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| Screen icons Cate Blanchett and Isabelle Huppert |
Australia's Sydney Theatre
Company The Maids by Jean Genet, brought to New York by Lincoln Center,
begins with the maids Claire and Solange dressing up in their employer’s gowns and perfume and dancing to Nico's I'll Be Your Mirror. It’s a dreamy start to the 90-minute
avant-garde classic played without intermission that continues to build all the
way through.
Cate Blanchett and Isabelle Huppert are, unimaginably, the maid sisters. Tall Elizabeth Debicki is the self-dramatizing mistress, who one moment promises her
servants, “Some day I’ll leave everything to you,” and in the next moment forgets their
names, based on a true story.
The younger of the
sisters, Claire, is the magic Cate Blanchett, a lioness. She bellows, frolics, and
then curls into an exhausted fetal state. She isn't capable of defending herself, much less committing murder. It comes as no surprise that the
naughtiest of the two sisters, Solange, is Isabelle Huppert, whose mischief is well-known
from French cinema. Onstage her energy is unstoppable, and she is both coltish and graceful. Many have commented on her strongly French-accented English. We understood her and found her delivery haunting.
When the mistress is home, Blanchett and Huppert are such great actresses that they are convincingly servile and in awe of her. For her part, Australian newcomer Debicki holds court with aplomb. Much has been made of this production using a younger rather than older mistress. To us, the three seemed relatively the same age, which gave the old play (1947) a new twist.
When the mistress is home, Blanchett and Huppert are such great actresses that they are convincingly servile and in awe of her. For her part, Australian newcomer Debicki holds court with aplomb. Much has been made of this production using a younger rather than older mistress. To us, the three seemed relatively the same age, which gave the old play (1947) a new twist.
When the
mistress arrives, we see the video monitor as she gets into the elevator
and the maids scramble to clear up the mess. The constant video projection was distracting, though sometimes used comically –
we can watch as, in the kitchen, poison is mixed into the mistress’s tea. Glass walls
surround the lavish bedroom and a long rack of countless gowns, color
coordinated, and bowls of cut flowers create a bubble of excess – a suffocating
world. It was unnecessary, because we felt trapped already. These women are
captivating all on their own.
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| Florian Wehrli in his rooftop garden |
At Triomphe, the intimate restaurant downstairs, he serves food that is known for perfectionist beauty. His food is beautiful without seeming fussy or over-handled. If there's another quality besides taste that we could pin to Florian's edge it is crispness. Scallops in a crisp almond crust. Beef Wellington in a crunchy en croûte of bread instead of the traditional pastry. The gazpacho had crispness in micro minced peppers (grown on the roof) and the crunch of dried onion pieces. Crème brûlée, with perfect burnt shell, comes in "three mysterious flavors." The maître d' checks in to see if you guessed before he'll tell you what they are. Ours were bay leaf, raspberry, and toasted coconut, and we were only able to guess one. But when he told us, the other flavors rang out.
The well-written menu at noontime offers four prix fixes, including the Bounty lunch of three exquisite courses of vegetables, and "4 Courses on 44" (the restaurant is on 44nd St.) for, you guessed it, $44. Most popular is Tribute to Provence, at $25, with one main course, either shrimp niçoise full of lacy cress or grilled steak with white corn summer salsa, served with the perfect glass of wine.
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| Striped Sea Bass on Squid Ink Pasta with Roasted Tomatoes |
