I never venture too far from a theater, but when I had some time away from the New York stages, I watched TV and movies. In so many of my 2022 favorites, there’s a sense of humanity to the work, whether that means connecting people or just being honest with themselves and others. These are the plays, musicals, shows, and movies that have stuck with me this year.
‘Cost of Living’
That Martyna Majok’s 2018 Pulitzer Prize-winning play was written with such heartbreaking empathy and humanity should come as no shock to anyone who has read the script or seen the previous productions. And yet, “Cost of Living” was still surprising — stunning, in fact — thanks to its four actors (Gregg Mozgala, Katy Sullivan, Kara Young, and David Zayas) and their portrayal of caregivers and patients in a story about how we care for each other and what that care costs us. Plays about connections can so easily turn into sentimental crying fests that manipulate you to tears, but Jo Bonney’s script, cast, and compassionate direction made this Broadway gem feel not only tender but true. (Read our review of “Cost of living.”)
‘300 cubits x 50 cubits x 30 cubits’
When I try to describe this epic work by the Belgian theater collective FC Bergman, I get bogged down in contradictions: grand but radiant. Chaotic but interwoven into coherence through theme and feeling. Depressing, yet imbued with something even more powerful than joy – total transcendence. Transforming Harvey’s theater into a village, with live animals and a pond, “300 cubits” took inspiration from the biblical story of Noah’s ark. A film crew circled the stage, offering interior footage of a pigeon kill, a deadly game of William Tell, and a party that even devoured the furniture. When the production ends in song and dance – an unbridled exaltation of noise and movement – even the air in the theater seemed to vibrate with excitement. (Read our article on “300 tbsp x 50 tbsp x 30 tbsp.”)
‘Fat Ham’
What struck me most about the audience’s staging of “Fat Ham” was the joy that seemed to radiate from every person in the room. . Who would have thought that ‘Hamlet’, a tragedy of revenge and murder, could be expanded into a work about strangeness and black masculinity – and a funny, clever work at that? Ijames, apparently, and Ali, whose glossy production ended in what felt like a party where everyone, including the audience, was welcome. (Read our review of “Thick Ham.”)
‘A Strange Loop’
It’s been quite a year for black queer theater, thanks in large part to the Broadway debut of Michael R. Jackson’s mind-blowing, genre-bending musical “A Strange Loop.” Starring an unforgettable Jaquel Spivey, the production succeeds on multiple levels: it poignantly comments on black arts, the black body, religion, masculinity, and strangeness, while also being hilariously funny and heartbreaking. As for the technical elements, the structure, choreography and score all come together to provide an excellent example of what Broadway can do at its best. (Read our review of “A strange loop.”)
“Oratorio for Living Things”
I knew I was seeing something special when I went to see Ars Nova’s production of Heather Christian’s “Oratorio” because I was infected with a desperate urge to see it again – even before I’d seen it the first time. Growing up with a Catholic upbringing and Sunday Mass, I never felt connected to religious institutions, but Christian’s profound work, directed by Lee Sunday Evans, created a sort of secular Mass for unbelievers and believers alike. The cast’s exquisite vocals were magnified by the space’s miniature amphitheater-style arrangement, which created an aural experience that—like the lyrics itself—felt both grand and intimate. (Read our review of “Oratorio for living things.”)
‘English’
I’m a sucker for works that explore language – its politics, the constraints and freedoms found in words. So I was already on board for Sanaz Toossi’s play, about a class in Iran where the students prepare for the test of English as a Foreign Language, or Toefl. Led by Knud Adams, the cast draws audiences into its word games, linguistic stumbles, and individual struggles to learn and assimilate, whether it’s work or family or dreams of a life in America. (Read our review of “English.”)
‘The Sandman’
As a huge fan of author Neil Gaiman and owner of his entire “Sandman” graphic novel collection, I was so nervous about Netflix’s adaptation that I asked a friend—a fellow fan—to watch the first episode with me for emotional support. . The series does justice to its characters with perfectly cast actors, including a mesmerizing Tom Sturridge, who embodies the brooding, awe-inspiring king of dreams with such finesse and gravitas that it’s as if Morpheus himself escaped from the comics. It’s not just the characters that go well together; the world of “Sandman” is depicted with great imagination and such respect for the original illustrations that many of the dialogues and panels have been replicated. I can’t wait for season 2. (Read our critic’s notebook on “The Sandman.”)
‘Severance compensation’
“Severance” may be my new favorite TV series. Maybe I’m hyperbolic, still excited even months after my second binge-watching. Adam Scott gives a great performance as an employee of a shady corporation who chooses to have his consciousness split between his job and outside of himself. The show has an exquisite eye and ear for terror, humor, and everyday interactions, so it’s both otherworldly and eerily familiar. As for the script, the dialogues are so fantastic that they make me want to be a better writer. (Read our review of “Dismissal.”)
‘Everything everywhere at once’
In our era of multiversal franchises, I’ve often wondered what a multiverse story would look like if the story were driven by the characters’ emotional development and interpersonal relationships rather than just battle scenes, Easter eggs, and routes to spin-offs and sequels. . “Everything everywhere at once” was my answer. It captured the unpredictability and groundbreaking possibilities of the multiverse while remaining grounded in the story of one family. Every moment of the film contained a new pleasure. (Read our review of “Everything Everywhere Everything at once.”)
‘Oresteia’
When I think back to Robert Icke’s production of ‘Oresteia’, Aeschylus’ trilogy of Greek tragedies about a family eating itself from the inside out, I think of a moment. Clytemnestra mourns after her husband Agamemnon kills their daughter Iphigenia due to a prophecy that the act would give his army “fair winds” in war. After the deed, the wind blows in, the doors of the house are flung open, ethereal white light pours in, and Klytemnestra is caught in a frenzy of flying papers. But what made the production so memorable wasn’t just the special effects, but Anastasia Hille’s thrilling performance as Klytemnestra, a woman who gives in to grief and lets revenge take hold. (Read our review of “Oresteia.”)
