“You’ve got to be taught before it’s too late/To hate all the people your relatives hate…” Oscar Hammerstein II (South Pacific.)
Angie (Marilyn Caserta) is a thirty something Italian/Catholic girl struggling to make success of a Lower East Side gallery. “I want a life that’s smart/I want a world that inspires…” she sings. Nonna (grandmother) Sophia (Diana Di Marzio), who funded the enterprise, is concerned that the young woman is not only single, but uninterested after yet another failed relationship.
Diana DiMarzio (Nonna), Marilyn Caserta (Angie)
One Sunday, the doorbell rings unexpectedly. Angie’s neighbor Seth (Max Wolkowitz), has come looking for the apartment’s former tenant who was his “Sabbath Goy.” (Someone not of the religion who helps an Orthodox Jewish person perform certain tasks melakha that religious law prohibits him/her from doing on that day of rest.) It’s hot. Seth needs his air conditioner turned on. Angie accommodates. “This is like one time, right?”
The heroine is courting flavor-of-the-month artist Blake (Rory Max Kaplan) in hopes of mounting his first New York exhibition. She’s competing against established galleries. “You’re gonna hafta woo me,” he tells her. Angie regales him with what it is about his work that excites – in credible detail. Blake has a helium ego – played wryly and well for humor I don’t recall in the first version – and unprofessional intentions.
Rory Max Kaplan (Blake), Marilyn Caserta (Angie)
Seth runs the family knish store with his sister Rachel. (Lauren Singerman, who splendidly repeats the role.) After his divorce (rare with the Orthodox) from an arranged marriage, he relocated outside their Riverdale community. Rachel pushes him to move back where he belongs and meet a nice girl. Rooted in conservative tradition, she rejects her brother’s desire to update the business. Pineapple knishes?
The next Sunday, Seth is reading by a single light when the bulb goes out. Angie replaces it. They talk about his books, their backgrounds. There’s chemistry. A scene where she lights his candles is, if familiar, deft. They kiss. He pulls away. Angie leaves. He follows. She hesitates; he removes his yamaka. “Because of this? It comes off!” The relationship begins.
Max Wolkowitz (Seth), Lauren Singerman (Rachel)
When Rachel learns of Angie’s existence, she’s adamant about his severing ties. They belong, she sings, to “Something Bigger Than Us.” “Think of your birthright/It’s like a searchlight…” She’s convinced that Angie sees him as exotic and will leave when bored. “It’s 2024!” he protests. “Not for us. It’s 5784!” comes the retort. (The Hebrew calendar.) When Nonna hears about Seth, on the other hand, she sings of her own lengthy marriage to Nonno, of being ambushed by romance “Roseland” (which should be more dancy a tune), of the importance of love.
In 2020, The Sabbath Girl was a play I called “A Romantic Sketch… sweet without being cloying and well constructed.” Today, it’s a musical with marrow and effect. Songs offer exposition illuminating characters and circumstance. There are cliché phrases and recitative you won’t go out humming, but overall, the piece remains topical without being pedantic and appealingly wears its heart on its sleeve. Will the couple make it? Does one listen to one’s heart or head?
The play is adroitly cast, each actor focused, believable and warm.
Max Wolkowitz, Lauren Singerman, Rory Max Kaplan, Diana DiMarzio, Marilyn Caserta
Director Joe Brancato (who helmed the earlier iteration), wields a confident hand and sense of stage aesthetics. Moments of humor are a lovely surprise. Visible space just off stage is effectively employed. Characterization is solidly crafted. What could have emerged Hallmark, does not.
The set by Christopher and Justin Swader consists of revolving white “brick” walls and minimal furniture. While a plausible knish shop is manifest, the heroine’s apartment is bare and cold.
Rachel’s costumes are appropriate to an Orthodox Jewish woman and Blake’s ensembles are cool downtown arty. Nonna and Angie, however, are dressed in ill-fitting, unattractive, unsuitable attire. Both wear clodhopper shoes throughout. Angie never combs her hair, even when meeting an important, potential client. Her lingerie unwittingly shows.
Photos by Dorice Arden Madronero
Opening: Max Wolkowitz (Seth), Marilyn Caserta (Angie)
Penguin Rep Theatre presents
The Sabbath Girl
Book by Cary Gitter
Lyrics by Neil Berg/Cary Gitter
Music by Neil Berg
Keyboard – Matthew Lowy; Cello – Katie Chambers
Conceived and Directed by Joe Brancato
Through September 1, 2024
59East59 Theaters
