In the 5,000 years they’ve been married, George and Maggie Antrobus have survived wars, plagues, floods, and everything in between. Now they're running low on food – and a massive glacier is headed toward their New Jersey home. An epic, timely comedy about the endurance of human spirit, Thornton Wilder’s THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH follows one “everyfamily” through the great struggles and triumphs of the human experience. Led by innovative director Lileana Blain-Cruz in a production that speaks directly to our current moment, this Pulitzer Prize-winning classic with additional material by Branden Jacobs-Jenkins is a profound reminder that life is always worth living – no matter how difficult things get.
Lincoln Center takes its one intermission here, with time to reflect on the excellences thus far: the puppetry for sure, credited to James Ortiz; Adam Rigg's flashy yet seedy boardwalk setting; spectacular sound effects from Palmer Hefferan; and the sturdy performances by the principals, notably Gabby Beans as Sabina. That part has to carry both acts on her slim shoulders, and in 1943 the larger-than-life diva Tallulah Bankhead triumphed, director Elia Kazan having cast her famously against type. Beans, in her Broadway debut, is an Eartha Kitt rather than a Tallulah: seductive and sensible by turns, a tiger who can turn pussycat at will. I don't know whether a leading role in a Lincoln Center revival can carry the oomph necessary to be a star-maker, but I have a hunch Beans' future star status is pretty secure.
The director Lileana Blain-Cruz has cast the Antrobuses as a Black family, so playwright Branden Jacobs-Jenkins makes some necessary, feather-light adjustments to the text. A racist murder in the second act is no longer racist, for instance, and in the third act, in the procession of the thinkers, Jacobs-Jenkins has added bell hooks to the roster. Conceptually, I'm on board. Experientially, though, the thing is a roller coaster, and I don't mean the light-up one that designer Adam Rigg has placed on a New Jersey boardwalk. Blain-Cruz meets Wilder's maximalism with her own, his gravity with her seriousness, but the writer's comedy and the director's don't coincide. Beans in particular gets caught in the gap. She is being asked to play Sabina's broad stuff so broadly - in the ill-shaped Vivian Beaumont, which tends to swallow up every gesture - that we only realize what a glittering star she is when she drops the act for one of her many asides.
Videos