Day 27: Wednesday, March 15
Seeing as how we don’t have Wednesday matinees, I decided months ago that I’d use the afternoon to see something. In the event, I chose The Present, Andrew Upton’s adaptation/updating of Chekhov’s early untitled play, usually called Platanov, after its main character. It was a Heckle and Jeckle kind of afternoon.
First of all, the starting time was odd: 1:30. I’m used to matinees starting at 2:00, but that’s just a convention, so there’s no real reason for it. (In much the same way, the shows at 59E59 have staggered starting times: most nights, it’s 7:00, 7:15, and 7:30.) I figured the odd time may have had something to do with Equity. The show runs nearly three hours, and there’s a required break between matinee and evening performances, but maybe it’s just a quirk of the system. Or maybe it’s an Australian thing.
Anyway, it was cold and the city is still recovering from the storm. Not that there was damage or anything; it’s just that there a lot of piles of slush and treacherous puddles everywhere, so it’s hard to know where to walk. That being the case, I decided to take the subway uptown, rather than walk. It being Wednesday, I did make sure to stop at the comic shop on Broadway to see what had come in. In the event, the storm had delayed their shipment, so the shelves were as bare as Mother Hubbard’s cupboard.
The train ride uptown was uneventful, as was having my backpack sniffed by a friendly dog and picking up my ticket. I was in the front row of the mezzanine, and (as it turned out) I had a Russian couple on my right and matinee ladies on my left. (I’d forgotten how annoying those latter can be.) The mezzanine and balcony were as empty as I’ve ever seen in a Broadway theatre. I don’t think they were even a third full. (At intermission, the ushers let the few folks in the balcony move down.) The orchestra didn’t seem as empty, but there were significant patches of unfilled seats. I don’t know if it was the odd starting time, it being the final Wednesday, or (most likely) the weather conditions (it’s been drawing at about 70% capacity, so who knows?), but it was an odd experience.
It'll be a cold day before I see an Australian adaptation of Chekhov!
One thing the production did, which I appreciated, was to start the play with Cate Blanchett standing alone on stage, which got that pesky entrance applause out of the way. I loathe entrance applause, finding it an unfortunate holdover from the pre-war era. (When we saw The Front Page a few months ago, there was a moment in Act Two—which was, apparently, not unique to our audience—when Jefferson Mays made an entrance and got the applause intended for Nathan Lane. Some members of the audience were apparently so desperate to welcome him that they clapped for anyone who even resembled him.)
Anyway, The Present (by the way; I’m still not sure if the title refers to the time period, the birthday of Blanchett’s character, or both) started very slowly, very slowly; which I kind of welcomed, since it set up the ennui and torpor of one of Chekhov’s summers. It’s a long first act, too. The original manuscript (which was discovered only decades after Chekhov’s death) is long; something like 300 pages, so the acts themselves are long. This first act was an hour, but the other three were tidy 30-minute affairs. I especially admired Act Three, which starts the production’s second act after an explosion has ended the first. Platanov, played by Richard Roxburgh, sits on a lone chair in an endless expanse of fog, while other characters drift in and out to converse with him. It’s not “Chekhovian,” by any means, but conveys the sense of drifting and rootlessness his characters suffer from beautifully.
As the play progressed, more and more of the usual themes emerged, and (by the end) it was one of the best adaptations of Chekhov that I’ve seen; a real lesson in updating a problematic play. It did have an odd ending in that one character shoots another (plenty of guns and shooting in this one), but that character is not shot by the person who does it in the original. Interesting all around. That said, the company did milk an unnecessary third company bow (I could tell it was dying off after they left after the second bow), but that’s a small crime.
After that, I stopped off for a slice before my own show (a place in the Theatre District recommended by Yelp, decorated with autographed posters from all the shows on 46th that have patronized it. It was highly-rated, but just okay), then walked to 59th. I noticed the East Side intersections were a little better-manicured than those on the West Side, but what are you going to do?
I arrived at the theatre, settled in, went over my script, ran over some stuff with Brendan, then it was show time. It was nice in that the show next door was teching, so we didn’t have to keep quiet while they were working; it really didn’t matter. (That changed Thursday when they previewed.)
The show itself was okay. It was our “official” opening, which means the press embargo was lifted, (I assume they’ve been coming all along; we just haven’t been aware of what they thought.) The show had some good moments (more than not, actually), but it was indeed the kind of show that happens after the day off; not bad by any means; just kind of unfocused. The audience was good, though, and seemed to enjoy it. Some good laughs and reactions. You just never know how they’re taking it in. A couple of Brendan’s friends were there and gave him the “You looked like you were having fun up there” reaction, which generally means “I didn’t like it, but have to say something.”
After that, I decided to take the subway to 14th to re-hit the comic store (which stays open until midnight on Wednesdays [New York …]), but unfortunately, there was nothing I needed to buy just then. I then stopped at a supermarket to buy some unessentials (potato chips, snacks, etc.), then stopped at Veneiro’s again for things that are even more unessential (mini cheesecakes, cannolis), then stopped for a beer at the Irish pub just down the block from the apartment. When I went in, it was mostly silent, but after ordering (what turned out to be a very good) Guinness, the world’s worst bar band struck up ear-splitting blues. These guys had enough amps to fill the Grand Canyon in a space the size of a large garage. I finished the beer and left as soon as was possible, then came home, made a sandwich, and went to bed.
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