Helen Shaw
Staff writer
Catching the fleeting international theatre offerings in New York can be like chasing after fireflies—the minute someone points out some wonderful work, the brief engagement is already dark and gone. These are the shows most worth the hunt, though; some of the world’s most adventurous, exhilarating, and galvanizing work will be in town for only a couple of days.
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Illustration by David Huang
To catch the best of these rare finds, focus on a few theatres: Brooklyn Academy of Music, N.Y.U. Skirball Center (which has a superb season over all), and Japan Society, which kicks off its “Ningyo! A Parade of Puppetry” series with a remounting of “Dogugaeshi” (Sept. 11-19), Basil Twist’s spectacular 2003 collaboration with the shamisen composer Yumiko Tanaka. The small-is-powerful lineup operates as a portal to other realms: Twist’s micro-masterpiece is named for a Tokushima tradition of intricately sliding painted panels that trick the eye, and one of the other offerings, a long-awaited visit from Japan’s National Bunraku Theatre (Oct. 3-5), includes scenic design by Kazuo Oga, the art director of “Princess Mononoke.”
Meanwhile, at N.Y.U. Skirball, you’ll find Milo Rau, a Swiss director who is the most influential artist working in political theatre today—“My leadership model is a permanent revolution,” he has said of his several artistic directorships. His “Antigone in the Amazon” (Sept. 27-28) refracts Sophocles’ story of state murder through the true events of the Brazilian Landless Workers’ Movement massacre, in 1996.
Skirball is also participating in the multi-venue “Crossing the Line” series (a project of L’Alliance New York, through Dec. 7) this year, so you’ll find several of the wide-ranging festival’s projects there. I’m particularly dizzy over the chance to see the Belgian creator Miet Warlop’s superhit “One Song” (Skirball, Oct. 3-5), in which a company performs a single song over and over while undergoing escalating tests of endurance, and Marlène Saldana and Jonathan Drillet’s “Showgirl” (Skirball, Oct. 18-19), which uses delulu cabaret exuberance to reinterpret Paul Verhoeven’s so-bad-it’s-opera movie from 1995. The unifying factor seems to be intensity—many of the offerings emphasize that we are in a moment of hot iron, when something must be struck. Only Tiago Rodrigues takes this to its grim but logical extreme: his “Catarina and the Beauty of Killing Fascists” imagines a Portuguese family with a tradition of conscientious violence. If you can bear thinking about such things, the show will be at BAM Nov. 13-17.
About Town
Classical
Anthony Roth Costanzo’s rambunctious, head-spinning, hundred-minute version of “The Marriage of Figaro”—in which the countertenor Costanzo sings every part—approaches Mozart’s comic masterpiece like a golden retriever approaches a Frisbee. Tackling the opera’s challenges with palpable gladness, Costanzo sings the servant Figaro, his betrothed Susanna, and a whole palace worth of erotic schemers, as virtuosic lip-synching performers act out the scenes. Aided (abetted?) by the director Dustin Wills and the arranger Dan Schlosberg, Costanzo piles wonder on wonder: for instance, somehow, in “Riconosci in questo amplesso,” six voices soar out of one man (and his looping pedal). Later, Costanzo and his avatar-Susanna, Emma Ramos, commune ecstatically—it’s the “marriage” Costanzo seems most interested in, of song to body, music to flesh.—Helen Shaw (Little Island; through Sept. 22.)
Art
There are only five black-and-white photographs, two hefty, incised limestone blocks, and a video in Mark Armijo McKnight’s museum début, but their effect is far from minimalist. If the work comes with a lot of conceptual baggage, you don’t have to bone up on Simone Weil to appreciate the artist’s meditation on time, death, the body, and the beauty of a desolate landscape. A female nude opens her legs wide in a field of tiny daisies, an earthy take on Courbet’s “Origin of the World” that suggests fertility and rebirth, balancing an image of the skeleton of a mountain goat nearby. In the wall-filling video, synchronized metronomes tick away on the ledges of the New Mexico badlands, as relentless as the wind on the soundtrack, as reassuring as your heartbeat.—Vince Aletti (Whitney Museum; through Jan. 5.)
Hip-Hop
Photograph by Vivian Khanounsay
The Charlotte rapper Mavi was exploring neuroscience at Howard University when his 2019 début album, “Let the Sun Talk,” opened a doorway to a different kind of sensory study. His music was both curious and stimulated, as clearheaded and philosophical as it was intuitive, unfurling before the listener as knots of spiralling rhymes touched by soul. His rich 2022 follow-up, “Laughing So Hard, It Hurts,” delved into familial loss, addiction, and trying to stay steady amid an ego-inflating rise. His latest, “Shadowbox,” is a plaintive album of gutting self-scrutiny that takes his flows to new depths. “I don’t think failure scare me as much as my talent,” he raps, pointing to an existential challenge.—Sheldon Pearce (Music Hall of Williamsburg; Sept. 12.)
Theatre
Two years after a breakup, your ex reaches out, wanting to get dinner. It’s a dubious proposition, both in real life and as a dramatic premise. But Douglas Lyons’s world-première play “Table 17,” which moves to a rhythm all its own, confounds expectations. The reconnection of Jada (Kara Young) and Dallas (Biko Eisen-Martin) is interlaced with scenes of their relationship’s defining moments, much as their heated dialogue is punctuated by tender asides. The pivoting works thanks to a talented cast—particularly Michael Rishawn, who turns several supporting parts into a larger-than-life presence—and to Zhailon Levingston’s inspired direction, which treats the fourth wall like a door. Everyone involved seems to have chemistry.—Dan Stahl (Robert W. Wilson MCC Theatre Space; through Sept. 29.)
Dance