Angie (Marilyn Caserta) and Seth (Max Wolkowitz) share the first of many uncertain intimate moments.
Among the crop of summer Off-Broadway musicals, and it’s been a flavorless crop, here’s something of an anomaly. The Sabbath Girl (book by Cary Gitter, lyrics by Gitter and Neil Berg, music by Berg) isn’t overproduced like Empire, or bathetic like From Home. Whatever its deficiencies, and it does have them, The Sabbath Girl also has something we haven’t been seeing in a lot of new musicals: it has a heart.
Angie goes on an uncomfortable date with Blake (Rory Max Kaplan).
So what’s a “Sabbath girl”? A distaff Sabbath goy, one who will come in handy for Seth (Max Wolkowitz), the Orthodox Jew down the hall of a Lower East Side building. Angie (Marilyn Caserta) is a struggling gallery owner, an art lover who discovered early on that she had no talent as an artist but a good eye for the provocative. Her gallery is piling up debt, despite the wise counsel of her grandma, Sophia (Diana DiMarzio), who supplied the startup capital. Aching from a recent breakup with a lying boyfriend, and too distracted with the gallery to concentrate much on relationships, she’s not obvious girlfriend material.
But she lights a spark in Seth, and also in Blake (Rory Max Kaplan), the trendy young painter who’s surveying galleries for his New York debut. A shallow narcissist, flashily dressed and with a never-absent pair of dark sunglasses, he’s soon talking quid pro quo with Angie: He’ll sign with her if she’ll … What’s a distraught gallery owner to do?
“How many musicals have you seen lately that present realistic youngish folks trying to resolve real problems?”
Any romance with Seth faces obstacles, too, most particularly his sister Rachel (Lauren Singerman), a severe traditionalist with whom he runs the family knish business. But the Seth-Angie chemistry is palpable, especially as played by Wolkowitz and Caserta, his earnestness blending potently with her emotionalism; their first embrace, over Sabbath candles, is actually quite hot. In Gitter’s mostly astutely constructed book, they are appealing, believable young professionals, navigating opposite upbringings as they pursue a union whose satisfying outcome isn’t much in doubt, but the audience is invested in seeing how they’ll get there.
The other characters don’t burrow as deep. Sophia is a one-dimensional Italian mamaleh; there’s a reason for that one-dimensionality, a good one, but it isn’t apparent till the very last minute. Blake, with Kaplan’s self-satisfied strut and “Yo, dude” elocution, garners some laughs, but he’s more a type than a complete individual. And Rachel, though given a good number about how vital Jewish traditions are to her, becomes a tiresome scold, until a sharp showdown scene between her and Angie.
It’s a small show, and, on its own modest terms, a deeply felt one. Joe Brancato’s direction has a mellow flow that suits the material, and Christopher and Justin Swader’s set, consisting mostly of revolving upstage walls, doesn’t distract. Gregory Gale’s costumes are similarly unprepossessing, except for Blake’s attention-getting duds.
Sophia (Diana DiMarzio, left) offers wise counsel to Angie. Photographs by Dorice Arden Madronero.
Berg’s ballad-heavy score is a drawback: Most of the songs strike an attitude without expanding on it, and the melodies perhaps intend to be memorable, but rarely succeed. His and Gitter’s lyrics are functional and not much above that, with rhymes you can see coming around the block: How many times must we hear “art” and “smart,” often with a “heart” thrown in? They’re forcefully sung, with Caserta in particular relishing those long-note, applause-generating finishes that so many shows have had in recent years.
There are plot holes, too. Would Seth’s previous Sabbath goy really move out and leave town without even knocking on his door? Why is Angie so insistent that Rachel tell Seth she visited the shop post-breakup—can’t she text or call or email him? And Blake has a late emotional turnaround that’s nearly impossible to buy.
But when was the last time you heard a character say “I love you” to another, followed by sniffles in the audience? And how many musicals have you seen lately that present realistic youngish folks trying to resolve real problems, instead of conking you over the head with overstatement and production values? The Sabbath Girl would benefit from a stronger score, and maybe more humor, though there are some funny lines. (Rachel: “I know your kind.” Angie: “My kind?” Rachel: “Modern girls. I’ve seen Sex and the City.”) But it’s midsummer, a time for compelling light entertainment, and there aren’t any drive-ins anymore. This will do.
Penguin Rep Theatre’s The Sabbath Girl runs through Sept. 1 at 59E59 Theaters (59 E. 59th St.). Evening performances are at 7 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday; matinees are at 2 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. For tickets and more information, visit 59e59.org.
