By now, we’ve heard the lesson: Screentime is killing us. It’s made us less communicative with each other, more easily distracted, and more reliant on apps, maps, texts, tweets, posts, pokes, likes, loves, gifs, memes, and emojis of every type except the ones on real, live human faces.
TV shows, films, and theater have long spread these themes through much of their content, and when the world halted in 2020, storylines incorporating these themes of disconnection became even more potent and pervasive. It looks like Babs was right: People who need people really are the luckiest people in the world.
Yet it wasn’t the last 25 years of media, a global pandemic, nor even our favorite diva, Barbra Streisand, to remind us of the need for precious interwoven humanity. Long before they came along, we had playwright and novelist Thornton Wilder.
In 1938, his play Our Town premiered, first in Boston and later on Broadway, where it earned a Pulitzer Prize. Since then, numerous Broadway revivals have been mounted, and it has become a favorite option for schools, colleges, and community theaters around the world.
Currently, Kenny Leon and his gifted creative team have infused fresh life into the timeless story of small-town America in a Broadway revival starring Jim Parsons and a stellar cast of actors.
Not much happens in the fictional town of Grover’s Corners, a small enclave in New Hampshire “just across the Massachusetts line.” Parsons plays the nameless, everyman stage manager and serves as the town’s guide. Before introducing us to Dr. Webb (Billy Eugene Jones), his wife (Michelle Wilson), newspaper editor Mr. Webb (Richard Thomas), his wife (Katie Holmes), and both of their families, he gives us the layout of Grover’s Corners, finishing his description with “Nice town, y ‘know what I mean? Nobody very remarkable ever come out of it, s’far as we know.”
As Wilder intended, Parsons breaks the fourth wall, addressing both the audience and the inhabitants of this village. With a mere population of 2,640, according to Professor Willard (Shyla Lefner), it stands to reason that everyone knows one another. (Surprisingly for a small place, Our Town — with a cast of 27 — boasts one of the largest ensembles currently in a Broadway play).
Three acts comprise Our Town: “Everyday Life,” “Romance and Marriage,” and “Death and the Afterlife,” and we are told when the acts begin and end. Constantly, we’re made aware of the fact that we are watching a play, but it’s as though Wilder borrowed a page from Shakespeare’s notion that “all the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.”
In this production — as in other stagings — the set is minimal, and there are few props. Wilder’s original intent was to “restore significance to the small details of life by removing the scenery. The spectator through lending his imagination to the action restages it inside his own head. In its healthiest ages, the theatre has always exhibited the least scenery.”
Sparse though it may be, Beowulf Boritt’s set, with its rustic walls and vintage hanging lanterns that softly illuminate the theater, is calm and contemplative, setting the tone for the entire show. It is a gentle and humbling reminder that Grover’s Corners is exactly like our own microcosmic communities: vital, but minute, under a sea of stars.
Our Town is a true ensemble piece. There is quiet restraint in all the cast’s actions and a stoic demeanor that suggests they will weather any storm that life throws their way. And although we are told that the story takes place in 1901, Leon throws in contemporary songs and opens the show with some cast members taking selfies of themselves. He’s also diversified this small town. These elements bring a modernity that cause us to see our own lives and communities.
Our Town is not the most dramatic work ever written — nor is this production. It isn’t supposed to be. Instead, it’s a reflection of common people doing common activities, living lives to the best of their abilities, and facing the challenges with a level-headed reality.
Towards the end, Emily Webb (Zoey Deutch) says, “Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? – every, every minute?”
Perhaps that realization is often ignored or lost. What is not lost and fully realized is this stunning production that should make us grateful for the gifts of live theater and the people we most value — if only we’d look up from our phones.
Our Town (★★★★★) plays through Jan. 19, 2025, on Broadway at the Barrymore Theatre, 243 West 47th St. Tickets are $74 to $321. Visit www.ourtownbroadway.com.
Let's cut to the chase: those who appreciate Sinclair Lewis' satirical novel Babbitt may find Joe DiPietro's theatrical adaptation a gratifying box-checker. However, for those who haven't (recently or ever) read it, director Christopher Ashley's production is too thin on the ground to resonate.
In fact, dramaturg Drew Lichtenberg's elegantly concise program essay should be seen as a companion -- and required pre-curtain reading. Along with an excellent summary of Lewis' oeuvre, it does a grand job of shoring up some of what never quite translates from book to stage. Whatever Lewis may have achieved in his novel (which, in fact, was called a book without a plot), neither adapter nor director have managed to meet the challenge of bringing it wittily and wryly to life.
Luther: Never Too Much is set for a TV and streaming premiere in 2025, but Luther Vandross lovers and other aficionados of R&B are best served by seeing this music-filled documentary, directed by the prolific Dawn Porter (John Lewis: Good Trouble), while it's in theaters, on a big screen with big sound.
Among real Luther fans -- some of whom will invariably, and understandably, feel compelled to sing along to the film's prime performance clips -- one might experience the powerful currents of emotion transmitted through the late singer-songwriter's voice and music. "I can't think of anybody that is near to him," says Mariah Carey, praising his tone, uniqueness, and talent.
Ask Alexa if she's ever been in love. Chances are, she'll reply with a cheeky and playful answer that was preprogrammed by Artificial Intelligence. But if you've ever pondered the possibility that human form could exist behind your digital information gadget, your answer has just arrived at Broadway's Belasco Theatre where Maybe Happy Ending, Will Aronson and Hue Park's completely original musical about robot romance, has just opened.
That thumbnail description is unlikely to have folks jumping online or flooding the box office to secure tickets. But like love itself, this show is worth the risk.
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