HOME PAGE SITE GUIDE SEARCH ADVERTISING AT CURTAINUP REVIEWS FEATURES NEWS Etcetera and Short Term Listings LISTINGS Broadway Off-Broadway NYC Restaurants BOOKS and CDs OTHER PLACES Berkshires London California New Jersey Philadelphia Elsewhere QUOTES TKTS PLAYWRIGHTS' ALBUMS LETTERS TO EDITOR FILM LINKS MISCELLANEOUS Free Updates Masthead Writing for Us |
A CurtainUp Los Angeles Review
Love, Loss and What I Wore,
Who knew there would be an entire play devoted to women’s clothes and their effect on the psyches of those who wear them? There’s nothing comparable in the men’s clothing world. What’s a necktie, after all? It’s both simpler and less exciting to be a man, depending on your point of view. At the Geffen Playhouse, Delia and Nora Ephron have woven vignettes culled from a variety of women into Ilene Beckerman’s book of the same name. This effort broadens the play’s range, moving it from the strictly sartorial to the intensely personal. Dressed in basic black, five women perched on stools with scripts on music stands before them. No reading, however. The scripts were apparently props. The play began with Gingy’s Story (the nickname of red-haired author Ilene Beckerman), as told by Carol Kane, and throughout her life is interspersed with other tales. It takes Gingy three husbands but she gets it right in the end The set pieces are not strictly monologues, as the women toss lines around. They’re poignant, as in The Bathrobe, a garment inadvertently worn by both their mother and their stepmother. They’re often hilarious, as in The Bra, which looms large in the life of its wearers. They focus more often than not on the embarrassed or tragic buried memories of the women — the bloodstained skirt, the gang sweater that the football hero unbuttons, the fat girl in the mirrored dressing room, the college rape. A lot of pain is unearthed here. There’s no up side, no happiness. What there is, is a certain amount of courage and a lot of laughter. Unfortunately, it sacrifices depth for humor. You could say that it suceeds within its limits. The only cultural reference is a paeon to Madonna. There’s an essay on short skirts and boots, so vivid you can actually see them. The short skirts are discarded when the co-ed who wears them is raped. She keeps her boots, though, the better to kick him with, my dear. A true fashion conflict comes in Shoes, when Natasha Lyonne debates between Birkenstocks and those gorgeous stiletto heels that are to die for or to die in, as the case may be. Jenny Sullivan directs. Though the program also credits Karen Carpenter who directed the New York production and its hard to tell whose responsible for what, the transitions are effortless and the climaxes so shrewdly acted that one forgets they’re five women sitting on chairs. The game case includes Carol Kane who opens the show . Her fragile appearance belies the bellow she lets out when peeved. Rita Wilson with the longest blonde fall going demonstrated considerable range. Vibrant Tracee Ellis Ross holds the stage with flair and does a vivid Latina impersonation that brought down the house. Natasha Lyonne, the ingénue, brings spunky charm to her performance. And Caroline Aaron in I Hate My Purse makes it a true cultural icon. Aaron projects life force and then some. Postscript: The show has been going strong since it premiered in New York. It's a favorite girl's night out show and the cast has rotated a number of times. Since I loved the book, my review included several scanned images from it. To see and read go here.
|
|