She’s the Top!

It’s hard to believe that Elaine Stritch is currently making her solo cabaret debut. Talk about best newcomer! Her show, Elaine Stritch: At Home at the Carlyle is a study in stardom. Here is a performer who knows who she is, understands her gifts, and maximizes every moment on stage to give the audience the very best of her talent.

Unlike some beloved, aging vocalists who receive accolades despite the diminishment of their voices, Stritch’s appeal was never about a pretty sound. Her skills as an actress have been burnished to gleaming perfection, and that’s why you shouldn’t miss her show. She puts over carefully chosen song after song as if they all are monologues. You may hear better sung versions of “Fifty Percent” and “Could I Leave You?” but you will never experience better interpreted renditions of these lyric-driven story songs.

The show is as much about Stritch’s anecdotes as it is about her songs. What fun it is to hear her talk about her date with Frank Sinatra! Her stories are often punctuated by brief musical summations that serve as buttons. For instance, she tells a lovely story about meeting a man late in life: She finds him attractive but wonders what to do about it. Then she sings a passage from “I’ve Been Alone Too Long.” Point made.

Supported by a six-piece band (led by Rod Bowman), Stritch performs without a hand-held microphone, instead opting for a body mic hidden beneath her bangs. With her hands unencumbered, she gives a free and natural performance. Cabaret singers should take note: What one can learn from watching Stritch perform live isn’t just a master class, it’s a whole semester in one evening. Of course, it costs almost as much as a college course to see this show. The cover charge, depending on the night you attend, is either $105 or $125, and dinner — which can easily run in the same price range — is required. But paying big bucks to see Elaine Stritch is like buying a Rolls Royce in that you know you’re getting the best that money can buy.

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Problems With Proof

The film version of David Auburn’s Pulitzer Prize-winning play Proof opens in New York today. Written for the screen by Auburn and Rebecca Miller (Arthur Miller’s daughter), the movie has been changed from the original in ways that are understandable but regrettable. In this case, we don’t have the usual complaint about losing the intimacy of the boards because the story has been “opened up” for the screen; instead, our gripe is that the filmmakers have foolishly made an effort to give the movie a “more commercial” appeal. They already have huge stars in the cast, so why not give those stars the best possible story to act?

Whereas the stage version of Proof focused primarily on the complicated relationships of its characters, the film has a pumped-up dramatic arc about the authorship of the mathematical proof in question. In the play, it’s established early on who wrote the proof, but the film is acted and directed in such a way as to to leave the issue ambiguous until the end. This is foolish, as the audience — and not only those who saw Proof on stage — will be way ahead of the movie because it really can’t have any other acceptable ending.

If you saw the play, you may also be upset by some of the choices that were made about what to keep and what to cut. For example, the great scene between our heroine’s boyfriend and her well-meaning sister is gone. Other changes undermine the most moving element in the story: the deep and abiding father/daughter relationship at its center.

By and large, Proof‘s problems are not the fault of its cast.
Gwyneth Paltrow plays the brilliant but troubled Catherine’s vulnerability extremely well but is less credible as a math wiz than Mary-Louse Parker was on stage. Sir Anthony Hopkins is very good as her father yet less effective than Larry Bryggman, who created the role on stage; this is partly due to the script rewrites but also due to the fact that Hopkins is not nearly as warm a performer as Bryggman. Jake Gyllenhaal plays Catherine’s love interest with an earnestness that’s appealing, and Hope Davis is fine as Catherine’s officious sister. Proof has some powerful and moving moments, but it’s not as good as the play.

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