Forget Willy Loman, King Lear or Brick Pollitt. If I were an actor, my dream role would be Mike Hogan. No, not one of Sandy Duncan's kids from that sitcom, but the brother of the powerhouse role of Josie Hogan in Eugene O'Neill's "A Moon for the Misbegotten." Think about it. You come on stage, put on a pair of boots, bounce a few lines off a fantastic actress and then go sip coffee in the green room until curtain call.
I kid, mostly because I don't have a whole lot to say about the revival of "Moon" now winding down at the Brooks Atkinson. While I certainly respect O'Neill, his works are not always the most pleasant experience for me, particularly because a few things hit too close to home. Double this with the fact that I already saw an excellent production of this on Broadway just seven years ago.
So how did this production compare? Not even close, I'm afraid. Kevin Spacey as self-destructive alcoholic James Tyrone makes some bizarre, bizarre choices and is never as heartbreaking as Gabriel Byrne. Eve Best is wonderful as Josie, even though it's difficult to forget Cherry Jones in the 2000 version. But there was one actor who made me particularly glad I caught this production: Colm Meaney as Josie's father Phil. I had completely misinterpreted this character from the impish Roy Dotrice's performance, who I had thought was fantastic at the time but now can see was a bit miscast.
And this production has one other thing going for it: There won't be another "Madigan Men" following it. God, John Hensley was cute, though.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
I liked the production better than most folks did, but that's just me. Colm was fucking fantastic, huh? I was worried that he might at any point slap his chest and call to be transported to the holodeck, but no.
Is it bad that I didn't even know he was in Star Trek? I know only the old people and the lady with the freaky ex-senator husband.
Post a Comment