The Oscars, Emmys and Tonys give out grants for best entertainers and best chiefs. Ordinarily, these honorees are working with the absolute best material. Perhaps “best” should imply that entertainer or chief who takes imperfect or unstable material and transforms it into something that would certainly merit watching. That is the marvel chief Kate Whoriskey performs with Lynn Nottage’s questionable new play, “Clyde’s,” which opened Tuesday at Second Stage’s Helen Hayes Theater. 조개모아
What Whoriskey’s garish course can’t camouflage is the amount Nottage gets from a 2019 foodie parody introduced Off Broadway at MCC. In Theresa Rebeck’s “Burned,” Raul Esparza’s culinary specialist wouldn’t think twice about cassoulet au confit de canard and different dishes to please any VIP’s unsophisticated sense of taste. That is fundamentally the account of “Clyde’s,” with two exceptionally huge changes.
Nottage sets her 100-minute satire in a burger joint that caters not to the New York world class but rather drivers, and the kitchen is staffed by ex-cons. That plot flags the other large distinction: “Clyde’s” handles an Important Subject, the awful spinning entryway of America’s imprisonment framework. The four characters throwing the mayo and the mustard can’t leave the hellfire of Clyde’s coffee shop or, more than likely its eponymous proprietor will report them to a probation officer.
Rebeck composed a very nuanced female scoundrel for “Burned,” and at MCC, Krysta Rodriguez played her with a wicked casualness. To depict Nottage’s female scoundrel as a tractor is to affront Caterpillar. She’s a lady named Clyde, and she’s in a real sense Satan.
As successfully played by the surprising Uzo Aduba, Clyde is likewise a R. Scrap animation spring up. In an executive touch that is by a wide margin the creation’s best running gag, Aduba gets more ensemble changes than Jeanna de Waal in “Diana,” and surprisingly more delectably, Clyde’s numerous ridiculous outfits are firsts (by the skilled Jennifer Moeller), not imitations of Dior or Stambolian.
Both Nottage and Rebeck share that generally fundamental of playwrighting gifts: At their best, they convey exchange that sizzles in the ear. Nottage is particularly great at quarreling, which is in no short inventory among her sandwich producers. Letitia (Kara Young), the single parent in recuperation, and Rafael (Reza Salazar), oneself declared “top assistant chef” of BLTs, are pausing and anxious to do quick fight with Jason.
The new worker (Edmund Donovan) whose jail group tats and dismissal for salmonella are subjects No. 1 and 2. Just Montrellous (Ron Cephas Jones), who tracks down both workmanship and salvation among the cilantro, can carry harmony to this peevish gathering. Jones, working with considerably less expensive fixings, is just as focused on observing culinary flawlessness as Esparza was in the Rebeck play.
“Clyde’s” is a fight between the holy person and Satan. Rather than regarding this outrageous differentiation as a blemish, Whoriskey accepts it to carry a mysterious authenticity to the creation. The exhibitions, nonetheless, are never however sharp as they seem to be in those initial not many quarrels about the cutting sheets. Simply Aduba can expand on her terrible initial feeling, and that is on the grounds that Satan, by and by, gets the very best jokes, also couture that would make Kyrsten Sinema become flushed.
After their underlying bitch meetings, the four short-request cooks get given the less advantageous assignment of letting each know other how they wound up in prison. After a few these admissions, just the rehashed interferences of Aduba’s Clyde can reestablish the story drive. As normal, Montrellous’ detainment story is left for last, and it’s a doozy. He everything except petitions the pope to start the beatification cycle.