May Be, May Be Not

The first show of the 2005-2006 Broadway season, After the Night and the Music reminds us that playwright Elaine May is still a very funny writer and therefore should not be dismissed out of hand. But when the first of these three one-acts turns out to be the high point of the evening, you know you’re in trouble.

Here titled “Curtain Raiser,” that play is a winsome and winning piece about a physically unappealing former dance instructor (Eddie Korbich) and a two-left-footed lesbian (J. Smith-Cameron) who meet at the bar in a dance club. The story of two underdogs who find their way to Fred and Gingerland is as charming a tale as you can hope to find in any Broadway musical; one wishes that it could be expanded into a full-length show, yet it is perfect in its brevity. Korbich has the showier role, and he does a star turn; Smith-Cameron is his exquisite foil, finding just the right calibration of awkward incompetence on the dance floor even as she quickly comes to master the steps that Korbich teaches her.

If only the rest of the program were equally fine. The second play, “Giving Up Smoking,” is a series of four interconnected monologues that deal with loneliness. Plenty of the jokes work, and a sweet point about the emotional effect of music is eventually made, but the piece meanders and drags. Jeannie Berlin, May’s talented daughter, has the lead role here and she is always fun to watch.

The third play, “Swing Time,” is the most problematic of all. Despite some funny lines, it is dead in the water as soon as it begins because it’s so obviously dated. May is writing about “swingers” — two married couples who attempt to have sex together — a subject that belongs to the bygone era of Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice. Smith-Cameron somehow manages to display her comedic gifts in this hopeless case, as does the rest of the estimable cast, but they can’t rid the piece of the smell of mothballs.

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The Emperor Jones

If you can put the dollars together to see and hear Jack Jones at the Algonquin Hotel’s Oak Room, do yourself the musical favor and thank us later. Nobody does it like an old pro, and Jones is an old pro who has matured into a master. Never during this one-hour act does he hit a wrong note, either literally or figuratively speaking. From his playful offstage self-introduction to the stunning arrangements that his voice negotiates with practiced ease, he is entirely and delightfully in charge.

Leaving nothing to chance, Jones tells us in advance that the act is a loosely organized look at the many stages of a love affair; then he acts as our guide throughout the program, announcing just where we are on this rollercoaster of the heart. He gives us one great song after another, all of them sensationally arranged and beautifully sung. He uses his warm, smooth sound in such tunes as “I’ve Never Been in Love Before,” “Stranger in Paradise,” “Just One of Those Things,” and lots of other great standards.

Not all of the songs that Jones sings here are famous, but count on his immaculate taste. He offers up a superb yet little-heard number by Michel Legrand and Alan and Marilyn Bergman, “One at a Time.” He also gives us one of his early pop hits, Burt Bacharach and Hal David’s amusingly dated “Wives and Lovers.” Jones will only continue at the Oak Room through this week, so take advantage of this rare New York City appearance; he’s one of the most assured and natural performers you’ll ever come across.

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Is This Any Way to End a Season?

Sunday night’s Tony Awards show started with great promise; the Billy Crystal/Hugh Jackman opening gambit was very clever. But the only Emmy this telecast will win is Emmy Rossum. We used to be able to count on the Tony show for great production numbers, terrific solo performances, and genuine class. Well, those days seem to be gone.

The low point of the evening was that awful “Somewhere” duet by Jackman and Aretha Franklin. The performance was supposedly given in commemoration of Stephen Sondheim turning 75, yet the singers came not to honor Sondheim but to bury him. (By the way, there was no mention of the fact that the music for this song from West Side Story was written by Leonard Bernstein; and whoever programmed the number is probably unaware that its lyrics are also rumored to be by Bernstein, not Sondheim.)

The event was so lackluster overall that the simple grace of Bill Irwin’s elegant acceptance speech seemed tantamount to Shakespeare. The shame of all this is that Radio City Music Hall was jammed with people who really know how to put on a great show. How about having this year’s winners take charge next year? Mike Nichols could direct the show, Jerry Mitchell could choreograph it, and so on. This may be naïve thinking, but at least it’s a place to start — and a new start is definitely needed. The 2005 Tony Awards show did a disservice to the high-quality productions of this memorable season.

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[To contact the Siegels directly, e-mail them at siegels@theatermania.com.]