By Fern Siegel (Posted 2/20/24)

Five, the parody musical at Theater 555, owes much to the success of Broadway’s Six. The latter doubles as a staged concert/musical, where the six wives of Henry VIII vie for the-most-unhappy title. The women fire insults at each other, while parading their woes in a fun, sassy fashion. It’s history, but with a jaunty, irreverent twist.

Five parrots that template, but focuses on the five women of Donald Trump: Ivana (Anyae Anasia), Ivanka (Hannah Bonnett), Melania (Jamie Lyn Beatty), Marla (Gabriella Joy Rodriquez) and Stormy Daniels (Gabi Garcia). The women take the predictable shots, including Marla’s cheerful Jesus obsession, Ivanka’s Daddy issues, Melania’s indifference and Stormy’s trashy but clear-eyed understanding of the ex-president.

The setting is a debate stage in Ronkonkoma, Long Island. The sets are cheesy, but the women are eager to jump-start the entertainment. And together, they are a high-kicking group that sling insults and shade at every turn, thanks to book-lyrics by Shimmy Braun and Moshiel Newman Daphna and music-lyrics by Billy Recce.

Like Six, the songs are original and spot-on, but in Five’s case, there is more than a passing nod to Broadway, from a terrific takeoff on Chicago’s “Cell Block Tango” to Sondheim. Director Jen Wineman keeps the pace lively and the choreography tight, aided by Florence D’Lee’s costumes.   

The digs — from the divorces to Ivanka’s nepo baby White House job — ring true. The more you know about the women, the more the hits, hit home. And while many of the lines are funny and over-the-top, the music is crazy loud and the last number, about their time running out, could be nixed.

The larger point — that the women realize they operated, in part, as distractions and enablers, may be revelatory to them. But to anti-Trumpers, it’s a chance to revel in the takedown he — and his women — deserve.

Brian Friel adopts a Chekhovian tone in Aristocrats, the poignant revival of his 1979 play at the Irish Repertory Theatre. Set in the town of Ballybeg, the drama revolves around the now down-and-out O’Donnell family and chronicles the disintegration of Ireland’s gentry.

The once-prosperous legal clan of Catholic elites has occupied the “big house,” a grand estate, for generations. The remaining family members include an ill, raving father (Colin Lane), cared for by his stoic daughter Judith (Danielle Ryan). Judith also protects Claire, her musically gifted but unstable sister (Meg Hennessy). All are living in reduced circumstances in a dilapidated structure that mirrors their emotional and financial decline, echoing familial plights in The Cherry Orchard and Three Sisters.

Money is an issue. So is paternal tyranny, which wrecked Claire’s budding music career and deprived Judith of an independent life. The O’Donnell siblings include Casimir (Tom Holcomb), a fabulist who has a family in Germany, and Alice (Sarah Street), an alcoholic living in London. Both have returned for Claire’s wedding to an older widower. All suffer the ignominy of isolation, be it language, liquor or lack of love.

Their respective sadness has resulted in a kind of cultural and personal paralysis. Casimir works in a sausage factory in Hamburg. Alice’s husband Eamon (Tim Ruddy) is a probation officer. These aren’t stories of dreams deferred, but of downward motion.

The O’Donnell upbringing kept them apart from the Protestant hierarchy and their Catholic counterparts. As Eamon explains, the O’Donnells don’t fit in anywhere. There is no larger identity to anchor them, so they resort to ancient memories.

Casimir gleefully recounts the family’s cozy evenings with Yeats and grand parties in Vienna to a visiting academic (Roger Dominic Casey) — even if his recall is at odds with reality.

“None of us are trained to do anything,” Judith laments, with predictable results.

Director Charlotte Moore is working with an excellent cast in a beautifully rendered production. The ensemble clicks as a whole, but there are striking moments of pathos: Casimir explaining his failures or Meg musing on her upcoming wedding. The problems of affluence — and its subsequent loss — make for a heartbreaking story. Friel is sensitive to the family’s internal destruction, or as one character puts it: “Failure is more lovable than success.”

Moore gets the most out of a small stage, with scenic design by Charlie Corcoran, costume design by David Toser, lighting design by Michael Gottlieb, sound design and original music by Ryan Rumery and M. Florian Staab.

Memory is a tricky element in Aristocrats — whether it is domestic myths or broad strokes of recognition after a whiskey-fueled night. Friel smoothly captures an Ireland in transition and a family in crisis. There are no easy answers; confronting reality is the first step.