There’s such a thing as too close for comfort — especially when you’re sitting inches away from thrusting buttocks.
And there’s a lot of pelvic action in Michael John LaChiusa’s “Hello Again.” Director Jack Cummings III has staged this 1993 musical in intimate quarters — a SoHo loft in which the cast freely moves about and among the audience, often making use of a centrally positioned bed. Actors sing on top of the tables at which you sit; oral sex is simulated within arm’s length of lucky (or not) theatergoers. That nobody under 16 is admitted isn’t surprising.
Cummings and his company, the Transport Group, did a terrific site-specific revival of “The Boys in the Band” last year. This time, setting the action in a nontraditional venue feels more gimmicky, less plot-driven.
The melancholic “Hello Again” is an adaptation of Arthur Schnitzler’s 1900 play “La Ronde,” in which the 10 characters form a sexual daisy chain: The Whore (Nikka Graff Lanzarone) hooks up with the Soldier (Max von Essen) who dallies with the Nurse (Elizabeth Stanley) who has a tryst with the College Boy (Robert Lenzi). We go full circle when the Senator (Alan Campbell, from “Sunset Boulevard”) encounters the Whore.
Unlike the original, LaChiusa’s version constantly jumps eras: The Husband (Bob Stillman) falls for the Young Thing (Blake Daniel) on the Titanic, then the Young Thing seduces the Writer (Jonathan Hammond) in a 1970s nightclub.
This allows LaChiusa — best known for Broadway’s “The Wild Party” — to play with various styles, from jazz to disco to operetta. Considering the show is almost entirely sung-through, he handles the transitions between different modes with finesse. And while he’s often criticized for not writing catchy tunes, his score here is subtly melodic.
On the other hand, the time-traveling reinforces the sense that we’re watching archetypes rather than individuals, and only a few actors transcend the sketchy characterization: Stanley is by turns touching and sexy, Daniel suggests fragile loneliness and Alexandra Silber (the Young Wife) delivers a haunting “Tom,” full of rueful longing for a lost lover.
This is typical of a show that, despite its graphic moments, is unlikely to make anybody feel frisky. Here, the flesh is not just weak — it’s always linked to sadness.