Showing posts with label NAATCO. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NAATCO. Show all posts

Monday, June 22, 2026

Off-B'way Review: Henry VI: A Trilogy in Two Parts

Mia Katigbak and Jon Norman Schneider
in Henry VI: A Trilogy in Two Parts.
Credit: HanJie Chow
What a difference a day makes. The first part of NAATCO (National Asian-American Theater Company) and the Public Theater’s two-evening presentation of Shakespeare’s Henry VI trilogy is a confusing muddle with ridiculously labyrinthine plots and melodramatic acting and direction. I actually dreaded returning to the Public the following evening for the second part. But, much to my relief and delight, Part Two was a tighter, ferocious spectacle of power politics. The press materials claims this early work from the Bard inspired the bloodthirsty Game of Thrones fantasy series and the second part bears that out. Originally presented in 2018, Henry VI: A Trilogy in Two Parts condenses three of the Bard’s early history plays in a two-night sprawling epic. The action covers the seemingly endless War of the Roses wherein the Houses of York and Lancaster battle for the crown during the reign of the boyishly naive title monarch.

Teresa Avia Lim and Paul Juhn in
Henry VI: A Trilogy in Two Parts.
Credit: HanJie Chow
Director and Adapter Stephen Brown-Fried can do little to enliven the overstuffed Part One, subtitled Foreign Wars. The young king (sensitive Jon Norman Schneider) is embroiled in armed conflict to retain the French lands conquered by his father the war-like Henry V. The French have a secret weapon, the possibly divine, possibly witchy Joan of Arc (fiery Myka Cue). Meanwhile, the devious Duke of York (steely Rajesh Bose) is scheming to seize the throne, countered by Henry’s dominant wife Queen Margaret (commanding Teresa Avia Lim). There are so many slow-motion battles, reversals of fortune and elaborate stratagems, it’s nearly impossible to keep track of them all. (Mextly Couzin’s striking lighting does help clarify the action somewhat.) In one ironic scene, York’s convoluted explanation for his claim to the crown gets the biggest laugh of the evening. 


Actors are constantly moving pylons entwined with thick ropes back and forth across the drab set by the design team of dots. The absurd black and white costumes by threeAsFour featuring weird puffy fabric choices, denote no specific period and make the performers look like they are wearing sleeping bags or comforters. Hardly appropriate for combat. Mia Katigbak does have moments of dignified grace as Henry’s humane advisor, an island of sanity in a sea of madness. (There are many interesting examples of cross-gender casting with women playing male roles.)  


Kimiye Corwin, David Shih, and 
John D. Haggerty in
Henry VI: A Trilogy in Two Parts.
Credit: HanJie Chow
But Part Two, subtitled Civil Strife, benefits from mainly focusing on a single story arc: the machiavellian machinations of the crippled, satanic Duke of Gloucester, later to be crowned the infamous Richard III. Played like a diminutive dynamo demon by Julyana Soelistyo, Richard becomes the center of an epic battle to seize the monarchy at all costs. Brown-Fried’s pacing becomes quicker and clearer, the battles are not as repetitive and the acting is sharper. Schneider’s Henry grows more complex, displaying the woebegone king’s conflicting inner struggle between religious idealism and brutal reality. (In a fascinating double-casting choice, he reappears as a lowly messenger after the king has been taken captive.) Lim’s Margaret emerges as a wolf-like predator, devouring anyone who crosses her. A production of Richard III featuring Soelistyo and Lim would be a terrific cage match. There are also vibrant performances in this second part by Anna Ishida as Warwick, Orville Mendoza as the rebel Jack Cade, and David Lee Huynh as Clifford.


The three Henry VI plays are rarely performed, yet they have relevance in today’s world. Both feature a deeply divided country with leaders exploiting populist fears and passions to gain unchecked power. This production attempts to make that connection, but only succeeds half-way.


June 21—July 19. Public Theater, 425 Lafayette St., NYC. Running time: Part One: two hours and 45 mins. including intermission; Part Two: two hours and 15 mins. including intermission. publictheater.org.

Sunday, June 8, 2025

Off-B'way Reviews: Lunar Eclipse; Bus Stop

Lisa Emery and Reed Birney in
Lunar Eclipse.
Credit: Joan Marcus
Donald Margulies’ tender and moving new play Lunar Eclipse from Second Stage at the Signature Theater Center, is a simple, direct depiction of a long marriage, the elusiveness of memory, and the endurance of love. George and Em, an elderly couple, are sitting up in a field in the middle of the night on their farm in Western Kentucky, to obverse the titular astronomical event. As the seven stages of the eclipse progress, we gradually learn the intricacies, compromises, joys and pitfalls of their decades-long union. George is going through a deep depression after the loss of his beloved dog (the last in a long line of cherished canines) and his growing frustration with the futility of life in general. “We’re taught that good triumphs over evil. Right? And love and generosity triumph over hate and greed. But, what if it turns out we’re wrong. The bad guys won the battle?,” he moans, without specifically naming any political figures or movements. Even Em’s cheerfulness drives him to distraction. 

Em attempts to lighten the mood, but, after a couple of shots of bourbon, she lets her smiley-face mask slip and reveals a long-term sadness, largely over the death of their adopted son Tim from a drug overdose. (We eventually learn Tim’s birth mother was an addict.) Margulies subtly reveals the couple’s inner conflicts through realistic details such as the fate of a telescope and attempts to bring failing crops to fruition.


At times, his language is bit too writerly and on-the-nose as when Em compares her melancholy to an eclipse or when George contrasts his blighted efforts at connecting with Tim with raising a non-productive batch of sugar beets. But this is a minor flaw in an otherwise endearing and heartbreaking play with a physically beautiful production under Kate Whoriskey’s sensitive, nearly invisible direction and a pair of veterans actors bringing two everyday people to vibrant life.