The New York Theatre Review: Here We Are

By Ross

“All will be revealed,” we are told midway through a delightfully delicious Act One in the new musical, or should I call it; the new sung and spoken word abstractionism that is Here We Are now playing at The Shed‘s Griffin Theater. And in a way, it is exactly why we are all here, to pay homage as we enter that beautiful theatre in Hudson Yards. So much about this journey is almost symbolic of what is in store. The heightened air of beauty, style, fashion, and wealth that Hudson Yards was supposed to deliver. But failed to maintain. The magnificent creation that is The Shed, at least from the outside, that looks beautiful and modern, while never really delivering (so far) on those high expectations. Inside that architectural wonderment is a bit of a hodgepodge mess of escalators and roped-off walkways that feel like airport overkill, leading us on a snake-like trail upward as we make our way to the front doors of the theatre.

It’s quite the wind-up, but “call me superficial!” as the energy and excitement of the crowd is alive and well in the space, with expectations escalating with each level we transverse. When the news broke that there would be one last Sondheim musical making its premiere, we all celebrated inside our grieving hearts. It felt like the biggest of gifts, and I was thrilled and intoxicated with the idea that we would have one more chance to hear something new from this genius composer and lyricist. The announcement carried all the same excitement of those Hudson Yards. With a cast of celebrated pros as thrilled to be involved as we were by the news. And I wasn’t disappointed, and yet, I was, much like that closed-down honeycombed Vessel that stands so majestically beside The Shed, roped off because of all the grief it brought forth.

Here We Are, with a large unpacked and involving book by David Ives (Venus in Fur; The Liar) with music and lyrics by the late Stephen Sondheim (Into the Woods; Company), is in a realm all on its own. It gives us everything while also stripping away some of the draw. It’s abstract and wonderful, giving us inspection and deliverence, while leaving us somewhat befuddled, wondering where the music stopped in relationship to our invested interest.

Inspired most gloriously by the abstract and meaningful films of Luis Buñuel, Here We Are plants us exactly there, much to our confused chagrin and joyfulness, lost in a sea of squares of white light and circular neon, wondering when we are going to be fed the very thing we all turned up for. And then surprised, well at least some of us, with the feeling of being full on what appears to be something other than what we wanted or expected from this creation. Both dad and happy to have had that last Sondheim meal.

Based around the combined energy of 1972’s “The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie” and 1962’s “The Exterminating Angel“, Here We Are, as directed with a sharp sense of humor and detail by Joe Mantello (Broadway’s Three Tall Women), unfolds with abstract determination, as the play’s first structuring follows a group of people searching for dinner amidst surreal encounters, while the second literally and emotionally traps them in their final chosen dining spot. It begins with three friends; the privileged Paul Simmer and his overtly snobbish designer wife, Claudia Bursik-Zimmer, played perfectly by Jeremy Shamos (Broadway’s Meteor Shower) and the magnificent Amber Gray (Broadway’s Hadestown); arriving with their cohort, Raffael Santello Di Santicci, deliciously portrayed by Steven Pasquale (CSC’s Assassins), without warning for a scheduled brunch that was on no one’s calendar. Their hosts; the stunningly vapid and lovingly optimistic Marianne Brink, gorgeously embodied by Rachel Bay Jones (Broadway’s Dear Evan Hansen; Broadway Center Stage’s Next to Normal) and her billionaire husband Leo Brink, powerfully and dynamically portrayed by Bobby Cannavale (BAM’s Medea), are confused but happy to engage. Not so much so from their East Village anarchist younger sister, Fritz, played remarkably well by the talented Micaela Diamond (Broadway’s Parade). The end of the world is what she has in mind, planned with another for that same day, not like the “perfect day” that her older sister keeps chiming on about.

Choreographed cleverly by Sam Pinkleton (RT’s You Will Get Sick), the cast sink their teeth most passionately into the abstraction that is underneath their feet, working wonders on that stark and beautiful white framework designed magnificently by David Zinn (Broadway’s Kimberly Akimbo), who also is in charge of the costuming, and the cast revels in the delivery. With superb lighting by Natasha Katz (Broadway’s Some Like it Hot) illuminating the structuring of their superficial forms and the white barren world that surrounds them, the pack of privileged rich folk go looking for food, as their servants, played gorgeously and adeptly by Tracie Bennett (West End’s Follies) and Denis O’Hare (National Theatre’s Tartuffe) as both and all the women and men who are there to serve and look after them, have nothing for them, or don’t seem interested in delivering anything that they desire.

They must go searching, side by side. This company doesn’t exactly go into the woods to find nourishment on this perfectly beautiful Sunday, nor do they go into the park with anyone named George. But the passion is truly there all around them, and we join with them, merrily going along, not whistling nor looking for a little night music to soothe their souls. They go, “back to square one“, again and again, maybe, hopefully, to gorge themselves on a tasty meat pie on the West Side for a folly or two, like some dream-coated gypsies thinking they heard a waltz on this road show to the end. Maybe, possibly. finding themselves in the targeted fisheye of an anarchist assassin, hoping to bring these privileged down to their knees. The crew is determined (and ever so talented), trying their best to put it all together for a (pacific) overture that ends with a meal, but a funny thing happened on the way, as the world has other plans for these frogs, and so does Here We Are. Because, to be honest, that’s why we are here as well.

With some beautifully crafted orchestrations by Jonathan Tunick (Broadway’s Sweeney Todd) brought to sumptuous life by music supervisor (with some additional arrangements by) Alexander Gemignani (Broadway’s West Side Story) and a detailed sound design by Tom Gibbons (Almeida Theatre/PAA’s The Doctor), this complicated show finds nuance and delight in the abstractionisms that both these Luis Buñuel films bring. They basically make up each act, finding the connection in the wordy form and function. The music, much to our surprise, is almost secondary, while also giving us such remarkably attaching themes that harken back to classic Sondheim.

There are echos of early and more honorable achievements, giving us spoken songs that remind us of Sunday in the Park with George or others, but there are a few other moments, filtered in, here and there, that also give us the “perfect day” formula that we so love and were desirous of. Rachel Bay Jones, our most beloved, beautiful, and superficial guide through this adventure, sings, while unable to really remember what she was supposed to do today. It’s a theme that requires some unraveling, and do we feel satisfied in the end? I’m not sure that abstractionism was created for that kind of unpacking and packaging.

Joining in on their unfulfilled search for sustenance, the starving Bourgeoisie have a run-in with Colonel Martin, played strongly by Francois Battiste (Public’s Raisin in the Sun), and his handsome and sensual Soldier, athletically portrayed by the ever so talented and fit Jin Ha (Encores’ Road Show) searching for a drug cartel that stands directly before them. As well as a Bishop, hilariously portrayed by David Hyde Pierce (Public’s The Visitor) who is given the opportunity, like a few, but not all of the others, to gift us with unwrapping of a playful little song about wanting to do something that matters to someone. Just not from the position he has been garmented for.

The show actually is a treasure trove of deliciousness. The soldier’s dream, delivered by a breathtaking Ha; the French waitperson’s lament by a wonderful Bennett; and the delightful Café Everything waiter who has nothing to enable them with, sung to perfection by O’Hare. They all fill the hunger we have for just a bit more Sondheim even though the songs are not named in the program, yet imply so much and beyond. But if you are entering looking for something more Broadway in its traditional structuring, I think Buñuel isn’t the source material you are looking for.

Especially the more play-like Act Two which besides a gorgeously animated and superficial dance with a bear by Jones, and a song about being perfectly not perfect for one another sing engagingly by Diamond and Ha, the finale is of a different form than most might be expecting, or even wanting and waiting for.

“Just one more drink!” they all exclaim when asked to leave after a satisfying meal. Much like us as we wandered out for the intermission. But Act Two is something quite different, more aligned with the film, “The Exterminating Angel“, a movie I did not know well, even with that one year of film history course I took at college forty years ago (that is where I learned about the film that Act One was basically based upon, but my memory does not serve me all that well, much like O’Hare’s character). That film was initially called “The Outcast on Providence Street“, which is translated to mean the people that do not belong on the street protected by God, and openly was meant to criticize authority and the Church. Act Two is about those same privileged few trapped and unable to leave a grand room where they had finally been given a meal by a now-disappearing crew of servants and cooks. The end of the world is upon them, or is it?

What is clear is that the second act is something that will either be embraced or discharged by those who have come to get their last taste of a Sondheim meal. Will it fill your needs and your stomach? The metaphors are almost too obvious to ignore, as I took in this banquet of songs and thematic moments. But it is a show to be embraced and discussed, long after it ends with a standing ovation that might be more for the experience and the history of it all than the piece that was just laid out before them. But boy, was it an entertaining deliverance, one that I was thrilled to be in attendance. “Dinner is served,” cries out the embassy butler Windsor (O’Hare), and we all applaud with delight for what appears before us, ready, like this talented crew of actors, to happily dig into all the flavors set out before them and us. So Here We Are, thankfully. Now grab a chair and bite into this enormously fun and flavourful romp. Even in the ways it does work. In the way we expected it to. And let me know what works and tastes good to you, that is if you are where you need to be in Here We Are.