If you’ve ever wanted Hugh Jackman to talk to you, you may get your chance at the Minetta Lane Theatre.
Just sneeze during one of his long monologues, and Jackman will happily stop the show, look to see where you are, and say “Bless you!” For that matter, if you make any unexpected noise, Jackman will give you an affectionate comment as well.
You can’t get that at home when you’re watching the superstar on your Panasonic in WOLVERINE. Ditto when you attend your local multiplex when you witness Jackman as the title character in THE DEATH OF ROBIN HOOD. Only live theater can give you this experience.
And if you saw High Jackman on either the big screen or the small one in THE GREATEST SHOWMAN, you may have rebutted Juliet Capulet’s opinion “What’s in a name?” Here too Jackman’s charisma and charm effortlessly pours forth even when he’s not talking to a sneezer.
Jackman’s trodding New York stages for a total of almost three years has him so at ease that he freely makes eye contact with many in the audience. Sure, plenty of performers do that, but name the ones that make an effort to include members of the balcony?
Start with Jackman, who’s taken on a demanding role in Hannah Moscovitch’s SEXUAL MISCONDUCT OF THE MIDDLE CLASSES. The comedy-drama runs only 85 intermissionless minutes, but Jackman must be on stage for about 84 of them. And in case you’re ready to accuse him of breaking character and the fourth wall in his interaction with the audience, no: Moscovitch’s play casts him as a storyteller who reveals what happened to Jon, a published author who taught college to make ends meet … and meets his pretty 19-year-old student when she shows up at his door.
You know what’s coming, don’t you? Even if the title didn’t tell you what was going to happen, you would. Hell, even if the title were ANNIE – and it could have been, for that’s the student’s name – you could write the plot.
As expected, Annie’s smitten with him, for Jon has often been published; she dreams of meeting the same delightful fate. Hero worship is quite an aphrodisiac for a young ‘un, and teen flesh is one, too, especially after your wife has walked out on you.
But in the end, the student in such situations is always less to blame. The teacher is the adult and should be responsible; the student is forgiven for being naïve and not knowing any better.
Of course, seeing this accomplished actor under any circumstances is a treat, but we’d feel better treated with a play that better treated Jackman’s talents and our intelligence.
Playing Annie, the only other role, is Ella Beatty who rather resembles two-time Tony and one-time Oscar winner Sandy Dennis. In the late ‘60s, Boxoffice magazine named Dennis as one of Hollywood’s top ten stars, but she’s barely remembered today. Frankly, her over the top (of Mount Kilimanjaro) performances haven’t aged well. Take a look at WHO’S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF? and you may be astonished that director Mike Nichols didn’t fire her mid-film.
Beatty even has a delivery similar to Dennis’, but she’s much more controlled and believable. Whether or not she was influenced by Dennis’ histrionics and director Ian Rickson had to pull her in, we’ll never know. But Beatty does well in maneuvering her now-we’ll-do-it, now-we-won’t interactions with Jackman.
Considering the circumstances, even the final words of Moscovitch’s title is odd. Perhaps Annie is middle-class, but Jon seems a cut above. And even if he isn’t at the start, we’re told late in the play an achievement that would seem to boost him higher.
It’s all presented in front of the theater’s brick wall. There are a few tables, chairs and lamps in front, but little-to-nothing more. Then why are not one but two scenic designers getting credit? It’s as much a mystery as why Jackman would want to do this earnest but unexciting play when there are plenty of others where he could connect with an audience.
