Our second day in New York brought us to some wonderfully touristy things to do, and I highly recommend you do both.
After enjoying a so-so bagel (there was just too much crap on it, whereas the pastrami on rye at Katz’s was poetic simplicity) at Best Bagel and Coffee in between 7th and 8th Avenues on 35th Street, just a few blocks away from the Empire State Building, we made our way to, naturally, the Empire State Building.
Like St. Paul’s Cathedral or the Eiffel Tower or the Kölner Dom, this is one of those iconic buildings that you simply must experience. As always, traveling here in the off season was quite nice, as there was very little waiting to get up to the observations decks. For $52, you can visit observation decks on the 86th and 102nd floor. I’m tempted to say that you really need only go to the 86th floor (which costs “just” $32), as the views are quite breathtaking even from that height, but I can’t bring myself to say you shouldn’t also do the 102nd floor. Here’s why…
I was rather absolutely surprised to discover that the 86th floor observation deck is open to the air (and looks like nothing of what’s seen in this episode of Doctor Who, not that I’m surprised, but I couldn’t help myself from giggling as I looked around the real observation deck) with nothing but tall metal bars bending slowly inwards at a gracious arc toward the floor. If you have any fear of heights whatsoever (as I do), this is quite a rear-iris-clenching and week-knee-fainting experience. I don’t have problems with heights when something in the way obscures the drop (as with the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral in London), but the Empire State is a sheer drop. And I remained uncomfortably aware the whole time I was on the 86th floor of how other visitors were holding their mobile phones OUTSIDE THE BARS TO TAKE PICTURES WITHOUT ANY TORMENTING FEAR THAT THEY MIGHT DROP THEIR PHONE AND KILL SOMEONE BELOW.
I just don’t trust my conscience enough that I would be able to hold onto my phone to take such a picture without going limp-wristed and dropping my phone entirely. The very idea causes my whole body to cease up in uncontrollable angst, and the very whimsical thoughts of losing control of my self-control sometimes dart in and out of my mind at speeds so fast that it’s difficult to remember what reality is.
But enough of how scary it is, because the views are breathtaking. New York is a city unlike any other, spanning seemingly forever, a metal and brick and concrete grid of tallest buildings all geometrically placed, and within, a giant rectangle of green right in the center of it all, called–creatively enough–Central Park. Unlike London with it’s labyrinthine streets twisting in an out between 1000-year-old buildings of stone and mortar and 10-year-hold buildings of glass and steel, this is London’s younger sister who had the sense to plan the streets first and the buildings second. (However, I still kinda prefer London’s streets, all things considered.)
When you make your way to the 102nd floor, you are now encased within a glass and metal cylinder of maybe 30 feet in diameter (but I’m a terrible judge of distances like that). The views seemed very much the same, and being enclosed and away from the open air made the experience slightly less exhilarating. But it did calm my fear of heights as the sheer drop was obscured by the building below, and I was able to enjoy the sights slightly more comfortably without worrying about people losing control of their senses and dropping their phones.
After marveling at various landmarks like Central Park, the World Trade Center, the MetLife Building, the Chrysler Building, the Brooklyn Bridge, the United Nations Headquarters, and many others, it was time to get ready…
(Oh, there is a mini museum in the Empire State that you can view before you make your way to the observation decks, complete with guided audio tour, but it was all kinda… meh… so we skipped over it… but the art deco interior of polished stone and shimmering glass is nonetheless quite impressive.)
…for our second touristy thing for the day to do: rowing in a boat in Central Park.
Head to the Loeb Boathouse on the Lake (yes, the lake in Central Park called the Lake), located at about 74th and 75th. It’s here where you can rent a row boat and go boating on the lake called the Lake, just like in all those Woody Allen films. Make sure to bring along cheese and crackers and champaign. Again, as it was the off season, there was no waiting, and rowing a boat proved relatively easy. And don’t worry about bumping into other boats, as it might happen, but people are terribly friendly when it does happen, just don’t do it on purpose. Be on the lookout for turtles (we saw three, or perhaps saw the one three times), and you’ll be sure to admire Bethesda Fountain as well as the numerous tall buildings that stare down on the park.
Rowing on the Lake was definitely a treat, but what a superb treat we were in for when we saw Sibyl Kempson’s Fondly, Collette Richland at the New York Theatre Workshop, created and performed by Elevator Repair Service under the direction of John Collins. The work was also commissioned in part by Minneapolis’s own Walker Art Center with additional support from the Playwrights’ Center, the New York Theatre Workshop, the Performing Garage, and Abrons Arts Center.
The NYTW is known for staging brand new works, having done so over 100 times in the last 30 years. And Fondly, Collette Richland joins that number.
It’s a bit hard to describe this play, and I’ll continue to struggle to describe the play, but I think the Elevator Repair Service summed it up pretty nicely themselves:
“While eating a quiet dinner at home, Mr. and Mrs. “Fritz” Fitzhubert (along with an uninvited guest) are summoned through a mysterious tiny door in their living room. On the other side, they find themselves in a phantasmagorical Alpen hotel where forgotten religions seep in through the cracks in the walls. Lost relatives, conniving employees, and chatty society ladies awaken their mysterious ancient selves and lead them on perilous hikes that will leave their lives forever altered.”
But even that description (while apt), cheats at what a magical journey this play takes its guests on, and even still I’m having difficulty describing exactly what this play is about, because it’s about much more than religions seeping through walls. And it’s no doubt about more things that I missed entirely, and I would need to view this play perhaps three or four more times to fully comprehend even the slightest bit more of what’s going on.
And this isn’t a criticism, as lots of art–like a good wine–deserves a couple goes to create a palette for it and to fully admire and appreciate every aspect of the work. (My only real criticism is that the whole play is probably about an hour too long, clocking in at over 2-1/2 hours.)
Forgive me as I struggle to write, but let me describe a scene that happens early on so you can understand a bit of the humor in the work. Before any of the phantasmagoria begins, we witness a man, Fritz, and a woman, Mabrel, sitting down to dinner. The stage is set in a modest, 1950s era style, and both actors are similarly dressed in clothes of the time, suggesting a period when the man worked away from home at some grey office and the woman prepared all the meals and did all the housework.
As the two bicker over dinner, there’s a knock at the door from someone we can’t see who introduces himself as Wheatsun, but Fritz and Mabrel at the table act as if they never experienced a knock at the door, suddenly jolting stark upright in their chairs and looking confused. The conversation that follows continues in a way that involves yelling words and sentences very clearly across the stage and through the door while still remaining seated at the table, generally at a pitch rarely varied, everything clearly articulated, but all said in a halting manner, littered with commas, something like this:
Mabrel: “Who, is it?”
Wheatsun: “I’m, a politician. I don’t mean, to disturb, you. May I, come in?”
Mabrel: “Well, we have just, sat down to dinner, and I only, made enough, for two.”
Wheatsun: “If I, could only, have some of your, time, I will be off, shortly.”
Or something like that, for a couple minutes. Eventually Wheatsun is allowed to enter the house and sit down to dinner with Mabrel and Fritz, and then the evening starts to enter into a world where we seem to witness someone’s mind as a play, thoughts darting in and out of existence in a way that only makes sense in a dream, all announced into existence by a bright light that emanates from behind a small door in the far left wall. We eventually meet a priest playing the piano, a cat wearing high heels, Jesus Christ telling jokes, amongst others.
For much of the play, I’m left wondering, “What on earth is happening?” Indeed, a man planted in the audience asks the very question, which prompts all the actors to break character and the fourth wall. We see all the actors on the stage emerge (even the ones we haven’t met yet, which gives a tantalizing glimpse into what is to come), addressing the man directly to the audience.
I still feel like I’m not explaining everything very well, only because I wish I could view this play five more times so I could be a little more articulate, but I imagine that leaving one speechless and inarticulate at the end of this play could perhaps be a part of the goal.
In short, there is much to marvel at, from the cast, the script, the lighting, the set design, the sound design, the direction, everything all coming together in a clear vision and aesthetic, despite the general feeling that everyone and everything is just making things up as they go along, when in fact everything is planned very accordingly and every word and every action has a very clear raison d’etre. Watch this video to see some of the visuals that I’m struggling to talk about and to give you an idea about what it is you would see.
Not everyone will like this show, but not in a way where you’ll either like it or you’ll love it. You’ll either really really like it, or really really hate it, or really really want to like it, or really really want to hate it, or you might find yourself going, “I know there’s something important here, but I can’t pinpoint what it is,” or you might find yourself going, “Hm… that’s different. I don’t think I’m smart enough to figure it all out yet, though,” or you might find yourself going, “I have lots of questions, and I don’t get it, but I think that’s the point,” or you might find yourself going, “Um… all right, I guess this play is a play is a play is a play is a play.”
(Or you might be two angry old men who actually stayed until the very end to boo the play, but then are too cowardly to boo after the lights come up, which is what happened the night we went, or you might leave during intermission, or you might jump to your feet for a standing ovation.)
Or you might find yourself going in some other direction entirely. In any case, do go see this show. It’s since closed at the NYTW, but hopefully it will be produced somewhere near you soon. I for one would love if it came to Minneapolis so I could experience it all over again.
I’ve rambled on long enough about how I don’t understand this play but about how much I still loved it regardless, I think, but I do want to mention one last thing about the evening. We had the pleasure of chatting with Lindsay Hockaday, one of the actors, at the nearby Tile Bar. She touched on many of the sentiments I recounted above, that the play is about so many things, and that it may not make sense right away, and that each person will take away bits and pieces. She also talked about how the audience we were in was the quietest audience that they had yet had, which confounded the cast backstage no end, but who where then surprised when some of us stood up to clap at the end. She also loved how they got boos, too, as that was a first for the show.
So, there you have it. Perplexing, beautiful, surreal, and confounding, all presented as a glimpse into the tangental mind, thoughts coming and going without much explanation and without any judgement but with a fond admiration for the whims of thought. I do hope I can see this play again.
Stray Observations (a la AVClub):
- I highly recommend you forgo staying in a hotel when you visit NYC. Our fifth floor apartment was quite wonderful in its own right, and it allowed us a glimpse into what it might really be like to live in this city.
- You can find some marvelous deals on Airbnb for your stay in New York. I particularly fell in love with the East Village neighborhood, where our apartment was, right on 6th Street and 1st Avenue.
- The East Village seems to be a prime place to stay as it is. It’s not very touristy, there are small grocery stores at every corner, and it’s the least “noisy” of the “less posh” neighborhoods.