Old-school plays in mint condition

Image source here

Founded in 1992, New York's Mint Theater Company is dedicated to bringing old, often neglected plays back to the stage.  The tiny theater space is located on the 3rd floor of a rather unremarkable building on West 43rd Street. But inside, there isn't a bad seat in the house.

Since the company was established, Mint has staged about 30 plays and yesterday I went along to see its latest production, Fashions for Men - a charming, character-driven comedy by Hungarian playwright Ferenc Molnar.

Old-school haberdashers used to be a place for men to buy their fashion and accessories: gloves; coats; scarves and the like.  But life, on and off stage, gets decidedly more interesting when you introduce women into the action too.  So Act 1 of "Fashion For Men" opens in a haberdashers in Budapest in 1917 that caters to a colourful cast of male and female characters from all walks of life.

In a post-play discussion with the company's dramaturg and scholar, Dr Maya Cantu, we were reminded that even though the play is set in WW1 Europe, Molnar makes no mention of these outside influences in his play.  There's no hint of strife or sacrifice and as one critic put it, the play really does feel like it's taking place "inside a snowglobe".  Indeed, no external or "real life" influences interfere with the action at all.

And maybe that's what helps "Fashion For Men" retain its appeal across the decades.  It's not frozen in time - it could probably be set anywhere, at any point in history.  The characters are certainly credible.  The protagonist is Peter Juhasz, owner of the haberdashers, and the quintessential nice guy.  Never seeing the bad in people, he's constantly being taken for granted by the other characters - they take his money, his emotional energy, and his time.   Around him, we meet the unfaithful wife, the deceptive co-worker, the wise older man, the skirt-chasing aristocrat, and the conniving ingenue - all of whom capitalise on Peter's good nature to achieve their own end game.  Such saintly goodness has led critics to describe Juhasz as "unworldly" and even "pathetic", but I think I share NY Times critic John Corbin's assessment of Juhasz as "a character conceived with the most exquisite grace and sympathy".

As the three-act play unfolded on a series of beautiful old-timey sets, I do remember thinking that Molnar's 1917 Hungary is a lot like 2015 New York City.  There are pushy-shovey people galore out there who will try and take advantage of you if they think you'll let them.  And while his kindness can sometimes be frustrating in the face of such blatant exploitation, ultimately Peter Juhasz sees his fellow characters for who they are, but he stays true to who he is.  He doesn't stoop to the mercenary level of others and because of that, when Peter finally realises his happy ending, you know the audience is proud of him.

The intimacy of the holidays

"City Crowd, Cop and Ear" by A. Robert Bermelin (1980)
Image courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art

Thanks to holiday tourism, Manhattan's population increases by anything up to five times during the November to January period.  Great for the economy, but a nightmare for your nerves!

Having said that, I've started my holiday season in a very positive state of mind.  After all, November is my favourite month of the year in New York.  The weather is cooler, the clothes are more snuggly, and there's holiday anticipation in the air.

I spent the weekend pulling my winter clothes out of storage and donating whatever summer clothes no longer fit, or which had otherwise seen better days.  I'm no fashionista, but it's great to be back in opaque tights and knee-high boots again.

My first batch of home-made pumpkin soup is now in my fridge, ready to heat and serve after a busy day at work.  Such domesticity has a shelf-life about as long as the soup itself, but let's ignore that.

Central Park is at its most colourful right now, and the Fall Foliage map is a great reference point to see all the trees at their best.

It seems that every day I get emails reminding me to order my Thanksgiving turkey - and every side-dish I could possibly imagine!  I worked out that this year will be my 7th Thanksgiving celebration, which sounds terribly lucky.  While I'd usually prefer savoury dishes over sweet, I can never refuse roasted sweet potatoes topped with toasted marshmallows and brown sugar.  Don't knock 'em till you've tried 'em, honestly!

Equally irresistible are the ticket offers for The Nutcracker and the Radio City Musical Hall Christmas Spectacular, both of which I absolutely love and would see multiple times over.

And I was also a bit excited that the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree has been selected on a farm in Pennsylvania, and the 85-foot monster will be felled tomorrow.  The tree-lighting ceremony will be held in New York on 3 December, bringing traffic to a standstill and driving all the locals crazy.  I usually avoid Rockefeller Plaza like the plague, but there is something magical about the ice skating rink and the Christmas tree - even just the promise of them is exciting.

For me, even though there are five times the number of people pushing and shoving for spots on the subway and space on the sidewalk, November in New York will always be an affair to remember.

Transiting through the tenth circle of hell

Located just off Times Square at 8^th Avenue and 42^nd Street, the Port Authority Bus Terminal is the main gateway for interstate bus services into and out of Manhattan.  It opened in 1950 and is currently the largest and busiest bus terminal in the United States.  There are 223 gates at the terminal, servicing about 8,000 buses and 225,000 passengers every weekday.

But what you can learn only from first-hand experience is that the Port Authority Bus Terminal is also the one place in all of Manhattan that can drive a sane, able-bodied person to the brink of a total nervous breakdown in almost no time at all. 

I discovered this for myself last week when, on the spur of the moment, I decided to take the Greyhound bus from Port Authority to Atlantic City in New Jersey for a mini-break.  My return bus fare was only $44 and I thought that was a real bargain.  It all seemed like such a wonderful and cost-effective adventure.

But first I had to catch the bus and that, dear friends, is where my adventure truly began.

When I emerged from the subway and entered the Port Authority slipstream, I saw a number of departure screens that informed me what gate my bus would ultimately leave from, but they didn’t give me any idea how to find the bus office to print my ticket in the first place.  In fact, signage that would be remotely helpful in any regard is either displayed sporadically, or not at all.  Everywhere I looked, rush-hour crowds swarmed the Terminal, and trying to find 30 seconds to clear my head and get my bearings was pretty much impossible. 

After long, frustrating minutes of dragging my suitcase around the Terminal, I was desperate to find an information booth, or even just someone official who looked like they might work in this crazy nightmare.

By some miracle of the universe, I actually found the Greyhound bus office all by myself.  As expected, the ticket agent was as broken-spirited as I was starting to feel, and he wordlessly printed my tickets for me.  With a listless wave of his hand, the ticket agent dismissed me and I made my way downstairs to the labyrinth of bus departure gates. 

When my eyes finally adjusted to the dim subterranean lighting, I encountered the most colourful cast of characters I’d seen in a long time (even by New York standards). 

Squealing children ran riot through the corridors.  Obese women had shoe-horned themselves into tank tops and short-shorts.  Beer-bellied, sweaty-chested men refused to button up their grimy cotton shirts.  A Chinese woman loudly screamed in rapid-fire Mandarin at anyone who dared to get too close to her.   

Oh God, was this the queue to Atlantic City?  I had never felt more inclined to abandon a holiday so quickly in my life. 

There are about twelve chairs in the entire downstairs waiting area, all located next to the bathrooms, which you can smell from at least 20 feet away.  To preserve whatever vestige of sanity that remained, I stood in the vicinity of my bus departure gate, trying not to stare at the motley crew of passengers that filled the departing buses. 

After what seemed like an eternity in the tenth circle of hell, it was finally time to board my and I got on the end of the queue.  I stood behind two lovely ladies who seemed to find great humour in the depressing chaos around me.  One of the ladies was fanning herself with her ticket and I noticed that she and her friend were actually booked on an afternoon departure from New York.  Fearing I might actually be in the wrong queue after all, I asked the ladies how they were able to get seats on the 11am departure.  They explained that because none of the Greyhound bus seats are actually assigned, it’s a first-come, first-served thing.  You’re actually welcome to line up and squeeze onto an earlier departure, if you arrive in time.  You don’t even go on standby or need to get a new ticket or anything – you just line up and if there’s a seat on-board, you can have it. 

It appears the early bird gets to worm their way out of the Port Authority Bus Terminal first. 

When I was finally in my seat, next to the window and alongside a lovely young mother and her (mercifully) sleeping baby, the journey to Atlantic City was uneventful and actually quite pleasant.  It just seems that for those of us interested in cutting interstate travel costs, Port Authority Bus Terminal is a necessary evil. 

But there is a happy ending to this story.  The Port Authority Board recently approved a $90 million makeover for the whole terminal.  There is rather widespread disagreement on how the funds will be spent, but if they can just improve the lighting, signage, seating, and quality of the toilets, interstate bus travel from the Port Authority Bus Terminal will be a much more pleasant experience for everyone.

Rescue me, take me in your arms

The New York Musical Theatre Festival (or NYMF) is an annual event dedicated to providing artists with affordable ways to stage professional theatre productions for fellow actors, industry leaders, and audiences.  Currently in its 10th year, NYMF is renowned in this City as a launching pad for new musical theatre productions, styles, and talents.

For the most part, NYMF productions are staged in theatres along 42nd Street.  Tickets are usually around $25 each, so they're much less expensive than a mainstream show. There is so much variety on offer too, so for producers and audiences alike, the NYMF is an excellent festival to experience.

The cast of "Rescue Rue"

I went along to my first NYMF production yesterday, the second-to-last performance of a great little musical called Rescue Rue, showing in the Pershing Square Signature Theater on West 42nd Street.  I've been to this theatre before and I've always really liked the venue, because there isn't a bad seat in the entire building.  The shows are usually short-runs but they're always thought-provoking and impressive productions.

Not that I needed any further incentive to see "Rescue Rue", but it is being stage-managed by my friend, Caskey Hunsader.  Caskey has worked on a lot of theatre productions in the past, both behind the scenes and onstage, but he is also the creator and star of the fantastic web series called "Fat Guy" and he also hosts the Broadway interview series, "Standing By".  It was great for me to be able to support Caskey's latest project in person.

Rue finds her "furever" family

"Rescue Rue" is inspired by a true story, and is a musical fairytale that features a little dog named Rue who is abandoned by her human owners and left to fend for herself.  In her lowest moments, Rue meets her Fairy Dogmother and makes a special wish to live happily ever after, whatever it might take to get there.  Rue's search for her "furever family" leads to a stint in the dog pound/shelter, where she meets some new canine friends who encourage her to stay optimistic and to keep her eye on the big prize.

Squish and Rue

What I especially loved about "Rescue Rue", and as you can see from these photos, is that the show borrows from the style of "Avenue Q" and has live actors doing puppeteering on stage.  The performances are so seamless that you find yourself watching the puppets and actually forgetting about the human performers.  The puppets are beautiful though - really great quality - and the 7 human actors who bring the show to life are all amazingly talented - excellent voice actors and singers, energetic dancers, and a great ensemble cast.

You might get the sense from this description that "Rescue Rue" is a show for kids, and you wouldn't be wrong.  But like most kids shows, the dialogue and humour works on two levels, so adults have just as much to gain from seeing the production.  Indeed, there were only a couple of kids in the audience yesterday, and even though you could hear them fidgeting in some parts, they were totally engaged in the plot, the songs, and they loved all the characters.

Real Rue meets Puppet Rue

And at the end of the show, the cast gathered just outside the theatre to meet the audience, and particularly to have photos with the kids.  The real-life Rue, who inspired the whole story, was also there and she was an absolute hit.  Such a placid and beautiful dog, quite content to meet her adoring fans.

I was also really pleased to learn that "Rescue Rue" staged a performance this morning particularly for kids with autism, for whom going to the theatre can often be an overwhelming experience.  That the production company and the cast made a special effort to make "Rescue Rue" accessible to these kids and their families is a real gift and makes the show all the more special.  This was part of the Autism Theatre Initiative and it's such a wonderful way to encourage kids and adults on the autism spectrum to get along to the theatre and enjoy a great performance.

I'm not sure what the future holds for "Rescue Rue" beyond the NYMF, but I thought it was a great show that deserves every success.

[With many thanks to the "Rescue Rue" team for letting me share these photos with you.]

Big stars, bright lights, and baby's first after-party

Image credit here

"Christopher Plummer glances down from the stage. Even though the spotlight is undoubtedly in his eyes, I feel sure he is looking right at me. I've never been in a staring contest with Captain Von Trapp before, so I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to do. Perching on the edge of my seat seems a good idea, so I do that and cup my hands together under my chin. I gaze back up at Mr Plummer with wide eyes. There's a grin plastered on my face that I hope conveys "earnest excitement", but it must miss the mark because before I can do anything about it, the Captain turns his attention elsewhere and the spell is broken."

I had multiple star-struck encounters like this on Monday night, but that's what happens when you're eight feet away from the stage at The 70th Annual Theatre World Awards, held at the Circle in the Square Theater just off Times Square.   Each year, these awards celebrate twelve "promising personalities" whose debut Broadway or off-Broadway performances were significantly reviewed during the current theatre season.

My attendance at this event was entirely accidental of course. Earlier in the evening I'd actually been stuffing my face at the Taste of Times Square food festival a few blocks away.  But when the text came in from a friend, inviting me to be his "plus one" at a theatre event nearby, I did not hesitate.

And when it occurred to me that we were both guests of first-time Tony Award nominee Mary Bridget Davies (MBD) the Broadway Bubble settled around me and didn't burst for hours.  I walked down the stairs of the theatre, settled into my seat at the tiny cabaret table, arm's length from the stage, and tried my best to belong.

Because I had to be dreaming, right?  I mean, did I really just watch Chris O'Dowd and Zachary Levi face the paparazzi and give interviews?  Was that really Zachary Quinto who bounded past me and up to the stage to present an award to his friend and colleage?  Did my friend really just say "Oh my God, we have better seats than Bryan Cranston!", and it was actually true?  

If there was ever a night to pinch myself in New York, this was it.

Before long, Mary's name was called and she went up to the stage to collect her first World Theatre Award for her powerhouse performance in "A Night With Janis Joplin".  The show has finished now but it was clear that Mary had made an impression.  She has definitely arrived. Mary's acceptance speech was heartfelt, honest, and had all the hallmarks of someone who put her heart and soul into sharing Janice Joplin's story in the most authentic way possible.

And then of course, there was Mr Plummer, who is looking pretty good for an 85 year old (but really, does he ever age?).  The theatre erupted when he was awarded the John Willis Award for a Lifetime of Achievement in the Theatre.  His acceptance speech was funny and articulate, and generously recognised all the people who have come before him in the theatre and all the new talent in the room (and beyond) who were finding their way now.  He even had the good grace not to grimace when the pianist played "Eidelweiss" to escort him off-stage.  And through it all, I just beamed.

And as surely as night follows day, my first-ever awards ceremony was followed by my first ever after-party.  This one was held on the rooftop at the historic Copacabana.  I'm not sure if Barry Manilow would still declare it "the hottest spot north of Havana" but I can assure you of one thing, those guys know how to buffet!  So much amazing food was on offer and an open bar to boot.  When we left a few hours later, the DJ was playing Michael Jackson and I could never fault that.

The events of Monday night will stay with me for a really long time to come.  I was so honoured to be included in MBD's winning evening, and to help her warm up to her very first Tony Award ceremony on Sunday.  My fingers and toes will remain crossed for her!

When it's hip to be square

Courtesy of Wikipedia

If they can possibly help it, New Yorkers will avoid Times Square at all costs.  It's definitely dazzling the first couple of times you see it, but the longer you settle in this City and the more at home you begin to feel, the further away from Times Square you will want to be.

There are only two exceptions to this general rule that I can see.  One, is the idea of heading into Times Square for the ball drop on New Year's Eve.  Any New Yorker who raises this as a viable option for ringing in the new year obviously hates you.  Either that, or they have excellent connections at the NYPD and can get you through security barriers so you don't have to wait around for hours in the freezing cold without bathroom breaks.  Rare, but possible (and probably worth investigating).

The other exception that will bring New Yorkers into Times Square voluntarily is when they have tickets to a Broadway show.  This is what brought me into the trenches this past weekend - not once, but twice.

I had tickets to see matinee shows on Saturday ("No Man's Land") and Sunday ("Waiting for Godot"), which starred the same four-man cast, including the talented and very charming Sir Gandalf the Grey and Sir Jean-Luc Picard. It warrants saying that I would probably pay to watch these two larrikins read the phone book, so I'm probably not the most unbiased critic.  However, I will say that while I very much enjoyed the experience of watching the plays, I'm not 100% sure I totally understood them.  But who hasn't said that after a theater experience, right?

And being a bit befuddled after seeing a show in New York is totally fine, because you can always workshop the experience with friends afterwards, as I did in the bar at The Renaissance Hotel on Broadway.  Even if you're not a guest of the hotel, you definitely need to go there - especially towards nightfall.  Head into the hotel's lobby and take the little elevator to the right. You'll come out at the bar which has floor-to-ceiling windows and has a fantastic view over Times Square.  For the price of a glass of wine or cocktail, you can silently watch the craziness of the street below.  A treat for tourists and locals alike.

Some time with me, myself and I

You'd think that in a city as densely-populated as New York it would be hard to find space to be on your own.  People are always rushing to get somewhere, jostling you and getting in your face.  But you don't have to hide out in your apartment to get some peace and quiet.  There are places in New York - public places - where you can be alone, and take some time to just soak up the City and relax.

The Great Lawn, Central Park
In the middle of Central Park, from 79th Street to 85th Street, you'll find the Great Lawn.  They have concerts here during the year, but on sunny days the lush lawn becomes a haven for picnickers and sunbathers of all shapes and sizes.  Bring a rug or beach towel, a good book, and spend a few hours just soaking up the rays.  A good trick if you're coming in from the Upper West Side is to call into Zabars first and grab some lunch to enjoy when you finally find your Park spot.

Madison Square Park
Similar to the Great Lawn, but this green oasis is just closer to my house so it's my go-to hangout in summer.  This location has the added advantage of being opposite Eataly, so if you need the bathroom or a coffee or gelato, you're on a winner.  Don't bother lining up at Shake Shack, unless you want to be reminded of all the reasons you wanted to be alone in the first place.

Theatre/Cinema
It seems weird to think you could be alone in a crowded theatre or cinema, but nobody pays any attention to you when the lights go down and the show starts.  And buying a single ticket to a Broadway show is often an easy way to get the greatest seats, even at the last minute ticket booths.  But a warning - Sunday matinees are usually full of old, fairy-floss haired women who try and engage you in conversation during intermission.  Use this time to busily sort through your purse, or study the Playbill intently.

Battery Park
I love coming down here in sunny weather.  There are wooden benches overlooking New York Harbour and you can see the Statue of Liberty.  From that safe distance away, I like watching the tourists pushing and shoving each other to get on and off the cruise boats to Liberty and Ellis Islands.  Euphoric kids, exhausted parents.  And I like this location because there are always food trucks down there, usually selling churros.  Never a bad thing.

This is just a random selection of my favourite New York spots to go solo.   Getting out of town is also a great tonic, but not always possible, so I think it's important to find the places you can be alone here. The noise and the crowds and the craziness can do your head in otherwise.  And when you're in the right headspace, you feel calmer and you can appreciate the city, and the people who occupy it, a little better.

Ariel Sabar wrote a great book called "Heart of the City", a collection of "nine stories of love and serendipity on the streets of New York".  The people in these true stories aren't all from here, but the City certainly brought them together in a variety of ways.  In telling their stories, Sabar takes you on a tour of New York, from the city's iconic sites to the residential neighbourhoods of Brooklyn and the grimy back streets of Chinatown.  It's a wonderful book to make you look differently at New York, and remind you that while alone time is good, it is sometimes a good thing to actually engage with people, even in this crazy town.

And the winner is...?

The annual Tony Awards are named in honour of Antoinette Perry, an American actress, stage director and philanthropist.   Throughout her adult life, Perry was a fixture of New York’s theatre scene, a renowned perfectionist, and a consummate professional.  She passed away suddenly in 1946 at the height of her career, and the Tony Awards were launched a year later as the industry’s way to honour Perry’s memory and to celebrate distinguished achievement in theatre.  

Each year, for a three-year term, the Tony Awards Nominating Committee members have to sit through every Broadway production staged (even the dodgy ones).  Then they convene, immediately after the Tony eligibility deadline, and make their final nominations.

Swoon!  NYC loves Hugh.

Earlier this week the press announced that Australia's own Hugh Jackman will return to host the Tonys in 2014.  Hugh hasn't helmed the show since 2005, so we'll definitely need to tune in this year.

Draw me like one of your French girls

In the hustle-bustle of Times Square, amidst all the theatres and street performers, sits Sardi’s restaurant.  

Vincent Sardi Senior and his wife Eugenia opened the restaurant in 1927 with some funding from the Schubert brothers who were theatre magnates at the time, and who were keen to have a well-respected dining venue as part of their theatre on West 44^th Street.  Before long, Broadway performers flocked to the venue for pre and post-theatre show celebrations.  

In fact, Sardi’s was the birthplace of the famous Tony Awards, named after actress and director Antoinette Perry.  After Perry’s death in the late 1940s, her partner was eating lunch at Sardi’s when he came up with the idea of an award to be given in her honour and so for many years afterwards, Sardi’s hosted the announcement of Tony Award nominations.   

And whether you stop there for a drink after work, or enjoy a pre- or post-theatre meal, Sardi’s is perhaps most famous for the 1,300 caricatures of show-business celebrities that line its walls.   A few years after the restaurant opened, Vincent Sardi Senior engaged a Russian refugee named Alex Gard to draw caricatures of the most celebrated Broadway performers of the day to decorate the walls and attract customers.  The deal was that Gard would receive one restaurant meal for every drawing he completed, and Gard got to work.  When Vicent Sardi’s son took over the restaurant in 1947, he tried to change the terms of Gard’s contract.  But Gard refused, and he continued to draw the caricatures in exchange for meals until his death a year later.  Artists came and went over the years, but the restaurant’s current caricaturist is Richard Baratz, a banknote and certificate engraver who lives in Pennsylvania.   

But did you know that in order to deter thieves and unscrupulous souvenir hunters, when the caricatures are done, the originals go in a valut and two copies are made?  One copy goes to the subject of the drawing, and the other is hung on the wall of Sardi’s.  I wonder where Kermit hung his?

That haunting feeling

People have reported seeing ghosts in New York City for hundreds of years.

The cemetery of Old St. Patrick's Cathedral on Mulberry Street is said to be haunted by Pierre Toussaint, a former slave from Haiti who became an in-demand hairdresser to NYC's socialites in the 19th Century, not to mention a generous philanthropist.    Toussaint was actually the first non-religious person to be buried beneath the crypt in the Cathedral, a site normally reserved for members of the clergy.

On opening nights, Radio City Music Hall's builder (and Rockettes founder), Roxy Rothafel, has been spotted parading through the Radio City lobby with a glamorous woman on his arm.  

At the historic New Amsterdam Theatre just off Times Square, the ghost of silent film and stage star Olive Thomas has been seen in the dressing room, in full Follies chorus girl regalia.  It is said that in her hands she still clutches her husband's bottle of syphilis medication that she drank to kill herself.  

Just under the Brooklyn Bridge is the Bridge Café, a former brothel turned dining establishment where patrons have reported seeing the ghosts of burly pirates who frequented the bar when it first opened in 1847. 

The ghost of John Lennon is said to lurk around the gates of The Dakota apartment building off Central Park, where he was murdered in 1980 (and where "Rosemary's Baby" was also filmed - double the dose of eerie!).  

But the prize for the creepiest ghostly site must go to the dramatically-named "House of Death" inGreenwich Village.  This beautiful brownstone was constructed in the early 19th Century and over the years, twenty-two people (including Mark Twain) have died there, in all manner of circumstances.  By all accounts, none of their souls have ever left.  Bwahahaha!