Completely Believable Barbra: Buyer & Cellar

This review originally appeared on the San Francisco Appeal.

Barbra Streisand has a basement full of crap she's collected over the years. Really, who doesn't, in some form or another? But Barbra's basement is a little different. You see, it's been designed to look like a small town street full of quaint little shops. Her old costumes can be found in the antique clothing store. Dolls are in Bee's Doll Shop. And of course, let's not forget the Gift Shoppe, full of mementos and tiny bars of soap. Don't believe me? Here:

This is something you'll learn right off the bat at Buyer & Cellar, the one-man-tour-de-force that has made a move from off-Broadway to San Francisco. Yet that bit of insanity is in fact the only true thing in the play, and this is made perfectly clear from the beginning, when star Michael Urie sits on the stage, a copy of Barbra Streisand's book My Passion For Design in his hands.

During the short introduction, he explains how playwright Jonathan Tolins was inspired by the book--and Barbra Streisand's Oprah appearance promoting it--and imagined what it would be like to work in that quaint personal mini mall. Urie goes one to tell us everything else we are about to hear is fake--just to make sure the very famous and "litigious" Streisand understands, should she ever actually come and see the play.

He also makes it clear that he's not an impressionist, and that enough people--"even some women!"--have "done" Streisand before, so his interpretation is less impression, and more impressionistic. After this introduction--which includes readings of choice passages from the Streisand book--the play begins, with Urie now Alex Moore, a struggling actor in Los Angeles who, after being fired as mayor of Disneyland's Toontown over an unfortunate churro incident, goes on a job interview in Malibu, at a huge ranch house, guarded by "brand new barn doors that look old."

After meeting the assistant in charge, he learns that the job involves working in a basement full of "shops." He will be the sole shop worker, and he'll only have one customer, the "lady of the house," who enjoys the immersive experience of "shopping" her own things. Of course, he thinks it all sounds horrible and a bit insane. Until he learns who the lady of the house actually is.

He admits he's not a stereotypical gay Barbra Streisand fan, but that he is well aware of her, and considers her part of his "gay heritage." So when offered the job, be dives right in, manning the shops while wearing a uniform, days spent dusting French dolls and listening to the incessant "whir-ir-ir" of the frozen yogurt machine. Until one day, Barbra actually shows up.

Urie's Streisand isn't dead on, as he warns, but it's still kind of perfect, and he transitions from Alex to Barbra seamlessly. The play's best laughs come the unexpected things Barbra does and says in that cellar full of shops, so I won't spoil it. But know that it's completely ridiculous, and yet, somehow, completely believable.

Urie is just stupendous. He's probably best known for his role as one of Betty's nemeses on "Ugly Betty," and he was certainly funny, if a tad stereotypical in that, but his comedic talent are on full display here, and he doesn't disappoint. Playing Alex, Alex's failed screenwriter boyfriend Barry, Barbra's assistant, and Barbra herself, he makes every character completely recognizable through body language and cadence, while never going completely over board. His comedic timing is so dead on, I can't imagine anyone else ever being able to play the part as well. (Apparently, it was originally written with Jesse Tyler Ferguson in mind, but should he ever take over, he'll have some huge and hilarious shoes to fill.)

It's not all laughs. There are some genuinely moving moments between Alex and Barbra, and the inevitable end is both poignant and brilliantly comedic. Going into Buyer & Cellar I had my doubts. It seemed too on-the-nose in its subject matter: A gay man making fun of Barbra Streisand? Come on now. But turns out it's a truly funny and insightful look into fame, fans, and the desire create to one's own personal utopia.

Entertaining And Slightly Exhausting: Motown: The Musical

This review originally appeared on the San Francisco Appeal.

It's too bad Berry Gordy can't make an on-stage appearance at the end of every performance of Motown: The Musical, as he did at San Francisco's Orpheum Theater on Tuesday night, because the 84-year-old legend nearly brought the house down dancing jubilantly with the cast. It was a hell of an end to the entertaining and slightly exhausting jukebox musical.

Gordy wrote the show's book, and it's loosely based on his 1994 autobiography, detailing the rise of his music empire, from 1938 to 1983. The legendary 25th anniversary TV show serves as the musical's framing device. Act one opens with energetic dueling performances by The Temptations and The Four Tops as they rehearse for the show, while an aging Gordy (Clifton Oliver) is home, lamenting the loss of so many of the names he helped create as they moved away from Motown and on to bigger paychecks. Will he actually show up at the anniversary show?

The time then moves to the past, making a quick stop in Gordy's childhood (the fight between Joe Louis and Max Schmeling was a pivotal point for Gordy as a child), eventually settling on Gordy as a young man and songwriter. After writing some songs for Jackie Wilson ("Reet Petite" and "Lonely Teardrops") Gordy decides to pursue songwriting and producing full-time, and "Motown" (the naming of the company is an amusing moment) is born.

The pace of the show is breakneck, with over 50 songs from Motown (and other Berry labels) performed. Of course, not all of the songs are done in full, so one song often blends into another, and the groups performing those songs aren't always clear (for instance, if you aren't a fan of The Temptations and The Four Tops you probably won't know just which is which).

A lot of groups and singers are portrayed over the course of the almost three-hour musical, with much of the cast playing three or more different roles. The show's major focus is the relationship between Gordy and Diana Ross (Allison Semmes), who Gordy meets when she's still in high school, and hanging around Motown with her group, The Primettes. He sees something in the group, and especially the one "with the big eyes." The Primettes become The Supremes, and after many failed songs, eventually ends up as Motown's biggest act.

Semmes does a good job of mimicking Diana Ross's smile-filled singing style, and her voice is dead on, though the big eyes everyone keeps talking about...aren't. Smokey Robinson (Nicholas Christopher), Gordy's best friend, and Marvin Gaye (Jarran Muse), his brother-in-law (at least for a while) are the two other main characters, and both actors are great, particularly during the songs. Of course, the whole cast does a lot of singing, so much so that there's not a lot of room for plot. Events happen at breakneck speed. Hit records are being made, groups split up, Kennedy gets shot, and then war protest breaks out in what seems like 10 minutes time. Die-hard Motown nerds will probably have a hard time with all the liberties taken with the musical timeline.

Because there are so many songs, there are a few times when tunes are used in an expository way. Sometimes this works, (when Smokey Robinson must face angry Alabama police on stage while singing "I don't like you/but I love you" from "You Really Got a Hold on Me"), and sometimes it doesn't, (Diana Ross sings "I Hear a Symphony" while laying in bed next to an impotent Berry Gordy; but perhaps the awkwardness of that scene was amplified because Berry Gordy was sitting in the row in front of me).

A lot of ground is covered in the first act, while act two focuses on Gordy's move to Los Angeles, the discovery of the Jackson 5 (Reed Lorenzo Shannon is fantastic as young Michael Jackson), disco, and the looming threat that the label will have to fold as more and more artists--including his beloved Diana--move on to bigger things. But Gordy vows to fight, releasing even more hits. (He seems to remember he's got Stevie Wonder in a closet somewhere, as Wonder makes a brief appearance as a child in act one, and isn't heard from again until the end of act two).

By the time the finale and the 25th anniversary reunion arrived, I was just plain tired, and couldn't blame them for completely overlooking Michael Jackson's immortal performance during that show. Who'd have the energy for that?

Well, maybe Berry Gordy would.

Begin Again

This review originally appeared on the San Francisco Appeal.

A few weeks back, I reviewed the stage musical version of director John Carney's movie, Once. There were some aspects I liked more than the movie--mainly, that the male lead is more likable than in the movie--but both versions fall short when it comes to the female lead. I wanted more of her story.

Begin Again almost seems like a direct reaction to that complaint, as the musical lead this time around is a woman, played by Keira Knightley, and her muse and cheerleader is a guy, played by Mark Ruffalo. Like in Once, there's some romantic tension between them, and the question of "will they or won't they" does linger for much of the movie. But the meat of their relationship is musical, as he produces her demo on the streets of New York City. (They decide to record all the songs live and outdoors, an interesting concept that, unfortunately, doesn't carry over to the movie's actual soundtrack.)

Adam Levine is perfectly cast as Knightley's d-bag boyfriend, and some other real life musical talents, like CeeLo Green and Mos Def, also make appearances. And immediately after seeing the movie, I wanted to download most of the songs. Knightley doesn't have what I'd call a powerful voice, but it's pretty, and her songs are as catchy as the best tunes in Once. How long till this one makes it to Broadway?

Falling Slowly: Once, the Musical

This review originally appeared on the San Francisco Appeal.

I liked the 2006 film Once well enough, but didn't fall madly in love with it as many of its fans did. I certainly understood the appeal of the film, and a few of the songs made it to my iTunes, but I couldn't get past feeling like the male lead was a huge...jerk.

In 2012, the stage musical based on the film made its Broadway debut, and it went on to win eight Tony awards. The traveling company of Once now comes to San Francisco for a three week run at the Curran Theater.

The basic story from the film remains: A young Czech woman hears a young Irish man singing a passionate song to a group of listeners who are...slightly less passionate about him, and he's on the verge of quitting his music for good. But she is enraptured, and convinces the man to let her hear more. This involves the fixing of a vacuum cleaner, and a visit to music store owned by a very animated musician who knows karate. Yes, the show is quirky.

The man and woman are nameless in the play, known only as the Guy and the Girl, and are played by Stuart Ward and Dani de Waal. The Girl is also a musician, taught piano by her father back in Czechoslovakia--before his own musical career was cut short by arthritis and he killed himself, so she has personal experience with moody musicians. She's such an encouraging, engaging, and positive force that the guy can't help but go along with her plan to record a demo. He's also a bit smitten with her, while she is reluctant to return his affections, as she has a daughter, and hopes to reconcile with her estranged husband.

What sets Once apart from your standard musical is that every actor is also part of the musical's orchestra. They all play their respective instruments while on stage, sometimes dancing at the same time. (Although the "dancing" is more like subdued movement, not your typical big numbers.) There are usually at least 10 people on stage at any time, filling out such roles as the girl's mother, fellow Czech immigrants, a banker with musical aspirations of his own, and local Dublin pub goers and musicians.

The cast moves around a set that looks like an Irish pub, and in a really fun move, the audience gets to become part of the action, as the stage is opened up for theatergoers before the curtain and during intermission. You can walk on to the pub set, buy an ale, wine, or water, and get a close-up look at it all. Slowly, some of the show's cast makes its way on stage with some instruments and starts to play a few songs, surrounded by the audience. Eventually, the stage empties of its guests, and the play begins.

The energy of these interactive moments aren't matched entirely within the musical proper. There are terrific songs throughout--"When Your Mind's Made Up" and the Oscar winning "Falling Slowly" being the stand-outs, (and that one's performed, ironically, more than once). But sometimes the show is maddeningly slow, grinding to a halt for subdued musical numbers with languid dancing that do nothing to advance the plot.

The central relationship between the guy and the girl is a bit more overtly romantic than it is in the movie. As a result, he comes off as less of a pushy jerk, which is a welcome change. But the story is clearly his, and the girl is there to be his champion and muse; her goals appear to be nothing more than to be a good mother and wife, playing piano at home, while the guy is persuaded to pursue his musical dreams in the Big City. I wanted more for her character, especially since Dani de Waal has such a terrific voice, and is only given one solo song in which to showcase it (the lovely ballad "The Hill").

I'm not sure how fans of the movie will take to this version, as the film definitely had such a genuine, local Irish community energy, that it almost felt like a documentary; the actors here are, for the most part, clearly NOT Dubliners. That authentic feel is almost captured during those moments of interaction with the audience. But when that proverbial curtain rises, it floats away.

Kick Ass Heroine: Divergent

This review originally appeared on the San Francisco Appeal.

I understand the draw of teen lit. They're page turners that appeal to the heightened, hormone-fueled emotions of your younger years. The world sucks, you're different--special!--and one day everyone will see that! Teens might not live in a post-apocalyptic hell hole, but I'm sure high school feels like it sometimes.

Divergent is the latest female-lead, post-apocalyptic action series, and yes, it's a lot like The Hunger Games. But that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Set in Chicago, in an unspecific future, but at least 100 years after a war has left the world in ruins, this version of the windy city is surrounded by a large electric fence, to protect it from...well, perhaps we'll find that out in the sequels.

Society has been divided into five "factions." Of course, these factions bear some resemblance to current professions, or at least they did to me. You've got the "honest" Candor (lawyers); the "intelligent" Erudite (scientists); the "peaceful" Amity (hippies); the "brave" Dauntless (military); and the "selfless" Abnegation (non-profits). Not sure where those who write dystopian books and movies would fit in. Perhaps they're part of the "Factionless" (homeless)?

Our heroine, Beatrice (Shailene Woodley), was born into Abnegation, the faction that, because they are selfless, does most of the governing. Her father is high up in the political ranks, (which makes sense, since he's played by Tony "I'm the PRESIDENT!" Goldwyn), but Beatrice is drawn to the black-leather-clad, running-through-the-streets, climbing-buildings-while-shrieking assholes that are Dauntless.

This societal division is designed to keep order and peace. People are born into their factions, but when they reach their teen years they take a personality test that reveals if they are made for the faction they were born into, or destined for another. Post test, they can go with the faction they were destined for...or choose the one they want to belong to, the catch being, once they choose, they can never go back.

But Beatrice's test results are inconclusive. They reveal she is more than one faction; she is "divergent." And this is a bad thing. She is told to keep this a secret, or risk losing her life.

Does Beatrice choose to stay in boring, gray Abnegation? Well, she's wearing black leather on the poster; it's not a spoiler to say she joins the cool kids. And she goes by "Tris" now, thanks.

The middle section of this admittedly overlong movie is a series of training rituals: hand-to-hand combat, target practice, knife-throwing, psychedelic drug tests that reveal your deepest fears. Friendships are forged, (Zoe Kravitz does a nice job as Tris's gal pal, Christina), and enemies made. (Though why they chose to cast three men who look EXACTLY alike as Tris's friends and foe remains a baffler.)

But what would a dystopian teen adventure be without a love interest? Not the new Hunger Games, that's for sure! And thankfully, we've got a better guy to look at than that milquetoast Peta (isn't he the worst?!). Our heroine's eye candy is a Dauntless trainer who goes by "Four," and he's played by Theo James, who "Downton Abbey" fans may recognize as the Turkish guest Mary kills with her vagina.

The movie follows a formula, and there aren't a lot of surprises. But I have to say, I liked it more than the first Hunger Games. The set-up is just slightly less ridiculous, the camera work less "cameraman with palsy," and the corrupt government conspiracy is a little more believable. Plus, that evil Faction is headed by another woman, played by Kate Winslet, (doing her usual terrible American accent).

It's going to take more than The Hunger Games and Divergent to erase the horrors of Twilight and its nightmarish messages about sticking with abusive assholes who can't control their rage. But I'm glad we're moving along, and Hollywood is giving teens some kick-ass heroines--saving dudes in distress!--to emulate.