Theater review: Potted Potter, the unauthorized Harry experience.

Potted Potter, the unauthorized Harry Experience, which just opened at the Little Shubert here in NY, from several years touring England and Edinburgh, with its original cast of Daniel Clarkson and Jefferson Turner, is the kind of family-friendly/adult-friendly show that is so proud of its silliness, you get swept up in the fun of it all, even if you're a 58 year old man who gave up reading the series at about book four. (The conceit of the show is that they promise to condense the entire series down to 70 minutes.)

When I arrived at Potted Potter and saw that I was surrounded by kids I thought, "Oh, dear. This is going to be a long afternoon." I mean kids and theater? I could just imagine the chaos ahead of me as the kids start running in the aisles or bawling or whining or crying.

Nightmare in Diagon Alley.

I was wrong. And here's why.

The kids got all the jokes. Not only did they get the jokes, along with a few ridiculous references to Lord of the Rings and Mary Poppins, but they were enraptured because Dan and Jeff, the actors and writers, skillfully made them feel like they, the kids, knew more than the adults -- and that if they got lost, the kids would steer them back. And "Potter" is filled with a great many plot complications and heavy themes.

As the two men make their way through the volumes wearing silly dime store costumes and constantly fumbling the storylines, the kids around me were riveted. At one point, when Jeff seemed to not remember a certain complexity to an arcane plot point, a kid maybe 7 or 8 years old, corrected him. Loudly. And Jeff just went along for the ride.

And perhaps that's really what makes this show successful. Yeah, it's a silly as a dog wearing a chicken suit, but it's so eager to please, you can't help but get swept up in the laughter.

We even get to all play a game of Quidditch!

How? Well, why spoil the fun. Let's just say that it's as decidedly low tech as the rest of the show, and by the time they dragged some little kid out of the audience, they had dragged it out of all of us.

Jim Brochu being silly behind British producer of Potted Potter, James Seabright.

Since James Seabright is a friend of ours, I thought perhaps my opinion might have been a little tilted. I always want my friends to do well. But, after the opening, the next morning, there was a brilliant little rave in the New York Times.

Well done!

Toronto Sun reviews "Zero Hour."

John Coulbourn writes:

Jim Brochu tries to get as close as possible to absolute Zero.

And he comes so close, it's positively chilling — a madcap theatrical portrait of the legendary Zero Mostel that is absolutely delightful and, ultimately, deeply moving.

Toronto Star reviews: ZERO HOUR

Richard Ouzounian says, "...the moment Mostel suffers a total creative meltdown on the opening night of Fiddler on the Roof, as he suddenly comprehends how the story of the show mirrors his own troubled life too closely, makes for a piece of theatre about as moving as anything you’ll find around today.

I was fortunate enough to see Mostel several times in his prime in New York, and Brochu captures him to perfection. It’s not an imitation, it’s a total immersion in the man that almost defies belief.

This is acting on the grand scale, full of blood and guts and glory and if you care about theatre, or about the evils that people have done (and still continue to do) in the name of politics, then you must see this show.

BOOK OF MORMON opens tonight on Broadway.

One of the more fun aspects of seeing a Broadway show, especially one that is as culturally and religious (and hysterically) resonant/explosive is that you get to deliver the news before anyone else. Unlike a movie, where millions see it, a Broadway show can only do, at most, a few thousand people at a time, if that.

Tonight, to great publicity and a box office line around the block -- three hour wait for standing room or cancellations -- the BOOK OF MORMON, written by Trey Parker and Matt Stone, along with Robert Lopez. I don't know any of these people, personally, but I did see Matt Stone, standing in the back, taking it all seriously the night we were there, very early in the previews before the publicity caught on. (Unlike many rock star Broadway composers who can't be bothered to be around their own show while it's still in gestation.)

In many ways, a lot of the recent contemporary work done on Broadway, in my opinion, has felt more dilettantish than serious. What I love about Matt Stone is he's in the back and he's working on it as furiously and as heart-poundingly as any of the great songwriters of yore. It's really refreshing. This is not a cynical attempt to get cheap laughs.

It has paid off in the show, because it manages to use every "worn out" musical theater trope, but makes you believe them. They're not sending up musicals. They're not even sending up Mormons, really. Well, yes, they are. But, it's in the context of the instinctive capacity humankind has for creating and believing in myths that facilitate survival.

For all its ferocity, THE BOOK OF MORMON is going to disappoint people who were hoping for a completely iconoclastic buttfart on the whole Broadway community. But it's not. And that's why I like it so much.

But, mostly I like it because I was laughing so hard, so long and painfully, that I'm still laughing at things I saw that night, two weeks ago.

What a great relief.

Ding dong!

Angels In America

Zachary Quinto ("Sylar" from HEROES & "Spock" from STAR TREK) played Louis in the
Signature Theater's revival of ANGELS IN AMERICA

Steve with Christian Borle ("Prior" in ANGELS IN AMERICA).

Frank Wood ("Roy Cohn" from ANGELS IN AMERICA) with Steve.

Steve with mega-award winning playwright of ANGELS IN AMERICA, Tony Kushner.

I posted my "review" of this on Facebook and All That Chat. Here is what I wrote:

PART ONE

First, I've never seen Angels before, so I cannot compare this to past productions. Secondly, I have AIDS and was almost as sick as the character of Prior, in and out of hospitals -- and I remember the fever dreams and the cold sweats and the rage. The rage that actor Christian Borle drags up from the depths of his soul. It's so real. My eyes begin to tear up even as I write this.

I could go through the rest of this incredible cast, one by one, because every performance is now seared into my soul.

But let me tell you just how great Zachary Quinto is. Like most, I know him only as the evil Sylar or Spock. His stage presence is electrifying and grounded, all at the same time. Not a single false moment. This man commands a stage with subtle body movements, at once masculine and then feminine and then masculine again, as the character tries to find his own soul, even as he abandons the one person he loves. Chilling. Mesmerizing. Helpless. Forceful.

His tearful breakdown in the bathroom in act one, snot dripping, eyes pouring tears, and yet all contained and controlled by both actor and character. Sylar and Spock are driven from my memory banks. He's nothing like them, a consummate, skilled actor whose scenes with Prior are chilling and desperate and scary and loud, and haunting and brave. (Yes, brave. In the first park scene, where he begs for sex, he completely exposes himself and the scene is so anti-erotic in its desperation, I forgot how sexy the man is).

Three hours felt like three minutes. The play is more than I ever dreamed it could be. Tangled storylines that breathe with life and humor and anger and determination, thrillingly performed and perfectly staged.

And all of it so close to us in the little space, where tickets are $20 apiece. I would have paid $1000 (if I had that much to spend).

And that was just Part One.


PART TWO (the next night):

This morning, after reading the mostly cold, intellectual reviews comparing this "Angels" to past "Angels" and these actors to past actors, I can only state that I will never be a critic, do not envy their jobs, and am thankful that I don't have to be one. Because what I read so missed the forest for the trees, that I almost feel sorry for them.

I sat riveted in my seat, on the edge of tears, overwhelmed with so much emotion and memory of the days when AZT was considered so valuable, people fought for it.

When I was first diagnosed, right about the time this play came out, AZT was considered, as Prior says at the end, poison. People were wearing them like necklaces, warning others off. And when I tried AZT, my body rejected it so violently, that I had to pull my car over in Los Angeles and vomit in the street.

So, seeing Roy Cohn's small refrigerator full of the stuff, and Belize the nurse taking it and stealing bottles away, begging for it, I was transported back to that era where nobody knew nothing, and having AIDS meant absolute death.

In part 2 of Angels, the supernatural encounters with the angel made zero intellectual sense to me, but emotionally? All the sense in the world. Critics carping on the politics in Angels may make a valid intellectual point, but those scenes (both with the angel and with Zachary Quinto's riveting, lost, wandering Louis) provided, for me, the breath/space that I needed to take in order to process all the base level anger that is the bedrock of this piece -- and which resides, painfully and eloquently in the huge, all-seeing eyes of Christian Borle's Prior.

Before, I mentioned how I never saw Angels before because I was that sick man dying in that bed when it came out. I couldn't watch the HBO version because I just... couldn't. It was too close. Too soon for me.

So, last night, after feeling alternated smacked down and emotionally slaughtered, then inspired and lifted up by part one, I can tell you that part two seemed to go by even faster.

I got to briefly meet Tony Kushner last night and I told him that I was thankful for the surrealism because I don't know how else one could honestly, and with depth, describe what 1985 felt like. The world, for most of us in the gay and gay-supportive community was, literally, crashing down around us and death was our constant companion. We needed desperately to awake to a new world, God had deserted us, and mourning black was the only color that bound us all together.

When Prior wrestles with the angel, now sheathed in black, and ascends to a feckless, hopeless, ridiculously unempowered "heaven," where angels dressed like judges stood around helplessly wondering what the hell is going on down on earth, disconnected, and unable to act or even feel, as they stuttered "I.. I.. I.." it was the perfect metaphor for empty religious promises and the phoniness of "prophets" or even thought that one could be a prophet. Prior's basic "fuck you" to God and the rest of the celestial do-nothings was searing.

Because, once the fever breaks, you're left with the few who care and ones who held your hand, whether it's a Mormon mom or that nurse that stuck it out and cared for you when it seemed like no one else could. (Unlike Prior, I had a husband who never left my side). But the thing about disease, as someone in the play says, you have to endure it alone because no one can feel what you feel or live what you're living, no matter how close they are.

See, I cannot "review" a show like this. I was too busy living inside the show. Was Zoe Kazan a "good" Harper? Was Frank Wood appropriately "mean" as Roy Cohn? Was the Mormon story "too" much an emotional center? I felt Harper's naked helplessness and Cohn's denialist rage against his own mortality, and Louis using his own rants against Cohn as a substitute target for his own self-hatred and betrayal was perfectly pitched. His hatred of Cohn had nothing to do with politics and everything to do with a guilty man staring into a mirror, begging to be beaten, which is why he needed and pushed the wandering/weak Joe to beat the shit out of him.

I'm glad I missed the grand spectacle of the Broadway version because this intensely personal, pain-wracked play, which plays like a theatrical Incredible Hulk, bursting from his street clothes in order to stomp around the stage, smashing dioramas of ridiculous Mormons and laying waste to the streets of San Francisco, and the emptiness of the false promises of a heavenly savior, wakes up in the real world, a little smaller and little more human than how it came in, with people still imagining a better future that, in history's hindsight, reveals that the only better world you can create is within.

The Perestroika that seemed so promising gives way to Putin. The Red Menace, so scary before, is now wearing Muslim garb and the promise of Obama falls before Sarah Palin's Tea Party, and where today's Roy Cohn is named Karl Rove.

In many ways, the naivete of the characters at the end of Angels is just as politically and religiously ignorant as when they came in. And that's the world.

That's why this play, for me, is so rich. And that's why it works on this tiny human scale, where we all stand shivering in the Antarctic, alone, because, in the end, power, politics, and religion will fail. But faith -- and love -- in each other, and in ourselves -- to wrestle the angel to the ground -- is where our true salvation lies.

Scottsboro Boys is a Storytelling Triumph.

Why, it's just a hat and cane show, isn't it? The kind that is usually built on corny jokes and silly routines? Isn't rock supposed to be more honest than Vaudeville?

The front of house is very old fashioned.
The colored lights are a great touch.

Thrilling, exhilarating, scary, uncomfortable, innovative, with not a wasted moment on stage, Scottsboro Boys is the kind of incisive and uncomfortable storytelling that leaves all the "entertainments" that have been passing for musicals behind in the dust.

This is how you tell a story.

Toward the end, there's a costume change that I read as a big F-U to the society that pretends to care about justice, but who is really just wanting another diversion until the next one comes along.

Kander and Ebb have never shied away from exposing hypocrisy and shame in our culture, and they don't shy away here.

The Lyceum is one of the oldest theaters on Broadway.
Built in 1903.

Classic style posters.

Jim Brochu ("Zero Hour," "Roar of the Greasepaint")

 You also won't see better performances, nor hear better singing. What a cast!! It's hard to know who to single out, because each performer has his moment to shine -- and just the SOUND of those voices when they harmonize sent shivers all up and down my spine, especially in songs like "Commencing in Chattanooga" where the simple pile of chairs has now been assembled into a train. The joy in their voices as these nine men, who had never met before, were feeling free, and on the road to a better life.

(They were wrongly accused of gang rape by two white women, who didn't want to go to jail for freeloading the train ride.)

Particularly bone-chilling is a hymn to Alabama, sung in the jail cell, that lays waste to every plantation song ever written. You really don't know whether to applaud or not, and that's not because of any fault of the staging. But, the whole story is just so tragic. And yet, here we laughing at it!

Two trial scenes bristle with sharp-edged sarcasm and anger. All of it in ragtime!

This is not a happy minstrel show. This is bone-rattling, nerve-twisting reality that smiles at you while twisting the knife in your gut. And they manage to do it over and over again, all through the piece, until you're left shattered.

Every song has a steely surprise and every scene subverts its show biz trappings. A hat and cane show, dancing and singing with leather electric chair hoods over their heads. It's the kind of thing you imagine Sondheim doing in that you get no quarter (though, of course, Kander and Ebb have been doing this almost from the beginning.)  No chance to just be entertained.

Neither does it merely skewer the easy target country rednecks who ruined these "boys" -- one was 12 -- lives, but also a liberal establishment where the fight for justice for them was little more than the fashionable and tabloid thing to do, forgotten as easily as last year's runway offerings in Paris.

I'm going to be thinking about this show for a very long time. It seems to be about the Scottsboro Boys. But, really, it's about us and what we are, and, maybe what we always have been.

The question is whether we have the courage to look into that musical mirror.

Hat and cane, indeed.

Review of Yoo Hoo, Mrs. Goldberg.

Terrific, detailed review of the DVD of the superb documentary "Yoo Hoo, Mrs. Goldberg," made by Aviva Kempner. We have this DVD and it's really a MUST HAVE for anyone who loves television, history, and movies. Seriously. GO GET.

Included in the extra disk are interviews and stories that you cannot stop watching. This is a seriously great DVD.

It also includes information about Philip Loeb, who Jim talks about in "Zero Hour." From the review:

An excellent documentary about the talented comedienne, Gertrude Berg, who wrote, produced and starred in her own comedy series, first on radio and then very early on television, essentially inventing the family situation comedy for TV in the process, Yoo-Hoo, Mrs. Goldberg, has been released by Docuramafilms and New Video.  Directed by Aviva Kempner, the movie has the advantage of being about an entertainer, so that it can always cut to the entertainment to keep its energy up, but Berg’s life was rich and fascinating—as a little girl, she helped out the family Catskill hotel business by ‘entertaining’ the guests—and parallels with equal fascination the epic transition in America from radio to TV.  It was her show, The Goldbergs, begun in 1949, that worked out the initial production strategies for live television while, week after week, she turned out basic but often brilliant scripts exploring the emotions of family life.  In doing so, she also aided greatly in the assimilation of Jewish culture into the American consciousness.  After the horrors of World War II, her weekly demonstrations that urban Jewish Americans, outside of the funny accents and a few exotic traditions, had the same problems, the same feelings and the same dreams that all Americans had, cannot be underestimated as a critical factor in the long term healing process, especially with those who had been influenced by reactionary American firebrands during the Depression and lived too far from urban centers to have any direct contact with Jews themselves.  In any case, Berg was a pioneer, an innovator, and an artist sensitive to the most delicate nuances of the human heart, and the 2009 feature certifies her deserved placement in the pantheon of American heroes (at the very least, as Kempner points out, they should issue a stamp already…).

Ellis Nassour on Zero Hour.

From BroadwayStars.com:

From now on Jim Brochu will be remembered for his vivid, spot-on impersonation of the irresistible, irascible, legendary, and famously volatile comic actor Zero Mostel in his one-man play Zero Hour.

Brochu gives the performance of his lifetime, one of the best ever, On or Off, in this vastly entertainly play that's a must-see for theaterlovers.



Following its acclaimed run Off Bway,Zero Hour is now at the DR2 Theatre [103 East 15th Street, east of Park Avenue South]. .

The play is 90 minutes of edge-of-the-seat explosive theater.

I Loved YANK! at the York.

I cannot say enough good things about the new musical, YANK!, about two gay soldiers during WW2. (Jim and I have met a couple of WW2 couples down through the years).

I was captured from the first moment and it held me through to the end, especially Bobby Steggert (who I knew from a short stint on All My Children, and who was terrific in last season's 110 In The Shade), whose deeply emotional, and yet light-hearted, completely present performance left me with tears burning in my eyes and a lump in my throat.

Since I've never liked pastiche songs, written as if from the 40s, I approached this show with trepidation. But the score moved the show along beautifully, and though I wouldn't say the writers are in the same category as a Cole Porter, it didn't matter because, as a whole, the piece is a well-told story, directed with fluidity and magic.

The York should be very proud. A wonderful, wonderful show.

Recommendation: HBO film "Temple Grandin."

Last night, we caught a movie that I can't possibly praise highly enough. It's called "Temple Grandin" and it's the compelling story of the woman (Temple Grandin) who not only learned how to overcome the difficulties of living with autism, but who has become the world's foremost expert at humane animal handling for food production. Here's the trailer for the film:

Or, in the words of a BBC documentary, "the woman who thinks like a cow."

She was even cited by PETA for her work, despite the fact that Temple helps design slaughterhouses -- and the amazing part of her work is that she not only figured out how to more humanely treat animals, but demonstrated that by using these techniques, the ranchers can cut costs.

Back when she was young, doctors thought autism was the result of "cold mother syndrome." But Temple's mother rejected this diagnosis and helped her daughter learn, go to school and eventually become a Ph.D. in animal husbandry.

Temple describes the brain of an autistic person as being similar to an office where the CEO (the frontal cortex) is unable to communicate with the rest of the divisions. And, like animals, autistic people are confronted with intense emotions -- fear, anger, etc. -- so they react instantaneously, unable to process the emotions.

This film is not only entertaining and informative, but inspiring. It left both Jim and me with tears in our eyes at the end. I'm so glad a friend of mine recommended this. Do not miss it.

TV Review: Caprica

As much as I disliked Avatar for its inability to come up with any new ideas, Caprica, on the other hand, is LOADED with them. A prequel to Battlestar Galactica (BSG), it wades right into the middle of all the religio-philosophical arguments we saw in the earlier series, though the basic gimmick is the same one Avatar was after: pulling a person's consciousness into another body.

In this case, though, the underlying plot model is Frankenstein, not Pocahontas.

And also, unlike Avatar, this one is chock full of ideas and characters whose motivations one can only guess at as everything began to unfold, because they are complex instead of simple-minded.

Religiously, unlike Avatar's simplistic innocent native and magic tree v. mean ol' corporate militaristic greed template, we have a fully functioning modern world that kinda reflects ours, but where the religion of the day is polytheistic, and the underground "monotheists," who may or may not be the good guys, are also terrorists who blow up trains.

The main character is a scientist who is trying to create a robot soldier but can't seem to cross the line where the robot can think for itself. So, it's slow and clumsy and helpless in combat trials. And, worse, a corporation from a competing world seems to have created a piece of hardware that claims to have solved this problem.

Meanwhile, our scientist's daughter has secretly become a monotheist, but in the opening scenes, is blown to bits by her fanatical monotheistic best friend when they get on that fated train. (She wasn't a part of this conspiracy.)

However, she's not completely gone. It turns out that all the kids have been going online and having virtual sex and violence together using our scientist's invented device which fits around the head and sends you to a Star Trek holodeck-type place. Only, what they have created is a huge bar with areas to indulge your every fancy: a sex pit, a fighting room ("where you're allowed to hit anyone you want"), a human sacrifice room, etc. -- all of it set to a big disco beat.

Scientist's daughter has created a copy of herself and watches it interact with said bar (watching from above, but in the same rooms), and is annoyed that the new avatar of herself loathes all this violence and butchery. ("I see what human beings are.")

Plot starts to thicken, beautifully, after daughter is blown up and the scientist discovers the holo world, goes there and meets the avatar of his dead daughter. First he rejects her as a fake copy until the avatar says, "But it doesn't feel like it to me." (A perfect line of dialogue, neither claiming to the his real daughter nor claiming not to be. Whether or not she's really his daughter is irrelevant if she feels as if she were his daughter.)

The avatar's fully functioning "persona" is explained as having been created by the daughter. The scientist never knew this about her. She was just a rebellious youth who yelled at mom and dad a lot for being too rich and too complacent about the real world.

The real worlds, actually. Multiple worlds. I'm not up on all the B:G mythology, but I think there are 12 worlds and that they all correspond to our own ancient Greek mythology. There is a Taurus equivalent that's described as all dirt. They have a mafia/criminal mentality, wear dark suits and owe each other "favors." The main Tauron we're concerned with is a lawyer who owes his schooling to a "mob boss." (And who will become the father of the Adama, the commander in BSG).

Back to the scientist.

His big war robot project is failing. He comes home to find his daughter's best friend using the holo-thing, demands to know what's up and discovers the underground world and runs into his daughter. She's done it! She's created a virtual person by harnessing all their brain data (supposedly).

He has mafia guy steal the hardware owned by the competing planet -- it seems like all the planets hate each other -- and he puts his daughter into it, and loads it into the war robot.

Epic fail. He's lost his daughter forever.

EPISODE ENDING SPOILER.




Or did he?

"Caprica," the pilot, was a big, unwieldy concoction of plotlines, backstory -- most of which I'm vague about -- and sci fi terms. So, I think a lot of people are going to just say, "Ick. Too much. Can't follow it." Jim would. This is not his bag.

But I think this is good, meaty stuff. It has the potential of rivaling BSG as the most thoughtful and intelligent SF series ever made. The fact that it arrives with all this history and future makes it all the more compelling, even if it will take some time to unpack it all. (The pulp elements -- a brutal knifing, for instance, perpetrated by a muscly tattooed guy with his shirt off in true Dan Brown form -- are kept to a minimum and used to remind us that these are brutal worlds.)

It has great details. The first thing you see when it comes on is "56 Years Before the Fall." All the money is in "cubits."

I think I love this show. I hope it stays this smart and this engaging.

The thing is that even though I didn't know most of the series mythology, I didn't need to know it. The writers intelligently focused on the Frankenstein plotline, propelling us to the end, until we end up with this:

Daddy makes a big monster. Monster is not particularly fond of daddy. Monster is also a monotheist and a pacifist. Monster is in a big, bad robot body with a swirly red light. And monster is a girl.

Not bad at all.

Here's another, more specific, and knowing, review.

NY1 Television Review of "Zero Hour."

Go here and watch the video!

Updated 5:00 AM

Time Out Theater Review: "Zero Hour"

By: David Cote - Time Out New York

"Zero Hour" is an off-Broadway solo show dedicated to the life of theater and film great Zero Mostel. Time Out New York theater critic David Cote filed the following review.

What a shame "The Producers" closed back in 2007. I’ve found the perfect actor to play Max Bialystock: Jim Brochu. He’s chubby, funny, and has killer comic timing. Okay, I admit this casting idea is a no-brainer. In "Zero Hour," Brochu does an uncanny impersonation of legendary comedian Zero Mostel, the original Max Bialystock.

In this solo bioplay directed by Hollywood veteran Piper Laurie, writer and performer Brochu is freakishly convincing as the blustery, brilliant Mostel. It’s more than just the ridiculous comb-over, the bug eyes and the Tevye beard. Brochu seems to have captured the soul of the bombastic clown who could wring laughs out of an audience with a bit of mime or a booming punch line.

The framing device is that it’s 1977 and Zero is being interviewed in his 28th Street art studio by a reporter from The New York Times. Gradually Zero recounts his life up to that point: Growing up Jewish in Brooklyn, his early years as a comic, his lifelong love affair with painting, his marriage to a Gentile which causes his parents to disown him, and his years on the blacklist due to McCarthyism in the 50s. In fact, Zero’s run-in with the House on Un-American Activities takes up a large chunk of Zero Hour, as he draws implicit and provocative parallels between the communist witch hunts and the Holocaust. There may be surprises for some, such as learning that "Fiddler on the Roof" choreographer and director Jerome Robbins named people suspected of being communist, thus ruining their lives. Sounds dark, but Brochu always insures that Zero deflates even the darkest moment with a raucous, absurdist joke.

For those who want to hear the big man dish about Mel Brooks, "The Producers" or give us inside dope on Stephen Sondheim, well, Zero Hour doesn’t have much of that. It’s a more idiosyncratic, personal work, a funny tribute to a funny man.

The Gay City News on "Zero Hour"

The Gay City News posts a review/interview about Zero Hour.

In his superbly written “Zero Hour,” Jim Brochu gives a protean performance as that titanic theatrical force Zero Mostel (St. Clement's Theatre, 423 W. 46th St., through Jan. 31). From the first moment he turns to face the audience, there are gasps at the physical resemblance he’s concocted –– that Hirschfeld face, the explosive delivery, the clawing gestures –– with a wealth of laughs and some beautifully earned tears to follow. Among everything else Brochu accomplishes, it is also a sort of gay revenge –– this is a gay actor grabbing the juicy part of a straight man, instead of the usual other way around.

“It’s non-traditional casting,” he told me, “and you may quote me. I read this morning that Meredith Baxter came out, and there she was playing the mom of all time when it was really ‘Bridget loves Bernadette’!

Zero Hour reviews so far.

The New York Times was marvelous:

“Singularly captivating. Zero Hour is a success. Brochu is the spitting image of the bearish Mostel, down to the strands of hair barely covering his head. His wildly expressive gestures are particularly spot on. It brings Mostel back to life, just the way his fans want him.”

http://theater.nytimes.com/2009/11/30/theater/reviews/30zero.html?ref=theater

The Associated Press was wonderful:

“Very funny. Brochu's living restoration has brought Mostel's larger-than-life

personality back into the spotlight for a laugh-filled, much-welcomed presentation.”

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/huff-wires/20091124/us-theater-review-zero-hour/

The New Yorker was a Rave:

“It all flows and provides plenty of big laughs as well as hushed drama. After a while, you stop caring whether a particular line is Brochu’s or Mostel’s; all you know is that you’ve been privy to the work of a great comedian.”

http://www.newyorker.com/arts/events/theatre/2009/12/07/091207goth_GOAT_theatre?currentPage=2

Variety was terrific:

“Frequently funny and always engaging, Brochu evokes the kind of prickle

on the back of the neck usually delivered by David Lynch movies.”

http://www.variety.com/review/VE1117941652.html?categoryid=33&cs=1

Theatermania was amazing:

“Brochu’s performance is tantamount to a reincarnation. From head to toe, he's got it right. Often belly-laugh funny, there's a show-business saying that it takes a star to play a star. By that reckoning, mark down Jim Brochu as a truly big star.”

http://www.theatermania.com/off-broadway/reviews/11-2009/zero-hour_22988.html

NY Theatre Scene was sensational:

“Brochu not only takes on Mostel's story, but he literally climbs into his skin with tufts of white hair, fierce eyes, and Mostel’s huge bulk. But it is the portrayal, not just the surface attributes, which is so convincing.”

http://nytheaterscene.com/RevEZeroHour.html

Backstage gave it a Critics Pick:

“Never less than engrossing, Brochu not only creates an astonishing physical resemblance, capturing Mostel's distinctive body language and vocal patterns; he goes deep under the skin to reveal the man's complicated psyche and conflicted soul.”

http://www.backstage.com/bso/reviews-ny-theatre-off-broadway/zero-hour-1004045006.story

The Wolf Entertainment Guide was over the top:

“Electrifying! The amazing performance hold’s one’s attention and engenders appreciation both for what Brochu has accomplished and for the special character and talented performer that Mostel was.”

http://www.wolfentertainmentguide.com/ViewPage.aspx?cat=theater

The Examiner was off the charts:

“Zero Hour is not to be missed. This production is a triumph of writing and performance and I can't decide which is more brilliant. If you are a fan of the theater, of great performance, masterful writing and top notch direction, Zero Hour is a must see for this theater season.”

http://www.examiner.com/examiner/x-16475-Manhattan-Theater-Examiner~y2009m11d24-Zero-Hour-is-not-to-be-missed

A Rave from BroadwayWorld:

“The scenario allows us to see Mostel as the public remembers him; an outrageously larger than life figure who is continually performing and will do anything for a laugh. It is brilliant, defiant and highly entertaining.”

http://losangeles.broadwayworld.com/blogs/viewblog.cfm?blogid=2601

Soundoff.Com Reviews gave us FOUR STARS:

If heavy burdens are all Mostel had in his closet, Brochu certainly wears them well. His shortness of breath, the flashes of anger in the eyes, the need to grab his despair by the shoulders and shake until he comes to his senses, all these come to life in Brochu’s veins. Through writing that is colorful, witty, well-paced, and organic, and acting that is masterfully precise - in Brochu’s capable hands, Mostel is a work of art.

http://web.me.com/writa1/tvsoundoff/Broadway/Entries/2009/11/27_Give_this_Zero_a_Four_%28star_review%29.html

The Curtain Up review:

“Zero Hour is an informed, absorbing, highly entertaining one-person play written by and also starring Jim Brochu who stops just short of bringing Mostel back to life.”

http://www.curtainup.com/zerohour.html

Upstage-Downstage Theatre Reviews Says:

“Let me be unambiguous: Zero Hour is the best one-person play since I Am My Own Wife. It is as rich and compelling a story as you will see on or off Broadway right now.”

http://upstage-downstage.blogspot.com/2009/11/danny-kaye-zero-mostel-together-again.html

The Third New York Guide wrote:

“Zero Hour is one of those absolutely striking one-man shows, this time about Zero Mostel. Brochu is amazing, nothing short of sensational as Mostel. He captures Mostel's spirit, his explosive, larger than life anger, and his incredible, side-splitting sense of humor.”

http://thethirdnewyork.blogspot.com/2009/11/zero-hour.html

The Opening Night Party was Covered at Broadway Gossip:

http://www.timessquaregossip.com/2009/11/broadways-zero-hour-bash-at-sardis.html

And on Playbill:

http://www.playbill.com/news/article/134823-PHOTO-CALL-Zero-Hour-Celebrates-Opening-Night

The Pre-Opening Article by Peter Filichia was very touching:

http://www.theatermania.com/peterfilichia/index.cfm?mode=viewEntry&id=0DA0952A-2219-54E7-B90076FF0805B34D

ZERO HOUR review: Wolf Entertainment Guide

Another great review, this time from the Wolf Entertainment Guide.

I went to see “Zero Hour” with some skepticism on hearing that it was a one-man show with the star performing as the late great actor Zero Mostel. Who possibly could manage to approximate the unique look, distinctive qualities and the larger-than-life demeanor of Mostel? Jim Brochu who wrote the play and stars in it is first seen with his back to the audience. When he turned around, the effect was electrifying. Yes, there stood Zero. And the minute he began to speak, the illusion continued. It turns out that Brochu has the character down pat, in the writing as well as in the make-up and performance.

...the amazing performance hold’s one’s attention and engenders appreciation both for what Brochu has accomplished and for the special character and talented performer that Mostel was.

AP Reviews Zero Hour in NY.

Jim Brochu recreates a funny, volatile Zero Mostel
By JENNIFER FARRAR Associated Press 2009-11-25 06:20 AM
Comedian and actor Zero Mostel was a very funny and at times very angry man, known for his loyal friendship and volatile personality. Actor Jim Brochu has created a very funny, at times very angry one-man play, "The Zero Hour," in which he captures the essence of Mostel while revisiting a dark period in American history. Directed by three-time Academy Award nominee Piper Laurie, the humor-laden yet thoughtful production is now playing off-Broadway at the Theatre at St. Clement's. Whether sitting at a table or hurling himself around a re-creation of Mostel's beloved watercolor-painting studio, Brochu gives an enthusiastic, unrestrained performance as the outsize, opinionated, triple Tony Award-winning actor. He looks uncannily like Mostel, complete with weirdly forward-combed hair, bulging eyes and a wide range of expressive stares and wild gesticulation. With wonderful comedic timing, Brochu covers highlights of Mostel's life by having his character give an often intense, occasionally true interview to an unseen, unheard newspaper reporter. Brochu repeats the question, then launches into his version of the answer. The dialogue is peppered with well-timed jokes and near-constant humor. But Brochu also depicts Mostel's serious outrage at the U.S. House of Representatives' Un-American Activities Committee hearings in the early 1950s. The hearings resulted in blacklisting people, primarily in the performing arts, after they were named by others _ truthfully or not _ as having been communists. Brochu's Mostel tells emotion-laden stories about friends whose careers and lives were ruined by the blacklist, which meant they couldn't get work. He bitterly discusses some individuals who ratted on friends and colleagues, caustically referring to the man who named him, along with more than a 150 other people, as "the Babe Ruth of stool pigeons." In the play, Mostel characterizes the HUAC hearings as a government-sponsored attempt to eradicate the influence of Jewish artists, writers and directors on the general public. Mostel rhetorically asks the reporter, "Why were they targeting actors? Did they think we were giving acting secrets to the enemy?" Although Brochu has said the play is a tribute to Mostel, he doesn't hesitate to show the darker side of his complex subject. While Mostel speaks lovingly to the reporter about his wife, Kate, he yells nonsense at her and slams down the phone whenever she telephones him during this interview. He addresses the reporter's inquiry about him being difficult to work with by telling backstage stories about the films and plays he worked on, citing instances in which he was, in fact, difficult _ airily explaining how his repeated failures to "stick to the script" improved things. When the reporter yet again questions his version of history, Mostel demands incredulously, "You're asking an actor for the truth?" Zero Mostel died suddenly at age 62 in 1977. Brochu's living restoration has brought Mostel's larger-than-life personality back into the spotlight for a laugh-filled, much-welcomed presentation. "The Zero Hour" runs through Jan. 31.

Zero Hour reviewed in the Examiner.

Wonderful review by Valerie Smaldone.

Jim Brochu's writing is rich and colorful and during the one hour and forty minutes that he prowls the stage, we almost believe that Mr. Mostel has come back to life, or more likely that Jim Brochu is channeling the performer.

Simply put, Jim Brochu is brilliant, the show is brilliant, and the spot on direction by Piper Laurie is brilliant. If you are a fan of the theater, of great performance, masterful writing and top notch direction, Zero Hour is a must see for this theater season. And if you want to relive the artistry of Brooklyn born Zero Mostel, now is your opportunity to do it.

New York Reviews Begin to Flood In.

Links here are from BroadwayStars.com, which collates theatre stories.

[ Variety ] Reviewed by Sam Thielman

"Everything is less than zero," sang Elvis Costello in 1977, and if anyone would have wholeheartedly agreed, it was Zero Mostel. Jim Brochu paints a remarkably sympathetic portrait of the famously egomaniacal performer in his solo show Zero Hour, about the life and times of a guy who survived everything from the blacklist to a disagreement with an out-of-control bus and still managed to thrive. Writer-performer Brochu, who's been doing the show for years, nicely mimics Mostel's blustery style and tosses off an assortment of the actor's best Borscht-belt gags into the bargain.

[ BackStage ] Reviewed by Erik Haagensen

Jim Brochu not only creates an astonishing physical resemblance to Zero Mostel, capturing his distinctive body language and vocal patterns, Brochu goes deep under the skin to reveal the man's complicated psyche and conflicted soul.

[ TheatreMania ] Reviewed by David Finkle

Jim Brochu gives a remarkably accurate performance as actor Zero Mostel in this entertaining solo show.

[ CurtainUp ] Reviewed by Simon Saltzman

Zero Hour is an informed, absorbing, highly entertaining one-person play written by and also starring Jim Brochu. It happily serves not only as a showcase for the actor but also as a delectably insightful homage to the great comic/dramatic actor Zero Mostel.

The First Blog Reviews.

From Upstage - Downstage.

Let me be unambiguous: Zero Hour is the best one-person play since I Am My Own Wife. It is as rich and compelling a story as you will see on or off Broadway right now.

From The Third New York.

We saw a play on Saturday night, another one of those absolutely striking one-man shows, this time about Zero Mostel, the actor and comedian best known for playing Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof, and, of course, Max Bialystock in the movie the Producers. The play, written by an actor named Jim Brochu and also starring Brochu as Mostel, is amazing. For one thing, Brochu is nothing short of sensational as Mostel. He comes close to imitating him, but also does something much more important and moving: he captures Mostel's spirit, his explosive, larger than life anger, and his incredible, side-splitting sense of humor.

The Jewish Press Discusses Zero Hour and Jim Brochu.

From the Jewish Press (the largest nationwide Jewish paper):

"There is something very special about Brochu's Mostel. Not only is the script brilliantly written and hilarious - and it is both - but it is also personal...

"A comedic force of nature that knocks people out is a description that could apply to Brochu's acting as well. But when he says he was knocked out by Mostel, he means it literally. Brochu the sophomore had been invited to the play by his mentor David Burns, and searching for Burns backstage he ran into Mostel. Noting Brochu's uniform (he was in military school), Mostel told him, "You must be General Nuisance. What do you want?" When Brochu said he was looking for Burns, Mostel complained that Brochu never came to visit him and stormed off.

Jim Brochu as Zero Mostel in Zero Hour at Theater J. Photo by Stan Barouh

Brochu took the hint and visited Mostel backstage on several more occasions. Over time the two became friends. When he first asked Mostel for an autograph, Brochu was told he was unworthy - Mostel's "behavior was as outrageous offstage as it was on," he says - but after Mostel saw Brochu's off-Broadway performance in "Unfair to Goliath", he left an envelope with a signed photograph in Brochu's dressing room.

Zero Hour is Brochu's attempt to return the favor, "a tribute to the life of a man who overcame both physical and social obstacles to become one of most enduring giants in the history of the American Theatre."

The essay/review leads, though, with the politics of the piece, which all come from Zero's point of view. Neither Jim nor I are political persons. We are both news junkies, and we lend our talents to benefits, just as Zero did, but we're performers. We love the attention, but don't come to us for answers. We're the clowns.