NEW YORK — Yasmin is asleep outdoors, bathed in the orange glow of her space heater, when a man sneaks up to steal her source of warmth. A young woman alone, she appears defenseless to this stranger, an easy target — until she snaps to alertness and springs on him with a violence that’s almost feral.
NEW YORK — A clipboard in her hand, a tiara on her head, the queen was drafting her country’s constitution, the sort of idealistic undertaking that requires the mulling of common values. So she sought out a citizen and bounced a question off him.
NEW YORK — In the script, the list of murdered girls and women goes on for more than eight pages, in gruesome detail — so many rapes and shootings and stranglings, so many body parts chopped off.
NEW YORK — Obie Award-winning actress Quincy Tyler Bernstine got married last September on a rooftop in Brooklyn, but the honeymoon to St. Kitts had to wait. One of the most valuable performers in some of the boldest new off-Broadway work, she can seem almost omnipresent on New York stages. You might assume a show got in the way.
NEW YORK — It matters who you know, and in 1997, 21-year-old Jason Eagan knew almost no one in New York. But quality can indeed make up for quantity. One contact — illustrator Ian Falconer, now of “Olivia” fame — ushered him into a glamorous downtown crowd. Another, Julie Taymor, pointed him toward a behind-the-scenes job on “The Lion King.”
NEW YORK — The story of the sisters Procne and Philomela is one of the truly gruesome Greek myths, full of rape and murder and bloody mutilation — but also, and this is rather nice, tremendous sibling devotion. For “Weightless,” a smart retelling of it as an indie-rock opera by Bay Area band the Kilbanes, that love is the core of the legend.
NEW YORK — The warning to the audience outside “Chambre Noire,” a shadowy astonishment of a show from Plexus Polaire at the Under the Radar festival, is a remarkable mini catalog of things to come.
NEW YORK — After a bit of brawling and a spate of North Pole deaths, after the Candy Cane of the Apocalypse is unsheathed to ward off evil, the lamb with seven horns and seven eyes is borne aloft by a malevolent ghost.
He was there, on a Sunday evening in late June, to perform his version of the Gospel of John — not as a sendup or radical rethink, but as an act of testament, the religious text edited down to 90 minutes.
NEW YORK — Hugh Jackman is a shape-shifting master of showbiz: as the big-screen Wolverine, ripped and brooding; as a charismatic song-and-dance man, ripped and Broadway.
That is to say, a prostitute. Which, up until their courtship, Bairbre had been — a fact she conceals from her darling naïf so she can make a new start with him.
The real-life ad series that this spot was part of landed on a Time magazine list of Top 10 Embarrassing Celebrity Commercials, so we’re not talking about great art here.
