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Review
1
I have seen many plays over the years; professional and amateur, but nothing could have ever prepared me for the evening I had last night. JANE HO is a show that I will tell many, many people to make sure they make the time to see.
The story itself tells the many stories of women and men in the oldest trade in the world, yes; prostitution! But they would prefer that you refer to them as escorts, as they do not work the streets. You place a phone call to the agency and when your credit card is approved your date is set. This play is not gratuitous, there is implied violence and necessary language. John Pallotta, the writer; interviewed over 200 hookers, escorts and johns and worked their stories into this tale told by the five main characters.
John Pallotta's writing is melodious. Arian Blanco's direction is spectacular. Music and lighting are great and are a character in the show proper. The group of actors are amazing, they move as one. Where one's story ends another begins and flows effortlessly through to the amazing ending where one is forced to truly see the characters reality.
I will see this show many more times. Especially for the Obie worthy performances of Mikaela Kafka and Daina Michelle Griffith. As a matter of fact Obies for all involved in this work that is NOT TO BE MISSED!
Robert Alan Espino
CASTING DIRECTOR
I have seen many plays over the years; professional and amateur, but nothing could have ever prepared me for the evening I had last night. JANE HO is a show that I will tell many, many people to make sure they make the time to see.
The story itself tells the many stories of women and men in the oldest trade in the world, yes; prostitution! But they would prefer that you refer to them as escorts, as they do not work the streets. You place a phone call to the agency and when your credit card is approved your date is set. This play is not gratuitous, there is implied violence and necessary language. John Pallotta, the writer; interviewed over 200 hookers, escorts and johns and worked their stories into this tale told by the five main characters.
John Pallotta's writing is melodious. Arian Blanco's direction is spectacular. Music and lighting are great and are a character in the show proper. The group of actors are amazing, they move as one. Where one's story ends another begins and flows effortlessly through to the amazing ending where one is forced to truly see the characters reality.
I will see this show many more times. Especially for the Obie worthy performances of Mikaela Kafka and Daina Michelle Griffith. As a matter of fact Obies for all involved in this work that is NOT TO BE MISSED!
Robert Alan Espino
CASTING DIRECTOR
Review
2
A SHATTERING PLAY IN A COMFORTABLE THEATRE
JANE HO at The Lion Theatre
410 West 42nd Street (“Theatre Row”), New York
First let’s cut to the chase. Why you must see—and hear this play—is not because of its provocative subject matter. It’s not because of the beauty of the acting. And it’s not the dangerously, decadent red and black set. Nor is it for the fluid, choreographed direction. You should see JANE HO because, so far as I know, it takes what Shakespeare and other playwrights of his era have done, and moves it brilliantly into the 21st Century. The play is entirely written in iambic pentameter! For the uninformed, that’s poetry, written in lines of 5 beats each, alternating in an “off-beat”. Let’s say it like this, “Da Dah, Da Dah, Da Dah, Da Dah, Da Dah.” And, JOHN PALLOTTA, the Playwright, has also taken this conceit AND coupled it with a JAZZ aura. Perhaps, Duke Ellington might have tried this; maybe others as well, but I’ve never seen nor heard anything like it. It blew me away! While there are music interludes (yes, mostly blues-y jazz…), the entire work sings—a Shakesperean ‘Jazz Opera”—It’s an amazing accomplishment. And it would be a crime if they don’t make a c.d. of the play. Without really singing, the work sings!
JANE HO is set in a “typical” work day for “Jane Ho” (Think John Doe; for that matter, JANE Doe…). Those anonymous sex workers you pay, “…for a trip to paradise.” To quote Cole Porter’s, “Love for Sale.” You use their bodies, their emoting, their feeling, their soul, but you don’t really know anything about them—where they came from, how they got into “the profession”, nothing. John Pallota, in writing the work, interviewed almost 200 “call girls” to get the story, narrowing his research to just a few who would serve as the model of the story of Jane Ho. (In the same way Michael Bennett researched his legendary, “A Chorus Line”.)
“ Jane Ho” is in fact acted by 4 different people—including one, “Male Ho”.
Yes, as JANE HO opens, and you are introduced to the prostitutes, they do leer and smirk at you, and your first thoughts would probably think CHICAGO, but soon you realize that they are just giving “you” a fantasy perpetuated on you—that of a “sexy”, “bad” chorus girl/murderess. They’re just giving you what you want…. It’s not long however that what you get is much more than you “paid” for—you get their lives!
Hovering above all of this is a telephone—“God”—whom we must answer to. This telephone, far above the staging, set in a single, white light rings inescapable truths that haunt the whores.
“ Jane Ho” is not your average street-walker; she/he is a “call girl”, often working for an “agency”, often moonlighting on her own. Often commanding a very high price.
With this in mind, GREGG BELLON, the set and lighting designer, has given JANE HO a decadent, “high-class” brothel look (yes, there are these things in New York…). All done in lurid red fabric accented in black, and with mirrors. With a red staircase, sweeping up to the bedroom, where the “service” takes place. The red and white lighting supports this lair of lust look.
With JANE HO’s concept, you would think that the work would have a static, stagey feel to it, but ARIAN BLANCO, the Director keeps everything fluid and moving; indeed the direction approaches choreography—the play moves as dance does.
As truth emerges, the costumes change, off with the racy lingerie they’ve been wearing (provocatively designed by SHEILA WALKER); into long, black. This is where the inner truths are revealed. The prostitutes have become a “Greek Chorus” of the soul.
HOW can you single out any one of the tight ensemble cast of JANE HO? “She” is played by 4 actors—including one man—they are: MIKAELA KAFKA, as “Jane Ho 1”; DAINA MICHELLE GRIFFITH, as “Jane Ho 2”; HEATHER MALE, as “Jane Ho 3”; and A. B. LUGO, as “Male Ho” (essentially “Jane Ho 4”). Each is TERRIFIC. Each portrays a different aspect of “Jane Ho’s” life—for example, DAINA MICHELLE GRIFFITH’s “story” comes out of somewhere in Mittel-Euope, HEATHER MALE’s from “the South”; however in essence, all the “stories” become one story, that of “Jane Ho”.
And, in a basically silent role, “up the stairs”; although there is some movement that is essentially dance, LICHE ARIZA nails the part of “The John”; his role calls for lots of posturing, and some violence—all non-speaking—and he “dances” his part quite effectively. Watch for when it gets “rough”….
Sometimes—not often, but sometimes, when you review a play, and magic happens and keeps on happening, you almost don’t want the work to continue for fear of its running out of steam and the magic evaporating. You hold your breath and wonder can “they” keep this up…? Have no fear in this case, JANE HO is magic all the way through, from its beginning to its devastating end. It’s a remarkable piece of theatre. The kind that makes living in New York still so very, very worthwhile.
See this one—hear it!
Stuart Lee
WNYX-TV Entertainment Critic
A SHATTERING PLAY IN A COMFORTABLE THEATRE
JANE HO at The Lion Theatre
410 West 42nd Street (“Theatre Row”), New York
First let’s cut to the chase. Why you must see—and hear this play—is not because of its provocative subject matter. It’s not because of the beauty of the acting. And it’s not the dangerously, decadent red and black set. Nor is it for the fluid, choreographed direction. You should see JANE HO because, so far as I know, it takes what Shakespeare and other playwrights of his era have done, and moves it brilliantly into the 21st Century. The play is entirely written in iambic pentameter! For the uninformed, that’s poetry, written in lines of 5 beats each, alternating in an “off-beat”. Let’s say it like this, “Da Dah, Da Dah, Da Dah, Da Dah, Da Dah.” And, JOHN PALLOTTA, the Playwright, has also taken this conceit AND coupled it with a JAZZ aura. Perhaps, Duke Ellington might have tried this; maybe others as well, but I’ve never seen nor heard anything like it. It blew me away! While there are music interludes (yes, mostly blues-y jazz…), the entire work sings—a Shakesperean ‘Jazz Opera”—It’s an amazing accomplishment. And it would be a crime if they don’t make a c.d. of the play. Without really singing, the work sings!
JANE HO is set in a “typical” work day for “Jane Ho” (Think John Doe; for that matter, JANE Doe…). Those anonymous sex workers you pay, “…for a trip to paradise.” To quote Cole Porter’s, “Love for Sale.” You use their bodies, their emoting, their feeling, their soul, but you don’t really know anything about them—where they came from, how they got into “the profession”, nothing. John Pallota, in writing the work, interviewed almost 200 “call girls” to get the story, narrowing his research to just a few who would serve as the model of the story of Jane Ho. (In the same way Michael Bennett researched his legendary, “A Chorus Line”.)
“ Jane Ho” is in fact acted by 4 different people—including one, “Male Ho”.
Yes, as JANE HO opens, and you are introduced to the prostitutes, they do leer and smirk at you, and your first thoughts would probably think CHICAGO, but soon you realize that they are just giving “you” a fantasy perpetuated on you—that of a “sexy”, “bad” chorus girl/murderess. They’re just giving you what you want…. It’s not long however that what you get is much more than you “paid” for—you get their lives!
Hovering above all of this is a telephone—“God”—whom we must answer to. This telephone, far above the staging, set in a single, white light rings inescapable truths that haunt the whores.
“ Jane Ho” is not your average street-walker; she/he is a “call girl”, often working for an “agency”, often moonlighting on her own. Often commanding a very high price.
With this in mind, GREGG BELLON, the set and lighting designer, has given JANE HO a decadent, “high-class” brothel look (yes, there are these things in New York…). All done in lurid red fabric accented in black, and with mirrors. With a red staircase, sweeping up to the bedroom, where the “service” takes place. The red and white lighting supports this lair of lust look.
With JANE HO’s concept, you would think that the work would have a static, stagey feel to it, but ARIAN BLANCO, the Director keeps everything fluid and moving; indeed the direction approaches choreography—the play moves as dance does.
As truth emerges, the costumes change, off with the racy lingerie they’ve been wearing (provocatively designed by SHEILA WALKER); into long, black. This is where the inner truths are revealed. The prostitutes have become a “Greek Chorus” of the soul.
HOW can you single out any one of the tight ensemble cast of JANE HO? “She” is played by 4 actors—including one man—they are: MIKAELA KAFKA, as “Jane Ho 1”; DAINA MICHELLE GRIFFITH, as “Jane Ho 2”; HEATHER MALE, as “Jane Ho 3”; and A. B. LUGO, as “Male Ho” (essentially “Jane Ho 4”). Each is TERRIFIC. Each portrays a different aspect of “Jane Ho’s” life—for example, DAINA MICHELLE GRIFFITH’s “story” comes out of somewhere in Mittel-Euope, HEATHER MALE’s from “the South”; however in essence, all the “stories” become one story, that of “Jane Ho”.
And, in a basically silent role, “up the stairs”; although there is some movement that is essentially dance, LICHE ARIZA nails the part of “The John”; his role calls for lots of posturing, and some violence—all non-speaking—and he “dances” his part quite effectively. Watch for when it gets “rough”….
Sometimes—not often, but sometimes, when you review a play, and magic happens and keeps on happening, you almost don’t want the work to continue for fear of its running out of steam and the magic evaporating. You hold your breath and wonder can “they” keep this up…? Have no fear in this case, JANE HO is magic all the way through, from its beginning to its devastating end. It’s a remarkable piece of theatre. The kind that makes living in New York still so very, very worthwhile.
See this one—hear it!
Stuart Lee
WNYX-TV Entertainment Critic
Review 3
Jane Ho: A Gripping Tale of the Underworld
Marlis Paffenroth
Jane Ho premiered this weekend at the Lion Theatre, offering us theatre at its best: a brave and stunning drama that asks all the big questions. Playwright John Pallotta delivers an honest glimpse of the world’s most unsettling profession – prostitution. Replete with irony, the blended monologues collectively face Jane Ho’s loneliness, loss of dreams, and even the here rather fruitless longing for love. As the characters strip away the notion of “pleasure as paradise” they find spiritual dearth and, simultaneously, their true worth.
In this emotionally charged drama, director Arian Blanco adds yet another dimension. With his discerning eye and artistic flair Blanco sets the stage for the surreal aspect of Jane Ho’s daily life. As the characters move behind the semi-transparent screen they assume sexual postures in tableau fashion. The visual effect emphasizes a shrouded still life superimposed on scenes of action in full view. Figuratively, the sex scene indicates the stagnant, secretive lifestyle, while Jane Ho’s restless movements across the fully lit stage suggest the uncovering of the naked truth.
Jane Ho’s fragmented self draws on the flexibility, literally and metaphorically, of superb actors. The performance showcases Mikaela Kafka with her elegant stage presence and lyrical delivery. Supporting actors A.B. Lugo, Heather Male, and Diana Giffith bring distinct and varied personalities to reflect the profession’s various ethnicities and genders as well as to confirm the universal yearning for love and community. But these characters, fluid and despairing as they may be, must unite against the client, played by Liche Ariza, who hovers as a mute but ominous figure. His acrobatic poses with several of Jane Ho’s selves become the psychological turmoil from which they must disentangle themselves.
As Jane Ho and her separate selves straddle self justification and self loathing – a posture they cannot maintain – they begin to unravel, stepping out of their “uniforms” and into conventional black evening wear that doubles as mourning garb. The climactic scene offers yet another stunning visual. In the wake of Andy Cohen’s haunting original score, the characters face themselves in full length mirrors, mirrors that frame their entire bodies, esophagus style. Their epiphany is brutal: they alone constructed these confines, a hell of sorts. But deliverance comes unexpectedly: recognition is in itself a kind of redemption.
And so, Jane Ho reaches past the mirror to face us. We have to recognize our own self-constructed limits, our personal hells. But Pallotta ultimately offers us the most life-affirming message of all: if we look despair straight in the eye, we will find hope after all.
Jane Ho: A Gripping Tale of the Underworld
Marlis Paffenroth
Jane Ho premiered this weekend at the Lion Theatre, offering us theatre at its best: a brave and stunning drama that asks all the big questions. Playwright John Pallotta delivers an honest glimpse of the world’s most unsettling profession – prostitution. Replete with irony, the blended monologues collectively face Jane Ho’s loneliness, loss of dreams, and even the here rather fruitless longing for love. As the characters strip away the notion of “pleasure as paradise” they find spiritual dearth and, simultaneously, their true worth.
In this emotionally charged drama, director Arian Blanco adds yet another dimension. With his discerning eye and artistic flair Blanco sets the stage for the surreal aspect of Jane Ho’s daily life. As the characters move behind the semi-transparent screen they assume sexual postures in tableau fashion. The visual effect emphasizes a shrouded still life superimposed on scenes of action in full view. Figuratively, the sex scene indicates the stagnant, secretive lifestyle, while Jane Ho’s restless movements across the fully lit stage suggest the uncovering of the naked truth.
Jane Ho’s fragmented self draws on the flexibility, literally and metaphorically, of superb actors. The performance showcases Mikaela Kafka with her elegant stage presence and lyrical delivery. Supporting actors A.B. Lugo, Heather Male, and Diana Giffith bring distinct and varied personalities to reflect the profession’s various ethnicities and genders as well as to confirm the universal yearning for love and community. But these characters, fluid and despairing as they may be, must unite against the client, played by Liche Ariza, who hovers as a mute but ominous figure. His acrobatic poses with several of Jane Ho’s selves become the psychological turmoil from which they must disentangle themselves.
As Jane Ho and her separate selves straddle self justification and self loathing – a posture they cannot maintain – they begin to unravel, stepping out of their “uniforms” and into conventional black evening wear that doubles as mourning garb. The climactic scene offers yet another stunning visual. In the wake of Andy Cohen’s haunting original score, the characters face themselves in full length mirrors, mirrors that frame their entire bodies, esophagus style. Their epiphany is brutal: they alone constructed these confines, a hell of sorts. But deliverance comes unexpectedly: recognition is in itself a kind of redemption.
And so, Jane Ho reaches past the mirror to face us. We have to recognize our own self-constructed limits, our personal hells. But Pallotta ultimately offers us the most life-affirming message of all: if we look despair straight in the eye, we will find hope after all.
Review 4
nytheatre.com review
Martin Denton · November 5, 2005
From Pretty Woman to Irma la Douce to Sweet Charity and back again, the "hooker with a heart of gold" prototype is fairly pervasive in popular culture. So a play like John Pallotta's Jane Ho, which intends to take a serious look at the life of a "call girl," is fairly singular in its objectives. It is also—as compiled by Pallotta, who interviewed about 200 prostitutes in researching this piece, and as staged by Arian Blanco—an intriguing and unusual variation on the docudrama genre.
The play takes place in the boudoir of a prostitute (or escort, or call girl, or hooker, or whore; all those terms are used in the show) as s/he prepares for and executes an appointment with a "John." It's a figurative, rather than literal, boudoir: we're inside the generically-named Jane Ho's head for the entire running time of the play. Three actresses and one actor play the "Ho" or more precisely they play all the Jane Ho's and one single Jane Ho at the same time: an archetype and its vast variety. Above, up a glamorous-looking flight of stairs, is the "John," in a room with a bed that could be a hotel room or any other appropriate spot for an assignation, and every so often one or more of the Ho's heads up there to earn her/his keep.
The character/s tell us a lot about their lifestyle: They relish the cash. They enjoy the role-playing. They feel compromised. They hate men. They come from broken homes of various types. They're rigorous about safe sex. They're almost always safe. They hate their mothers. They worry about getting sick. They don't want to be judged. They hate that they can't tell people what they do for a living. They wonder what will happen to them when they're older. They're ashamed. They're very good at what they do, i.e., pleasing men. They've never known true love, and worry that they never will.
Pallotta's dramaturgy and Blanco's fluid, non-stop pacing ensure that the contradictions are what remain paramount: although there are some generalizations that we're led to in this play, the primary message appears to be that everybody's got their own story and that for us to just look in on these women and men and judge them is entirely inappropriate. Indeed, one of the things I thought was missing from Jane Ho was even more diversity: the stories told here are principally about high-end escorts (at least one of whom charges clients two thousand dollars an hour). But my intution tells me that the vast majority of prostitutes are at the other end of the economic spectrum, working at this job solely to survive the mean streets of whatever city they live in. For them, questions of psychology and self-actualization would seem to be beside the point; Jane Ho's "ho's"—their low self-esteem, as betrayed by that appellation, notwithstanding—seem to have a much easier life than a lot of their unseen, lower-priced sisters and brothers; and I would have liked to have learned more about these others.
The presence of a male prostitute among the three women is interesting, but also not explored as much as it could have been; this character seems to be representing only a single real-life source (unlike the others, who are very evidently drawn from multiple interviewees) and so there's less depth to what's revealed about him. His inclusion here, though, interestingly muddies the waters of the standard feminist argument about prostitution, which is that it demeans women by objectifying them. The sex trade, ultimately, would seem to be an equal-opportunity objectifier.
The play also raised one more set of questions for me, especially due to the presence of that "John" upstairs. Who is he? Without customers, the sex business goes out of business and the Ho's lose their victimhood. Maybe Pallotta can visit the other side of the transaction in a future project.
As you can see, Jane Ho is a thought-provoking work of theatre: by mining terrain that is apparently still pretty much taboo, Pallotta brings to the surface a host of issues and themes that have heretofore largely been ignored. He's to be commended for that.
Gregg Bellon's lush set—a Vegas-y fantasia in red velvet and gold—evokes the faux/real dichotomy of an occupation whose primary purpose is to provide temporary and illusory "love" for clients; it's gaudy without quite sinking into vulgar, which is an achievement. Bellon's lighting is fine too. The only costume credit is to Sheila Walker, for lingerie design—we get a sort of backwards striptease near the end of the show in which the Ho's change out of their Victoria's Secret-style outfits (silhouetted behind a screen) and into more conventional garb, which is quite effective.
The three women playing Jane Ho are Mikaela Kafka, Daina Michelle Griffith, and Heather Male; Kafka is more or less the lead "Jane" and she's successful, especially, in effortlessly switching among the various personas and points of view that Pallotta has assigned to her. But Griffith, who speaks with a Russian accent, creates the most affecting character. A.B. Lugo plays the Male Ho. Liche Ariza, silent throughout as the John, is nevertheless quite eloquent.
nytheatre.com review
Martin Denton · November 5, 2005
From Pretty Woman to Irma la Douce to Sweet Charity and back again, the "hooker with a heart of gold" prototype is fairly pervasive in popular culture. So a play like John Pallotta's Jane Ho, which intends to take a serious look at the life of a "call girl," is fairly singular in its objectives. It is also—as compiled by Pallotta, who interviewed about 200 prostitutes in researching this piece, and as staged by Arian Blanco—an intriguing and unusual variation on the docudrama genre.
The play takes place in the boudoir of a prostitute (or escort, or call girl, or hooker, or whore; all those terms are used in the show) as s/he prepares for and executes an appointment with a "John." It's a figurative, rather than literal, boudoir: we're inside the generically-named Jane Ho's head for the entire running time of the play. Three actresses and one actor play the "Ho" or more precisely they play all the Jane Ho's and one single Jane Ho at the same time: an archetype and its vast variety. Above, up a glamorous-looking flight of stairs, is the "John," in a room with a bed that could be a hotel room or any other appropriate spot for an assignation, and every so often one or more of the Ho's heads up there to earn her/his keep.
The character/s tell us a lot about their lifestyle: They relish the cash. They enjoy the role-playing. They feel compromised. They hate men. They come from broken homes of various types. They're rigorous about safe sex. They're almost always safe. They hate their mothers. They worry about getting sick. They don't want to be judged. They hate that they can't tell people what they do for a living. They wonder what will happen to them when they're older. They're ashamed. They're very good at what they do, i.e., pleasing men. They've never known true love, and worry that they never will.
Pallotta's dramaturgy and Blanco's fluid, non-stop pacing ensure that the contradictions are what remain paramount: although there are some generalizations that we're led to in this play, the primary message appears to be that everybody's got their own story and that for us to just look in on these women and men and judge them is entirely inappropriate. Indeed, one of the things I thought was missing from Jane Ho was even more diversity: the stories told here are principally about high-end escorts (at least one of whom charges clients two thousand dollars an hour). But my intution tells me that the vast majority of prostitutes are at the other end of the economic spectrum, working at this job solely to survive the mean streets of whatever city they live in. For them, questions of psychology and self-actualization would seem to be beside the point; Jane Ho's "ho's"—their low self-esteem, as betrayed by that appellation, notwithstanding—seem to have a much easier life than a lot of their unseen, lower-priced sisters and brothers; and I would have liked to have learned more about these others.
The presence of a male prostitute among the three women is interesting, but also not explored as much as it could have been; this character seems to be representing only a single real-life source (unlike the others, who are very evidently drawn from multiple interviewees) and so there's less depth to what's revealed about him. His inclusion here, though, interestingly muddies the waters of the standard feminist argument about prostitution, which is that it demeans women by objectifying them. The sex trade, ultimately, would seem to be an equal-opportunity objectifier.
The play also raised one more set of questions for me, especially due to the presence of that "John" upstairs. Who is he? Without customers, the sex business goes out of business and the Ho's lose their victimhood. Maybe Pallotta can visit the other side of the transaction in a future project.
As you can see, Jane Ho is a thought-provoking work of theatre: by mining terrain that is apparently still pretty much taboo, Pallotta brings to the surface a host of issues and themes that have heretofore largely been ignored. He's to be commended for that.
Gregg Bellon's lush set—a Vegas-y fantasia in red velvet and gold—evokes the faux/real dichotomy of an occupation whose primary purpose is to provide temporary and illusory "love" for clients; it's gaudy without quite sinking into vulgar, which is an achievement. Bellon's lighting is fine too. The only costume credit is to Sheila Walker, for lingerie design—we get a sort of backwards striptease near the end of the show in which the Ho's change out of their Victoria's Secret-style outfits (silhouetted behind a screen) and into more conventional garb, which is quite effective.
The three women playing Jane Ho are Mikaela Kafka, Daina Michelle Griffith, and Heather Male; Kafka is more or less the lead "Jane" and she's successful, especially, in effortlessly switching among the various personas and points of view that Pallotta has assigned to her. But Griffith, who speaks with a Russian accent, creates the most affecting character. A.B. Lugo plays the Male Ho. Liche Ariza, silent throughout as the John, is nevertheless quite eloquent.
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