of mice and men 2
of mice and men 2

It is 1:45 PM in the afternoon on a Wednesday and stretched in front of Longacre Theater on West 48th street is a line consisting of entire high school English classes, Time Square tourists, literature lovers and James Franco fangirls. The crowd is buzzing and one teenage girl squeals to another; “I’m so excited to see James Franco live! I absolutely love his Instagram!” But when everyone has made it to their seats and the curtain finally begins to rise, Franco’s frat-boyish Instagram is all but forgotten.

The artistry of director Anna D. Shapiro’s revival of John Steinbeck’s beloved play and novella Of Mice and Men was unmistakable from beginning to end. The set design was breathtaking, exquisitely detailed and washed in a thick layer of grey that easily communicated the sticky molasses of fear and loathing that the characters waded through. Aspiration and dejection grace the space through an expert use of lighting and you can’t help but get the feeling that dust is perpetually settling itself across the stage.

As for the actors, Franco, as George Milton, does a brilliant job of showing us the real reason why he is famous while O’Dowd, as Lennie Small, brings to life the sympathetic humor in Steinbeck’s work. O’Dowd’s Lennie broke my heart more than once, his lumbering but sweet manor and his bewilderment of consequences generating sorrowful sighs throughout the audience. This fearful wariness for the “slow” sweetheart is only illuminated by the watchful gaze that George casts over his companion through-out the play and it is within this gaze that we see Franco’s true talent and passion for acting.

Even so, Franco and O’Dowd are far from the only talent on the stage. Each and every actor held his (or her) own, emanating a distinct and memorable presence on stage. In particular, I’d like to mention stage newcomer Leighton Meester’s portrayal of wishful and overly-friendly Curley’s wife. Whether consciously or by accident, Meester chose to cast much of the unnamed wife’s sexual curiosity aside, instead accenting the loneliness the wannabe socialite feels among the gruff men on the farm as she resides, mostly alone, in the home of her cranky, weasel-like husband, Curley, played by Alex Morf.

Jim Norton’s rusted and one-handed Candy also made quite the impression, his pitiable isolation and hopelessness drawn along the creases of his overalls. The entire cast wore the dust of the 1930’s depression as though it were born on their skin. Whether it’s Jim Parrack as Slim, Joel Marsh Garland as Carlson, Ron Cephas Jones as Crooks or Jim Ortliebas as The Boss, the dignity and style of the performance was not only memorable, but palpable. The audience laughed and cried and sighed and cheered. Anna D. Shapiro’s Of Mice and Men is a play I would be more than willing to see again and again.

Tickets run anywhere from $50-270 depending on the seat and can be purchased on the show’s website www.ofmiceandmenonbroadway.com

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