Time Stands Still

The number one lesson I have learned so far this Broadway season is the benefit of seeing a show while it’s still in previews. Time Stands Still, which boasts four above-the-title names, should be a big draw for student rushers. While the drama is selling well right off the bat (it sold 94 percent of its tickets in the week ending January 24), the rush crowd was nonexistent on the Sunday that I attended. 

I arrived at the Samuel J. Friedman Theatre at 11:55 a.m. Yes, this is the dreaded Sunday rush (box offices open at noon, forcing rush crowds for popular shows to wait out in the cold an extra two hours). I, however, didn’t stay out in the cold. Although it was a gamble, I used my judgment and assumed that this show would not yet be pulling a large rush crowd, while still in previews. I haven’t seen a lot of advertising yet for the show, and some people I’ve talked with didn’t know it was showing yet. There was no one waiting at the box office and the doors were already open when I arrived. I walked up to the box office attendant and purchased my tickets with ease. It ranks among the easiest rushes I’ve ever done. Time Stands Still has a student rush policy for $26.50 a piece, up to two tickets per ID. Tickets go on sale when the box office opens. 

Although there are four stars inhabiting the four roles in this show, I was most excited to see it because it was written by Donald Margulies. For years, I’ve been a huge fan of the HBO movie Dinner With Friends, which is based on his play and for which he also wrote the screenplay (the play won the Pulitzer for Drama in 2000). Margulies is excellent at writing dialogue for couples, particularly for scenes in which they evaluate the fundamentals of their relationship. What Margulies does for Andy MacDowell and Dennis Quaid in Dinner, he does nearly as well for Laura Linney and Brian d’Arcy James in Time.

My First Time

Social media has so quickly become a permanent aspect of our lives that we have already begun to see it seep into the arts. David Fincher is set to release his film, The Social Network, about the founding of Facebook in October. But years before Facebook even came across our computer screens, a website called My First Time was amassing mountains of submissions from Web surfers about their memories of losing their virginity. Those submissions have been turned into a delightful off-Broadway play of four actors, a projection screen, and a bunch of hilarious and touching monologues.

Seeing My First Time at New World Stages isn’t just seeing a play—it’s an experience. Go with a friend (not a parent), and if you have a good experience, the play should have you discussing the night’s subject matter long after you leave the theater. You and your buddy will walk in and find a survey (and a My First Time pen!) on your seats. Take a deep breath—they’re anonymous. The survey asks you to share how old you were when you lost your virginity, what your partner’s name was, where you did it, if you still keep in touch, if you felt pressured, how good the experience was, if you used contraception, and what you would say to your partner if they were with you today. Ushers collect the cards and they become part of the show (calm down! I already said they were anonymous).

While the audience waits for the performance to start, a projection screen flashes statistics, both domestic and worldwide, about people’s first sexual experience: average ages, percentages of people that felt pressured into it, as well as quotes from famous authors about sex. Minutes before the show begins, the statistics projected are ones tabulated from the audience’s surveys—a funny and effective way of getting the audience involved. Throughout the show, the actors pull out the survey cards and read from them—a segment which provided uproarious laughter when I saw the show.

Finian's Rainbow

When I received the Twitter update on my phone that Finian’s Rainbow received its closing notice for January 17, I let out a tremendous, “Nooooooo!” I was at a loud bar in Morningside Heights at the time, so luckily, my exclamation went unnoticed. I rushed Finian’s Rainbow in November and knew that my review of the show would be heavily influenced by the fact that it was closing. I’ve been avoiding writing this ever since. But since Finian’s is three days away from its final performance, this is my last chance to support the show. So I give you…

5 Reasons To Rush Finian’s Rainbow This Weekend

The rush is $27 and box seats might be available. The situation might be different this weekend, as rushers might be getting in their last chance to see Finian’s before it closes, but when I rushed, I was at the St. James Theatre at 8:55 a.m. and was the first and only person on line until a half hour before the box office opened. It’s a student rush, with up to two tickets per ID. At my performance, I got box seats, which gave me a great view of the beautiful St. James Theatre and great, close-up views of the actors. Unfortunately, the box seats are an extreme side view, so I don’t feel I saw enough of John Lee Beatty’s set design to properly review it. Many characters’ entrances were blocked, as well.

Christopher Fitzgerald’s pants. Playing the loveable leprechaun Og who has traveled to Missitucky, USA from Ireland in search of his stolen pot o’ gold, Fitzgerald cements himself as one of Broadway’s greatest current character actors. Having played quirky and riotous characters in Wicked and Young Frankenstein before this, his performance in Finian’s is delightful. A mute performance by Fitzgerald would be equally as entertaining, because the man’s eyes and mouth work to create such animated facial expressions, he can convey almost anything and make it just as enjoyable. While he’s staying in Missitucky, away from his magical homeland, the leprechaun finds that he is growing. Costume designer Toni-Leslie James puts Fitzgerald in different sets of pants throughout the show, each new pair shorter than the last. This simple, not-fooling-anybody gimmick becomes so hysterical, and Fitzgerald wears the joke perfectly.

In the Next Room, or the vibrator play

When a play needs to have a parenthetical statement added to its title, that's a red flag. Particularly when the addition is "or the vibrator play." It's a sign that the creative team does not have full faith in their work's potential to bring in crowds on merit alone. It’s the ‘when in doubt, ‘give 'em shock value’ philosophy.

The problem with adding this subtitle to In the Next Room is that it doesn't fit the tone of the piece. This jocular addition would better fit the style of a show like Avenue Q or [title of show]. This play by Sarah Ruhl has some jokes, yes; good ones, at that. But at its heart, it is a drama about a historical turning point in the sexual education of adults.

Michael Cerveris plays Dr. Givings, a physician who treats women (and sometimes men) with "hysteria" and anxiety with his “paroxysm” tool, which will in the future be referred to as a vibrator. His wife, played by Laura Benanti, is inquisitive about her husband’s medical treatments, which go on in the room adjacent to the couple's living room (hence In the Next Room). But her husband is annoyingly rigid about what he divulges about his practices and thus shelters Mrs. Givings.