Buyer and Cellar
Jonathan Tolins
 |
| J. Conrad Frank |
It all begins with a whole slew of animated
disclaimers. What we are about to hear
is “all fiction,” that “I am just an actor.”
(But the part about the fake shopping mall under her house, all true as
outlined in her one published book, My
Passion for Design.) With flashing hands, he admits
sheepishly, “I was never that big of a Barbra queen” (although he does admit
she was “part of my birthright, my heritage.”)
He is quick to add that there will be no impersonating the Great One by
him in this show tonight. “Enough people
do her – even some women – so you don’t need me to.” But of course, “When I tell you about the
conversations we had – which never really took place – I’ll just be her, and
you can fill in the rest.” And actually,
the audience of the intimate Walker Theatre of the New Conservatory Theatre
Center has to fill in very little because for the next ninety minutes, J.
Conrad Frank will hold court front and center in his non-stop, rapid-fire
version of Jonathan Tolins’ Broadway and touring hit, Buyer and Cellar.
Since there is only one Barbra who dropped that middle “a,”
we all know of whom he speaks in his disclaimers, this Alex Moore (aka as J.
Conrad Frank). Alex has just been fired
from Disneyland’s Toontown for an obscene remark made to an obnoxious rug
rat. Through a connection (which any one
who is any one in SoCal always has plenty of), he lands a mysterious job at a
Malibu Beach mansion that looks like it should be in the middle of picturesque,
rural Connecticut. Only this one, it
turns out, has a full shopping mall in the basement, full of the souvenirs,
costumes, and tchotchkes collected in a lifetime of stardom by its one and only
customer, Barbra Streisand.
Alex is hired to be the one and only keeper of its many
shops (dress, antique, yogurt, Bea’s Dolls, etc.). And as his new best friends, we get to hear
all the many details of his mostly boring days dusting the dolls and
rearranging the loaded counters – days that are occasionally punctuated by
visits from this one shopper who will just show up, often humming as she
descends the stairs. “And, man, can that
lady hum,” he tell us with excited eyes that somehow connect directly with each
and every one of us, all now leaning forward in our seats to catch every
delicious detail of his totally fictitious encounter with Barbra.
 |
| J. Conrad Frank |
Mr. Frank’s Alex is so easy to like immediately, and soon he
becomes our new best friend. He sparkles
when excited, tantalizes when about to tell a new secret, and melts to a state
of endearing vulnerability when crushed by disappointment. (He can even improvise splendidly as he did
after one sudden sneeze when his Alex turns to us with a flip of his wrist and
a “’Scuse me, but it’s really dusty down here” before jumping right back into
his story-telling.)
Alex also quickly transforms into the Hyde of his Jekyll
when his increasingly cynical (and more than just a little jealous) boyfriend,
Barry, enters the after-work scene with him back at their apartment. Struggling screenwriter Barry is a total
expert on Barbra (just ask him), and he loves using his edgy voice in
pooh-poohing and casting shadows on every new adoration Alex brings to his
nightly attention. That Alex is
beginning to talk of her as his ‘friend’ only infuriates the now-screaming
Barry even more.
Back at the mansion’s shops, our now-experienced sales clerk
can also become when needed the distant, always-keeping-her-eye-on-him house
manager, Sharon, or the dreamy-voiced, hey-I’m-your-pal (briefly) James Brolin,
present husband and manager of Alex’s prime customer. But it is when Alex becomes his version of
Barbra herself (yes, he does in fact impersonate her, no matter what he said up
front) that Mr. Frank particularly shines.
With a left forefinger always flipping the bang falling over her brow
and with lips that pucker, eyes that can cross for effect, and extended fingers
whose famously long nails are almost detectable, his Barbra is never meant to
make fun in any malicious manner.
Instead, she is Alex’s (and probably J. Conrad Frank’s) way of showing
complete love and admiration for a unique brand of quirkiness millions adore
about her.
One of the joys of Mr. Tolin’s script and Mr. Frank’s
delivery (as Alex, Barbra, and Barry) is the constant name-dropping of stars
from long ago and last week as well as references to both obscure (“The Mirror
with Two Faces”) and well-known (“Funny Girl”) movies and shows. At the mention of each, reactions from the
audience become like random popping of Chinese New Year fire-crackers, as first
this one and then another get the connection that many of the rest of us have
no idea but then, don’t really care because it is all so fascinating to listen
to.
 |
| J. Conrad Frank |
Devin Kasper has created a stunning yet simple setting on
the small flat stage just a few feet from the first row. Most of the shops’ details are left to our
imaginations based on Alex’s detailed, chatty descriptions. An elegant divan, a plush rug, and a dress
form stand (that will have a big dancing role at one point) are engulfed
overhead by a series of hollow picture frames of all shapes that climb on a
diagonal across the back stage. To make
the set really pop and to establish a basement mall setting, Keira Sullivan has
created a fantastic and ever-shifting lighting design. Applause must also go to the exquisite
timing, quality, and light-heartedness of Sara Witsch’s sound design. While Mr. Frank brings much innate talent and
ingenuity to all his characters’ constantly changing expressions and voices,
clearly he has been directed with great skill by Rebecca Longworth.
Taking on the role made famous to every gay man (and even
other folks not gay) who saw Michael Urie star in the original, J. Conrad Frank
excels in tour de force fashion in this outstandingly fun and funny Buyer and Cellar at New Conservatory
Theatre Center. Do not be kept away by
having seen the show two years ago at the Curran. In the intimate Walker of NCTC, this Alex is
not to be missed!
Rating: 5 E
Buyer and Cellar
continues through April 24, 2016 on the Walker Stage of New Conservatory
Theatre Center, 25 Van
Ness Street, San Francisco. Tickets are
available at http://www.nctcsf.org/ or by calling the box office at
415-861-8972.
Photos
Credit: Lois Tema
No comments:
Post a Comment