Last Call – 13 March 2025

A composer walks into a bar and the bartender says, “Maestro!” And the previously seated conductor responds, “bring mir heißes wasser!” This begins an imagined conversation between American composer Leonard Bernstein (Helen Schneider) and German conductor Herbert von Karajan (Lucca Zuchner). These two straddle the world between friendship and rivalry as their mutual respect for one another comes with a twinge of envy for both. Last Call theorizes on the content of an actual meeting at a bar in Vienna in which both men express their adoration and repulsion for each other through obscure (and delightful, for those of us deeply entrenched in the classical music world ourselves) references to the beliefs, origins, antics, and quirks of popular composers and performers of (and before) their time.

Last Call is a bold play in its choice not to contextualize much. The jokes come forth from the characters without playwright Peter Danish setting up unfamiliar audience members to understand them with prior introductions embedded somewhere in previous lines. As a classically trained musician, I found these references quite funny, but felt at times like I was the only person laughing because I understood the jokes— others seemed to be laughing out of social desirability because they could tell from the inflection that it was a joke of some kind. Classical music is often shrouded in mystery and elevated as a higher class art form— it’s only natural that theatre audiences want to be seen as knowledgable enough to understand jokes that they perceive as coming from a sophisticated world. Yet one of the most marvelous elements of Last Call was the way in which it humanized classical music giants by portraying their incredibly accomplished figures as crotchety old men who have to pee and want to one up each other to legitimize themselves. While their adoration in the eyes of the world seems limitless, their egos are very fragile, and they squabble like school boys, holding on to old grudges and laughing at each other’s vices.

What better way to comment on male fragility than to have both of these highly esteemed men played by female actresses? Their mannerisms are slightly exaggerated, and, fascinatingly, imitate each other, a conceit best acknowledged by Bernstein’s fashion choices mimicking Von Karajan’s stated stylistic trend (costumes: Rene Neumann). Their pre-recorded thoughts strip away their toxic needs for admiration, but as the play goes forward they mostly let their pride obscure their humility and both feel a pressing need to have the last word.

A discussion of Last Call would not be complete without mention of the waiter, Michael (Victor Peterson), whose incredible operatic soprano soared to beautifully moving heights. His character interrupted the conversation at odd moments, sometimes without cause, but the beauty of his voice showed the depth of his admiration, and his hesitance helped to convey how Von Karajan’s character differed from the cultural conventions of his time. Though not given much to do, Peterson made the most of his time on stage by vacillating between the awestruck observer, the hesitant participant, and the person whose incredible talents still fall short of earning enough money to financially support him in music without bartending/waiting tables at night. Michael is any man and every man, waiting for his big break but still paralyzed when confronted with the levels of talent and import that could help him ascend. Despite Peterson seeming more accessible, Schneider and Zuchner managed to be equally relatable in their respective roles.

Last Call is a fantastic experience for the classical music nerd who wants to humanize and demystify the huge names and egos that stood at the forefront of our post World War II era. For the average audience member, I fear that it may be a tad obscure and that the cyclical nature of the writing may drag just a little. Some techniques, like spotlighting a character to hear his thoughts (lighting: Michael Grundner) were used too many times and lost their novelty. In the same vein, only one bathroom trip was necessary, and the scenic (Chris Barreca) shift to do it was only funny once. Sound (Lindsay Jones) wise, I was not always certain thematically why music was being played. It was obvious when a score was opened or when accompanied by a lighting shift. There were staging (director: Gil Mehmert) moments whose purpose were equally difficult to discern.

In terms of tightening the script, Peter Danish has some work to do before it can be polished enough to be accessible to a broader audience. Though this effort is truly magnificent, I hope that this isn’t Peter Danish’s last pass at this particular script. It’s a marvelous idea with a lot of potential to become something truly masterful.

I attended this performance on a press pass from Keith Sherman & Associates.