Danny — a spunky young Puerto Rican musician with a knack for creating earworms — uploads his diss track poking fun at pop phenom Ryan Reed. Stumbling across the piece, the blocked Ms. Reed isn’t so hurt that she can’t seize the opportunity to steal Danny’s best song and recorded it for her new album. Their heated decisions set in motion Original Sound, an engaging and emotional play with music by Adam Seidel. The events were inspired by his previous job as a Chicago-based hip-hop journalist. In order to keep his work to a tight 95 minutes, Seidel can’t completely avoid the inclusion of music industry tropes. Anyone who keeps up with that world will see echoes of recent headlines, from the cathartic 22-years-in-the-making Verve settlement to the unexpected collaboration of Lil Nas X with Billy Ray Cyrus to gain acceptance in a different genre. Yet Seidel also skillfully mines even more interesting territory covering the potentially destructive role of power in the creative process. What happens when your so-called self-expression is no longer your own?
Jane Bruce and Sebastian Chacon in Original Sound; photo by Russ Rowland
The strong back beat of the plot is built atop the complex relationship that develops between Danny and Ryan. Neither is completely in the wrong, which sets up a fascinating dynamic. The supporting characters each heighten important story elements. Danny’s sister Felicia attempts to be supportive. He more easily receives encouragement from his friend Kari, a business school dropout who strives to keep him safe in an exploitative industry. Ryan is backed by her well-intentioned manager Jake and a team of unseen studio producers and executives. A sign of the script’s sophistication is that it is possible to experience both hope and sadness at the end of their shared journey.
Sebastian Chacon brings genuine warmth and exuberance to Danny. (It is fitting to witness the young actor leave the theater with headphones on and a skateboard tucked under his arm.) He is beautifully balanced by singer-songwriter and actress Jane Bruce’s Ryan, by turns stubborn, guarded, and freed by music. Anthony Arkin plays Jake with credible matter-of-factness. Countering is Lio Mehiel’s sensitive interpretation of Kari, though it seems a missed opportunity not to present the character as non-binary. The production’s shortcoming is not providing Cynthia Bastidas and Wilson Jermaine Heredia enough to work with in their critical turns as Danny’s sister and father.
Director Elena Araoz generally keeps the energy high, all the better to shock the audience with quieter moments. The spirited scene is set by Justin Townsend, who cleverly echoes the look of LPs further enhanced by lighting designer Kate McGee’s dance floor elements. An array of imaginative t-shirts and power booties are provided by Sarita Fellows. But it is the music that appropriately takes center stage in the production’s design. Both Chacon and Bruce perform the songs live. The catchy hits are written by Daniel Ocanto, Ms. Bruce and Mr. Seidel. An improvised solo was originally created by musical artist Armen Dolelian from diverse influences. Additional sound design is provided by Nathan Leigh.
Like a tune recorded by multiple artists, each player in Original Sound goes through variations of their own central theme. It makes for a stirring experience for lovers of emerging works. Original Sound plays through June 8th in The Studio at the Cherry Lane Theatre in Greenwich Village. Set 3/4 round in this small house, there are no bad seats. Tickets are $55-$85 and are available by visiting CherryLaneTheatre.org, by calling 866-811-4111 or by visiting the Cherry Lane Theatre Box Office.
The Cake
The Cake is like one of those imperfectly filled jelly donuts: a few sweet spot surrounded by too much bland. At a time when we could use serious conversation and considered insight into the critical issues that divide us as a nation, this comedy by This Is Us producer Bekah Brunstetter offers too little that is satisfying. Though it concludes with some timid steps towards a “love is love is love” message, it gets there via worn out arguments on both sides of the issue of gay marriage.
Fans of That 70s Show may delight in seeing Debra Jo Rupp as Della, the owner of a sweet shop in Winston-Salem North Carolina (Brunstetter’s home town) about to find fame on a national baking show. Her opening monologue cleverly lays the groundwork for the rigid discipline Della applies to all areas of her life. Soon after, she is reunited with Jen, her deceased best friend’s daughter, who is in town preparing for her October wedding. Initially Della is thrilled when asked to provide the wedding cake. But when she discovers Jen’s intended is another bride, she clumsily rescinds the offer. Their ensuing awkward discussion leaves both Della and Jen rattled and searching for the roots of their beliefs and accompanying feelings of shame.
Director Lynne Meadows does her best with a space that is too wide for a story this intimate. Rupp is her usual perky self, delivering most of the better lines with comic flair. To some ears, Della will simply come across as a bigot (though a chirpy petite one) who uses someone else’s pleasure and pain to mend her own relationship. But there are moments when Della’s turmoil feels genuine. Rupp is most grounded in her scenes with Dan Daily, who has the most joyful character arc in the role of her domineering husband, Tim. (Daily also provides the voice of the appropriately oily George, the host of the American Baking Show who functions as Della’s conscience.)
Rupp and Angelson in The Cake. Photo by Joan Marcus.
The relationship of the lesbian couple is more problematic. Disappointingly, though the words are often there — particularly in Jen’s vivid and horrifying description of her heterosexual encounters — there is no palpable connection between the two actresses. The fresh-faced Genevieve Angelson brings a sweet restlessness to Jen as she is tossed between the realms of her conservative childhood and newly found freedom discovered in New York. As her betrothed, Marinda Anderson gives Macy some well-earned rough edges, though the script occasionally requires her to speechify. But as a couple, they never seem to click.
The overall look of the piece is spot-on. Scenic designer John Lee Beatty has chosen candy colors to surround his baker, with mint green and strawberry cream pink swirling through her shop and home. In contrast, the engaged couple is staying in the only earth toned room on the set. Wardrobe by costume designer Tom Broecker follows a similar scheme, with Jen alternating palates. Philip S. Rosenberg’s ’s lighting sharpens the intensity of Della’s inner dialogue and softens the conversations between lovers.
With The Cake, Ms. Brunstetter has tried to make the point that recent cultural shifts have occurred too quickly for some goodhearted people to catch up. The irony is that since the time the play was first produced, those same shifts have given rise to a slate of superior projects with bolder things to say. From our current cultural vantage point, this work is a disappointing use of Rupp’s comedic talent as well as a waste of several delectable-looking cakes.
The Cake is playing through March 31 at MTC at New York City Center – Stage I. Theater-goers under 30 qualify for special $35 tickets. Full priced tickets begin at $89 and can be purchased online at www.nycitycenter.org, by calling CityTix at 212-581-1212, or by visiting the New York City Center box office (131 West 55th Street).