Everything I Know I Learned From Musicals

Review - Merrily We Roll Along at Encores

There have been quite a few musicals over the years that just kind of break your heart. Usually, these shows sound great on their cast recordings and make you wonder how, despite such terrific scores, they simply didn't work in the theater. Mack and Mabel is among these shows, as are Chess, Candide, and The Baker's Wife. All have truly remarkable scores, but theatrical productions of these shows have been problematic at best.

Another trait these heartbreaker shows share is that their creators, as well as other people, seem to continually come back to try anew to make them work. Sometimes these efforts are successful, as was the case with the recent Mary Zimmerman production of Candide. (Read my review.) Other times, we get [shudder] the most recent concert version of Chess. (Read my review.)

Of course, Stephen Sondheim has more than his share of heartbreakers. There's Anyone Can Whistle, of course, and Follies. But my personal favorite has always been Merrily We Roll Along, which is probably due to the fact that the cast recording came out while I was in high school and just starting to develop what has become a life-long obsession with musical theater in general and Stephen Sondheim in particular.

And Merrily more than fits within the heartbreaker category, not merely because it was a notorious flop in its initial Broadway engagement, but also because Sondheim and company have continually returned to the show to tinker and futz and try to fashion a stage version of the show that even comes close to the raw emotion, searing intellect, and palpable regret of Sondheim's score.

Which is why I was so excited to hear that Encores would be presenting Merrily as part of its current season. And I wasn't he only one excited. Anticipation was so high for the concert presentation of Merrily that the folks at Encores added a second weekend of shows, which I believe is unprecedented for Encores. There has been much speculation in the social-media-sphere that the Encores engagement might serve as a launching pad for a Broadway revival for the show. No word yet on whether any such Broadway transfer will materialize.

Stephen Sondheim has said that this particular version of Merrily We Roll Along, which incorporates revisions from a number of productions subsequent to the show's Broadway run, is the one that he's the most satisfied with. Merrily librettist George Furth passed away in 2008, so director James Lapine provided the concert adaptation for this version of the show. The result, I'm happy to report, was a libretto that is more efficient and effective than any previous version, bringing out more credible drama and complex emotion.

One problem with Merrily has always been that the characters seemed more like placeholders than real people. The central character of Franklin Shepard, in particular, has always felt more like a cypher than a flesh-and-blood human being. Casting the fresh and engaging Colin Donnell as Frank certainly went a long way toward making the character more sympathetic. Donnell, who's currently appearing as Billy Crocker in the hit revival of Anything Goes, has a comfortable stage presence and a laser-sharp singing voice, and managed to turn Frank from a cardboard villain into a believably flawed human being.

Equally appealing was Celia Keenan-Bolger as Mary Flynn. Frankly, when I heard that she had been cast as Mary, I was skeptical. The part seemed to require more of a whiskey-soaked, world-weary countenance than I had seen from her before, but she brought a spunky freshness to the role, while still evincing the jaded quality the part requires.

The major hole in the cast for me was Lin-Manuel Miranda as Charley Kringas. Based on his performance in In the Heights, I just didn't see him as the uptight, nebbishy Kringas. And whereas Celia Keenan-Bolger defied my expectations, Miranda merely confirmed them. His "Franklin Shepard, Inc." was forced, breathless, and contained numerous lyric flubs. What's more, his intonation was significantly off throughout the show. When Miranda was singing the second-act "Good Thing Going," Colin Donnell joined him less than halfway through the song. Sure, it would make sense that composer Frank would join lyricist Charley as they present their new song at a party thrown by the future star of their show, but it really seemed that Donnell joined Miranda because the latter couldn't handle the vocals on his own.

Overall, James Lapine's direction for this Merrily was taut and efficient, but the show started with a significantly unfocused opening number. As you may know, Merrily We Roll Along, much like the 1934 play by George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart upon which it is based, travels backwards in time, starting with the final dissolution of the relationship between Frank and his two old friends Mary and Charley, and ends with their optimistic introduction some twenty years prior. This reverse construction has famously confused audiences since the musical premiered in 1981, and Lapine seemed to be making a concerted effort to solve this problem once and for all.

As many New York theatrical productions do these days, this Merrily features liberal use of digital projections, including an extended reverse-chronological montage during the opening sequence. It's as if the creators are impatiently saying, "Get it? The show goes backwards. Now can we just move on and watch the god-damned show?" Fortunately, the projections, as well as the ham-handed presentation style, fade into the background as the show actually gets going.

What really struck me as I sat watching this Merrily is how intensely moving the score is in context. Quite a few of the show's numbers have made their way into cabaret shows, revues, and the rep books of musical-theater folks the world over. But it was striking to me how powerful, for instance, "Not a Day Goes By" can be in the context of the show, particularly as rendered here by Betsy Wolfe as Frank's wronged first wife Beth. Even more devastating was the song's reprise, which is sung by Beth and Frank, but also by Mary, who watches helplessly as the man she so desperately loves marries another woman. The staging for this scene was a bit static, but the moment itself was stunning.

It may be because the original cast recording is so imprinted upon my consciousness, but I have never really warmed up to Sondheim's changes to the score, particularly "That Frank," which to me pales next to the original "Rich and Happy." And "Growing Up," although it features an interesting use of the "Good Thing Going" motif, is rather inert and virtually tuneless.

As I sat watching the show, I initially found myself in analytical mode, trying to figure out why the show has never worked and guage whether it was was coming closer to working this time. But, late in the second act, I found my analytical impulses receding in the face of the sheer power of the score, the characters, the performances, and my 30-plus years of fascination and affection for this show. It's funny: just as I began to write in my notebook how the show's central conceit was intellectually interesting but emotionally hollow, the first chords of "Our Time," the show's final number, began, and I became overwhelmed with emotion.

Maybe Merrily We Roll Along works after all.

Review - Company Film with Neil Patrick Harris and Patti LuPone

We seem to be seeing quite a bit more of these "cinecasts," i.e. Broadway shows and the like taped and presented in local movie theaters. It started with Rent, of course, and lately we've seen cinecasts of The Importance of Being Earnest, Memphis, and Fela, as well as a number of shows from London, including Frankenstein and The Merry Wives of Windsor. (Yes, technically Fela was taped in London, but it had a Broadway pedigree.)

It seems that producers are catching on to the idea that, far from cannibalizing ticket sales for the live versions of these shows, these cinecasts might actually serve as marketing for future tours (e.g. Memphis) or to maximize revenue for a show that might not tour (e.g. Fela).

Cinecasts can also expand the audience for a strictly limited engagement, as was the case with Stephen Sondheim's Company, a filmed version of a recent concert staging of the show with the New York Philharmonic, starring Neil Patrick Harris and Patti LuPone. I didn't catch the live concert, despite my numerous trips to New York, but I can't say I really went out of my way. Did I really need to see Company again, I asked myself, even with such a stellar cast? I mean, I've seen many productions of the show, and the recent John Doyle Broadway production is available on DVD. 

But I did catch a recent screening of the concert film, and five minutes into the showing, I realized that I could never really get too much of Company. It's really that good. Beyond the magnificent Sondheim score (it may even be his best), there's also George Furth's underrated book. People complain that the book is too fragmented, too cynical. But, from where I sit, those are two of its key assets. Despite the deliberate fragmentation, the show flows and builds elegantly, especially after the deft changes Furth made to the libretto for the 1995 Broadway production.

As for the headliners here, Neil Patrick Harris makes for a warm and wry Bobby, bringing to the role all of the charm that made him such an effective and entertaining host for the Tony Awards this year and two years ago. His singing voice can sometimes be a bit thin, but his intonation is strong and he performed the songs with great emotional fluency. And what more can I say about La LuPone? The woman is a sheer force of nature and vocal powerhouse nonpareil. There's a reason Patti's a living legend, and here she's at her diva-rrific best. Her rendition of "The Ladies Who Lunch" was gripping theater, and the surrounding scenes dripped with her trademark sharpness and staccato delivery. In short: fab-u-lous.

Sharing space above the marquee were some Broadway dilettantes, folks who might not elsewise have found their way onto a New York stage: Stephen Colbert ("The Colbert Report"), John Cryer ("Two and a Half Men"), and Christina Hendricks ("Mad Men"). Each had his or her own charms, especially a delightful Hendricks as the flighty flight attendant April, but what really made this concert worth watching, beyond the aforementioned Harris and LuPone, was the exceedingly strong supporting cast of stage veterans: Martha Plimpton, Craig Bierko, Jim Walton, Katie Finneran, Jill Paice, Jennifer Laura Thompson, Aaron Lazar, Anika Noni Rose, & Chryssie Whitehead. Tony winner Finneran was a hoot as the neurotic bride Amy, and Whitehead was a knockout as Kathy, dancing up a storm in the number "Tick Tock," which Michael Bennett originally created for Donna McKechnie.

The concert was directed by Lonny Price, who seems to be making a career out of directing these concert presentations (see Candide and Camelot), and that's really not such a bad thing. He always seems to bring his own individual touches to these concerts, although his Candide really lost steam toward the end. His Company seemed more slowly paced than Doyle's, but with considerably more warmth and humanity. Despite the show's length, I found that I was almost always engaged, except during Anika Noni Rose's "Another Hundred People," which just kind of sat there, and "You Could Drive a Person Crazy," which featured weak vocals and some rather limp staging by Josh Rhodes.

So, I'm all for more of these cinecasts, but the people involved need to find a way to market them more effectively, at least in the Boston area. There was a grand total of 18 people in the theater at the showing I attended. What's more, the theaters themselves need to do a better job of actually presenting these events. Each time I've attended a cinecast, the theater staff has been clueless. They're usually not even aware of the events. 

I saw Company at the Showcase Cinemas in Woburn, MA, and the movie-theater staff got nothing right. The show started 20 minutes late. Somehow the computer that was supposed to start the show didn't kick in, and nobody was paying any attention to the computer, so we had to seek out someone in charge to look into it. Then, once the film started, the house lights didn't go down, and we had to hunt someone down again. Then, at the end of the show, the lights didn't come back on, and we had to fumble our way to the doors.

When I addressed my displeasure to the manager on duty, he couldn't have been less interested or concerned, and made a half-hearted offer of some free movie passes. I don't really go to the movies, so I declined. But I've heard numerous examples of similar experiences that people have had with these cinecasts across the country. I recently read somewhere that these cinecasts could represent a bit of a boon for a struggling movie-theater industry.

Only if they take them more seriously.

Review - Where's Charley? at Encores

Phew. I'm finally caught up with my blogging on this season's musicals. (And it wasn't always pretty, m'kay?) Also, I've submitted all of my grades at the Boston Conservatory, so I have a chance to go back and catch up on a few shows that I was able to see but haven't yet had the opportunity to blog about.

One show that fell between the blogging cracks for me was the delightful Encores production of Where's Charley?, which is just the sort of obscure little gem that we look to institutions like Encores to discover, dust off, and restore to its former luster. This lively little confection boasts music and lyrics by Frank Loesser and book by George Abbott, based on the fin de siècle farce Charley's Aunt by Brandon Thomas.

In retrospect, it's hard to imagine how such a charming show could drift into obscurity. Frank Loesser would, of course, go on to craft the scores to such notable shows as Guys and Dolls, The Most Happy Fella, and How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. The star of Where's Charley? was Ray Bolger, who was already a significant star of both stage and screen when the show premiered in 1948, and who won the second-ever Tony Award for best actor in a musical. The show ran for nearly 800 performances, which is about two years, but unfortunately the score was never recorded because of a musicians' strike.

The show's London production, starring Norman Wisdom, did receive a recording, but the CD is a long-out-of-print collector's item, although the recording is available in MP3 form, and on-demand through ArvivMusic. And Bolger recorded some of the songs independently, including "Make a Miracle" and "Once In Love With Amy," which are both available on this version of the Guys and Dolls cast recording.

The story to Where's Charley? isn't much to speak of. It's just one of those mistaken-identity, man-dresses-up-as-a-woman, (and-for-reasons-we-find-oh-so-droll-in-hindsight), door-slamming farces, and the plot complications are often ridiculously thin. (One woman becomes jealous of her suitor because of the picture of an attractive woman that he keeps on his piano. Oh, horror!) And the show's denouement rests upon a development that is every bit as predictable as it is flimsy.

However, Frank Loesser's score is charming, overflowing with a rich profusion of delights that hint strongly at the future genius of Guys and Dolls and How to Succeed (the latter of which I also saw, and thoroughly enjoyed, the same weekend I took in Where's Charley?). What's more, the songs clearly reflect the Rodgers & Hammerstein revolution, each serving a specific dramatic purpose within the context of the show. "My Darling, My Darling" is a lilting love song with surprisingly erudite lyrics, reflecting the education level of the characters. "Make a Miracle" is a comic list song that illustrates time and place by enumerating many of technological advances awaiting the show's late-19th-Century characters.

I wasn't quite sure of the relevance of "The New Ashmolean Marching Society and Students' Conservatory Band," although with Encores shows, that's often more a function of playwright David Ives' adaptations than a reflection on the quality of the original piece. Nonetheless, the score to Where's Charley? deserves a full, modern recording. Perhaps the Loesser estate could persuade (and by "persuade" I mean "pay") Tommy Krasker over at PS Classics to give the score the deluxe treatment it deserves.

Director John Doyle coaxed sharp characterizations from his uniformly talented cast, and provided them with sprightly staging for the songs. Most notable among the cast was Rob McClure as Charley, who had a winning stage presence, a vibrant way with a punchline, and who proved himself quite adept at physical comedy. It was also quite a delight to see Howard McGillin and Rebecca Luker, two of the finest voices of my generation, paired together on-stage, although I must confess that it's become increasingly distressing that performers who are roughly my age are suddenly being relegated to the parental roles. (I guess this means my ingénue days are officially over. Sigh.)

Review - Lost in the Stars at Encores

Yeah, I know. I've been greatly remiss in my blogging duties. Mea culpa. I'm wearing a hair shirt even as I type. But the semester is in full swing here at The Boston Conservatory, and this is my first real chance since classes resumed to sit down and craft a blog post.

Thankfully, my blogging and my teaching often have a chance to intersect, as they did recently when I took in a performance of Lost in the Stars, which was part of the current season of offerings from Encores at New York City Center.

I've been teaching about Lost in the Stars for years, but until the present production had never had a chance to see the show live. I've had to make do with the 1974 screen adaptation, which makes a significant number of changes to the show, some of them ill-advised, if not downright unforgivable. Otherwise, opportunities to see Lost in the Stars are pretty scarce. The original Broadway run of the show in 1949 was 281 performances, and a 1972 revival ran only 39 performances. Since then, the show has pretty much disappeared from view. As we'll see, there are reasons for that.

For the uninitiated, Lost in the Stars was composer Kurt Weill's final Broadway musical. He died at the age of 50 shortly after the show premiered. The book and lyrics are by playwright Maxwell Anderson, whose only other Broadway musical was the turgid and preachy Knickerbocker Holiday. I mention this because, although Lost in the Stars holds an important place in musical-theater history, that distinction comes more from the show's early sympathetic treatment of blacks, and from its distinction of being the first significant musical tragedy. Lost in the Stars, based on the novel Cry, the Beloved Country by South African author Alan Paton, is ambitious and important. Unfortunately, it isn't very good.

Lost in the Stars tells the heartbreaking story of Steven Kumalo, a rural South African preacher, who sets off to Johannesburg to find his wayward son Absalom, only to discover that Absalom is in serious trouble with the law. Far from a simplistic anti-Apartheid screed, the story is rather a complex exploration of the effects of racial segregation and institutionalized distrust.

It's really too bad that Anderson and Weill weren't able to craft a more cohesive show, one worthy of its admirable ambitions. For, apart from a few heart-rending moments, the show as a whole is strangely unaffecting. Lost in the Stars, at least as presented here in a concert adaptation by David Ives, plays more like a straight play with interpolated folk songs and the occasional oratorio.

The score comprises two distinct sets of songs: plant-and-belt solos and Greek-chorus-style choral numbers, with jarringly disparate styles. The music for the book songs often has a blithe, jaunty air that seems out of sync with the tragic nature of the story. The choral numbers have more of a somber tone, but both sets of songs feature lyrics that are too often oblique and allegorical, which impedes any emotional connection the audience might feel with the characters. What's more, the solo numbers typically have a stop-and-sing quality that thwarts rather than propels the forward motion of the drama.

Given Kurt Weill's working history with Bertolt Brecht, perhaps it's not surprising that many of his songs here feel like Brecht's famed alienation devices. But whereas Brecht, through his "epic theater," sought to create a consciously critical observer, such an impetus would seem counterproductive for the story to Lost in the Stars, at least from where I sat. I wanted to feel more for these characters, not sit back and intellectualize their situation. As such, I found my attention wandering during the songs, but considerably more engaged during the book scenes.

[SPOILER ALERT: I reveal the ending of the show in the text below.]

There were, of course, exceptions, and one in particular was simply stunning. I've always been a huge fan of the show's title number, given a stirring rendition here by Chuck Cooper as Steven Kumalo. The preacher, a man of deep, abiding faith, starts to question whether God has abandoned his people, based on the tragic events that are unfolding in Steven's life. Cooper makes the preacher's heartbreak profoundly palpable, but the moment made me all the more cognizant of what was missing from the rest of the score.

By and large, the most effective scenes in the show seem to have been taken directly from the book, presented here without benefit of music. Steven's son Absalom has been condemned to death for a murder that took place during a robbery. Absalom shoots a young white man, ironically a man who is a staunch advocate of the rights of blacks and an Apartheid abolitionist. And here's the thing: Absalom is genuinely guilty, although he shoots the gun in a frenzied panic. That's something I've always admired about Paton's story: it isn't cut and dried. There are no cardboard villains or two-dimensional heroes. These are real people, with real flaws, which adds complex drama and realism to the story. Paton's novel may be about the tragedy of Apartheid, but it respects its audience enough to flesh the story out in all its moral ambiguity.

Despite my lack of engagement during most of the show, when the final scene arrived, I was a wet sloppy mess. The father of the slain white man visits Steven at the precise hour when Absalom is to be hanged. The white man's father, a man who had been a firm believer in Apartheid, has come to realize that both men share in the tragedy of their respective losses. The man offers Steven his hand in friendship just as the church bell tolls to indicate that the hanging has taken place. Cooper let out a wail of anguish that shook me to the core and had me unsuccessfully choking back tears at the sheer force of the man's grief. It was a thrilling moment, and one that nearly redeemed the spotty construction reflected throughout the rest of show.

Intent versus execution. That's something that I'm always harping on with my students. Just because a show has good intentions, or a meaningful message, that doesn't mean that the show gets a pass in terms of the quality of its execution. And yet, I still found myself thankful that Weill and Anderson had made the attempt. At one point during the show, some anti-Apartheid activists discuss their strategy. Change will only come slowly, they say. They can't push too hard, or they would risk losing whatever progress they'd already made. I found my self thinking, as these people were discussing the pain of their situation and the coming of a better day, that these poor souls would have another 40 years to wait for that day to come.

I also found myself wondering whether, in its admittedly flawed way, Lost in the Stars had helped make that change a reality.

The Worst Musicals of 2010

One thing I like to tell my students is that quality is always the exception. Good times, bum times, there's always a paucity of true quality, almost by definition. Sure, there have been times when the economics allowed for more productions, which seemed to give rise to more great shows. But that's partly because there were simply more shows being written and produced. It's not as though there was a higher percentage of great shows in the '40s and '50s. There was plenty of crap, too.

This, of course, is a major oversimplification. The show-development process was very different in the '40s and '50s, and there were more people who were able to make a living doing nothing but writing shows. Today, these folks are few and far between.

But that doesn't mean that people aren't writing new musicals. As I type this, I'm looking at two large boxes of scripts and CDs that I recently received from The Eugene O'Neill Theater Center. This year, I'm a reader for the O'Neill's annual National Music Theater Conference, and for the past week and most of next week, I'm reading through the scripts and listening to the CDs and making recommendations for which shows should move on in the selection process. And you know what? Most of them aren't very good, at least in their current form. But every once in a while, there's a script that shows a glimmer of promise. And that's probably the way it should be.

Why am I telling you all this? Because this post is ostensibly about the worst musicals that I personally encountered in 2010, and I thought it was important to set the context: there will always be bad musical theater, as long as there's musical theater. I applaud anyone who sets about the task of putting together a new musical. But that doesn't mean I have to applaud the results. Musicals don't get an "A" for effort. What matters is what ends up on the stage and whether it works artistically.

Anyway, here's my list of the worst productions I saw in 2010. Click on the show titles to read my original reviews.

1. Come Fly Away - Quite possibly the most tedious show I've ever seen. Not because there wasn't a single line of dialog, or that there wasn't an original score. I'm not one of these purists who says that shows need to have X, Y, and Z to be considered true musicals. I'm completely open to the possibility that a show that's 100% dance could be compelling, moving, and entertaining. Come Fly Away wasn't. Part of the problem was the characterizations: I had no idea who these people were individually. But the main problem was that nothing really much happened to them. It was just a 90-minute morass of undifferentiated people and meaningless dance. There were a few times when Twyla Tharp's choreography rose above the pedestrian, but these moments were few, and not frequent enough to hold my attention. Tharp has apparently reworked the show and brought it to Las Vegas under the name Sinatra: Dance With Me. If you happen to be in Vegas, I say resist the invitation.

2. The Addams Family - As bad as The Addams Family is, I have to admit it was never boring. The credit here should probably go to the sturdy cast of Broadway stalwarts, including Nathan Lane and Bebe Neuwirth. My main issue was that no one in the creative department seemed to be even passingly familiar with The Addams Family. Would Morticia be afraid of growing old? No, she'd throw a party to celebrate her first crow's foot. Would Wednesday come home one day and announce that she expected "One Normal Night" from her family? No. The Addamses haven't the slightest idea that they *aren't* normal. That's part of the humor. Would Uncle Fester proclaim, after the Addams ancestors have risen from the dead, that no one would return to the grave until true love prevailed? Puh-lease. The book by Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice produced a few choice, if nonspecific, one liners, but Andrew Lippa score was embarrassingly flat and generic. The show, however, has become a money-maker, at least until Nathan Lane leaves in March. Will the show continue to sell out under the helm of the redoubtable Roger Rees? Stay tuned.

3. Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown - I hated this show. Hated, hated, hated it. But, as often happens when shows get either really bad or really good word of mouth, the second wave of public reaction has gone in the other direction. "Geez, it's not *that* bad," people seem to be saying now. Well, yes it is. The book was flat, the score didn't contain a single memorable number, the dance was superfluous, and the mechanized set overshadowed the proceedings to a distracting degree. You know a show isn't working when you have Sherie Rene Scott, Patti LuPone, Laura Benanti, Brian Stokes Mitchell and Danny Burstein on stage in front of you and you can't quite shake the feeling that you'd really rather be someplace else. That said, I was going to give the show a second chance. As a newly appointed member of the Outer Critics Circle, I was invited to the see the show next Wednesday. But, as you may have heard, the show will be closing this weekend, three weeks earlier than previously announced. All that star power, and the show couldn't even manage to sell above 50% during Christmas week. Ouch.

4. Promises, Promises - Easily my biggest personal disappointment of the season. I'm not really that big a fan of the show itself, but the cast (Kristin Chenoweth, Sean Hayes, Tony Goldwyn) and crew (director/choreographer Rob Ashford) had me practically giddy with anticipation. What happened? Well, Chenoweth was simply miscast in the role of a suicidal schlub. Hayes never let me forget for a minute that he was performing: he never quite made the transition past the mannerisms into playing the whole person. Goldwyn was stuck in the role of an underwritten, cardboard bad guy. And Ashford seemed to be too focused on the choreography - which was undistinguished - and gave the characterizations and pacing of the show short shrift. If it weren't for the scintillating Katie Finneran in an all-too-brief appearance in the second act, Promises, Promises would have been a complete washout. The show has sold rather well based on the presence of the stars, but clearly the producers understand that the show itself is a bit of a dog, since they're simply closing the show at the end of the stars' contracts.

5. The Blue Flower - The only regional entry on my list this year, The Blue Flower is currently playing at the American Repertory Theater in Cambridge. While I applaud the ART for including such an adventurous show in its season (especially after recent charges that the venerable ART is becoming too populist), I really wish the show itself had been less of a pretentious bore. Neophyte creators Jim and Ruth Bauer have put together a show in which the main characters rarely if ever speak, but rather express their thoughts and emotions through painfully oblique song lyrics. The show relies on lazy narration and projections to tell the actual story. The result is an admittedly ambitious but ultimately frustrating attempt at exploring and illuminating the dynamic of art and war, and the lives of the people caught in between.

 6. A Little Night Music - Let me be excruciatingly clear here: I'm specifically referring to the Broadway production of A Little Night Music when Catherine Zeta-Jones was the star of the show. I must admit, in my review, I said that CZJ was "perfectly presentable, if uninspired" as Desiree. But then she won the Tony. The frickin' Tony. And why? Because she's a star, and the Tony voters wanted to congratulate themselves on being able to attract stars to Broadway. And then I saw A Little Night Music again, this time with Bernadette Peters as Desiree. What a transformation. (Read my re-review.) The production was virtually the same, but Peters, through the sheer force of her talent, professionalism, and genuine star presence, brought the entire production into focus and transformed the rest of the cast along with her. It was an amazing feat to witness, and the comparison brought into unflattering relief exactly how wanting CZJ's performance really was. The producers did themselves a favor by bringing in Peters: the show ran for another 6 months and probably brought them a lot closer to solvency. But they weren't doing CZJ any favors. In retrospect, I'll bet she wishes she could have simply paid the producers off to have closed the show on her departure.

7. The Burnt Part Boys - It seems unfair to pick on The Burnt Part Boys, simply because the show meant so well. It was a very serious musical about two young men who lost their father in a mining accident ten years before, and their efforts to restore honor to their father's memory. Pretty worthy stuff. Unfortunately the show itself didn't do its ambitious subject matter full justice. The bluegrass score by Chris Miller and Nathan Tysen scored points for authenticity, but the songs themselves didn't differentiate themselves from each other, and the result was idiomatic but dull. The cast was game, particularly Al Calderon and Charlie Brady as the central pair of brothers, but the book by Mariana Elder didn't really give them anywhere to go. Plus, the final plot complication was unconvincingly resolved, which left the entire show with a sort of "Why?" kind of feeling at the end. The characters and conceit for The Burnt Part Boys were more than worthy. Unfortunately, the score and the book didn't live up to the promise.

8. American Idiot - Another show that fell considerably short of its admittedly worthy ambitions. The best parts of American Idiot were the hard-rocking but melodic Green Day songs, the cast of energetic young performers, and a spectacular visual style. Where the show fell down was the story. (That really seems to be the theme of this list overall: these shows are long on concept but short on actual narrative.) Once director Michael Mayer came up with a scenario to hold the Green Day songs together, he seemed to just let it go at that and not give the characters anything to do except brood. American Idiot has been playing to really anemic houses, except for the week when Green Day front man Billie Joe Armstrong stepped into the part of St. Jimmy. So, rather than close a show that simply isn't catching on, the producers have persuaded Armstrong to join the show for an additional 50 performances, to help the show survive the winter. My prediction: the show will do extremely well with Armstrong, but once he leaves it will be back to business as usual.

9. Freckleface Strawberry - Just because you're writing a show for kids doesn't mean you get a pass with regard to dramatic structure and genuine inspiration. The show is based on the children's book FreckleFace Strawberry by the luminous Julianne Moore. But in bringing the story to the stage, the creators have failed to provide a cohesive story or a decent score. The show seems thrown together rather randomly, without thought for any kind of unity among the various elements. The energetic cast members give it their all, but ultimately they can't overcome what is essentially a hodgepodge of inferior songs and a book that's about as watertight as a colander.

10. The Roar of the Greasepaint/The Smell of the Crowd - I truly love the York Theater, and I genuinely support their efforts to both rediscover musical gems from the past as well as hone and burnish the jewels of the future. So I don't mean this to be a reflection at all on the valiant efforts of the good people at the York. I'm sure they meant well when they selected The Roar of the Greasepaint/The Smell of the Crowd as part of their fall Musicals in Mufti series. The score has plenty of catchy songs, including "Where Would You Be Without Me?," "Nothing Can Stop Me Now," "Who Can I Turn To?" and "A Wonderful Day Like Today." Listening to the cast recording, it's easy to wonder why the show has slipped into relative obscurity. But then there's that book. That pretentious, self-important, irritatingly allegorical book. I'm genuinely glad that I had a chance to experience the show, if only to give me a stronger sense of just how ponderous and annoying the shows from the 1960s could get. But otherwise I won't be in any great hurry to re-experience TROTGTSOTC any time soon.

DISHONORABLE MENTION: Million Dollar Quartet - MDQ wasn't all that awful as a show, but it does represent the increasing trend toward safe choices that give Baby Boomers exactly what they want, and nothing more. I have to admit that there's a little streak of vindictiveness lurking here. I originally hadn't planned on mentioning the show at all until last week, when I made a snide comment on Twitter about Stray Cats bassist Lee Rocker joining the cast for 12 performances in January. In the context of the show's growing list of one-night-only guest artists, including Jerry Lee Lewis, Darlene Love, Ray Benson, and Melissa Etheridge, I remarked that MDQ was becoming the next Chicago, in terms of stunt casting, and that I didn't mean that as praise. Well, a couple of my followers (no names, but we're talking really highly placed people here) took me to task for criticizing a producer's efforts to keep a show running. The implication seemed to be that, as an increasingly well known member of the theatrical community myself, I should be more positive and supportive. I bristled. My tweeted responses were as follows: "If I had liked the show, I might applaud it. But I didn't, so I don't. My $0.02," "I reserve the right to praise efforts that prolong shows I like and criticize efforts to attenuate shows I detest," and finally "And I happen to think that Broadway needs my cynicism in the face of shameless hucksterism. I'm on nobody's payroll."

Whaddya think, dear reader? Do I owe it to the Broadway community to be more supportive (i.e. mindless), or is considered criticism the best support of all?

The Best Musicals of 2010

Yes, it's that time of year again. When otherwise intelligent writers take time out of their busy schedules to create arbitrary, specious, and otherwise suspect lists of the best and worst of the year. I hate lists. But I also love lists.

Why the ambivalence? Well, I'm as much a sucker for lists as anyone else: it gives me a chance to reflect on what I loved and loathed over the course of the year. To be honest, lists drive traffic, but they also spark debate. But I also find them as artificial and unfair as, say, the Tony Awards. Why must everything be a contest? Why must we continually pit people and product against each other in the relentless pursuit of good, better, and best?

My personal hesitations notwithstanding, I nonetheless present the following as my decidedly personal, skewed, biased, and irreverent take on the best musicals - and one play with tons of music - of the year. To read my reviews, click on the title links. Sometime next week I"ll be posting my list of the worst. (And it ain't gonna be pretty, m'kay?)

1. The Scottsboro Boys - Hands down, the most powerful, tuneful, and paradoxically entertaining show of the year. How fitting that The Scottsboro Boys would cap the Broadway career of two of the most daring and innovative creators in Broadway history: John Kander and Fred Ebb. There's been a lot of moaning about The Scottsboro Boys with regard to its supposedly premature closing on Broadway. Yes, it's too bad the show couldn't find a wider audience. But here's a show that, in an ideal world, would have been better off finding a berth Off-Broadway. Unfortunately, there really isn't room for The Scottsboro Boys Off-Broadway either. Because of its challenging subject matter, it's really a show that can probably only play non-profit theaters, and there's talk of touring the show around to regional non-profits. The producers are also promising to bring the show back to Broadway in time for the Tony Awards in the spring. They're asking fans of the show to put their money where their emails are, and pledge to buy a ticket if the show reopens. Despite my reservations, I signed the pledge. Will you?

 2. Anyone Can Whistle - What can you do with a show that has a fantastic score but a mess of a book? Well, you cut the book down to a bare minimum, you cast Donna Murphy, Sutton Foster, and Raúl Esparza in the leads, and you get Casey Nicholaw to stage it. The result was the exhilarating Encores production of Anyone Can Whistle, a perennial favorite among Stephen Sondheim's many ardent followers. Foster and Esparza had terrific chemistry, but it was Donna Murphy's virtuoso turn as Cora that really carried the day. Murphy is one of the best performers we currently have on Broadway, and she dug into the part of Cora with gusto and relish. It was truly one of those performances that you carry with you throughout your theater-going career. Nicholaw's direction and staging were nearly as indelible. Anyone Can Whistle is a show that depends upon a strong directorial hand, and Nicholaw brought the entire cast onto the same page with an arch but never clownish tone. Nicholaw's work on Elf was somewhat less inspired, but he has clearly proven himself a director and choreographer of tremendous promise.

3. La Cage aux Folles - Whoever said it was too soon to bring back La Cage clearly underestimated both the strength of the show itself and Terry Johnson's honest and empathic direction. I actually sort of enjoyed the 2004 revival of La Cage, but it wasn't until I saw the current revival that I truly understood the emotional impact of the piece. This production would probably never have happened without Kelsey Grammer, but the real star of the show was Douglas Hodge, who managed to be both mannered and moving at the same time. I'll be very interested to see how the show changes under the ministrations of its upcoming replacement cast: Jeffrey Tambor and Harvey Fierstein as Georges and Albin, respectively. As we saw this season with A Little Night Music (see below), replacement casts can have a huge impact on the effectiveness of the show. Yes, Fierstein wrote the durn thing, and has a lot of drag experience. But can he bring Zaza to convincing life? I can't wait to find out.

4. A Little Night Music - I want to be very clear here: I'm specifically referring to the Broadway production of A Little Night Music *after* Bernadette Peters and Elaine Stritch joined up. I had very little praise for the show under the helm of Catherine Zeta-Jones (read my review). But once Bernadette and Elaine came on board, suddenly the production transformed itself into a genuinely moving and heartfelt show. Sure, Bernadette chewed a bit of David Farley's unappealing scenery. And Elaine forgot her lines to a distracting extent. (At the performance I attended, she looked at young Fredericka at one point and bellowed, "What the hell was I going to say to you?") But the sheer presence, professionalism, and warmth that these two wonderful performers exuded permeated the rest of the cast, bringing what was a ragtag bunch of admittedly talented but unfocused performers into a unified troupe. It was one of the most drastic theatrical transformations I've ever witnessed, and for that we have Catherine Zeta-Jones to thank: the show would never have come to Broadway without her, and then we wouldn't have had the chance to see a far superior performer take her place.

5. Yank - Sheer joy, both in terms of the writing and the performances. Yank was a lovely surprise for me. I'm certainly sympathetic to the subject matter: the story of two gay soldiers finding love during World War II. But what made this show work was the delightful score by David Zellnik (book and lyrics) and Joseph Zellnik (music), and a bevy of smart and moving performances, led my the terrific Bobby Steggert and Ivan Hernandez. The pair brought such credibility and warmth to their scenes together, it was quite easy to get caught up in their passion. The show was one of a number of Off-Broadway shows that were announced for Broadway this season, but Yank was later postponed, even after director David Cromer signed on to further develop the show. I'm not sure Yank will meet a more promising fate than the other shows on this list that moved from Off-Broadway to On-, but I greatly look forward to seeing this show again, hopefully with the delightful Bobby Steggert in the starring role.

6. Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson - What a difference an audience made. The first time I saw Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson at The Public Theater, I was a bit nonplussed (read my review). The book and direction were sharp, but I found the the score to be one long undifferentiated drone. Plus, the audience just wasn't getting it, which made it hard to really appreciate the humor. Then I saw the show after it transferred to Broadway. I still had problems connecting with the score, but the preview audience was eating it up, and I went happily along for the ride. Some people have quibbled that the show plays fast and loose with history, taking Jackson's story and forcefully wringing out modern political resonance. To those people I reply, "Yeah, so?" Name one musical that's historically accurate. 1776? Ragtime? Name one musical that's faithful to its source. My Fair Lady? West Side Story? Gypsy? Sweeney Todd? Nope. Not one of 'em. I simply don't buy the notion that shows need to be documentaries and stick slavishly to history. I'm all for that which serves the author's vision of the piece, provided it's executed with genuine wit and passion, as it most certainly is in BBAJ.

7. The Kid - This one kind of came out of nowhere for me, played for a while, and then went away. I'm really hoping to see The Kid resurface at some point, because there was a lot worth recommending in the show. The story involves sex columnist Dan Savage and the efforts by him and his boyfriend to become parents. Along the way, they meet with various obstacles, challenges, and eventually success. The show is by a talented trio of newcomers, Michael Zam (book), Andy Monroe (music), and Jack Lechner, (lyrics), and featured a charming cast, led by the always remarkable Christopher Sieber. There have been hints of a cast recording as well as future versions of the show, and I for one look forward to both, as well as to future work by these promisingly talented gentlemen.

8. See Rock City - Another pleasant Off-Broadway surprise, and one that I might not even have noticed if my friend Andy Propst at Theatermania hadn't pointed it out to me. The show was a travelogue of sorts, taking the viewer on a tour of various tourist destinations across the United States. What could have been a fragmented mess instead coalesced into a humorous and moving collation of stories and songs from composer Brad Alexander and lyricist/librettist Adam Mathias. The show was performed by an appealing cast of New York regulars, including Stanley Bahorek, Donna Lynn Champlin, and Bryce Ryness. Combine all that with wonderfully environmental staging by director Jack Cummings III, and the result was an innovative and engaging evening, one that I sincerely hope has a future life.

9. Brief Encounter - "Oh, come on now, Chris. Brief Encounter is a play, not a musical." Yeah, I know. But Emma Rice's imaginative staging of Noël Coward's play and screenplay was also chockablock with some of Coward's best songs, including "Mad About the Boy" and "A Room With a View." The show was veritably suffused with music, dotted with dance, and rife with the sort of inspired theatricality that most Broadway musicals can only aspire to. The cast strolled the aisles of the Studio 54 in troubadour fashion, and even took literal flight above the stage. What's more, the spectacle didn't detract from the human element of the story, but rather enhanced it, creating one of the most sublime and unforgettable theatrical experiences in many a season. Simply enchanting.

10. Fanny - It tells you something about the artistic caliber of the musicals on Broadway this year that I needed to list two Encores productions to fill out my top ten. But, in truth, Fanny probably would have made the list anyway, mostly because it represented an opportunity to experience what programs like Encores are all about: a rediscovered, nearly forgotten little gem of a show with a delightful score (by the under-appreciated Harold Rome), a funny and moving book (S. N. Behrman and Joshua Logan), performed by a sturdy cast of performers, both old (Fred Applegate and George Hearn) and new (Elena Shaddow and James Snyder). Encores got off to a bit of a pedestrian start this season with Bells Are Ringing, but I'm genuinely intrigued by the season's remaining two productions: the obscure Where's Charley? and the heartrending Lost in the Stars. Watch this space for my take on both.

As Thousands Cheer and the 1930s Revue

Yes, folks, it's that time of the semester again: staged-reading madness!

Regular readers will likely recall that, as part of my musical-theater history course at the Boston Conservatory, my students take part in a staged reading of a historically significant but relatively unknown or even forgotten musical. The idea is to expose them to shows that they otherwise might not have a chance to perform in, or even see. I usually like to say that if I tell people the name of the show I'm directing, and that person has actually heard of it, then I have failed.

Now, this isn't entirely true, but it conveys the essence of my goal. The inaugural show in this series, in the fall of 2009, was the George M. Cohan musical Little Johnny Jones (1905). Last semester we did Very Good Eddie (1915), one of the influential "Princess musicals," with scores by Jerome Kern. Not exactly top-of-mind theater fare, but nonetheless historically significant in the development of the musical-theater form.

This semester, I wanted to do a topical revue, a very common genre in the 1920s and 1930s, although the form has since virtually disappeared. These shows essentially grew out of the lavish Broadway revues that sprang up between the two world wars, the most famous being those of Florenz Ziegfeld. Other entrants in this genre included Earl Carroll’s Vanities, George White’s Scandals, and the Shubert brothers’ Passing Show series. The revues of the '20s were mostly escapist fare, although they did contain the occasional nod to topicality and social relevance.

The 1930s were a time when the Broadway revue would reach both its maturity and ultimate decline. The standard formula featured marquee-value stars, tuneful scores, and copious dance. Add in plenty of vaudevillian-style humor and some stunning visuals – in the form of lavish sets and costumes, and a brace of pulchritudinous showgirls – and the stage was set for a grand night at the theater. The least interesting revues of the ’30s were little more than variety shows. But the most compelling were an art form in themselves, reflecting a cohesion that brought all the elements together into a unique experience, often one with a lot more on its mind than mere entertainment.

In the transition from the '20s to the '30s, the tone of shows on Broadway changed a great deal, and the revue form followed suit. With the advent of the Depression, left-leaning creators co-opted the musical art form to decry, lament, and otherwise comment on the seeming collapse of capitalism. Among the more satiric revue offerings were Pins and Needles, Life Begins at 8:40, and As Thousands Cheer, the last of which the students of my musical-theater history class will be presenting this Saturday and Sunday at the Boston Conservatory.

Fresh from the success of their well-received Face the Music (which features an unscrupulous producer who wants to deliberately produce a flop show - sound familiar?), composer/lyricist Irving Berlin and librettist Moss Hart turned their satiric eye to the events of the day. They chose as their framing device the daily newspaper. Each of the scenes and songs in the show was preceded by a newspaper headline, with sketches that poked fun at wide variety of subjects, from the marital woes of Barbara Hutton ("Barbara Hutton to Marry Prince Mdvani") and Joan Crawford ("Joan Crawford and Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. Announce Divorce"), to Gandhi and Aimee Semple McPherson ("Gandhi Goes on New Hunger Strike"), to an embittered President and Mrs. Hoover leaving the White House ("Franklin Delano Roosevelt Inaugurated Tomorrow"). The score featured what would become some of Berlin's most popular songs, including "Easter Parade" (The Rotogravure Section) and "Heat Wave" ("Heat Wave Hits New York City").

But the most memorable, and heartbreaking moment in the show comes in the second act. An African-American woman sings what initially seems to be yet another "He Done Me Wrong" torch song, but at the end of the song the headline reveals the stark truth: "Unknown Negro Lynched by Angry Mob in Mississippi." The song is the simple but stunning "Supper Time," and we have the great fortune of having BoCo junior Lori Tishfield to perform it. (Mark that name my friends. Some day soon you will see it in lights.) As Thousands Cheer was the first Broadway show to give an African-American star, in this case the legendary Ethel Waters, equal billing with whites.

The original 1933 production also featured Marilyn Miller, in her final stage appearance before her premature death, as well as Clifton Webb and Helen Broderick. The show ran at Irving Berlin's Music Box Theatre for some 400 performances, which was pretty impressive for a show that opened in the heart of the Depression. The show has had only one significant revival, in 1998 at New York's Drama Department. That production was directed by Christopher Ashley and featured musical staging by Kathleen Marshall. The cast included Kevin Chamberlin, Judy Kuhn, Howard McGillin, Paula Newsome, Mary Beth Peil and B. D. Wong, and it produced the show's only original cast recording. (Cast recordings didn't really catch on until the 1940s with Oklahoma, although both Pins and Needles and The Cradle Will Rock were recorded prior to that.)

So, hey, if you're in the 'hood, and want to see a show that you otherwise might not have a chance to catch, why not head down to the Boston Conservatory. The show is this Saturday at 9PM and Sunday at 7PM, both in the Zack Box Theater at 8 The Fenway. We'd love to see you there.

Review - Bells Are Ringing at Encores

I was a bit perplexed when I heard that Encores would be presenting Bells Are Ringing as part of its 2010-2011 lineup. Encores is supposedly devoted to presenting underrepresented musicals, shows that some people may have forgotten about. The other two shows in the current season certainly fit that bill: Where's Charley and Lost in the Stars.

But Bells Are Ringing? Didn't we just have a Broadway revival in 2001 with Faith Prince? Granted, the production only lasted two months, but it did yield a cast recording.

Well, it turns out there's a reason that production didn't last: the show isn't very good. Oh, sure, there's a handful of marvelous songs, but they're surrounded by the creakiest book this side of Oklahoma. The state and the musical. The original production of Bells Are Ringing ran 924 performances, but that was mostly on the strength of original star, the marvelous Judy Holliday.

With all due respect to Betty Comden and Adolph Green, their material simply hasn't aged very well. In fact, the stop-and-sing, scene/song/dance structure of Bells Are Ringing was antiquated even in 1956. Director/choreographer Kathleen Marshall, the talented sibling in the Marshall family, does what she can to bring the material to life, but she's irreparably hampered here by manufactured drama (e.g. The local police inspector really has nothing better to do than keep an eye on the supposed nefarious activities at Susaswerphone?) and forced coincidence (e.g. three male characters just happen to all show up at The Pyramid Club, bringing about the show's forced denouement?).

Granted, Bells Are Ringing features some of Jule Styne's most glorious melodies, including that of the enchanting "Long Before I Knew You." Plus, this song has one of the most charming excuses for a second verse I've ever heard. The female lead, Ella Peterson, is taking down dictation from Jeffrey Moss, each the object of the other's affection. Jeff starts with:

Long before I knew you,
Long before I met you,
I was sure I'd find you,
Someday, somewhere.

Jeff finishes the verse, then turns to Ella and says, "You haven't taken down a word." Ella replies, "I didn't have to," and sings the whole thing back to him. It's a delightful moment, right up there with "It Only Takes a Moment" from Hello, Dolly, in which the court reporter plays a very similar function.

But Styne's music here also features some genuine clunkers, such as "Independent" and "Better Than a Dream." Also, there are a number of songs here that are almost completely superfluous, including "Hello, Hello There" and "Mu-Cha-Cha." Yes, the first is meant to demonstrate that Ella has a wonderful way with people, but doesn't the rest of the book amply demonstrate that point? And the second seems as though it was just a chance to give co-choreographer Bob Fosse something to do.

As for the cast, I used to think that Kelli O'Hara was one of our most versatile actresses, excelling at both the subtle drama of Light in the Piazza to the brassy comedy of The Pajama Game. But based on this performance I'm beginning to have my doubts. Her accent seemed recycled from South Pacific. She fared perfectly well when she was singing, particularly on "The Party's Over," but her attempts at comedy fell surprisingly flat.

This may be my adoration for Judy Holliday talking here, but O'Hara doesn't seem to have anywhere near the flare for physical comedy or humorous impersonation to pull off the part of Ella Peterson. Holliday really must have kicked comedic ass. I usually avoid answering those questions that people post on Twitter about the one performance you'd want to go back in time to see. Well, I'd go back and see Judy Holliday in anything, even Hot Spot. (Especially Hot Spot.) But I would particularly love to go back and see her take the flimsy material in Bells Are Ringing and make it work.

The male cast is strong, particularly Will Chase as Jeff Moss. Chase once again demonstrates his remarkable versatility as a performer. He has such a rich and resonant voice, and an acting style that runs the gamut from Rent to The Story of My Life, from High Fidelty to Bells Are Ringing. Now that's range for you. (Matthew Morrison, eat your heart out.) The marvelous David Pittu is always a spark on stage, but Sandor's big number, "It's a Simple Little System," is rather one-joke, and not a very funny one at that. Bobby Cannavale, who showed such a knack for comedy on "Will & Grace," probably seemed a natural choice for the part of Blake Barton, the Brando-wannabe, but on the whole he seemed under-rehearsed.

If seeing Bells Are Ringing elicited any positive response, it was in my desire to break out the original cast recording and throw in my DVD of "Born Yesterday." Judy Holliday is a classic. Bells Are Ringing, not so much.

EIKILFM - Special Diva Edition

This past weekend, I performed with the Boston Gay Men's Chorus, as I do every June as part of Boston's Pride celebrations. Usually, I take part in the dance numbers, and this year was no exception. But I was also approached by the Chorus's artistic director to contribute some material. The focus of the concert was divas, and there was a section devoted to divas of the stage. The idea was that I would be on stage blogging, providing introductions to the various sections of the stage diva segment. Last night, our concert coincided with the Tony Awards telecast, so I added a quick update on the awards that had been announced at that point.

For those of you who couldn't make the concert, here's the stage patter I devised for the segments. I was told to be as bitchy as possible, so this might be slightly more vicious than I would normally be on this blog. Slightly. I've also included the songs that each speech was meant to introduce, as well as commentary as to whether I really believed the bitchery behind the lines or whether I was just going for a laugh or an effect. Enjoy.

Divas of the Stage

Concert patter

[INTRO]: Dear Reader: Welcome to Everything I Know I Learned From Musicals, Special Diva Edition. When I started writing this blog, my intention was to focus on the musicals themselves. Well, little did I know that my readers would take such prurient interest in the private lives of their favorite female stars of the stage. You people are petty and superficial. Fortunately, so am I. So, ask and you shall receive... [This is a fictive construct I devised purely for the concert. My readers are anything but petty, and I rarely traffic in gossip. Here I was solely trying to set up the rest of the set.]

[SONG: "There's No Business Like Show Business," Annie Get Your Gun]

[ETHEL MERMAN]: Rumors have been swirling around for years that Ethel Merman was actually a great big lesbian. But apparently, that was just a rumor started by “novelist” Jacqueline Susann. It seems that Jackie cooked up a story about rebuffing Ethel’s amorous advances. When in fact, quite the opposite was true. Dream on, Jackie. In other news, Ethel was also very close friends with J. Edgar Hoover. Probably because they wore the same dress size. [While reading Ethel's autobiography and a few biographies, I was distressed to discover that my beloved Ethel was a conservative republican, and cavorted with the likes of Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan. But I did have to chuckle to discover she was so tight with Hoover,  who we now know was one of the biggest closet cases in U.S. history.]

[SONG: "Some People," Gypsy]

[PATTI LUPONE]: When Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Sunset Boulevard premiered in London, the show starred the fabulous Patti LuPone. Well, the show ran into some trouble – to say the very least – and Sir Andrew decided to replace La LuPone with Glenn Close. (Because she’s *such* a great singer...) Hey, Andy: Don’t blame Patti because you haven’t written anything decent or successful since 1986. But, as we know, Patti cried all the way to the bank. In fact she fondly recalls the lawsuit settlement every time she’s floating around in her Olympic-sized swimming pool. Only in this pool, there’s no dead writer floating face-down. Yet. [Truth be told, I actually enjoy Sunset Boulevard, but I much prefer the Patti LuPone London recording. If I never hear Glenn Close "sing" again, that would be be just fine with me.] 

[SONG: "With One Look," Sunset Boulevard]

[LIZA MINNELLI]: What do I really need to tell you about Liza Minnelli? Well, at least she’s following in her mother’s footsteps. And we all know where that got her mother. [I adore Judy Garland, and I mean no disrespect here whatsoever. The night of our first performance was Judy's birthday, and I was worried that this line would start a mini riot. There were a few minor gasps, but I emerged unscathed.] 

[SONG: "Maybe This Time," Cabaret]

[BERNADETTE PETERS]: And then there’s Bernadette Peters. A gorgeous, talented woman who didn’t get married until she was almost forty. Hmm... Now, I’m not saying she’s gay. I’m just saying that she’d probably make some lipstick lesbian a wonderful husband. There are those who say that, when she did the 2003 revival of Gypsy, she absolutely triumphed as Mama Rose. And then there are those of us without any mental handicaps. [They made me change this last line for fear of getting complaints from the PC set. The new line read, "And then there's me." Also, I have no reason to believe that Bernadette is gay. I was simply going for a laugh here.]

[SONG: "Time Heals Everything," Mack and Mabel]

[Local Boston diva LEIGH BARRETT]: Of course, in Boston we have our own distinctive divas. One glorious example would be the lovely and talented Ms. Leigh Barrett. Now, I’ve known Leigh for years, and I could certainly tell you some stories. But unfortunately I’m under a gag order from the Massachusetts court system. Suffice it to say that, after a few weeks of recuperation, the goat and the chimpanzee are just fine. And the Boys Scouts of America wound up dropping all the charges. Well, at least we have the chance to enjoy Leigh’s sheer fabulousness on stage. In fact, I hear she’s currently singing with the Boston Gay Men’s Chorus... [Lest anyone get the wrong idea, this section is entirely fictional, except for the fact that I've know Leigh for years. Well, at least it's fictional as far as I know...] 

[SONG: "Losing My Mind," Follies]

The Boston Gay Men's Chorus Presents - DIVAS

I'm just now catching up on my blogging. I've been busy this week getting ready for the annual Pride concert with the Boston Gay Men's Chorus. This year, the theme is "Divas"; those fabulous ladies of the stage, screen, concert hall, and recording studio. We had our first concert last night, and it was a rousing success. But we have two more concerts this weekend, on Friday at 8 PM, and Sunday at 7 PM. If you're in the area, you might want to stop by and check out the proceedings.

If last night's concert is any indication, you're in for a wild ride. The bill of fare includes such iconic ladies as Judy Garland, Whitney Houston, Karen Carpenter, Tina Turner, Cher, Beyonce, and Lady Gaga. There's lots of singing, dancing, special effects, live sheep and real airplane motors. ("It's devastating. Simply devastating...") 

"But," you ask, "what part do you play in all of this, Chris?" Well, thank you for asking. I'm not only part of the corps de ballet, dancing up a storm in such energetic numbers as "Le Jazz Hot" and "Proud Mary," I also make a special appearance as your humble blogger, introducing and providing color commentary during the section of the concert in which we pay tribute to the fabulous divas of the stage, including Ethel Merman, Liza Minnelli, Bernadette Peters, and Patti LuPone. 

So, if you're looking for a fabulous way to celebrate Pride in the Boston area, why not stroll on over to the Cutler Majestic Theater in Boston's theater district. Tickets are $15 to $45, and are available through Telecharge. There are limited seats available for Friday night, but there are plenty of good seats left for Sunday.

Hope to see you there!

Review - American Idiot at the St. Jimmy...er...St. James Theatre

I realize that this review is a little late to the party, but I encountered a bit of a perfect storm of work over the few weeks since American Idiot opened at the St. James Theatre in New York. The final flurry of Broadway show openings happened to coincide the the end of the semester here at the Boston Conservatory, and I had quite a few final exams to correct and whatnot. Plus, I got a last-minute assignment to write the liner notes for an upcoming cast-recording release. Watch this space for more news on that front.

In a way, it's a good thing that some time has passed since American Idiot opened, as it has helped me put the show into perspective, particularly with respect to the relative merits of all the new musicals this season. As I've said here previously, it's been a pretty lean season, at least with respect to the actual quality of the new musicals on Broadway. Unfortunately, American Idiot isn't much of an exception, at least in my estimation.

During the out-of-town tryout of American Idiot at the Berkley Repertory Theatre, the advanced word was that there wasn't much of a book to the show. Faced with this feedback, director/co-librettist Michael Mayer and Green Day front man Billie Joe Armstrong decided to cut back on what little dialog there was. (Um...what?) Apparently, their goal was to focus the show more on the songs. (Um...OK...) The result is an expressionistic rock concert, which is admittedly stunning, both visually and auditorily. I was particularly impressed with Steven Hoggett's idiomatic dance and movement. But what it all amounts to is a tale of sound and fury, signifying nothing. 

I must say, I found the score to American Idiot surprisingly tuneful. "Surprising" because I'm really not all that well versed in current popular music. I hadn't been overly familiar with the band Green Day prior to seeing the show, although I'm sure I've heard a few of those songs somewhere in my travels. But I had never heard the full album America Idiot, upon which the show is based. I had been worried that the music might turn me off, as the music to Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson did. But overall, I found the score to American Idiot pleasant and energetic.

[SPOILERS BELOW]

As for the plot of the show, yeah, not so much. It's not that the story isn't clear; it's that it's not very interesting. There are too few developments in each of the stories. The show centers around three restless teenagers: Johnny (John Gallagher Jr.), Tunny (Stark Sands), and Will (Michael Esper). Across the ninety-five intermission-less minutes of the show, each character only really deals with one plot development. Johnny gets hooked on drugs and alienates Whatshername, the girl he met along the way. Will gets Heather pregnant, but winds up rather inexplicably driving her away. Tunny goes to war, loses a leg, but manages to meet an "Extraordinary Girl." And that's it. So, basically, what we have here is Come Fly Away set to a rock score, although I will say that American Idiot is considerably better than Twyla Tharp's exercise in tedium that's currently running at the Marquis.

The cast is strong, as are their singing voices. I was particularly impressed with the dynamic Tony Vincent as St. Jimmy (Johnny's drug-induced muse, and the reason for the bad pun in the title of this post) and the electric Rebecca Naomi Jones, woefully underused here as Whatshername. But the Tony nominating committee seemed to have a definitive hair across its ass when it came to American Idiot, as not a single cast member garnered a nomination. The show got a nod for Best Musical, but the only other nominations it received were in scenic and lighting design. Despite the show's relatively poor showing with the Tonys, the show may nonetheless prove to be a hit. It has seen fairly steady grosses of about $700,000 a week, with an average ticket climbing from $50 to about $80. 

So, hey, Tonys be damned, huh?

GRADE: B (A visual and auditory assault, but ultimately lacking in impact or meaning)

Review - Anyone Can Whistle at Encores

Sitting and watching the recent Encores production of Anyone Can Whistle, it was often difficult to imagine how the original  Broadway production could ever have been a nine-performance flop in 1964. But it was a flop, and a rather legendary one at that. I think it was Ethan Mordden who once quipped that if everyone who claimed that they had seen Anyone Can Whistle had actually seen it, the show would still be running.

But the score to Anyone Can Whistle has since become greatly admired, particularly among Sondheim aficionados. There was a great deal of excitement leading up to the Encores production -- particularly when it was announced that Donna Murphy, Sutton Foster, Raúl Esparza would head the cast -- and I'm happy to say that the production didn't disappoint. In fact, it was the best thing I've ever seen at Encores. (Before you ask, here are the Encores shows that I have personally seen: No, No, Nanette,  Juno, Damn Yankees, On the Town, Music in the Air, Finian's Rainbow, The Wiz, Girl Crazy, Fanny and Anyone Can Whistle.)

Typically, Encores cuts down the librettos for its shows, sometimes to a detrimental extent, as was the case with Finian's Rainbow and Juno. But in the case of Anyone Can Whistle, they were doing the show a huge favor, paring down Arthur Laurents' ridiculous, confusing, and self-indulgent book to an absolute minimum, and giving Stephen Sondheim's glorious score a chance to shine.The score contains some of Sondheim's most interesting, moving, and ambitious work, including the soaring ballad "With So Little to Be Sure of," the rousing "Everybody Says Don't," and what is perhaps the best song in the show, "A Parade in Town." Sure, there are some clunkers, including the awkward "See What it Gets You." But one the whole, it's one of Sondheim's best scores, and when you're talking about the big S, that's saying something.

Pulling off Anyone Can Whistle can be a very challenging task indeed, and requires a director with a very sure hand. Fortunately, the folks at Encores brought in Casey Nicholaw. (Admittedly, Nicholaw's most recent gig was the poorly received and early-closing All About Me, but hey even Fosse and Bennett had their misfires.) Nicholaw brings a fast pace and a consistent tone to the show, and also does a masterful job staging the songs, particularly the two extended sequences, "Simple" and "The Cookie Chase."

Anyone Can Whistle also depends on very strong and appropriate casting choices, and here, as elsewhere, this production did not disappoint. Sutton Foster was her perky, spunky, funny self, and Raúl Esparza was his sonorous, intense, and dynamic self. But as talented as the two performers are, and as well-suited for their roles as they were, they wound up coming off as merely competent in the shadow of the spectacular Donna Murphy. Murphy is not only letter-perfect as Cora, but I couldn't help thinking about the other roles that this amazingly talented woman has mastered, including Fosca in Passion, Ruth Sherwood in Wonderful Town, Anna Leonowens in The King and I, and Lotte Lenya in Lovemusik. Great honk, is there anything this woman can't do? My friend and fellow blogger Kevin over at Theatre Aficionado at Large has called Ms. Murphy "God's gift to musical comedy." I couldn't have said it any better.

A final note: Anyone Can Whistle is certainly a period piece, particularly in its decidedly '60s association of "crazy" with "nonconformist." Someone mentioned to me that Sondheim was speaking at a talk-back for the show and said that, in the original production, they didn't do a strong enough job of making the crazy/nonconformist distinction. I think it's more of a semantic issue. But even if the show *were* romanticizing mental illness, I'd be inclined to cut the creators some slack given that it was written 45 years ago. (I'm a bit less inclined to give certain Pulitzer Prize-winning musicals a bye is this regard. Stay tuned for my take on that recent, stunning development.) 

GRADE: A (What very well may become the definitive production of a deeply flawed but significant show.)

Review - Million Dollar Quartet at the Nederlander

Lately, I've been sort of struck by the phrase "not my cup of tea." I've often thought of the phrase as sort of lazy. When people use it, what they really seem to be saying is that they didn't like something, but they don't want to actually do the work to formulate and justify a coherent, supportable opinion.

Then I saw Million Dollar Quartet, which opened last night at the Nederlander Theatre. And I can honestly say that it just wasn't my cup of tea. However, I shall endeavor to provide defensible support for my admittedly personal reaction.

As you may know, Million Dollar Quartet revolves around a mythical night in 1956 when Elvis Presley (played here by Eddie Clendening), Johnny Cash (Lance Guest), Jerry Lee Lewis (Levi Kreis), and Carl Perkins (Rob Lyons) got together for a jam session at Sun Records, the business home of music impresario Sam Phillips (Hunter Foster).

The show met with quite the bell curve of critical response, ranging from a few raves to a few pans to a swell of mixed reactions in between. It's likely that your own reaction to the show will depend on your personal connection to these men and their music. The show is certainly professionally staged and performed, and the crowd was frickin' eating it up. But I think I would have been a lot more engaged if I were in any way a fan of the members of the titular quartet, which I decidedly am not.

Fortunately, the show comprises more than just the jam session itself, otherwise I would have found it unbearably tedious. There's certainly a goodly amount of music, and the four central performers (who also play their own instruments, and quite well, I might add), do a bang-up job of capturing the essence of their respective characters, at least insofar as I'm familiar with these men and their work. But on the whole the show left me with the impression that it was a very professional Vegas tribute show.

Librettists Colin Escott and Floyd Mutrux try to imbue the evening with a decent amount of dramatic tension: Will Sam Phillips sell Sun records to RCA? Will Johnny Cash sign a three-year extension on his contract with Sun? Will Phillips make the leap to RCA to work again with Elvis Presley, whose contract he sold to RCA in order to remain in business? Will upstart Jerry Lee Lewis ever get a chance to record his own songs, or will he continue to play backup for other artists? Will Carl Perkins vent his anger at Elvis for "stealing" Perkins' signature hit, "Blue Suede Shoes"?

Here's the thing, though: I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. And I don't care.

Million Dollar Quartet doesn't really add anything new to the musical-theater form. In fact, it seems to borrow numerous elements from other shows. The show's final moment seems cadged from the act 1 finale of Sunday in the Park With George. The libretto makes liberal use of lazy narration, much like Jersey Boys. And the show even ends with a mini-concert, a la recent productions of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and Grease.

That said, the show is certainly well presented. Director Eric Schaeffer keeps everything moving apace. There's nothing stilted, awkward, or even remotely amateurish about the show. The show's flashback structure is effective, if repetitious. There is some rather clunky exposition, particularly regarding Jerry Lee Lewis' familial connection to Jimmy Swaggart as well as Sam Phillips' then-budding working relationship with Roy Orbison. On the whole, if you're not a fan of these particular iconic performers, there's really no larger reason to see the show. At least not from where I sat.

GRADE: C+ (For fans only. Or for those who can't get tickets to Jersey Boys.)

Review - Fanny at Encores City Center

It's been about 32 years that I've been almost exclusively obsessed with musical theater. Oh, there's been the odd diversion along the way: a college degree over here, a career in business writing over there. But even given all that time of near single-minded devotion, there occasionally arises the odd show that I'm not intimately familiar with. 

Until recently, Fanny was one of those shows. I had certainly heard of it, and knew a few of the songs, mostly because they would pop up now and then on my iPod. I knew it was based on Marcel Pagnol's trilogy of plays-cum-films, and that the original cast included Ezio Pinza, Walter Slezak, and a youthful Florence Henderson in the title role.

But opportunities to see Fanny are scarce indeed. The show played in New York in 1954, and then in London in 1956, and then sort of dropped from view. The 1961 film version of "Fanny" removed all of the songs, and is consequently of little interest to me.

Fortunately, the folks at Encores saw fit to include the show as part of their current season, and the production, which played the weekend of February 4th through 7th at City Center, was a delight. The show's book, by S. N. Behrman and Joshua Logan, is actually a tad scandalous, at least for 1954, featuring impulsive sexual encounters, illegitimate pregnancy, and a marriage of convenience.

Despite the sauciness, the show features the sort of honest, everyday interactions that we really don't see a lot of anymore in Broadway musicals. Fanny is more along the lines of She Loves Me than South Pacific. No arching social agenda, just an appealing group of people dealing with love and loss in a French seaport town. (I'd say, "They don't write 'em like that anymore," but in fact they do: A Catered Affair. The financial failure of that show would seem to indicate that, even if they do write 'em like that anymore, that doesn't mean they're gonna make money.)

But the show's main attraction is the lovely score by Harold Rome. Rome is perhaps best remembered for his biggest hit, the 1937 revue Pins and Needles, and for penning the score to the 1962 book show I Can Get It for You Wholesale, in which a certain Miss Barbra Streisand made her Broadway debut. Rome was a remarkably talented man, gifted as both composer and lyricist. Unfortunately, few of his shows have found a lasting legacy. The 1946 revue Call Me Mister is hopelessly dated, as the subject matter is rather specific to the end of World War II. Wish You Were Here (1952) and Destry Rides Again (1959) have their respective charms, particularly the haunting "I Say Hello" from Destry. But, on the whole, they're simply not very good.

Fanny may be Rome's most accomplished score, featuring straightforward, heartfelt lyrics and a seemingly endless stream of bright, fresh melodies, particularly that of the song "To My Wife," which is just gorgeous. What's more, most of Rome's songs seem to be of a piece, with the possible exception of "Be Kind to Your Parents," which is just a bit too twee and cutesy.

I've sometimes heard people dismiss Fanny because of the repetition in the lyrics: the young Marius's stirring wanting song, "Restless Heart," ends with the lines "My restless heart. My restless, restless, restless, restless, restless, restless heart." And the title song, which Marius sings with the title character, repeats the name "Fanny" no fewer than 24 times, not counting the reprise. But I'm inclined to think of these as character choices on Rome's part. Fanny and Marius aren't very educated or erudite people: they feel more than they think, and this is reflected in the lyrics. Rome certainly proves himself a nimble wordsmith in some of his other shows, but here he seems to be deliberately writing to suit the characters rather than to impress.

The Encores production staff featured two names previously unknown to me: Marc Bruni as director and Lorin Latarro as choreographer, and both did a solid, professional job with the show. Bruni doesn't appear to have any major projects to his directing credit, but he was assistant or associate director on numerous brand-name shows, including the recent revivals of Wonderful Town and The Pajama Game. Lotarro's work was fluid and graceful, particularly for the charming "Why Be Afraid to Dance." Worth keeping an eye on both of these seemingly talented players, I think. 

In addition to Rome's lovely score, the appeal of this production of Fanny lay in its cast of veteran performers, most especially the wonderful Fred Applegate as Panisse. Applegate exhibited both here and in the otherwise dreadful Young Frankenstein the restraint and subtlety that most of the cast of Mamma Mia, the show I saw earlier that day, were missing. Applegate seems to fully comprehend that the key to engaging audience members lies in making them come to you, rather than pushing everything out to them. Sure, we're talking wildly different shows here, but good acting transcends genre.

Tony winner George Hearn as Cesar was nearly Applegate's match in the professionalism department, although I do have to say that, in the many Encores shows I've attended, Hearn was the first actor I've ever seen actually reading from the script that Encores performers are required to carry. (Equity rules, you know.) Yeah, sure, it's technically a staged reading/concert version of the show, and the scripts are supposed to there for a reason, but it was really jarring seeing Hearn with his face in his script while all the other performers seemed to be off book. 

Although Fanny was ostensibly written to showcase the talents of Pinza and Slezak in the Cesar and Panisse roles, the main movers of the plot are the Fanny and Marius characters, played splendidly here by Elena Shaddow and James Snyder, respectively. The strong-voiced Snyder deftly underscored Marius's idealism and passion. Clearly, his starring role in the short-lived Cry-Baby didn't quite show us what this talented man is capable of. His rendition of the show's title number was particularly heartfelt and urgent. Shaddow was sweet and appealing as Fanny, and made me all the more interested in seeing the upcoming revival of La Cage aux Folles, in which Shaddow plays Anne, Jean-Michel's intended. 

So, Fanny may have settled in as a musical-theater footnote, but fortunately the show lives on through its cast recording, the CD of which has been in and out of print for years. Although the CD is again out of print, the songs and full cast recording are available for MP3 download on Amazon. I highly recommend what may indeed be Harold Rome's masterwork.

Review - Finian's Rainbow Revisit

Earlier today, the revival of Finian's Rainbow played its final performance at the St. James Theater, and I must admit that I'm experiencing mixed feelings about this. I'm certainly sad to see the show go, but after seeing the production again last weekend, I think I have a clearer understanding of why it didn't catch on.

Some history: When I saw the show during its Encores stint, I found it tuneful but creaky. (Read my review) But when I saw the show on Broadway during previews, I was pretty darned charmed by the whole thing. (Read my review of the Broadway production.)

But, in retrospect, I think that's why Finian's Rainbow is closing at a loss. It's charming, it's sweet, it's tuneful. But it doesn't provide the emotional impact of South Pacific, the sweeping romance and spectacle of The Phantom of the Opera, or the fun and, well, razzle dazzle of Chicago.

Of course, Finian's Rainbow does have that glorious Burton Lane music, which is more than matched by the alternately heartfelt and clever lyrics of Yip Harburg. I was continually, almost in spite of myself, drawn in by the sheer magic of Lane's sweeping melodies. Numerous songs sent a chill up my spine as the luscious chords swelled from the orchestra pit, including "Look to the Rainbow" and "Come and Get It Day"

I still think that Finian's Rainbow is one of the best of the old-style musicals, but as I watched the show last week, I was lot more aware of the choppy nature of the book. There's something about Finian's Rainbow that just doesn't build. The show feels overly episodic, with the resolutions coming very shortly after their precipitating complications. So, although the show certainly provides its share of charms, they don't coalesce into a larger sense of catharsis.

Fortunately, we have the upcoming release of the Finian's Rainbow cast recording from PS Classics to look forward. Even if you didn't get a chance to see the show in New York, rest assured that most of the best that the production had to offer is on that CD. This may well prove to be the definitive recording of the show. You certainly couldn't ask for a better cast, particularly Kate Baldwin, Cheyenne Jackson, Jim Norton, Christopher Fitzgerald, and Terri White. But, honestly, there's not a weak link in the cast, at least not vocally. I get the feeling that this will be a recording to savor for years to come.

Review - Girl Crazy at Encores

As I was waiting to be shown to my seat at Girl Crazy, the first of the Encores concerts at City Center this season, I overheard a conversation behind me.

Man: "Oh, look at all the empty seats up in the balcony."
Woman: "That's because this show isn't very popular. They really should do more popular shows."

Well, in the first place, this was 10 minutes before showtime, and by the time the curtain rose, there were in fact very few empty seats. But, more important, this interchange seemed to miss the whole point of the Encores series, at least in concept: to showcase musicals that haven't been seen in a while, or have somehow fallen out of the public consciousness.

Now, granted, that hasn't always been the case with every single Encores show: Gypsy, On the Town, and Damn Yankees can hardly be called obscure. But we certainly have Encores to thank for dusting off such fascinating, albeit flawed, gems as Music in the Air, Juno, and Girl Crazy.

Each year, when I discuss George Gershwin in my musical-theater history course at the Boston Conservatory, I challenge my students to name the shows that various Gershwin standards came from. "Someone to Watch Over Me"? "Fascinatin' Rhythm"? "The Man I Love"? (See the answers at the end of this post.) The point is, in the 1920s, songs weren't really written to fit within the context of the shows; they were meant to be hits. It wasn't until Show Boat that people really started to think about integrated scores. The Gershwins started to create more dramatically cohesive songs starting with Strike Up the Band and Of Thee I Sing, and as a result, we don't really remember as many of the numbers from those two shows. Because they were written more for dramatic purposes, the songs are consequently harder to perform out of context.

Girl Crazy most definitely belongs in the pre-Show Boat category of Gershwin works. The show itself is rather unremarkable, except in that it gave rise to a handful of simply wonderful songs: "But Not for Me," "I Got Rhythm," and "Embraceable You." The plot surrounding those songs is sweet but insubstantial. For me, the best parts of the show were the overture, the entr'acte, and the exit music, wherein we get to focus exclusively on George Gershwin's playful, haunting, and just plain amazing music.

Most of the songs in the show have scant set up, although frequently with Encores that's more a function of the script adaptation than a reflection of the quality of the show itself. Even so, Girl Crazy would seem to have more than its share of numbers with questionable relevance or necessity, such as "Sam and Delilah" and "Barbary Coast," the latter including a tap section that added little to the already minimal meaning of the song. It was certainly nice to hear a Gershwin score intact, with just a scattered standard here or there, as opposed to a retrofitted lineup of guaranteed blockbusters, a la My One and Only or Crazy for You. Of course, the flip-side of that pleasure is I had to sit through such forgettable songs as "The Lonesome Cowboy Won't Be Lonesome Now" and "When It's Cactus Time in Arizona." Yeesh.

I will admit that some of the one-liners, particularly those poking fun at New York City, were fairly amusing, including the following interchange: 

Woman: "Are these the sorts of clothes that smart New York girls are buying these days?"
Man: "Smart New York girls don't buy their own clothes."

As for the cast, Wayne Knight as the fish-out-of-water New York cabbie pretty much stole the show, although to be frank, there wasn't much to steal, and the front door was wide open, as it were. Ana Gasteyer had the unenviable task of belting out a bunch of numbers that made Ethel Merman a star. The best that can be said about the otherwise talented Gasteyer's performance here is that she was loud and could hold the long notes as long as need be. Other than that she was rather mechanical, and her hair and costumes were regrettable, to say the least. 

The capable Mark Kudisch was wasted here on a cardboard role. His one big number, the once and would-be showstopper "Treat Me Rough," was undermined by awkward staging and pointless business. (The ukelele? Why?) In the leading male role, Chris Diamantopoulos was pert and energetic, but somewhat forgettable. But the impression that Diamantopoulos made was downright indelible compared to that of his leading lady Becki Newton. I guess Newton stars on "Ugly Betty" or something, which is probably the only reason she got this gig. It certainly wasn't her stage presence.

Oh, and a final note to Actors' Equity: Can we once and for all lose the ruse of having the Encores performers carry scripts throughout the show? Not one performer here ever looked at the script in his or her hands. Yeah, I know, the rule is there because the actors are working for a special concert rate, but at this point it merely looks silly.

MINI GERSHWIN QUIZ:
=> "Someone to Watch Over Me," Oh, Kay!
=> "Fascinatin' Rhythm," Lady Be Good
=> "The Man I Love." Trick question. The song never made it into a stage show, at least not in George Gershwin's lifetime, but it was cut from three different shows, including Strike Up the Band. By the time the Gershwin brothers found a place for the song, it had already become a hit, and they didn't want to be accused of interpolating.

Finian's Rainbow at the St. James Theater

I love the new logo/poster for the current Broadway revival of Finian's Rainbow, which opened last night at the St. James Theater. Not only is it vibrant and colorful, but it also conveys a clear sense that this is an old-fashioned musical that nonetheless provides a contemporary resonance.

And that's exactly what Finian's Rainbow is, at least as presented in the Broadway production. I was unimpressed by the show during its Encores stint (read my review), but in retrospect, it would seem that the book for that concert presentation was overly truncated. While I reveled in the Burton Lane/E.Y. "Yip" Harburg score, the lack of proper context in David Ives's abbreviated version of the libretto made the show detrimentally fragmented.

I saw the Broadway production of Finian's Rainbow the same day that I saw the execrable Bye Bye Birdie, and the comparison was quite telling. This production of Finian's has a life that's totally missing from the current Birdie. Why does Finian's succeed where Birdie fails? In a word: direction. Warren Carlyle brings a cohesive tone and a vibrancy to Finian's, with every character playing from the same page, whereas Robert Longbottom seems to have directed Birdie in absentia.

It's interesting to note how otherwise talented directors can drop the ball. Longbottom helmed the recent Broadway revival of Flower Drum Song, which contained some very innovative if not quite sustained staging, although the production closed at a loss. On the other hand, Carlyle was responsible for the theatrical misstep that was A Tale of Two Cities, although most of the blame for that abomination must surely go to its composer/lyricist/librettist, Jill Santoriello. That's the bizarre alchemy of theater for you: on any given production, the various talents present may or may not coalesce into a coherent and entertaining whole. There are no guarantees; it's always a crap shoot.

Carlyle certainly had a major advantage over Longbottom in terms of casting. Whereas Birdie seems to have been cast by committee in a blatant attempt to appeal to as many disparate constituencies as possible, the cast for Finian's is more organic. The lovely Kate Baldwin comes off infinitely better than she did in the recent Huntington Theatre production of of She Loves Me (read my review), and positively sparkles as Sharon. Cheyenne Jackson is charming but a bit indistinct as Woody, although he certainly can fill out a pair of jeans. Tony winner Jim Norton is pitch-perfect in the title role, and Christopher Fitzgerald is a delight as the leprechaun Og, giving a far more measured and entertaining performance than he did in Young Frankenstein. And I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the wonderful Terri White as Dottie, if only because of the moving piece that the New York Times recently ran on her. Apparently, Ms. White was homeless not 18 months ago, and now she's back on Broadway, a haunting reminder of the vicissitudes of the actor's life.

The production, and the show itself, do suffer from the occasional misstep. When I saw Finian's on Broadway, I was over on the far right of the orchestra, and my view was occasionally obstructed, but from what I could see, when the Senator Hawkins character is turned black, Chuck Cooper, who plays the African America version of Hawkins, looked down into the front of his pants to see if the transformation was...er...complete. The costumes during "When the Idle Poor Become the Idle Rich" looked like someone had raided the costume closet of a local community theater. And I still don't quite get the point of the "Dance of the Golden Crock," in which the mute Susan character has a call-and-response dance/harmonica duet with another cast member. It seems like dance for dance's sake, and doesn't appear to serve any higher purpose.

As a piece, Finian's Rainbow is a direct descendant of the Rodgers and Hammerstein tradition, which places a premium on crafting shows that both entertain and inform. Finian's is a particularly compelling amalgam of old-fashioned structure and modern sensibility. But somehow it works, offering both a strong social message and a charming diversion. And that's exactly what librettist/lyricist Yip Harburg intended. "Of course I want to send people out of the theater with the glow of having a good time," Harburg once said about the show. "But I also think the purpose of a musical is to make people think."  

Hear, hear.

Sunday in the Hall With Sondheim

If you're in the Boston area this weekend, and you're looking for a lovely way to spend this Sunday evening, why not head over to the Boston Conservatory. A bunch of my BoCo students have put together a revue entitled Sunday in the Hall With Sondheim. The "hall" in this case is venerable Seully Hall, which is on the fourth floor of the Conservatory's main building at 8 The Fenway. And, well, if I have to tell you who Sondheim is, then you really have no business reading this blog.

Two of my best students from last semester have put together this review: Joe Longthorne and Neil Reilly. Joe is the show's director, and Neil has created all the orchestrations and arrangements himself. And he's put together some really interesting numbers and sequences. Featured songs include "Take Me to the World" from Evening Primrose, "Being Alive" from Company, and "The Best Thing That Ever Has Happened" from Bounce/Road Show. The cast comprises more than 20 the best performers that the school has to offer, accompanied by an 18-piece orchestra selected from the Conservatory's many talented musicians.

The shows are at 7PM and 9PM this Sunday evening. Tickets are $7 in advance and $9 at the door. For advance tickets, contact [email protected]. The proceeds go towards the school's Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS efforts. In keeping with the BC/EFA tradition, there will also be a number of autographed goodies from various Broadway shows available through silent auction and raffle. 

So, a great cause, and a great show. We hope to see you there.

Review - Kristina Concert at Carnegie Hall

I'm in New York for a two-show quickie. Last night I saw Kristina in concert at Carnegie Hall, and tonight I'm taking in a preview of the new musical Memphis. Look for my review of the latter sometimes after October 19th. (Press embargo, don'tcha know.) 

Kristina had been intriguing me for quite some time. As you may know, the show began its life in Sweden in 1996 as Kristina Från Duvemåla, which became the biggest hit musical in Swedish history. (Exactly how many hit Swedish musicals have there been?) The show is based on the novels of Vilhelm Moberg, and concerns a group of Swedish farmers who immigrate to America during the 19th century.

The score for Kristina is by Björn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson, of ABBA and Mamma Mia! fame. Yeah, I know, whatever. But I'm a huge fan of Chess, for which Ulvaeus and Andersson also provided the music, so I was hoping Kristina would fulfill the melodious promise of that tragically flawed musical.

Alas, no.

I knew there was trouble afoot when the show began with 10-plus minutes of bald-faced expressions of love by the two main characters of the show, Kristina (Helen Sjöholm), and her soon-to-be husband Oskar (Russell Watson). Thrown into the opening mix were some Greek-chorus-like chorale passages reminiscent of "Merano," the fun but un-stage-able opening number to Chess. The thoroughly static storytelling in the opening sequence brought me in mind of The Pirate Queen. (Note to show creators: you never want to put anyone in mind of The Pirate Queen.)

Things didn't get much better from there. The music to Kristina isn't all that bad; in fact, some of it is quite stirring. But the show is almost entirely sung-through, featuring huge swaths of bland recitative. The main problem with the show is that the authors didn't seem to have a firm grasp on what to musicalize. There is genuine drama to be found in this story, but the authors haven't yet found a way to bring it out. They really could have used an experienced librettist, or a strong developmental director to help steer them toward more effective song choices and placement. For example, on the boat to America, Kristina and Oskar sing "Peasants at Sea," in which they lament that they have to sleep apart on the boat to America. Well, boo-frickin'-hoo. How is that supposed to be dramatically compelling?

One major groaner of a song choice is "Lice," a song about -- you guessed it -- infestation, in which two characters accuse each other of spreading the bugs around. The song contains an atrocious passage in which one character actually talks about how you can put the lice between two slices of bread and feed them to your kids. Are you frickin' kidding me, here?! Another song, "Queen of the Prairie," regales us on how Oskar buys Kristina a stove for Christmas, and every one from the town joins in to sing about how beautiful this stove is. The show is full of similar questionable-at-best, ludicrous-at-worst musical missteps.

When the songs aren't ridiculous, they're typically either impenetrable or dull. In the act one finale, Kristina sings "Summer Rose," a God-is-my-witness anthem (yes, the show actually contains that phrase) to her newly born child. It's pretty, but it ends the act without creating any tension. There's no suspense, no cliff hanger, no reason for us to want to come back and see what happens to these people, which is typical of the show's complete lack of dramatic buildup.

There are a few decent songs in the score. "American Man" is a charming piece about the aging pastor whom the women take a shine to upon arrival in America. The always dependable Walter Charles imbues the pastor character with humor and gravity, despite his minuscule stage time. And the second act contains two stunning solo numbers, one for Oskar's younger brother, who returns from the California Gold Rush and bitter as hell. Kevin Odekirk gives a positively stirring rendition of "Gold Can Turn to Sand," which is really more than the song and the show deserve. And Helen Sjöholm got the evening's first standing ovation for "You Have to Be There," a soaring number in which Kristina confronts her God to demand an explanation for his seeming absence.

Kristina's other major flaw is its lack of a dramatic motor. The show is detrimentally episodic, passing through a series of unengaging complications that are almost always immediately resolved, making it hard to build up any empathy. The story is a morass of random and under-developed plot points: the religious persecution in Sweden, Kristina's contracting scurvy on the boat to America, Kristina's supposed rivalry with the local strumpet, played by Louise Pitre. In the middle of the second act, once the characters have relocated to Minnesota, some random guy comes in spouting pseudo-Native American babble about how this land belongs to no one, or some shit. It makes you think that there's going to be a subplot about a struggle with the local tribe, but like most of the other plot threads in this show, that potentially intriguing possibility is left unrealized.

Because the songs alone don't tell the story, this concert presentation needed to employ some direct narration and expository projections, which only served to emphasize that the authors weren't doing their job with the songs themselves. Perhaps the work has lost a great deal in the translation from the original Swedish. The show's new English text by Herbert Kretzmer features one uninspired cliche-ridden lyric after another: "all my body and my soul," "with every breath that I am taking," "no matter what, we will always have each other," and the aforementioned "as God is my witness." 

In fairness, I found the last ten minutes of Kristina to be genuinely moving. Suddenly, the songs take on greater complexity, and the drama becomes palpable and moving. The rest of the show needs this kind of focus. But, alas, it's too little too late, coming after a long, slow slog through an attenuated series of muddled scenes and songs.

I must admit that the Carnegie Hall audience was going wild for the show. I can only imagine that some of them were there just for the music, or the performers, and that they weren't necessarily considering the piece from a dramatic perspective. I was there to see if the show had legs to make it beyond the concert hall. My answer: not in its current form. Nothing short of a near-complete rewrite would make this Kristina truly sing.

Kristina Concert Coming to Carnegie Hall

It's all too easy to dismiss Björn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson as the guys who inflicted Mamma Mia! on the world. First of all, Mamma Mia, at least on stage, really isn't all that bad. And those ABBA songs are pretty darned catchy.

And then there's Chess, which has never really worked as a show, but that score...oh, that score. It's so good, it can even survive the dual assault of Idina Menzel and Adam Pascal. (See my review of the recent concert version of Chess.)

So please forgive me if I'm actually looking forward to Kristina, the latest show with a score by Ulvaeus and Andersson, which will have a two-night concert stay at Carnegie Hall on September 23rd and 24th. The show is actually about 14 years old, having played for years in ABBA's native country of Sweden under the name Kristina Från Duvemåla, and produced a three-CD recording, which I own but have not yet listened to. (I mean, it's nearly four hours long, and it's in Swedish; I think at least this time I can be excused for owning a CD I've never heard. Why do I even have it, you ask? Clearly you don't understand the psychosis that is cast-album collecting.)

The show is derived from four novels by Swedish author Vilhelm Moberg, and concerns the Swedish emigration to America at the end of the 19th century. The show's new English text is by Herbert Kretzmer, British author and critic who made a frickin' mint by translating Les Miserables. As for the cast of the concert version, Helen Sjöholm will reprise the title role, which she played in the Swedish version. Sjöholm also appeared in a Swedish concert production of Chess: watch her belt the crap out of "Someone Else's Story" here and here. Joining her in Kristina will be Russell Watson; watch this hunky, internationally renown tenor do his operatic stuff here.

It's not clear why Ulvaeus and Andersson are opting for a concert version of Kristina instead of a Broadway run. Perhaps this concert is meant to drum up interest in a full-scale American production. No matter, I fully intend to be in the audience come September to discern whether Kristina might have a future beyond Carnegie Hall.