil at the height of her popularity, May 1921. Photos from the National Portrait Gallery here.

On September 30, 1928, O'Neil tried out a new medium. She agreed to be "televised" as part of a demonstration of the Baird television system at the National Radio Exhibition outside London. For a half hour she told stories and sang the song "I'm a Little Bit Fonder of You." A couple years later in April of 1930 she gave the first live broadcast interview at the Ideal Home Exhibition in Southampton. 

The 1930s saw her star start to fade and her personal life in trouble. After making some bad investments, she declared bankruptcy in 1935. And in 1942 she made news of a different type when she was caught shoplifting a box of biscuits and a jar of chocolate spread from a London shop. She was fined £20.

She spent the war years entertaining the troops but her time in the spotlight was over, and O’Neil withdrew from the public eye. Crippling arthritis confined her to a wheelchair during the last years of her life, and she passed away on January 7, 1960 in London.

I'd like to find more stories about O'Neil. But in the meantime, there are these British Pathe clips of O'Neil that allow us to see her in motion: a scene from Merry Merry from 1929, entertaining at a club in 1926, and relaxing at her English home in 1925. Sweet Peggy O'Neil.