Theatre in Review: Goodbar (Under the Radar/Public Theater) Does anyone remember Looking for Mr. Goodbar? Until a few nights ago, I would have said no. Judith Rossner's blockbuster novel, published in 1975, tracks the progress of a troubled young woman through New York's singles-bar jungle, ending in her brutal murder at the hands of a male pickup. (The book is based on the murder, in 1973, of Roseann Quinn.) Rossner's unsparing portrait of a woman seeking anonymous encounters became a cause célèbre -- this was an era in which people still fretted about the Sexual Revolution -- and the title itself became a catchphrase. The critically reviled film nevertheless launched Diane Keaton as a star in her own right, not as an adjunct to Woody Allen or a supporting player in the Godfather films. And, like many cultural phenomena, when its moment passed, Looking for Mr. Goodbar faded into an obscurity commensurate with its previous fame. Now, the theatre company Waterwell and the glam-rock band Bambï have come up with Goodbar, a song cycle based on Rossner's novel. If you aren't familiar with the source material, you may be a little confused from time to time, even with the helpful tips provided by Alex Koch's video projections. However, the songs are faithful to the novel's key points, including the youthful bout of scoliosis suffered by Theresa, the protagonist; her fraught relationship with her sister; her damaging affair with a married college professor; and her daytime identity as a gifted teacher of deaf children. The songs -- music by Jimmie Marlowe and lyrics by Kevin Townley -- frequently have a fatalistic allure; one of them, recounting Theresa's nights on the town, is positively catchy. (No song list is provided.) However, as Goodbar wore on, I began to wonder exactly why its creators were drawn to the novel. In the '70s, it was part of the national conversation about changing sexual mores, and it provided many readers with an accurate glimpse into a world of bars and one-night stands. (Only a few years later, the AIDS epidemic altered its topography beyond recognition, making the book almost instantly into a period piece.) It also raised provocative questions about self-esteem, independence, and control in the context of male-female relations. But, as Pauline Kael noted in her review of the film, it is only too easy to turn Looking for Mr. Goodbar into a finger-wagging parable about the dangers of casual sex. You might think a group like Bambï would tap into the novel's pulpier aspects -- its dark glamour and aura of danger. Instead, the songs add up to a grimly deterministic portrait of a woman who, damaged in childhood, pursues her rage and self-hatred to its logical, and bloody, conclusion. (If you're looking for a date-night entertainment, Goodbar definitely isn't it.) For all of its world-weary sophistication, there's a bit of the sermon in Goodbar; when it was over, I felt as if I had been given a good talking-to. The singers go about their business with the right air of sad detachment; I wish that the lyrics were more consistently audible, but it's possible to get the gist most of the time. Why the piece needs two directors is not immediately clear, but, under the guidance of Arian Moayed and Tom Ridgley, the songs are delivered with assurance. Nick Benacerraf's set design is a fairly simple concert setup, but Koch's video provides a torrent of images, including samurai soldiers, corsets, a cascade of tranquilizers, and an eerie, reverse-negative view of a Madonna and child. The video is also used to introduce each section of the piece and announce new characters; there's an amusing montage of men bellying up to the bar and leering at the camera, and the climactic killing is rendered on the screen. (Stargazers can amuse themselves with cameo appearances, on-screen, by Kelli O'Hara, Ira Glass, and Bobby Cannavale.) Adam Frank's lighting, deploying a series of super-saturated side washes, has an appropriately noirish feel. Erik Bergrin's costumes are thoroughly glam-tastic; they include a weird bustle, complete with spinal column, which alludes to Theresa's childhood illness. Gaby Savransky's sound design isn't too loud -- earplugs are available and recommended -- and supports the vocals reasonably well. Goodbar is an interesting and highly original attempt at dealing with a once-powerful cultural artifact, but, even at a brief running time of 70 minutes, it starts to drag near the end. The last number, performed to a montage of newspaper headlines about Roseann Quinn, is by far the most touching. It's a revealing moment; the creators of Goodbar might want to think about giving us a reason to care about her before dispatching her on the road to ruin. --David Barbour 
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