NEW YORK — In 1911, Marie Curie won the Nobel Prize in chemistry. That alone is a considerable achievement, especially for a woman, but Curie was actually doubling down: Seven years earlier, she, her husband, Pierre, and their colleague Henri Becquerel, had been honored by the Nobel committee for their discoveries in physics.
NEW YORK — The new play “Reparations” gets underway in an innocuous enough manner. Two strangers meet at a book party; they end up at her Upper East Side condo, where they chitchat with flirtatious casualness before retiring to the bedroom; in the morning, she makes them breakfast. Reg is young and black, with the relaxed assurance of a guy about to score. Ginny is white and older, and ready to start dating again seven months after her husband’s death — Reg barely flinches upon learning she’s...
NEW YORK — If you can’t stand my creative, manly heat, get out of my kitchen: This could be the unofficial motto of Harry, the temperamental chef at a tiny Brooklyn restaurant. But it’s OK for him to be a jerk because Harry — played by Raúl Esparza with knife-wielding, cocky charm — is not a cook, he is an artist.
NEW YORK — A goat is tethered to a cinder block by a rope tied to its neck. As audience members take their seats, the poor animal paces in a circle, bleating miserably. It is a heartbreaking sight. Eventually three men dressed in black appear and begin to dance; the goat panics as they get closer and closer, its cries becoming increasingly shrill.
NEW YORK — The title of Andy Bragen’s new autobiographical show, “Notes on My Mother’s Decline,” forecasts exactly what’s in store: It is just as collected, fatalistic and grief-stricken as you might expect. Perhaps those first two qualities, with their suggestion of emotional detachment, are what helped the playwright cope with the third. Or maybe that’s what Bragen (“This Is My Office,” “Don’t You _______ Say a Word”) would like us to think.
NEW YORK — The folks at Theater Mitu did a lot of homework for their latest show, “House (or how to lose an orchard in 90 minutes or less)”: A “research bibliography” takes up three tightly spaced pages in the program.
NEW YORK — Kay, Lorraine and Amber share a stage but not a single conversation in Elaine Murphy’s “Little Gem.” Yet as the show goes on, it becomes increasingly obvious that the women, who represent three generations of a Dublin family, are very close. When one speaks, the others look on, sometimes silently reacting: a raised eyebrow here, pursed lips there. They may not directly speak to each other, but they do look out for each other.
NEW YORK — The avant-garde is not usually associated with star turns, but it has often relied on them — Kate Valk’s performances in Wooster Group productions immediately come to mind, or Scott Shepherd’s in “Gatz,” Elevator Repair Service’s adaptation of “The Great Gatsby.”
NEW YORK — You don’t need a single line of dialogue to feel the bone-deep malaise that pervades Conor McPherson’s “Dublin Carol”: The play’s set practically screams exhausted shabbiness, drenched in an orange-brown palette Pantone might call Tragic Rust — a monochromatic approach that is representative of the limited emotional landscape to follow.
The title of Ivan Ayr’s debut feature is a bit misleading: “Soni” is only partly about the titular cop (Geetika Vidya Ohlyan); her immediate superior in the Delhi police department, Kalpana (Saloni Batra), plays an equal role in this quiet character study. Despite their difference in rank, the two women forge a reserved friendship after Soni blows a fuse during an undercover operation — verbally harassed while biking at night, she gives the offender a piece of her mind, and her fists.
NEW YORK — Neil LaBute has long been accused of being a mean-spirited nihilist who does not like his characters. Yet for the past 15 years or so, reviews have been pointing out that he’s softened up — by now his reputation is more fearsome than his actual shows.
NEW YORK — The first musical to reach the Great White Way partly on the strength of an active, passionate grassroots following — “Be More Chill,” in case you’re over 30 — begins previews next month.
Young director Romain Gavras does not reinvent the comic caper in the French film “The World Is Yours,” but he revitalizes that genre with pop verve, goofy humor and visual sophistication. A flamboyant turn from Isabelle Adjani does not hurt either, with the star sending up her own image as an aloof leading lady.
NEW YORK — In the lobby of the York Theater, where Gary Apple’s musical “Christmas in Hell” is playing, there is a white board where people can contribute their bad holiday experiences. It will be interesting to see if anybody writes down “the last two hours” on their way out.
NEW YORK — When people talk about the miracle of Christmas, they may be referring to the lowering of critical standards the holidays seem to provoke. Maybe that explains certain sweaters, or how I found myself tapping my toes and nodding contentedly during “Ruben & Clay’s First Annual Christmas Carol Family Fun Pageant Spectacular Reunion Show.”
NEW YORK — Michael R. Jackson — playwright, composer, lyricist and superfan — sang along to every single song at the recent Liz Phair concert in Brooklyn’s Prospect Park. He even knew the obscure “Ant in Alaska.” He took photos and beamed, he offered learned asides about alternate lyrics. When Phair launched into “Divorce Song,” Jackson let out a piercing scream that may still be echoing in the wilds of Park Slope.
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