Hell yes.

Although best known as the tight-ass Miranda Hobbs from Sex in the City, she has a long stage pedigree that stretches back to her teens. She doesn’t do as much stage work as she use to, but I can assure you that she hasn’t lost her chops.

She is on stage in every scene of Distracted, the high-tension wire that’s about to open at the Roundabout Theater.

A contemporary mom struggles with her unruly 9-year old son. If, when all else fails, she puts him on Ritalin and he becomes a zombie, does that mean she has failed as a parent? The father is not much help in the, “no son of mine is going to be medicated” sort of macho way.

I have no idea where she gets the energy to be a clenched fist for two solid hours but she pulls it off beautifully. And I saw the show mid-week, for cryin’ out loud! Who has that kind of energy in the evening mid-week!? It’s a comedy and there are plenty of yucks, but when she is stretched to her limit and is about to snap, the tears come. This show would be a good initiation for someone who has never been to a play before. It’s got punch.

The best compliment I can pay to a play is if, at the end of the evening, I say to myself, “I wish I could have written that.”

Do you know who the actress Mercedes Ruehl is? She was in The Fisher King and some other pretty junky movies. I never really gave her a second thought as an actress. Last night I saw her play a crazy Catskills Jewish mother circa 1960 in the comedy/drama Broadway hit The American Plan.

The play had the requisite satisfying plot twists and the company all held their own, but things really took off when she was on stage. I have no memory of any of her film performances but her stage performance as a gargoyle who is hell bent on keeping her daughter at her side, even at the cost of her happiness, was memorable.

The daughter is played by Lily Rabe who was best known as being the daughter of playwright David Rabe and actress Jill Clayburgh. Her repeated successful turns on stage have allowed her to step out of her parent’s shadow. Huzzah.

I talked CB into seeing Looking for the Pony at the Vital Theatre Company with me.

I wanted to see it because a brilliant actress named J. Smith-Cameron was in it and the reviewer from The New York Times said:

When you’re in the audience at a play about breast cancer, you don’t expect to laugh a lot. Or to enjoy the sweet taste of victory. But…spontaneous applause tends to break out.

Do you know what was funny about this play? There was NOTHING funny about this play! Lord, it was heavy, heavy drama. A woman slowly dies of breast cancer. It was mawkish and overwrought, but I’ll tell you what was good; the two lead actresses were committed to their roles.

During the Hallmark Hall of Fame death scene, the two leads were in tears and that’s a very hard thing to do. In movies, you can always use drops or multiple takes but there’s no hiding the truth in the theater. I’ve seen a ton of plays whereby a character is supposedly so overcome with emotion that they break down and cry. It rarely works. You can tell fake sobbing from the balcony. These two, however, were deep into the moment and it was admirable.

I got a text from CB later that night:

That play was really just the staged version of Beaches. I knew I recognized it!

You got that right.

CB and I saw Brian Freil’s Aristocrats at the Irish Rep down in Chelsea. Freil is a pretty big deal Irish playwright. He had a big hit with Translations and his Dancing at Lughnasa won the Tony in 1992 for Best Play. During the Tony awards, none of the Hollywood actor-presenters knew how to pronounce “Lughnasa” and during the course of the evening there were several stuttered failed attempts. They didn’t care enough to do their homework. I’m sure the playwright was nauseated

Aristocrats was great. The Irish Rep rarely disappoints. It’s about a once-wealthy and powerful Irish family that has fallen on hard times because of the failure of subsequent generations to sustain and grow the family wealth. Just like the Kennedys! The story takes place in the family mansion which has fallen into disrepair due to neglect. I think the mansion is a metaphor for the family because all the children are broken and trying to pick up the pieces of their lives. I could be wrong because the whole metaphor thing usually sails right over my head.

This is the first play of the year for me with many more to follow. I am grateful that Mrs. Wife keeps me on a slack leash and allows these evenings of theater in the city. To live so close to something that means so much to me but never be able to indulge in it would make me sad. It’s pure luck that I live close to New York City. It’d be wasteful if I never took advantage of it.

I snuck in one more play before the year wound down. CB and I saw Saturn Returns at Lincoln Center.

It had an interesting premise. One character is played by three different actors representing three stages in his life, each stage being 30 years apart (the time it takes Saturn to make a complete orbit). The same actress played his wife in the early years, his daughter in the middle years and his home care nurse in the latter part of his life, so she was on stage throughout and did all the heavy lifting.

The early years were too melodramatic, he was too unlikeable and needy a character in the middle years, but there were some genuine sparks when the eldest of the three actors walked on stage. That character had the best lines, but I think a bigger reason is that he was, by far, the most accomplished actor of the three.

I haven’t seen much of 7-Year Old Daughter this past week. Her cousin, who is a mere six weeks older than her, is here visiting. She got here last Friday and is staying at my in-laws house. The two of them are pretty close, so they’ve been spending all their time together over there with no need to have a dad around mucking things up.

I understand all this but I don’t really like it. I usually read to her at night before she goes to sleep but I’ve only read to her once in the past six days. I miss her.

Poster credit: Jane Fisher