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Jeffrey Sanzel

Scarlett Johansson in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Focus Features

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Auteur Wes Anderson’s first feature film was Bottle Rocket (1996), based on a short he made in 1994 with Luke and Owen Wilson. His sophomore outing, Rushmore (1998), brought him to prominence. The quirky, line-crossing comedy follows a high school student (Jason Schwartzman) with a crush on a fifth-grade teacher (Olivia Williams).The film featured Bill Murray in the first of nine collaborations with the director. 

With a focus on (and often delight in) the dysfunctional and a sense of heightened reality, Anderson’s works (for which he not only directed by served as writer and producer) have included The Royal Tenenbaums (2001), The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004), The Darjeeling Limited (2007), The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014), and The French Dispatch (2021).

His films have received fifteen Academy Award nominations (winning four, all for The Grand Budapest Hotel). In addition, the works have 20 BAFTA nominations (winning five) and 10 Golden Globes (winning two). 

To discuss Anderson’s latest offering, Asteroid City, two terms are helpful. The first is “meta.” Definitions of “meta” vary slightly. The most accessible is Merriam-Webster’s informal explanation: “showing or suggesting an explicit awareness of itself or oneself as a member of its category; cleverly self-referential.” It goes on to cite various examples:

“The Bar?” she said. “I know the place. Been meaning to drop by. Love the name. Very meta.” — Gillian Flynn

A new comedy about fantasy football, which follows a group of armchair quarterbacks as they try to tackle life. How meta would it be if people started betting on what was going to happen on the show? — TV Guide

Leave it to Larry [David] to contort public desire for a Seinfeld reunion into a meta plot that chronicles his not-necessarily-noble struggle to pull off a Seinfeld reunion. —Dan Snierson

The second term is “shaggy dog story.”

Again, let us turn to Merriam-Webster: “of, relating to, or being a long-drawn-out circumstantial story concerning an inconsequential happening that impresses the teller as humorous or interesting but the hearer as boring and pointless.”

And therein explains the meta-comedy/shaggy dog story Asteroid City, one hundred and five minutes of tedious indulgence that evokes an occasional strained chuckle but otherwise ceaselessly plods to a non-conclusion. 

A Rod Serling-like host (Bryan Cranston) introduces a television show following the creation of a play penned by world-famous writer Conrad Earp (Edward Norton). The black-and-white framing device evokes the earliest days of television. Earp’s play, Asteroid City (presented widescreen in vivid shades of sherbet), tells of the titular desert town hosting a youth astronomy convention. The action shifts between the presentation of the play and the television special. Some might complain that the documentary gimmick interferes with the narrative action. However, this is a minor cavil since the story plays in virtual stagnation.

Anderson creates a story where everything means something, even if it doesn’t. The 1955 world of the Cold War, atom bomb testing, a movie star, singing cowboys, a grieving widower, and a host of odd types and situations parade limply through the convoluted plot. Eventually, the assorted characters end up under government quarantine when an alien briefly appears, stealing a meteorite fragment. 

There is enormous potential for commentary and outrageous, pointed humor between the two worlds- the theatrical and the narrative. However, Anderson misses on almost every count. Even his concept of a three-act play bears no sense of understanding, with its only true reference to the indication of scenes.

He has assembled an all-star cast (many veterans of his films), headed by Jason Schwartzman (as the widower) and Scarlett Johansson (as the movie star), supported by first-rate talents including Tom Hanks, Jeffrey Wright, Tilda Swinton, Adrien Brody, Liev Schreiber, Hope Davis, Matt Dillon, Steve Carell, Hong Chau, Willem Dafoe, and Margot Robbie. 

Sadly, they all give the same performance—or rather, the idea of a performance of a performance. Everyone speaks in an identically flat cadence, lips barely parting like poorly skilled ventriloquists, mouthing pretentious dialogue, wanting—but failing—to be outrageously quippy or metaphorically deep. Rarely has so much talent gone for so little. 

The only interest rests in the two-dimensional visuals, alternating between crisp black-and-white and hyper-rich colors, the work of cinematographer Robert Yeoman. A few whimsical pieces—vending machines that dispense martinis complete with lemon twists or others that offer valueless desert real estate—evoke a weary smile. But again, not enough to sustain the short but interminable running time.

Great art manifests best when the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. What happens when there is no center? When the whole is a hole? Several times, the lead actor complains, “I don’t understand the play.” The director’s response: “But just keep doing it.” Well, perhaps not.

Rated PG-13, the film is now playing in local theaters.

Lake, voiced by Ava Hauser; Ember, voiced by Leah Lewis; and Wade, voiced by Mamoudou Athie, in a scene from 'Elemental.' Image courtesy of Disney/Pixar

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Elemental marks Pixar’s twenty-seventh animated feature. The most successful include the four Toy Story movies, Finding Nemo, Monsters, Inc., Cars and its sequels, WALL-E, Coco, Inside Out, and most recently, the unusual but fascinating Lightyear. 

Director Peter Sohn pitched the idea for Elemental to Pixar after the release of The Good Dinosaur (2015). The son of immigrants, Sohn took inspiration from his childhood in the culturally diverse 1970s New York City, as well as romantic films such as Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (1967), Moonstruck (1987), and Amélie (2001). 

In a 2022 Variety interview, Sohn explained: “Maybe it’s because when I was a kid, I really didn’t appreciate or understand what it meant to be an immigrant, to come to the U.S., and all the hard work that [my parents] did to give my brother and me our lives […] On the other side, I married someone that wasn’t Korean, and there was a lot of culture clash with that in my world. And that brought to me to this idea of finding opposites. And the question of what if fire fell in love with water came.”

While perhaps not the most brilliant of the studio’s output (Toy Story, Coco), Elemental is a surprisingly clever, heartfelt story of opposites uniting. Set in a world of the elements—fire, water, earth, and air—daughter of Fireland immigrants, Ember Lumen, becomes involved with water element Wade Ripple, an easily flustered water inspector. 

After Ember causes a plumbing accident in her father’s convenience store, The Fireplace, Wade appears in the soaked basement. An adventure ensues throughout Element City, with the unlikely pair joining forces to solve the immediate situation, then becoming involved in solving a greater problem within the community. Ember learns to curtail her destructive temper, but equally as important, she learns to speak her truth.

The film tackles multiple issues with style and finesse. The story’s foundation focuses on honoring one’s culture and the sacrifices often entailed. But it also celebrates the individual’s pursuit of personal happiness. Much of the screenplay (by John Hoberg, Kat Likkel, and Brenda Hsueh) addresses bias and hostility regarding the treatment of immigrants. Boldly shown in the prologue, Ember’s parents, newly arrived, are shut out of living quarters controlled by people of earth, air, and water. There is also the issue of the burden often placed on first-generation children to continue what their parents have started. The film smartly addresses this with great sensitivity without resorting to preaching.

Ultimately, Elemental is a traditional rom-com, with all the hurdles and pitfalls, and even a dating montage—but an entirely unique setting. (This more adult slant in the film lost some of the younger audience members who became restless as the film progressed.) However, the gloriously exquisite animation is a joy, the anthropomorphizing creating a perfect blending of human and “other.” The visual puns are matched by the cleverly ever-present, sometimes subtle—and often not so subtle—wordplay.

While not as starry as many of the Pixar catalogue, the vocal talent is first-rate. Leah Lewis embodies Ember’s struggle with wry wit and genuine charm. Mamoudou Athie presents Wade’s growth from mildly neurotic underachiever to hero, never losing his kind center. Ronnie del Carmen and Shila Vosough Ommi play Ember’s parents with the right blend of love and whimsy, arcing from frustration to acceptance. 

Catherine O’Hara is delightful as Wade’s mother, Brook Ripple, featured in a hilarious dinner party where Ember is both welcomed and mildly embarrassed by the overly and overtly emotional Wade clan. This scene leads to Ember’s pointed comment on Wade’s rich-kid-follow-your-heart family, said with vexation tinged with a hint of jealousy. In what amounts to a cameo, Wendi McLendon-Covey’s Gale Cumulus, Wade’s employer, makes a bigger-than-life impression in an appropriately grand performance.

Starting with the premise “Elements don’t mix,” touching on the bonds and struggles of parents and children, building to a love that crosses boundaries, and culminating with a message of acceptance and love, Elemental may never become a classic, but it sits easily—and proudly—in the Pixar family.

Rated PG, the film is now playing in local theaters.

*A bonus, “Carl’s Date,” precedes the feature. The Up short marks one of the final works of Ed Asner, who passed away in 2021. The sweet piece shows a gentler side of the curmudgeonly Carl as he prepares for a date while being advised by the “talking” dog, Dug. It is an ideal complement to the romantic elements of Elemental. 

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Sarah Beth Durst’s over two dozen books include writings for children, teenagers, and adults, many in the fantasy genre. Among the prolific author’s works are The Bone Maker, The Deepest Blue, The Stone Girl’s Story, and Even and Odd (all reviewed in this paper). With The Lake House (HarperTeen), Durst has crafted a first-rate young adult thriller.

Author Sarah Beth Durst

The novel follows three teenagers sent to an “enrichment retreat” in Maine, a place to “learn new skills, have new experiences, make new friends.” Claire Dreyer is the center: “Claire excelled at three things: ballet, homework, and identifying all the ways there were to die in any given situation.” Claire’s self-awareness is both insightful and crippling. “[She] thought longingly of her bedroom with all her books and a door that closed everyone out.” Ultimately, she hopes the opportunity to be “a new Claire here, a never-before-seen version of herself who made friends easily and didn’t freak out about every little thing.”

Two contemporaries join Claire. The pessimistic Reyva Chaudhari doesn’t “do performative emotions.” But, after some prodding, she discloses her passion: Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) fighting—an endeavor that turns out to be of great value. Reyva’s wry humor and tendency to find amusement in the darker possibilities contrasts with Claire’s need for constant order. Mariana Ortiz-Rodriguez, a Californian transplant, is the perkiest of the three. Fascinated by cars and engines, her skills become vital in the climax. 

All three share complex backgrounds with various parental pressures and complicated home lives. Their parents make choices they perceive as good for their offspring but often fail consideration of their children’s emotional needs. As they venture forward, the girls reveal secrets, voicing fears they have never previously shared. Their vulnerability strengthens their bond, allowing for a genuine evolution of well-placed trust. 

Insightfully—and with no malice—Mariana evaluates Reyva: “My guess: your parents have opinions on what you’re allowed to feel, as well as what you do, and so you respond by controlling what you show the world. Do you want us to think nothing phases you? Fact is, you care a lot, and you’re terrified that someone will realize it and use it against you. Like, you know, I’m doing right now.”

The girls arrive at the end of June, planning to remain through the end of August. A young man, Jack, takes them to the island on his boat, leaving them on the shore. They hike the short distance up a trail to discover the Lake House burned, with the charred remains still smoking. With no cell service or communication with the outside world, the trio contemplates their short- and long-term fates. They discover a dead body in the surrounding woods: a woman dead from a gunshot from an unknown assailant. 

Secluded in a national forest, miles from civilization, they face natural trials: dehydration, starvation, insects, and weather. Additionally, they must accept that they are not alone and are targets of one or even two dangerous island inhabitants. 

Eventually, Durst introduces a fascinating supernatural element. The malevolence merges a camp ghost legend and the concept of “the sins of the father.” Their struggle combines “the strain of the lack of food, and the constant supply of fear.” 

Durst quickly ratchets up the tension, plunging into a face-paced narrative fraught with challenges and revelations. Fortunately, she writes about people, not tropes. As in all her work, the characters have dimension and texture—recognizable but individual. 

While The Lake House is a thriller, it portrays perseverance and rising to extraordinary circumstances. The story lives not in the isolation of Gary Paulsen’s Hatchet or the savagery of William Golding’s The Lord of the Flies. It avoids the world of Mean Girls and Robinson Crusoe. Instead, the book celebrates the ability to thrive on mutual reliance. The mantra is “stick together, and we’ll survive,” and Claire, Reyva, and Mariana grow because they see themselves through the eyes of others—companions who value their potential.

The Lake House offers three strong young women facing a range of demons, both personal and real, in a location that is both doom and destiny. Finally, they learn, “I am enough exactly as I am.” Durst, a gifted storyteller, neatly balances thrills and introspection in this entertaining and engaging story.

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Sarah Beth Durst is the award-winning author of over twenty books for kids, teens, and adults. She lives in Stony Brook with her husband, her children, and her ill-mannered cat. Pick up a copy of The Lake House online at www.amazon.com or www.barnesandnoble.com. For more information, visit www.sarahbethdurst.com.

By Heidi Sutton

Theatre Three closes its 2022-2023 children’s theater season with a most fitting choice, an original musical retelling of the  timeless fairytale Cinderella.

With book by Douglas Quattrock with Jeffrey Sanzel and music and lyrics by Quattrock, the rags-to-riches story combines Charles Perrault’s classic story with Mark Twain’s The Prince & the Pauper with lots of hilarious twists and turns along the way.

Charles Perrault (Steven Uihlein) serves as narrator as well as “squire to the sire” and transports audiences to the palace of King Charming (Jason Furnari) who wishes for his son Prince Charming (Sean Amato) to get married and take over the kingdom so he can retire. He decides to host a royal ball and invites all eligible maidens.

The squire delivers the invitations to the home of Cinderella (Danielle Pafundi) who is forced to cook and clean for her stepmother Lady Jaclyn (Louisa Bikowski) and stepsisters Gwendolyn (Kaitlyn Jehle) and Madeline (Samantha Fierro) and be at their beck and call. When Cinderella asks if she can go to the ball, her stepmother tells her she has to do all her chores first, including washing the cat (do they even have a cat?), but we all know how that turns out. 

Left behind while the meanies go to the ball, Cinderella is visited by her fairy godmother (“I don’t mean to be rude but where have you been?!”), Angelica (Heather Van Velsor), who uses her magic to whip up a beautiful dress and carriage and sends Cinderella on her way.

Meanwhile, the prince hatches a plan to switch places with the squire in hopes of meeting a girl who “really likes me for me.” Things go haywire at the ball, thanks to the spoiled stepsisters, and it ends before Cinderella can get there. When she finally arrives, Cinderella is greeted by a squire (the prince) who asks her to dance because “the band is paid till 1 a.m.” Will she  accept his invitation and waltz the night away? Will they live happily ever after?

Directed by Jeffrey Sanzel, the lively show is perfectly executed with a clever script and all of the wonderful scenes we have come to love overflowing with singing, dancing and lots of magic.

Each actor has his/her chance to shine with solos and duets. Accompanied on piano by Douglas J. Quattrock with choreography by Sari Feldman, the songs are sweet and endearing theawith special mention to “Hey There, Charming,” “Please, Mother, Please!” and “If the Shoe Fits,” “A Girl Like Me (and a Boy Like You)” and “Here in Your Arms.”

The costumes, designed by the uber-talented Jason Allyn, are exquisite, especially Cinderella’s dress which received gasps from the audience when it was first seen, and the lighting and special effects are simply magical.

If you’re looking for something to do with the kids this weekend, Theatre Three’s Cinderella fits the “shoe” perfectly. Costumes are encouraged. Meet the cast in the lobby after the show for a keepsake photo.

Theatre Three, 412 Main St., Port Jefferson presents Cinderella through June 17 with a sensory sensitive performance on June 4 at 11 a.m. All seats are $10. For more information or to order, call the box office at 631-928-9100 or visit www.theatrethree.com.

Halle Bailey stars as 'The Little Mermaid'. Photo courtesy of Disney

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Live-action adaptations of Disney cartoons have become commonplace. Cinderella, Aladdin, Dumbo, Mulan, Peter Pan and Wendy, and The Lion King have been reviewed in this paper. Unfortunately, the results have been predominantly tepid. 

The Little Mermaid (1989) remains the gold standard for the cartoon musicals of Disney’s animated renaissance. Written and directed by John Musker and Ron Clements, the film was funny, imaginative, and beautifully designed. The Alan Menken – Howard Ashman songs remain the strongest in the Disney canon, and the film received two Academy Awards: Best Original Score and Best Original Song (“Under the Sea”). The first-rate voice talent included Jodi Benson (Ariel), Christopher Daniel Barnes (Prince Eric), Pat Carroll (Ursula), Kenneth Mars (King Triton), and Samuel E. Wright (Sebastian, the crab). The film became the first animated feature to earn over $100 million.

The 2008 Broadway musical, with a book by Douglas Wright, limped through a year-and-a-half run but found more success in regional, community, and school productions. In 2019, The Wonderful World of Disney broadcast The Little Mermaid Live, an interesting hybrid, where the film was projected and interwoven with live musical performances.

The source for the various Mermaids is Hans Christian Andersen’s 1836 Danish fairy tale. No incarnation considers the tale’s more serious elements, which focus on the nature of the soul building to a moral of redemption. Andersen’s tale ends with the mermaid’s death and ultimate spiritual transcendence, reflecting a more religious denouement. The Disney interpretation is far more prosaic, focusing on earthly love based on (mostly) physical attraction, and struggles to find a message of empowerment. The narrative is one of sacrificing everything—including your voice—for the love of a man you do not know.

Now Broadway director-choreographer Rob Marshall (who helmed the first-rate Chicago film) directs David Magee’s live-action adaptation, a revision of the Clements-Musker screenplay, swollen to 135 minutes, a full 52 minutes over the 1998 running time. The extended length is the major cavil in an otherwise effective film.

Javier Bardem as King Triton. Photo courtesy of Disney

Once again, Ariel is one of the seven daughters of Triton, ruler of the sea. She is fascinated by the world above: “I wanna be where the people are,” sings Ariel in the anthem “Part of Your World.” She becomes entranced by Prince Eric, who she sees onboard a ship that runs afoul of a storm. She saves him, falling in love with the handsome young man. When her father learns of her feelings, his rage drives him to destroy her collection of human artifacts. Distraught, Ariel makes a deal with Ursula, the sea witch. In exchange for her voice, Ariel will be given legs and three days to make Eric fall in love and kiss her. If she fails, she becomes a prize addition to the sea witch’s nightmarish garden.

The story follows the earlier version, with additional background and minor adjustments. It is twenty-one years since the royal family rescued Eric from a shipwreck. Unlike his late adopted father, the king, Eric wants to be a ruler for and among the people and venture beyond the island. In addition, there is a clear suspicion between the land and sea dwellers. The queen is vocal in her distrust of the “sea gods.” Both communities blame the other for the damage of shipwrecks. The political overtones resulting from this friction is  lost for most of the film, only to return at the end. 

A scene from ‘The Little Mermaid’. Photo courtesy of Disney

A scene in the marketplace demonstrates the joy of legs/feet/dancing (and an opportunity for a cameo by original Ariel Benson). Additionally, Ursula is Triton’s younger sister, upping the revenge quotient. One major—and welcomed change: as part of the spell, Ariel forgets that she must kiss Eric. This enables a more organic growth of their love. 

Most of the new Mermaid follows the original, often shot-for-shot, and here it succeeds best. The shortcomings are few: Truncating both “Poor Unfortunate Souls” and “Kiss the Girl” is disappointing, and the few new songs (written with Lin-Manuel Miranda) add little. The creation of Ariel’s crab, bird, and fish cohorts have an odd flatness, but eventually one gets used to them.

Marshall makes the musical highlight, “Under the Sea,” less whimsical but joyous in a new way. The director utilized Alvin Ailey dancers as templates for creating this photoreal experience. (Much of the film hovers between Jacques Cousteau and CGI.)

Scuttle (voiced by Awkafina), Flounder (voiced by Jacob Tremblay) and Ariel (Halle Bailey), in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Disney

Halle Bailey is a luminous Ariel. With a beautiful voice and a knowing presence, she elevates and dimensionalizes the mermaid. Whether singing or just communicating with her eyes, each moment and every gesture ring true. She is a worthy addition to the pantheon of princesses. Jonah Hauer-King makes for a pleasant, if mild, Prince Eric. Given the strength of Bailey’s Ariel, this seems intentional. Melissa McCarthy, channeling Pat Carroll, is a triumph, perfectly balancing traditional Disney villainy with contemporary side comments. Javier Bardem appropriately broods as Ariel’s frustrated father, lending a Tevye quality to his Triton. 

Noma Dumezweni, as the newly introduced Queen Selina, seems like a benign refugee from Bridgerton; however, Dumezweni is a strong actor and brings warmth and strength to her limited role. Art Malik humanizes Grimsby, Eric’s keeper and confidant. Daveed Diggs’ delightful Sebastian offers a less neurotic but highly entertaining crab. Awkwafina finds a new and fun approach to the chatterbox Scuttle, no longer a seagull but a diving bird. Special mention goes to Jessica Alexander, whose brief appearance as Vanessa, Ursula’s human alter ego, easily shifts from charming to maniacal. 

From the pastoral underwater opening to the Clash of the Titans climax, The Little Mermaid does what few Disney remakes have done: it rightfully earns a place next to its dazzling original. Rated PG, the film is now playing in local theaters.

Nathan Lane and Robin Williams in a scene from 'The Birdcage'

By Tara Mae

Time to fly the coop and settle in at Theatre Three’s Second Stage for St. George Living History Productions’ next interactive talk, “The Making of The Birdcage.”  

On Tuesday, May 30, at 12:30 p.m., award-winning playwright and lecturer Sal St. George will guide the audience on a behind-the-scenes tour of the 1996 modern classic, with anecdotes, trivia, insights, and movie clips making cameo appearances. 

Featuring complimentary refreshments, cookies, and other treats as well as a Q&A session, “The Making of The Birdcage” invites its patrons to enjoy the presentation as an immersive experience. 

“It is LecturTainment at its best. It’s a combination lecture and entertainment package. My goal is to help you learn while you laugh, that is the magic I try to create,” said St. George.  

Starring Robin Williams and Nathan Lane, The Birdcage is an acclaimed American remake of La Cages aux Folles (1978). Directed by Mike Nichols, the film chronicles the comedic calamities that befall a gay cabaret owner and his drag queen partner as they try to impress the ultra conservative parents of their son’s fiancée. 

It launched the film career of Lane, renowned for his theater work, and solidified Williams’ chameleon-like ability to embody a variety of characters. Further spotlighted by its stacked roster of supporting actors, this film was a box office smash hit and remains a crowd-pleaser today.

“This was Nathan Lane’s first film. He and Robin Williams bonded immediately…This [cast] is a winning combination of talent,” said Sal St. George. “The Birdcage is a modern day classic that will be enjoyed 20 years, 50 years, and 100 years from now simply because it boasts a brilliant script, superb direction, and memorable performances.” 

Highlighting, exploring, and understanding such talent is a founding tenet of St. George Living History Productions, which provides a sort of showbiz curriculum about Hollywood of yore and yesterday, including lectures, events, and virtual tours of entertainment museums. 

“During our programs we never talk down to audiences; we are informative, educational and entertaining. I think that is what is appealing to them,” added St. George, who runs St. George Living History Productions with his wife Mary, son Darren and daughter-in-law Cassandra.

Such care and consideration is in part what inspired the collaboration between the production company and Theatre Three, which was conceptualized when Darren reached out to Executive Artistic Director Jeffrey Sanzel. 

“Sal’s events are so incredibly well-curated. His translation of detailed research into engaging entertainment is unique. He has a way of finding new takes on any topic he selects,” Sanzel said. “We hope this is the first of many events like this with St. George Productions.”

Although this latest installment of St. George’s lecture series is the first partnership with Theatre Three, St. George and Sanzel have previously collaborated on other projects, including earlier incarnations of Port Jefferson’s annual Charles Dickens Festival. 

“I have lectured from Long Island to San Diego; it was time to bring my programs to the patrons of Theatre Three and the Port Jefferson community,” said St. George.

Theatre Three is located at 412 Main St., Port Jefferson. Tickets for “The Making of Birdcage” are $25 for adults, $22 for seniors and veterans, and $20 for groups of eight or more people. To order, call 631-928-9100 or visit www.theatrethree.com. Group sales may be made by emailing [email protected]. 

By Rita J. Egan

It was Theatre Three’s opening night of Something Rotten! on Saturday, May 20, and the audience was treated to an entertaining and energetic night full of laughter.

With book by John O’Farrell and Karey Kirkpatrick and music and lyrics by Karey and Wayne Kirkpatrick, Something Rotten! takes audience members back in time to the late 16th century where William Shakespeare is so adored that he’s treated like a modern-day rock star. Struggling writers Nick and Nigel Bottom, who head up a theater troupe, dream of the same success but can’t seem to create a play that will capture people’s attention until Nick consults with a soothsayer named Nostradamus. 

The soothsayer looks into the future and finds that something called a musical will be popular one day. A later encounter finds Nick asking Nostradamus what Shakespeare’s future successes will be so that the Bottom brothers can use the ideas in the present. The result is Nick creating Omelette: The Musical despite his brother’s objections.

The Broadway musical opened on the Great White Way in 2015 and ran until early 2017. The production was nominated for 10 Tony Awards, including Best Musical, and Christian Borle won the Best Featured Actor in a Musical award for his portrayal of William Shakespeare. 

Theatre Three’s Something Rotten! proves that there are no small parts as well as the importance of talented actors in each role, including the ensemble. Throughout the musical, it was apparent that everyone involved was giving it their all, creating a night of sensational entertainment. Director Jeffrey Sanzel has chosen a talented cast and masterfully directs the more than two dozen actors.

The production is filled with a few upbeat tunes, but the showstopping number is “A Musical.” Featured in Act I, the whole cast appears on stage singing and dancing. The number cleverly pokes fun at musicals and includes nods to Les Miserables, Annie, A Chorus Line and more. At the end of the song, the applause on opening night seemed to go on for more than a minute, and rightfully so, as each and every person involved in Something Rotten! deserved the accolades.

Heading up the cast is Ryan Nolin, a convincing Nick Bottom at the end of his rope trying to provide for his family and create a hit. He and Dennis Setteducati, who plays Nostradamus, sound fantastic on their leads during “A Musical” and play up the clever lines to the hilt.

Andrew Boza, as the naive Nigel Bottom, captures the sweetness of the young poet and writer. He and Danielle Pafundi, delightful as Portia, are the perfect match to play star-crossed lovers, especially during the song “I Love the Way.”

Christine Boehm as Nick’s wife, Bea, is a treat to watch as the character has her mind set on proving, even with mishaps, that a woman is more than capable of doing whatever a man does. Her rendition of “Right Hand Man” is also a highlight of the show.

Evan Teich, as Shakespeare, captures the cockiness of the celebrated star while still delivering the right amount of silliness. Jim Sluder as Brother Jeremiah and Angelo DiBiase as Shylock seamlessly add to the jokes and hijinks.

Choreographers Sari Feldman and Josie McSwane have created high-energy dances. The cast members look like they are having so much fun that audience members may want to join them onstage. The use of tap dancing and a kickline in “A Musical,” as well as a few other numbers, is absolutely delightful.

Theatre Three’s orchestra led by Jeffrey Hoffman sounded fantastic as always, and the costumes by Chakira Doherty perfectly captured the time period.

During the song “A Musical,” the line “What could be more amazing than a musical with song and dance and sweet romance,” is sung. The cast and crew of Theatre Three’s Something Rotten! understand this and embrace every aspect of this genre. Audience members on opening night enjoyed a fun evening out on the town, and the standing ovation at the end of the production was well deserved.

Theatre Three, 412 Main St., Port Jefferson presents Something Rotten! through June 24. Tickets are $35, $28 seniors and students, $20 children ages 5 to 12. For tickets or more information, call 631-928-9100 or visit www.theatrethree.com.

Michael J. Fox in a scene from 'Still.' Photo courtesy of Apple TV

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

“A short kid from a Canadian army base becomes the international pop culture darling of the 1980s—only to find the course of his life altered by a stunning diagnosis. What happens when an incurable optimist confronts an incurable disease?”

— Tagline to Still: A Michael J. Fox Movie

Few people do not recognize Michael J. Fox. Fox (born 1961) launched into the public eye with the sitcom Family Ties (1982-89), in which he played Alex P. Keaton, the conservative son in a liberal family. From there, his star rose quickly with the Back to the Future trilogy (1985-1990), followed by Teen Wolf (1985), The Secret of My Success (1987), Doc Hollywood (1991), and others. Then, in 1996, he returned to the small screen with Spin City.

Fox combined a youthful sureness with the charm of a latter-day Jimmy Stewart, a genuine aw-shucks quality absent of artifice. Even in lesser vehicles, he offered strong, grounded performances.

During the run of Spin City, Fox went public with his Parkinson’s disease diagnosis. He became an advocate and spokesperson, establishing the Michael J. Fox Foundation in 2000, a not-for-profit focusing on research for a cure. Throughout the early 2000s, he continued to work—mostly guest spots and a few recurring roles. His last major undertaking was the semi-autobiographical The Michael J. Fox Show (2013-2013), an NBC comedy in which he played news anchor Mike Henry who gave up his career due to the same diagnosis. Following his official retirement in 2020, Fox published a memoir, No Time Like the Future: An Optimist Considers Mortality. 

Michael J. Fox and his wife Tracy Pollan met on the set of ‘Family Ties’ in 1985. Photo courtesy of Apple TV

Fox received numerous nominations, and among his accolades are Golden Globes, Emmys, and People’s Choice Awards. He met his wife, Tracy Pollan, when she appeared as his girlfriend on Family Ties. The pair married in 1988 and have four children. 

Still: A Michael J. Fox Movie chronicles Fox’s life and career. It opens with Fox having spent a drunken night with Woody Harrelson. He finds the pinky of his left hand trembling, a harbinger of what is to come. The film embarks on a chronological telling of his story, with present-day Fox commenting on his rise to fame, stardom, diagnosis, and aftermath. First, he is shown as a child in constant movement, then as a reluctant student and “serial fender bender.” He dropped out of school and went to Hollywood with his father’s help. Given his diminutive stature, he landed a series of small guest spots as much younger characters. Finally, Family Ties changed his entire trajectory.

The film follows Fox through the highs and lows, medication, alcoholism (now thirty years sober), intense work schedules, critical successes, and box office disappointments. The actor is forthcoming about his courtship and marriage to Pollan, raising children, and realization of the importance of family, especially after his diagnosis. “I was the boy prince of Hollywood. But it was an illusion.”

Director Davis  Guggenheim (An Inconvenient Truth, He Named Me Malala, Waiting for Superman) creates a hybrid of straight documentary and something akin to Behind the Music via True Crime Network. Most of the film is a series of interviews with Fox, sitting at a table, talking directly to the camera. In addition, he interacts with his family and physical therapists. The rest of the documentary comprises film clips from his movies and television shows, sometimes shown in context, other times coopted for emphasis. 

In addition, Guggenheim films  stand-ins for Fox and others over-the-shoulder shots, at a distance, or blurred, with music blaring during these peripatetic sections. Whether they are for contrast or effect is hard to discern. 

Where Still succeeds is in the one-on-one conversations with Fox, which fortunately occupy at least fifty percent. The camera is placed straight on with no music or fanfare. The focus remains solely on Fox as he answers the most personal questions. Sometimes, he physically struggles. Other times, he reflects before coming back with a revelation or a quip. 

Throughout his illness, he has fallen many times, shattering his cheek and breaking his hand. Philosophically, he retorts, “Gravity is real. Even when I’m falling from my height.” He is seen falling—but also getting back up. Fox appears open, raw, and completely honest.

From the very beginning, the documentary is unflinching. Fox reveals himself as he is: constantly off-balance, with uncontrollable spasms and involuntary movements, moments of freezing, and the sense of what is permanently lost. But his humor bubbles to the surface. “If I’m here twenty years from now, I’ll either be cured or a pickle.”

At one point, he is asked what it is like to be still. He takes a moment, then responds, “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been still.” And while true, Still: A Michael J. Fox Movie captures not just the Hollywood icon but an intimate, bold, and uplifting portrait of an extraordinary human being.

The documentary is currently streaming on Apple TV.

'Shadows We Carry'

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Meryl Ain’s debut novel, The Takeaway Men (2020), focused on immigrants Aron and Edyta (Judy) Lubinksi and their twin daughters, Bronka and Johanna. Refugees from Hitler’s Europe, the family settles with Aron’s cousins in Bellerose, Queens. 

Author Meryl Ain

The absorbing story traced their struggles with adjusting to the new world and the burdens and guilt related to survival. Dealing with both the aftermath of the Nazi genocide and the rising Red Scare during the Cold War, The Takeaway Men offered a vivid portrait of a family in transition and ends in 1962.

Ain’s sequel, Shadows We Carry (SparkPress) picks up a year later for a brief prologue on the day of President Kennedy’s assignation. As the teenage Bronka states: “This is the end of the world … Nothing will ever be the same again.” 

In Shadows We Carry, Ain focuses on Bronka, the more serious of the twins. The narrative follows the young woman’s journey from the late 1960s to the early 1980s. Ain once again displays her deft gift for presenting the intersection of historical events and cultural awareness. 

The sisters are a portrait in contrast. Bronka studies history and political science, aspiring to a career in journalism. Johanna (called “JoJo”) studies music education but has no desire to teach. However, her musical theatre dreams are derailed by a pregnancy, leading to an alternately fulfilling and frustrating married life.

Bronka’s odyssey takes her through a range of personal and professional obstacles. A well-drawn character, complicated yet likable, she is a good but flawed individual, often getting in her own way—a case of wrong for the right reasons. Even with her strong Jewish identity, she tends to seek romance with unavailable men. The first is Ned, the Queen’s College newspaper editor-in-chief and a graduating senior. Later, she falls for a priest, the charismatic Father Stan. Even more importantly, Bronka represents the pull between career and homemaking: her passion for making a life in the news world versus her desire for a traditional family constantly battles. 

Shadows We Carry also emphasizes the age of rebellion, reflecting an era of burgeoning self-discovery. Bronka’s neighbor and lifelong friend, Mindy, a middle-class version of anti-establishment, confronts Bronka with a hard truth: “Look, my mother and Tina Rosen and her sisters will all end up in boxes. It’s up to you whether you do or not. I think both of you could go either way. But I sure as hell will not. I’m going to find a different path. But first, I have to find out who I really am.”

In search of self, Bronka is unsure of her niche. Too intellectually curious to accept a narrow conservative marriage, she is conversely uncomfortable with the free-love, drug-taking hippie element. She constantly faces less than thinly veiled chauvinism and misogyny. 

Ain’s gift is the ability to veer from domestic drama to social and political issues. Whether addressing the mother’s Catholic heritage but embracement of Judaism (or the priest’s mirrored journey), she delves into the psychological turmoil of her characters. 

Mother Judy clings to an outdated vision of what women can be, subsuming her dreams to the needs of her often taciturn and haunted husband, Aron. Residuals of the Communist Witch Hunt and the search for Nazi War criminals play out against the age of the Viet Nam War. 

Canvassing for Eugene McCarthy, along with the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy, are affecting milestones. The beginning of the AIDS crisis is touched upon in a subtle but powerful stroke.

An interesting event occurs in 1973 when Bronka covers the renaming of the Nazi streets in Yaphank’s Fatherland Gardens. She is accompanied by a photographer unaware of his father’s direct connection to Auschwitz. 

If The Takeaway Men focuses on the immigrant experience in the post-1945 world, then Shadows We Carry highlights the assimilating America of the 1960s and early 1970s. Its quick, taut chapters reflect the peripatetic and energetic pacing of the latter part of the 20th century. A book of identity, it asks the twin questions “Can you ever escape history?” and “Can you ever escape your history?” 

A smart and welcome coming-of-age novel, Shadows We Carry is available on Amazon.com.

Ashley Brooke and Bel Powley in a scene from 'A Small Light'. Photo from NatGeo

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

‘But even an ordinary secretary or a housewife or a teenager can, within their own small ways, turn on a small light in a dark room.’ — Miep Gies

No figure is more iconic than Anne Frank. Whether seen as an ordinary girl in extraordinary times, or a remarkable individual robbed of her potential, her short life and terrible death epitomize the darkest era of the twentieth century. And while her memory transcends decades, she should be remembered as a person with hopes and aspirations, feelings, and foibles. Anne Frank was not a symbol; she was a human being.

The Diary of a Young Girl—often called The Diary of Anne Frank—appeared in its original Dutch in 1947. The first English translation, Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl, was published in 1952. 

Bel Powley shines in her role as Miep Gies in A Small Light. Photo courtesy of Nat Geo

The diary was given to Anne as a thirteenth birthday present on June 12, 1942. She chronicled her life in this book and two school exercise books. On March 29, 1944, she listened to a London radio broadcast by the exiled Dutch Minister for Education calling for the preservation of “ordinary documents … simple everyday material” as a testimony to the plight of Dutch civilians under the Nazi regime. She began revising the entries with this in mind. Her final entry was on August 1, 1944, three days before her arrest and deportation. Miep Gies and Bep Voskuijl, two of the brave people who helped hide the Frank family, saved the loose pages of the manuscript. After the war, they gave the papers to the only surviving occupant of the attic, Anne’s father, Otto.

A stage adaptation premiered on Broadway on October 5, 1955. Adapted by Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett (supposedly handpicked by playwright Lillian Hellman), the well-received production emphasized the hopeful aspects, highlighting (but perhaps ignoring true context) the signature quote: “Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart.” 

In 1959, this version was brought to the screen in the equally lauded version. It was not until 1997, when Wendy Kesselman revised and re-envisioned the play, there was an Anne Frank properly representing the true darkness and struggle, divesting itself from the earlier incarnation’s occasional saccharine. The BBC produced a television film in 2019 with an entirely new script.

Of the cinematic incarnations, the most powerful is Anne Frank: The Whole Story (2001). Due to a conflict between the producers and the Anne Frank Foundation, the creators were denied access to quote Anne Frank’s writings. Instead, according to producer David Kappes (in a private interview), the ninety-year-old Miep Gies was used as a primary source to tell Frank’s history. (Gies passed away in January 2010 at 100.) This account takes Anne beyond the annex, following her through deportation to the Westerbork transit camp, transport to Auschwitz, and finally, her death in Bergen-Belsen.

Gies told her story in the memoir Anne Frank Remembered: The Story of the Woman Who Helped to Hide the Frank Family (1987). Subsequently, she was featured in the Academy Award-winning documentary Anne Frank Remembered (1995). 

[The following is based on a viewing of the first two episodes of A Small Light.] 

Now, National Geographic has produced A Small Light, an eight part miniseries streaming on Disney+ and Hulu. This begs whether there is a need for another screen version of the story. If it is A Small Light, the answer is a resounding “yes.” 

Masterfully directed by Susanna Fogel (from a screenplay by Tony Phelan, Joan Rater, William Harper, and Ben Esler), A Small Light takes Miep Gies from the sidelines. It presents her center in a wholly realized and beautifully dimensional account. The series is an inversion of previous Anne Frank stories. Rather than the claustrophobic fear of being surrounded by the horrors of the outside, this is the terror of living day-to-day in a world with danger at every corner and every turn.

Episode one opens in 1942. Miep Gies (Bel Powley) bicycles with a frightened Margot Frank (Ashley Brooke) through the streets of an idyllic Amsterdam festooned with Nazi banners interspersed with “Resist” graffiti. Miep is attempting to get Margot through a Nazi checkpoint. The scene is taut, tense, and done in quick, sharp cuts.

Before they reach the front of the line, the action shifts back to 1933. After a night of drinking, Miep joins her large, adopted family for lunch, having slept until 2 p.m. Her frustrated parents suggest that if she cannot find a job, she marry her adopted brother (who, unbeknownst to his parents, is gay). Miep lives a leisurely, almost bucolic life. 

After an awkward interview, Otto Frank (Liev Shreiber) engages the unskilled Miep as a secretary. Brash and temperamental, she still learns the business and begins to find her place in the organization. Life goes along with Miep meeting her eventual husband, the shy Jan (Joe Cole), in a bar. 

On May 10, 1940, the Nazis invaded the Netherlands. Within five days, they had taken over the country. Laws change, and the harsh Nazi abuse transforms into greater crimes. (It is not until the middle of episode two that we see the brutality of the round-ups.) The infamous yellow star appears on clothing. 

Eventually, Otto shares the plan of taking his family, along with his employee Hermann Van Pels’ family, into hiding and asks for Miep’s help, to which she immediately agrees. However, Otto changes the moving date when his older daughter Margot receives deportation papers. The first episode returns to the opening scene as Miep gets Margot through the checkpoint and into the annex, the first glimpse of the hiding place.

The second episode shows the earliest days of the new life. On the inside, attitudes are already fraying as the Franks attempt to adapt. Miep must deal with the already frustrated and often frustrating individuals living like prisoners. She also faces the challenges of keeping the secret as well as finding food, ration books, etc. Husband Jan aids Miep but also begins his own journey to help the persecuted. This episode ends with the dentist, Fritz Pfeffer (Noah Taylor), completing the members of the attic.

The cast is uniformly exceptional. Liev Schreiber makes for a slightly mercurial but effective and compassionate Otto. Amira Casar’s Edith Frank is a stronger, more demanding Edith. Billie Boullet is an exceptional Anne, shining and passionate but grounded in reality. Ashley Brooke hits the right gentle notes as the reserved Margot. Joe Cole grows Jan throughout, going from reticence to strength with a charm that comes through.

But the center is Bel Powley’s exceptional Miep. She grows from the lackadaisical party girl and reluctant employee to a ferocious, committed portrait of real courage. Whether flirting with a butcher to get a better chicken or resigned to revealing the true situation outside the attic walls, her reality and depth are flawless.

From an educational standpoint, the series is invaluable. The current curriculum rightfully deals with turning bystanders into upstanders and changing the bullying narrative. Miep Gies reminds us never to stand by; as individuals, we must choose to make a difference. We must do more and must do better. For that alone, her story is beyond important. The fact that A Small Light is art presented with raw integrity elevates the message to a higher level.