Robert or Bobby — as he’s known to his friends — the protagonist of “Company,” Stephen Sondheim and George Furth’s 1970 musical, has always been an enigma. Why won’t this confirmed New York bachelor, who is celebrating his 35th birthday and not getting any younger, finally settle down with a wife? What is he so afraid of?
This question is the springboard for a groundbreaking concept musical. The show burrows into the character’s psyche while surveying the mixed blessing of marriage in a kaleidoscopic revue that boasts one of Sondheim’s most irresistible scores.
Scenes are linked thematically rather than in the linear narrative fashion of traditional book musicals. But for many fans of the show, the mystery of Bobby’s nature was never satisfyingly solved.
Marianne Elliott, the Tony-winning director of “War Horse,” “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time” and the Broadway revival of “Angels in America,” wondered what would happen if you turned Bobby into Bobbie and cast the role with a woman. Her Tony-winning revival, which starred Katrina Lenk as Bobbie and the inimitable Patti LuPone as Joanna, whose rendition of “The Ladies Who Lunch” had Broadway raising a glass in her honor, discovered that the mystery might not be solved but a fresh new take could yield provocative insights.
LuPone isn’t in the North American tour production of “Company” playing at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre through Aug. 18. But Britney Coleman is radiant in the role of Bobbie.
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She’s more grounded than Lenk, who leaned into Bobbie’s sphinx-like nature, endowing the character with a Mona Lisa smile. What’s more, Coleman’s voice is powerful enough to make the most of the original Bobby’s big numbers without sacrificing contours of personality. (Her rendition of “Being Alive,” the character’s climactic epiphany, had the Hollywood Pantages audience roaring in appreciation.)
Better still, Coleman finds the perfect tone to carry the musical, balancing cockiness and insecurity, loneliness and independence, and irony and sincerity. Indeed, the spirit of Sondheim lives on in her performance.
This gender-flipped production is far from perfect. Elliott plays fast and loose with the period, updating the era so that Bobbie is rarely without her phone, taking selfies and looking at what seem like dating apps. There’s a joke about Prozac, but also one about Sara Lee, the go-to frozen cheesecake brand of my 1970s childhood. The costumes by Bunny Christie, who also designed the geometric sets, follow suit in a parade of fashions that suggest a post-’70s retrospective.
Elliott deals with those elements of the social world that concern her and ignores those that don’t. In one sense, race is a factor, given that Bobbie is now played by a Black woman and several of the couples are cast as interracial. But the musical would need to be substantially revised to deal explicitly with this change and that is not the case here.
The same could be said about the gender swap. Strategic modifications have been made to accommodate the shift, but the production is largely faithful to the spirit of the original. Unencumbered by her own directorial scheme, Elliott leans into the freedom of musical storytelling, a mode in which realism is dabbed on rather than studiously applied.
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The inconsistencies and interpretive static never disappear, but Sondheim and Furth’s “Company” comes through where it matters most — theatrically. As I felt when I saw this revival on Broadway, Furth’s book might have benefited from some judicious pruning. But the musical numbers provide more than enough blissful compensation.
The North American tour of “Company,” playing at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre through Aug. 18.
(Matthew Murphy for MurphyMade)
Marriage is the main topic, both the joys and despairs, in numbers that make ambivalence energizing, fun, poignant and, most important, resonantly true. “The Little Things You Do Together,” “Sorry-Grateful” and “Marry Me a Little” tackle the subject from different angles, but they prove that lyrical complexity and tunefulness can go hand in hand.
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One of the highlights of this revival is the handling of “Getting Married Today.” The source of incapacitating wedding day jitters is now a gay wedding. Jamie (Matt Rodin) vents his acute anxiety in a song that demands the highest level of neurotic showmanship. Rodin is a marvel, delivering with rapid-fire virtuosity lines by Sondheim that are made all the more involving by the sensitive portrayal of husband-to-be Paul (Jhardon DiShon Milton, in a touching performance).
Britney Coleman as Bobbie, Matthew Christian as David and Emma Stratton as Jenny in “Company.”
(Matthew Murphy for MurphyMade)
Of the other supporting cast members, Matt Bittner makes the most of his appearances on stage. In one scene, playing a straitlaced husband who gets high with his wife and Bobbie, he confronts difficult marital feelings his character would normally censor in a comically alert performance that mines Furth’s book for dramatic gold.
Sometimes the novelty of the revival gets the better of the ensemble’s character work. The fault lies less with the performers than with the revival’s hesitant approach to textual changes. Switching Bobby’s trio of girlfriends to Bobbie’s trio of boyfriends, for example, requires more than light textual revision and bold casting choices. (“Barcelona,” however, is nonetheless memorably pulled off by Jacob Dickey’s flight attendant Andy and Coleman’s pleasure-seeking Bobbie.)
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Britney Coleman finds the perfect tone to carry the musical, balancing cockiness and insecurity, loneliness and independence, and irony and sincerity.
(Matthew Murphy for MurphyMade)
How does Joanne fare in all of this? Judy McLane is a powerhouse singer, as adept at harmonizing with the ensemble as she is at majestically separating herself from the pack. When the spotlight is squarely on her, as it is in “The Ladies Who Lunch,” she brings the audience to a feverish pitch of Sondheimian ecstasy. But how the song fits into the dramatic arc of Bobbie’s commitment phobia isn’t easy to discern.
There’s a fuzziness to Joanna’s subsequent interaction with Bobbie, when in effect she offers to pimp out her husband to her. I could more or less track the dramatic through line from my knowledge of the original show, but the psychology gets lost in the bravura of the moment.
Despite these qualms and quibbles, I can’t remember ever feeling as invested in Bobby or Bobbie as I did at the Pantages. “Company” is always worth the time, and Coleman anchors the central role with a luminous humanity.
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‘Company’
Where: Hollywood Pantages Theatre, 6233 Hollywood Blvd., L.A.
When: 7:30 p.m. Tuesdays-Thursdays, 8 p.m. Fridays, 2 and 8 p.m. Saturdays, 1 and 6:30 p.m. Sundays. Ends Aug. 18
Harold and the Purple Crayon, based on the book series of the same name, isn’t terribly impressive or imaginative. But it is a great first movie for young children.
Harold and the Purple Crayon, the new film, isn’t terribly impressive or imaginative as its title character. But it is a harmless story that will delight young children, and its the rare title that would make for a great first visit to the movies.
There are dozens of modern children’s films that are cheap, crass and annoying. Harold’s best quality is that despite its simplicity, the story and its presentation is wholesome and appropriately exciting for its target market.
Inspired by the now 70-year-old picture book series of the same name by Crockett Johnson, this (mostly) live interpretation of the book series a now adult Harold (Zachary Levi) jump out of the picture books and into the real world in a quest to find the author and meet the man who first drew him.
This doesn’t follow any specific plot from any of Johnson’s barely plotted books, but it is an interesting premise for a G-rated, 80-minute, big screen adventure. It also provides some morality and wisdom to justify a sufficient enough story to justify Harold’s leap into reality.
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Cute and cuddly is the best way to describe Harold’s antics with his friends and new child he’s inspiring named Mel (a warm debut from Benjamin Bottani). The danger is never really dangerous, but the effects (and especially the crayon drawing!) are passable for a movie of this scale.
This film is the live action debut of former Blue Sky Animation director Carlos Saldanha, and his whimsy makes Harold a suitable project. He’s best known for the Rio franchise and 2017’s career high Ferdinand. A highlight here is the film’s hand-drawn animated prologue, where Saldanha’s animation experience gets to shine.
Much of the supporting cast delivers its weird, magic crayon premise with gusto, with sometimes surprisingly funny turns from Lil Rel Howery and Jermaine Clement. The scene stealer, however, is English theatre vet Tanya Reynolds as Porcupine, who’s fully committed, sweet, honest and hilarious across every scene she’s in.
Adults should be warned while Harold is warm, forgettable fun for those aged 4-10, the plot is shamelessly predictable and obvious. It’s still far more palatable than other recent family films, such as the recent Despicable Me 4.
I really enjoyed hearing the giggles and seeing the wide-eyed wonder of a Kindergarten aged audience member seated near me watching Harold and the Purple Crayon. That optimistic imagination is exactly the spirit to see the movie with, even if there’s nothing else on the page.
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Harold and the Purple Crayon
5 out of 10
Rated G, 1hr 30mins. Family Fantasy Comedy.
Directed by Carlos Saldanha.
Starring Zachary Levi, Zooey Deschanel, Benjamin Bottani, Lil Rel Howery, Tanya Reynolds and Jermaine Clement.
Trap was a solid tension based movie that kept you guessing right up until the end. Josh Hartnett did an outstanding job with his role. He would bounce from the perfect father figure to a scheming serial killer called, The Butcher. This role needed a strong actor to portray the many different personalities that were tightly wound around each other.
M. Night Shyamalan is hands down my favorite director in the industry. I love how his movies always make you pay attention. You just know there is going to be something you get wrong and by the end of the movie you figure out you were totally wrong about everything. He’s really good at that. With Trap though, it wasn’t as secretive to me as, let’s say, The 6th Sense. If you don’t go in thinking that it will be a total mind bender, you’ll enjoy it more. I don’t think you’ll over think this one. It’s still very good, just not quite as good as his other movies.
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This would be a great date night movie. It’ll give you something to talk about and dissect over a nice dinner. Enjoy!
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Grade: B
About The Peetimes:There are 2 great Peetimes to choose from. The 1st Peetime is longer in case you need more time.
There are extra scenes during, or after, the end credits of Trap.
Rated:
(PG-13) Brief Strong Language | Some Violent Content
Genres:
Crime, Horror, Mystery
Starring:
Josh Hartnett, Hayley Mills, Alison Pill
Director:
M. Night Shyamalan
Writer(s):
M. Night Shyamalan
Language:
English
Country:
United Kingdom, Yemen, United States
Plot A father and his teen daughter attend a pop concert only to realize they’ve entered the center of a dark and sinister event.
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Why do I find Elizabeth Taylor so fascinating? My admiration for her work comes down, perhaps unusually, to the Zeffirelli-Shakespeare “The Taming of the Shrew” and the Nichols-Albee “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?,” two films in which she starred with then-husband Richard Burton. And I must have seen her in some of the “Father of the Bride” films — the original ones, with Spencer Tracy, not Steve Martin — when they came on television, because I’d watch nearly every comedy that came on television. But the adult dramas she made, like “Butterfield 8,” “Raintree County” and “A Place in the Sun,” were not so much my cup of tea then, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her breakout roles as a kid actor in “Lassie Come Home” and “National Velvet.”
And yet, like any American alive in the latter half of the 20th century, I was conscious of her much-photographed face, her blanket presence in the press, which ranged from respectable and respectful to tabloid and salacious. There were her many marriages — twice to Burton, most famously — her fabulous jewels, the hugeness of “Cleopatra,” the first film for which an actor was paid a million dollars, and whose cost overruns and commercial failure nearly bankrupted the studio. Andy Warhol painted her even before he got around to Marilyn Monroe. Later, there were commercials for her fragrance line and pioneering philanthropy in AIDS research.
Elizabeth Taylor as a child.
(The Elizabeth Taylor Estate / HBO)
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And so we come to “Elizabeth Taylor: The Lost Tapes,” an elegant little documentary by Nanette Burstein (“Hillary,” “The Kid Stays in the Picture”). Premiering Saturday at 8 p.m. on HBO and streaming on Max, it takes off from 40 hours of “newly discovered” interviews taped beginning in 1964 by journalist Richard Meryman for a potential book. Taylor was only 32, but had already been making movies for 22 years, and a star for 20. It’s her voice that drives the narrative, abetted in a small but significant way by those of close friends and associates, including Roddy McDowall, her “Lassie Come Home” co-star and lifelong confidant, and Debbie Reynolds, who became a less close friend after her husband, Eddie Fisher, suddenly became Taylor’s. A wealth of archival film and newsreel footage, home movies and snapshots — and, for context, new footage of tape recorders, ash trays and martini glasses — provide marvelous illustration of Taylor’s work and world.
There is, of course, our abiding interest in the private lives of public personalities — not necessarily the dirty laundry, though careers have been founded on digging it up and publishing it, but in getting a sense of the ordinary life of an extraordinary talent, of finding the human being in figures — I think I can use the word “iconic” here — who seem beyond knowing. Taylor’s early public persona was crafted by studio publicists, who sent her on sham dates simply to make her look like an ordinary teenager, but she was also one of the first celebrities for whom that narrative escaped control. Taylor was labeled a “homewrecker” after “stealing” Fisher from Reynolds — she married him, she says, because she could talk to him about his best friend, her late husband Mike Todd, who was killed in an air crash. But it was when she began an affair with Burton, while they were making “Cleopatra,” that paparazzi culture went into high gear.
Nowadays, under the scrutiny of 10,000 cellphones and the constant pressure to self-promote, celebrities are more likely to display a little dirty laundry themselves, to let you into their homes or sit for “revealing” interviews with interviewers whose celebrity equals their own. But they are revealing only within limits. Because these conversations were taped as deep background over many hours, and not an hour or two of talk to be immediately funneled into a magazine article, there’s a certain expansive, fly-on-the-wall informality to them, especially when McDowall is in the room and participating. One would like to have had something of this sort from Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe.
Richard Burton with Elizabeth Taylor. They married and divorced twice.
(The Elizabeth Taylor Estate/HBO)
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What is a revelation, watching thematically selected clips from her films — a small sampling of a filmography where the word “substantial” hardly does justice — is just how good an actor, and a reactor, she was. There is Burton’s remark — oft-repeated, by Burton — that when he first acted with her on set he thought she was no good, but when he saw the dailies he was amazed, and it’s true that she is wonderfully, intensely alive on film. If you’re not paying attention, it can be hard to see, through the capital-S Stardom and the distraction of her features — “It was truly like an eclipse of the sun — it blotted out everybody that was in the office,” says MGM producer Sam Marx, for whom a single glimpse was enough to cast her, without testing, in “Lassie Come Home” and the irresistible temptation to play to her looks: “She’s 5 foot 5 and 110 pounds of 16-year-old glorious, cover girl beauty,” as one early promotional clip describes her. And many of her films, it must be said, did not rise to her talent.
That tension between the public and the personal, between the dreck and the art, is the spine of the film. Taylor hated being “a public utility. I didn’t like fame, I don’t like the sense of belonging to the public; I like being an actress or trying to be an actress.” At the same time, she could be insecure about her acting, especially when paired with Method actors (and good friends) like Montgomery Clift and James Dean. Of her own method, she says, “It’s not technique, it’s instinct.” And yet whatever she did, worked.
This is neither a complete accounting of the career, nor a prodding journalistic deep dive — though Taylor herself can dive pretty deep. (She likes a man who can dominate her, we learn; she would annoy Todd simply so she could lose the ensuing argument.) All narrators are, to be sure, at least somewhat unreliable, both as regards historical facts and inner states, and “The Lost Tapes” is of course limited by the fact that the tapes run out in Taylor’s early thirties; the rest of the story, highly compressed, is carried on by others. But all in all, Burstein’s film feels big and perceptive, a love letter to a remarkable, interesting and very human human.
