APAC’s The Human Comedy – Satisfying on Many Levels

By Georgina Young-Ellis


The Human Comedy, Astoria Performing Arts Center’s musical offering for its tenth anniversary season, opened to a sold out house Thursday, May 5^th. Set designer Michael P. Kramer has worked his usual magic, transforming the space into the mythical town of Ithaca, California, circa 1943. The inviting wooden set perfectly depicts a telegraph office and a modest front yard, while an enormous Service Flag (the official banner for families who have loved ones serving in the armed forces) occasionally serves as a scrim through which we witness flashback scenes. A small band dressed in World War II uniforms sits on stage as orchestra. In the opening number, the cast marches in singing, “In a Little Town,” and proceeds to seat themselves on risers facing the audience – a kind of mirror for our emotions as the play unfolds. They also serve as chorus and alter ego for the characters center stage.

Written by Galt MacDermot (Hair) and William Dumaresq, and based on a story by William Saroyan, the play tells the story of the impact of World War II on the good people of Ithaca, focusing mainly on the Macauley family, who has already lost their father in the war. In the tradition of rock opera, nearly every word is sung, and even has a certain rock edge that is not unexpected from the writer of Hair though the score is also infused with Swing era songs and some beautiful anthems.

There was one aspect to the show that remained unclear to me. In “Hi Ya, Kid,” the second song of the first act, Ulysses Macauley (played by adorable eight-year-old Anthony Pierini), waves to a trainman, (Douglas Lyons) and as he wonders where the man is going and why his home is far away, he learns from his mother that, because the trainman is black and the Macauleys are white, their homes are far apart. It is a small moment, seemingly insignificant in the scope of the story, which is not about race or racism. However, it set me up for confusion later on. We see both black and white soldiers go to war and end up in the same platoon. Together they sing a song, “My Sister Bess,” in praise of Marcus Macauley’s sister, and Marcus expresses a wish that his comrade, who happens to be black, could meet her and date her. But I couldn’t forget that the army was definitely not integrated in WWII, nor would there be such a nonchalant acceptance of an inter-racial relationship, especially in a small town. I don’t think the racial harmony was part of Saroyan’s story nor Dumaresq’s libretto, and so I left feeling perplexed: why would director Tom Wojtunik ask us to accept a color-blind reality when the script pointed out a distinct difference between black and white? Did he intend to slip in a subtle message of love and understanding between the races, or give us an optimistic preview of the Civil Rights movement to come? I found the lack of explanation distracting.

Though occasionally the music requires strange transitions and possesses atonal qualities that some of the singers had trouble with, overall, the excellence that is the hallmark of all APAC productions is infused throughout The Human Comedy, and for this I applaud Wojtunik. From the gorgeous, period-perfect costumes designed by Hunter Kaczorowski to the subtle and effective lighting by Dan Jobbins, the show is delightful on so many levels. The cast of singers and actors are top notch, especially Aaron J. Libby as Homer Macauley, Rachel Rhodes-Devey as Mary Arena, Jonathan Gregg as Thomas Spangler, Rayna Hickman as Diana Steed, and Marcie Henderson as Beautiful Music. The show runs until May 21^st, Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights at 8:00 and Saturday afternoon at 2:00. You can reserve tickets at www.apacny.org but don’t wait because, if APAC’s history is any proof, these performances will sell out fast!

Astoria Performing Arts Center Kicks Off 10th Season with Sensational and Surreal Piece

 By Georgina Young-Ellis

Jennifer Harder, Nikole Beckwith and Andy Phelan

It’s hard to find words to describe Astoria Performing Arts Center’s production of MilkMilkLemonade; yet, brilliant, hysterical, surreal and mind-blowing are a few that come to mind. To be more specific, it is a performance piece that defies all expectations and preconceived notions of what theater is or should be. Fortunately, the narrator, or, as the program informs us, the “Lady in the Leotard,” who steps out at the beginning to introduce the play, gives us fair warning of what’s in store by her shell-shocked demeanor. It’s as if she’s been living in the reality of the play all too long and has somehow been traumatized by it. She informs us that she’ll be translating for the talking chicken. Talking chicken? Yes. Our protagonist, Emory, an eleven-year old boy, played by grown-up actor Andy Phelan, lives on a farm with his infirm grandmother, and his refuge is Linda the chicken, his best friend in whom he confides his heart’s desires. She is the one who understands him and supports his dreams of Broadway and reality-show fame. Not so the case with his oxygen machine-bound, chain smoking Nanna, who takes away his favorite doll and tells him it’s wrong to be effeminate, to be “different.” She predicts that he’ll never get off the farm; and she murders chickens (it is, after all, a chicken farm). She’s happy to discover, however, that he’s friends with the scrappy, tough kid down the street, Elliot, played by Jess Barbagallo. Elliot torments Emory while secretly in love with him. Together, they “play house:” bizarre, Tennessee Williams-esque parodies of sad adults stuck in hum-drum realities. They also share some kind of sexual relationship―to what extent it isn’t quite clear even though they appear “nude” together at one point, little fake genitalia sewn on to their underwear. Elliot is ashamed of his sexual tendencies – equally a bully and a lover. Ultimately, he is also betrayer and redeemer.

The versatility of the five actors who make up the cast is remarkable. Andy Phelan as Emory effortlessly transforms from sweet, joyful young boy to tragic housewife in his play-acting with Elliot. Ms. Barbagallo is so convincing as a male, my theater companions had to look twice at their programs to confirm the reverse. Her character is alternately twitchy and tortured, tough and tender. Michael Cyril Creighton as Nanna is eerily precise as a bitter, dying woman. Jennifer Harder, who won the 2010 Innovative Theater Award for Best Supporting Actress in her role as Linda when she portrayed it in the original production, is astonishingly bird-like in her body movements one minute― the next, she’s a bawdy, Brooklyn stand-up comedienne―the chicken’s alter ego. She’s funny and heartbreaking, riveting us every moment she’s on stage. Finally, our narrator, chicken translator, sound effects provider, and portrayer of evil ghetto spider, Lady in a Leotard Nikole Beckwith, exhibits the most wonderful physicality. She seems at first so stiff and awkward, then in her many incarnations, becomes flexible and freaky in myriad ways.

MilkMilkLemonade is completely unpredictable and utterly unlike anything you’ve ever experienced in the theater. As fellow audience member Teresa Barile concisely commented, “It was the best play I’ve ever seen.” APAC Executive Director Taryn Sacramone remarked that in its brief run at UNDER St. Mark’s Theater last year audiences were turned away. Now, there’s a chance to see it under the direction of newcomer to the show, José Zayas, as well as to experience it on the colorful, child-like and fantastical set designed by Jason Simms. Tickets are available at www.apacny.org or at 212-352-3101 and the show runs through November 13^th, Thursdays and Fridays at 8pm and Saturdays at 2pm and 8pm. Please be advised that due to the mature content of the play, no-one under the age of sixteen will be admitted.

The program notes carry a quote from Artistic Director Tom Wojtunik who chose MilkMilkLemonade for APAC’s tenth anniversary season. “I’m thrilled for APAC to bring this terrific new play, with the original cast, to Astoria audiences, and to give it a much-deserved extended run in New York City.” Referring to the gay youth who all too often feel disenfranchised from society to tragic results, he continues, “I beg you, please, let’s work together to make sure the Emorys of this world have an opportunity to dream big.”