Everything I Know I Learned From Musicals

Review - Matilda the Musical on Broadway

I don't know how my fellow critics feel about this, but I find it much harder to write a rave than to write a pan. I guess that says something about me as a person, but I think it's also sort of endemic to the critical process, at least for me. When things are going wrong with a show, I have a much firmer sense of what to write about: two-dimensional characterizations, inconsistent plot developments, poorly integrated songs, etc.

In my criticism course at the Boston Conservatory, I usually pass out my review of The Book of Mormon as an example of what not to do in a review. I basically talk about the show without really ever talking about the show. No specifics, very little support. On the plus side, you can definitely tell how I felt about the show: it was great, and you should go. But that's more along the lines of consumer advocacy than genuine criticism.

I get the feeling that I'm going to have the same problem with Matilda, a blissful joy of a show that recently opened on Broadway after a smashing London debut, under the auspices of The Royal Shakespeare Company. The show isn't perfect, as I'll enumerate below. But it's a tremendously fun and engaging ride that has stronger stagecraft, finer performances, a bigger heart, and heartier laughs than any other musical that opened on Broadway this season.

I actually saw Matilda twice, once during previews and once shortly after it opened. During my first visit, I was sort of unmoved by the first act, although the second act really turned me around. I think my lack of response to the first half may have been partly because I couldn't understand the lyrics to many of the songs, and also because my seat on the far right of the orchestra was situated such that I couldn't see a lot of what was happening upstage center, where quite a few significant events take place.

The lyrics remain a liability for the show: it's rather difficult to understand them fresh in the theater, and I had listened to the London cast recording quite a few times prior to my first visit. Although composer/lyricist Tim Minchin is relatively new to musical theater, I've been aware of his comedy work for years. He's quirky, clever, and hilarious is his numerous comedy recordings. But his lyrics for Matilda are often too dense for immediate comprehension, particularly in the opening number, "Miracle," and the act one closer, "Bruce." Both times I saw the show, the only words I could figure out during the latter song were "Bruce" and its numerous rhyming words. Minchin also exhibits unfortunate tendencies toward errant scansion ("go fi-GURE") and slant rhyme ("miracle/umbilical"). And those two examples are just from the opening number.

And yet, the show is a joy. The same things that would turn me against a different show I was able to overlook, especially during my second visit to the show. I still couldn't understand all the lyrics, and the slant rhyme and poor scansion certainly hadn't disappeared. But I found myself transported by the story (Dennis Kelly has written the book, based on the classic novel by Roald Dahl), as well as the smart and sensitive direction from Matthew Warchus (acquitting himself more than adequately after the abomination that was Ghost). Adding to the sheer bliss of the production are Peter Darling's sharp, angular choreography, as well as the stunning scenic and costume design by Rob Howell. 

I get the feeling that Matilda would still be a delight even without the present cast, and yet they added immeasurably to my enjoyment. As you may know, there are four different girls who share the title role. (Raising the valid speculation that the quartet will indeed receive a joint Tony nomination, a la Billy Elliot. Saints preserve us.)

As chance would have it, I saw Milly Shapiro as Matilda both times. At first, Shapiro would seem an unlikely Broadway waif, with a face that seems virtually expressionless during performance. (That's her on the far right in the photo.) And yet, her stoic countenance really seemed to work perfectly for the part: neglected and put upon yet endlessly resourceful. She's not your typical uber-animated little belter. Her otherwise passive expression made the moments when Matilda suddenly responds to the kindness of her schoolteacher all the more heartrending. When I saw that I was going to see Milly again during my second visit, I was actually pretty excited. There's something thoroughly real and disarming about this talented little girl. 

Of course, the performer who's getting the most attention, and deservedly so, is Bertie Carvel executing a deliciously malevolent turn as Miss Trunchbull, the evil school-mistress. Carvel more than lives up to the expectation that comes with the Olivier Award he received for the same role in the London production. He plays the kind of role that you, by design, instantly hate, and yet you can't wait for Carvel to come back on-stage because he's just so delightfully nuanced and idiosyncratic.

The supporting cast are no less strong, including the heartwarming Lauren Ward as Miss Honey, Matilda's sympathetic, and pathetic, school teacher. Giving performances that (almost) rival Carvel's for sheer scene-stealing and scenery-chewing vivacity are Gabriel Ebert and Lesli Margherita as Matilda's callous, obnoxious parents. Because, here's the thing: Matilda is so full of joy that even the villains are oozing with and old-fashioned kind of showbiz charm.

It will be interesting to see whether Matilda can amass the kind of momentum that The Book of Mormon has, or whether the initial fervor will peter out, as it did for Billy Elliot. Clearly, I'm hoping it's closer to the former than to the latter.

Reviews - Spring Broadway Play Roundup

Regular readers of my blog will likely know two things about me: 1) In selecting shows to see, I tend to stick to the musicals. 2) I teach full-time, and toward the end of each semester, I tend to get behind on my blogging.

However, there were many compelling choices with respect to non-musicals this season in New York, and I was fortunate enough to catch a handful of them in between musicals. Also fortunate, at least from my perspective, is the fact that most of these plays featured a healthy dose of music, to the point where two of these plays even received Tony nominations for Best Score. (Although this also represents a telling comment on the quality of the scores of the actual musicals this season. Leap of Faith, Ghost, Lysistrata Jones, and Spider-Man all failed to receive nominations for their scores.)

So, in this post, I'm playing a little blogging catch-up, while at the same time acknowledging the musical nature of many of this season's non-musicals. Here's my take on four new plays on Broadway, in descending order of preference.

I had so much fun at One Man, Two Guvnors that I went back a second time. Of course, I'm an inveterate Anglophile, weaned on Monty Python, Blackadder, Absolutely Fabulous and the like. So, I went in predisposed to the sort of smart, off-the-wall lunacy that's peculiar to the Brits. Fortunately, One Man, Two Guvnors delivered in spades. The play, by Richard Bean, is based on the 1753 Carlo Goldoni classic Servant of Two Masters, which is in turn based on the commedia dell'arte tradition. But that makes the play sound a whole lot more high-toned than it really is. Make no mistake: this is base humor. Slapstick, pratfalls, bodily functions. There's really not much to it besides having a good time, but what a good time it is. The cast is led by world-class clown James Corden, whom some might recall as the hefty boy from both the stage and movie versions of The History Boys. But the entire cast is genuinely outstanding -- particularly Jemima Rooper, Oliver Chris, and Suzie Toase -- bringing arch characterization and spot-on comic timing to a rollicking ride of a play. At the helm is director Nicholas Hytner, demonstrating a sure hand with the farcical proceedings, and interspersing the scenes with authentic-sounding and thematically resonant 1960s pop songs (by Grant Olding) from an infectiously chipper on-stage skiffle band. On the whole, highly recommended.

Unlike the other three entries in this post, Other Desert Cities doesn't really have a significant musical component. What it does have is a crackling script from Jon Robin Baitz and a tight ensemble of expert performers, particularly Stockard Channing, Stacy Keach, and Judith Light. The play concerns a fictional married couple who were once part of the Reagans' inner circle, as well as the grown-up children of that married couple. The daughter, played by Rachel Griffiths when I saw the show, has written a tell-all memoir about a very dark time in the family's past, and she's come home for Christmas to break the news and deal with the fallout. Other Desert Cities is a compelling hybrid of a show: the presentation is thoroughly old-fashioned, with its unit set and realistic time structure. But the subject matter feels modern, even forward-looking, in terms of the dynamic between conservative and liberal thought, and the search for something beyond mere ideologies. Also, it's a pleasure to see director Joe Mantello return to form with a solid, sure-handed production after his numerous recent missteps (9 to 5, Pal Joey, The Ritz).

Last year's Tony winner for Best Play, War Horse, was a triumph of stagecraft over substance. Don't get me wrong: the stagecraft in War Horse is simply stunning. But the play itself is a potboiler tear-jerker about a boy and his horse. When the Stephen Spielberg movie came out, some people wondered whether the story would work without the puppets. Well, Peter and the Starcatcher has people wondering something very similar as Disney, which owns the property, has recently announced a movie version. Will the story work without the stagecraft? To be fair, Rick Elice's script for Starcatcher seems a lot smarter, or at least a lot more smart-ass, than the one for War Horse. But the main attractions for the show are the fresh and energetic cast members, ably led by Christian Borle, Adam Chanler-Berat, and Celia Keenan-Bolger, as well as the ingenious staging from co-directors Alex Timbers and Roger Rees. It's easy to see the hand of both Timbers and Rees on the production. Timbers directed Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, and there's a very similar self-conscious theatricality to Peter and the Starcatcher. And Rees appears to have remembered much of his experience as the lead in The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby, as he brings a very similar theatrical resourcefulness to his work here. For instance, much of the staging here comes from the deft manipulation of a series of ropes, leaving the rest to the audience's imagination. So, don't wait for the film. What makes Starcatcher worth seeing is all about what's on-stage.

A play about the last days of Judy Garland? I ask you, as a self-respecting gay man of a certain age, how could I not see End of the Rainbow? I was genuinely hesitant, however. Having dutifully read "Get Happy" and other books about Judy's tortured life and career, I knew that Judy's last days were anything but pretty. But I had heard so many wonderful things about Tracie Bennett as Judy that I figured it was worth a shot. Well, Bennett indeed lives up to the hype. Her portrayal of Judy is uncanny: layered, complex, sympathetic, infuriating. It's really a remarkable achievement that crosses over from mere mimicry into embodiment. But then there's the play itself, by one Peter Quilter, which really has no merit beyond providing Bennett with a vehicle for her bravura performance. It's a shame, because there's so much dramatic possibility inherent in the story: Judy is holed up in an upscale London hotel -- with her soon-to-be husband number five, Mickey Deans -- for a series of comeback concerts. She's a nervous wreck, and she can't seem to shake her dependency on drugs and alcohol. But Quilter does little more than set up the scenario, introduce the characters, and give them superficial things to say. So, if you go, go for the performance, not to be challenged or enlightened.

Review - Ghost the Musical on Broadway

Want to know what's wrong with contemporary musical theater? Then sidle over to the Lunt-Fontanne Theater and catch a performance of Ghost the Musical. Yes, the show is yet another in a long series of safe movies-turned-into-musicals, in this case the 1990 film "Ghost" with Patrick Swayze, Demi Moore and Academy Award winner Whoopi Goldberg. But that's not what makes the show bad. We've had good musicals based on movies (Once, The Producers, Hairspray) and bad ones (9 to 5, Young Frankenstein, The Goodbye Girl).

No, Ghost is bad for three essential reasons. First, the production is a triumph of spectacle over storytelling, with enough technology, video projections, and visual effects to outfit an entire season of musicals. But, as often happens with over-produced shows (see Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown), the creators here have lost sight of whether the story, the songs, and the physical production were working together cohesively.

Second, Ghost is a testament to the fact that, as we've seen so many times in recent years, people who can write hit pop songs don't automatically have the skills to craft effective musical-theater songs. The music here is by record producer Glen Ballard, as well as Dave Stewart of Eurythmics fame. Ballard and Stewart share the lyric-writing credit with librettist Bruce Joel Rubin. The songs they've created for this show might well have come from the respective "trunks" of these veteran popular songwriters for all the relevance they have to the story at hand. And third, as if to hide the fact that the songs don't really add anything to the story, the performers adopt the kind of belt-your-face scream-singing that too many people these days seem to think passes for an effective musical performance.

The real stars of Ghost would seem to be scenic designer Rob Howell and projection/video designer Jon Driscoll, upon whose work the show is extraordinarily dependent. As the show begins, a scrim stands between the performers and the audience so that we can see the first of many video sequences telling us where we are and what's going on. In a well-crafted musical, the opening number would establish time and place. In Ghost, we get "Here Right Now," the first in a series of generic pop songs that could just as easily fit into any other show. The lyric is alternately bland and impenetrable, sometimes within the same line: "Here is where we make it everything we'll ever need." Um...what? We also get slant rhyme aplenty, including "One foot in front of the other/So much for us to discover" and "As long as we stay together/We'll just keep getting better."

The scrim remains in place for what seemed like the first five minutes of the show, although I'm sure it only seemed that long because I was becoming increasingly peevish. In a way, the scrim presents an apt metaphor for the production in general, a physical manifestation of the emotional barrier that the creators have inadvertently created between the characters and the audience. The scrim eventually rises, but the barrier doesn't. The characters never become real, which lessens the impact of the story's central tragedy and its aftermath. I found myself thinking, amid all the flashy video sequences, why didn't they just play the movie? Why bother hiring actors at all if you're going to upstage them with technology and not provide them with credible characters to inhabit? It seemed like just one more step toward making performers dispensable.

The real shocker here is the show's director: Tony-Award winner Matthew Warchus. Those who have seen God of Carnage, The Norman Conquests, and Boeing-Boeing might be excused for thinking that Warchus can do no wrong. Those of us who have seen Ghost can attest that even Warchus is fallible. Of course, even the best directors have their missteps: Harold Prince and Grind, Bob Fosse and Big Deal, Michael Bennett and Ballroom. Warchus actually has a checkered history with musicals, including the lifeless 2001 revival of Follies and the ill-advised stage adaptation of Lord of the Rings. (Although I do hear good things about Matilda, which Warchus also directed, and which is coming to Broadway next season.) In Ghost, Warchus delivers a few deft directorial touches, particularly during the final moments of the show, but these moments far from compensate for the scattered nature of the production in general, and for the lack of a strong hand in bringing the various production pieces together more cohesively.

Oh, yeah. The cast. I almost forgot. Lost in the shuffle of Ghost are are a passel of seemingly talented performers, although Richard Fleeshman, as leading male Sam Wheat, seems to have been cast mostly on the basis of his abs. Broadway veteran Caissie Levy, as Molly Jensen, is a terrific performer who deserves far better material than she's given here. Bryce Pinkham has the thankless role of Carl, Sam's treacherous friend, and he's wonderfully smarmy in the role, but the audience seemed to respond more to Pinkham's own set of well-defined abdominals. Tony nominee Da'Vine Joy Randolph, brings her own sassy spin to Oda Mae Brown, but her big number in the second act, "I'm Outa Here," is so filled with pointlessly busy stage business that Randolph gets lost amid the bustle.

Ghost received three Tony Award nominations: Randolph for Featured Actress in a Musical, as well as nominations for lighting and set design. That's sort of like when the big sci-fi blockbuster movie of the year gets shut out in all the real Oscar categories, but the Academy throws the film a bone with production nods. I would like to remind the Tony voters that "best" design doesn't necessarily mean "most expensive" or "most complicated." Ideally, it would mean "design that works with the dramatic intent of the piece, enhancing the inherent effectiveness of the work, rather than hiding the fact that there essentially is no effectiveness." When I attended Ghost, the crowd applauded the special effects. I'm genuinely hoping that the Tony voters don't follow suit.

Review - Sleep No More at the McKittrick Hotel

I missed Sleep No More when it played in Boston in 2009, under the auspices of the American Repertory Theater. There was a mix-up with my press tickets, and by the time I realized something was amiss, the entire run for the show had already sold out. I was pretty pissed.

I was in New York last weekend to see two shows on Saturday, and when I discovered that Sleep No More has late-night showings on the weekends, I fired up my iPhone to see if I could snag a ticket for late that night. Since Sleep No More is a non-linear show, it doesn't technically "start" at any particular time, and audience members are admitted in waves in 15-minute intervals. Most of the time slots were sold out, but there were still a few tickets left for 11:15 PM, so I was in luck.

Sleep No More, devised by the British theater troupe Punchdrunk as a decidedly revisionist take on Shakespeare's Macbeth, was the talk of the town when it was in Boston, and it has gone on the become quite the hot ticket in New York City as well, with A-list notables donning the creepy white masks that audience members are required to wear at the show, and fumbling their way through the McKittrick Hotel in Chelsea. The show was originally supposed to play through May, but it has since been extended to September.

I suppose it was inevitable that, after so much build up, I would ultimately be disappointed with the actual experience of Sleep No More. First, it's a bit overwhelming. When the show played in Boston, it took place at the Old Lincoln School in Brookline, where audience members wandered through some 44 rooms of play area. At the McKittrick, the rooms number about 100. But it doesn't take long to get your bearings once you enter the playing space, and realize that the action of the show tends to take place in only a handful of these rooms.

Once I caught on to the rhythm of the show, I found that, while I admired the inspiration, the effort, and the admittedly spectacular results, I didn't quite find it the transformative experience that so many people made it out to be. There's no question that Sleep No More, which was the brainchild of Punchdrunk artistic director Felix Barrett, is quite different from any other theatrical experience, but I found myself wondering what it was all supposed to mean.

No words are spoken by the cast throughout the show, apart from a few grunts, groans, and periodic interjections. Sleep No More is primarily a visual experience, and I wound up focusing on it as a dance piece. The abundant choreography, by co-director Maxin Doyle, is thrilling and energetic. And Felix Barrett's physical design for the each of the room, and for the overall piece, is an artistic accomplishment unto itself. So, in that sense, the piece also works as an art installation.

But as theater, I'm not so sure. I found the overall experience of the show to be both thrilling and annoying. I came away disappointed that I had missed certain iconic moments that others had described to me. That's both the main asset and the key liability of this kind of theatrical experience: everyone experiences the show slightly differently, and you can't possibly see everything.

I was frustrated, though, that I kept happening upon certain moments multiple times. I saw the dance in the ballroom twice and the banquet scene three times. I saw Lady Macbeth dancing naked in her bedroom/bathroom twice, but I did not happen upon the famed naked goatboy nor the mimetic abortion. I saw Banquo before and after his death, but I didn't catch the death scene. I also saw numerous individual audience members receive private audiences with cast members, but I was never called in for one of those one-on-one sessions. Again, that's both the charm and the nuisance of Sleep No More: every person who attends the show will experience it differently.

If you go, two recommendations. Once you see a cast member walk by, follow that person until he or she takes you to something interesting. Keep following cast members until you get a sense of the space. Then, once you find what appears to be an important room, and you want to take a rest, cop a squat and wait for the story of that space to unfold. The ballroom is an especially good place to hang out, as many events occur there, and there are ample places to sit. There's also Lady Macbeth's bedroom, and various other large chambers. Again, you probably won't see everything, but you'll see enough to get the sense that it isn't about the storyline. It's about atmosphere, choreography, and a whole lot of voyeurism.

Also, you might want to bone up on Macbeth before you head out. It will make it more fun as you identify each of the characters. (e.g. Duncan, Banquo, Macduff, plus Macbeth himself and and Lady M.) Plus, you'll also have fun picking out certain key plot points. ("Wait, why are they moving around all of the trees on wheels...oh, right.")

Review - Sister Act on Broadway

Readers who only recently entered the EIKILFM fold could be forgiven for thinking that I hate everything. True, many of my recent reviews have been negative, to say the least: The People in the Picture, Baby It's You, Wonderland, Catch Me If You Can. And now with Sister Act, which opened two weeks back at the Broadway Theatre, I find that the season has put me in an awkward position: I'm running out of ways to say "this musical was bad."

In my defense, there were actually quite a few musical productions this season that I genuinely liked or even loved: The Scottsboro Boys, Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, The Book of Mormon, How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, and Anything Goes.

I'm a victim of circumstance, dear reader. Can I help it if starry-eyed producers insist on dragging mediocre (or worse) shows to Broadway? True, the lead producer in this case is more starry than starry-eyed: Whoopi Goldberg. And, in truth, Sister Act isn't bad, but it is definitely mediocre.

Word from the London production of Sister Act was that the show was a crowd-pleaser, but that the book, from television veterans but Broadway neophytes Cheri Steinkellner and Bill Steinkellner, was bland and jokey. So the producers brought in Douglas Carter Beane (Xanadu, The Little Dog Laughed) to punch up the script, and the result is bland and jokey. There were only a few times when I felt the DCB influence, including a few references to bachelor antique dealers, but they tended to stand out rather than blend with the rest of the book.

But if the jokes don't work, the story actually does, as anyone who's seen the 1992 film can attest. The songs are another story entirely. Composer Alan Menken and lyricist Glenn Slater have done a terrific job of recreating the feel of bland 1970s disco, and therein lies the trouble. The score is almost entirely unmemorable, except for "Take Me to Heaven," but only because we hear that song repeatedly throughout the show. Slater's lyrics here run toward the "nothing matters more than love/gift from up above" school of predictable rhyme schemes. 

A number of the songs reflect some genuinely questionable choices on the part of the creators, but it's not entirely clear who's to blame. I guess it ultimately falls on the lap of director Jerry Zaks, but someone with a voice of authority should have stepped in at some point and questioned the chorus of dancing homeless people backing up poor Chester Gregory during "I Could Be That Guy." (Also, the song was placed far too low in Gregory's range for him to sing it effectively. Was there no one available to transpose?) Another jaw-dropper was "Lady in the Long Black Dress," in which a trio of mob henchmen unctuously evoke Barry White as they sing of their plans to romance the nuns into doing their bidding. Um...ew.

As I sat watching the show, I made note of how awkward and amateurish the musical staging was, but I couldn't recall who the choreographer was. At intermission, I checked the Playbill: it was my old friend Anthony Van Laast, who perpetrated what can only charitably be called choreography for Mamma Mia, both the stage and movie versions. Why is this man still getting work on the professional stage? His motto seems to be, "when in doubt, indicate." Every line of every song, it seems, needs a pointlessly intricate foot placement or a painfully obvious gesture. The lyric talks about driving? Why, use your hands to mime a steering wheel, of course.

There's been a lot of talk about the "star-making" lead performance by Patina Miller in the Whoopi Goldberg role, and I found her professional, to be sure, but otherwise unremarkable. I was thankful for the presence of a pair of old pros to lend the proceedings a shred of dignity: Victoria Clark as Mother Superior and Fred Applegate as Monsignor O'Hara, both of whom shine out in whatever they do, regardless of the material.

On the positive side, after 16 years of Catholic education, I can't help smiling at the sight of nuns grooving to the beat. And the show is certainly visually impressive, with its glitzy scenic design by Klara Zieglerova, and subtle-as-a-sledge-hammer costumes by Lez Brotherston. Sister Act is likely to replicate its crowd-pleasing feat on this side of the Atlantic. I'm confident that the show will find an enthusiastic and appreciative audience. Just don't expect to find me among the faithful.

Review - War Horse at Lincoln Center Theater

The essence of theater is artifice. As audience members, we know that we're being manipulated, and yet we're eager to submit, as long as the production in question exhibits craft and genuine emotion.

It's funny, though, sometimes when we're actually aware that our collective chains are being yanked, it sort of spoils the fun. Sometimes. Other times, we know full well that the show we're watching is shamelessly tugging at the old heartstrings, and yet we succumb.

War Horse is fairly shameless. And manipulative. And, at times, cheap. And yet it works, and smashingly so. I can't remember the last time I felt so pummeled and yet so emotionally satisfied by a staged production, musical or otherwise. (Although War Horse has quite a bit of music, the show is technically a play.)

The production is the latest in a delightful succession of productions imported from the The National Theatre of Britain, and it shows every sign of becoming a smash hit: the production was originally supposed to play at the Lincoln Center's Vivian Beaumont Theatre through June, but has been extended indefinitely based on boffo box-office sales and a raft of raves from the critics.

From where I sit, the show deserves both its praise and its financial success. Frankly, War Horse is not the deepest play ever to trod the boards. The play is based on the children's book by Michael Morpurgo, adapted for the stage by Nick Stafford, and the story essentially comprises "boy meets horse, boy loses horse, boy goes to war to get horse back." The show is directed by Marianne Elliott and Tom Morris, and in lesser hands, this could have been nothing but a turgid, sappy melodrama. And, frankly, at times, it is. But Elliot and Morris bring the admittedly predictable story to vivid and often horrifying life through some simply stunning stagecraft, aided by a handful of heartfelt performances.

You may have heard about the amazing puppetry involved in War Horse, and everything you've heard is true. (The puppets are designed and constructed by Handspring Puppet Company, with horse-movement sequences credited to Toby Sedgwick.) But, here's the thing: it's not the technical wizardry that makes the horses astonishing, but rather the way the talented team of puppeteers brings each horse to life. I swear, at times, I completely forgot that I was watching puppets.

But who wants to go and watch a three-hour puppet show? Not I, I can tell you that for sure. No, the magic of War Horse ultimately lies in a simple tale, well told, and a cast of talented performers. Particularly moving is Seth Numrich as Albert, the boy who follows his beloved horse into the horrors of war. Also affecting were Matt Doyle as Billy Narracott, Albert's cousin and rival, and a wonderfully understated Alyssa Bresnahan as Billy's mother.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

As a play, War Horse stumbles a bit in its second half, when the show broadens its scope beyond the story of the boy and his horse. As the show began to put Albert's tale into the larger context of World War I, along with the technical developments that made that war so horrifying (e.g. machine guns, barbed wire, armored tanks), I found myself thinking, "Dude, it's just a horse." But when the narrative was focused on Albert, I was totally on board with what he was doing.

Also, the dialog in the second act became a bit more ham-handed, particularly the lines for the German deserter, Friedrich (Peter Hermann). The story became a bit plodding and confusing, and the writer/directors missed some ripe opportunities for pathos. The unceremonious demise of one of the show's main characters is treated in an almost off-handed way. The show forecasts many of its developments long before they arrive. ("What's that in the distance? A German regiment? Or a predictable plot twist?") And the climactic scene in particular seemed blissfully unaware of subtlety and all its synonyms. 

So, not a play for the ages, but definitely a production to be cherished, savored, and remembered for years to come. This is pot-boiler theater at its tear-jerking best. I was weeping like a little girl, practically from start to finish. And I hope to see the show again, to marvel once more in the physical production, the clean and honest emotion, and one of the most genuinely moving stories I've ever had the pleasure of witnessing. But this time, I'll bring tissues.

Review - Priscilla, Queen of the Desert on Broadway

Yet another entry in the movies-into-musicals genre opens tonight on Broadway, and this one actually makes sense, at least on paper. The 1994 breakout Australian hit "The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert" would seem a natural choice for a stage show: larger-than-life characters, über-dramatic goings on, and the chance for a costume designer to bust out more bugle-beads and ostrich-plumes this side of La Cage aux Folles.

Alas, in the transition to Broadway's storied Palace Theatre, Priscilla, Queen of the Desert seems to have been diminished by a lot more than just a few words from the title. The show has been a hit in its home country, as well as London and Toronto, and it's certainly a feast for the eyes, but it's a repast that ultimately amounts to nothing more than a nutrition-deprived heap of empty calories. 

The book to Priscilla, by original screenwriter Stephan Elliot and producer Allan Scott, seems blissfully unconstrained by such limiting factors as reality and taste. They've essentially taken the skeleton story from the original screenplay and shoehorned in a bunch of hoary jokes, groan-worthy sight gags, and a relentless barrage of glitzy production numbers, while leaving anything remotely approximating human drama on the cutting-room floor.

I was a bit disappointed to hear that Priscilla would not have an original score, relying instead on such "period" songs as "Shake Your Groove Thing," "I Will Survive," and "It's Raining Men." But that turned out to be the least of the show's troubles. The real problem here is that the creators, including director Simon Phillips, choreographer Ross Coleman, and "production supervisor" Jerry Mitchell, have misjudged what made the film appealing in the first place. Sure, the costumes and the camp were fun. But what really made the movie a charmer were the three sympathetic characters at the core of the story. The creators seem to have been so hell-bent on cramming the show with glitter and shtick that they've forgotten the people underneath. There are 28 separate numbers listed in the program; after a while, the songs start to blend together into an undifferentiated morass.

The show also falls victim to a failing all too common in the movies-to-musicals genre: relying too heavily on audience members having seen the original film. Lazy creators too often seem to fall back on the "everyone's seen the movie" element, and in the process of making room for the musical numbers cut out too much of the character development and plot exposition. For instance, in Priscilla, the iconic moment from the film when Felicia rides in the giant shoe on top of the bus (see the logo above) has no real setup here. We just go from one scene to the shoe scene to another without benefit of context or explanation. A number of my Boston Conservatory students were in the audience the night that I saw Priscilla, none of whom had seen the movie, and when I talked to them at intermission, this was one of the scenes that had them scratching their heads.

Priscilla's second act has a few moments that almost redeem the show, particularly when it starts to find some heart. The central drag queen Tick/Mitzi is played here rather uncovincingly by the normally reliable Will Swenson. I suppose part of the problem was that I never, for a second, bought Swenson as a gay man or a drag queen, despite his clearly studied fey mannerisms. (Will, would it kill you to bevel?) When Tick finally has some quality time with his son (yeah, he has a son, which the show never fully explains), the two share an all-too-rare moment of human connection, but it's over almost as soon as it's begun, and the show then returns to its high-octane camp and superficial emoting.

The Broadway Priscilla also features Tony Sheldon, who originated the stage role of Bernadette in the Australian production, and has since played the part in London and Toronto. Sheldon was professional, but had the slick, superficial polish of someone who's been performing the role for years already. He did have some wonderful comedic and emotional moments in the show, particularly during the flashback to his triumphant years as a headliner with a drag revue called "Les Girls." But the construct of having a present-day character shadowed by a ghost from the past has been done before and better in Stephen Sondheim's Follies. Yes, everything's been done before, and there are no original ideas, and it all depends on execution, but this borrowed moment was all too indicative of the derivative, uninspired nature of the production as a whole.

The keenest spark in the cast was undoubtedly Nick Adams as Adam/Felicia. (Full disclosure: Nick is a Boston Conservatory grad, although I did not have him as a student.) But even Adams seems forced and unrestrained here, a morass of over-the-top energy, and a clear indication that nobody in charge really had a handle on any particular tone for the show, or that everyone was too focused on the visuals, the flying divas, and the spectacular set to notice that certain elements were getting a tad out of hand. [Insert obligatory Spider-Man reference here.]

Review - Fela "Live" From the National Theater

Certain musicals just keep coming back into my field of vision, offering me opportunities to consider the shows afresh. Most of the time, I see new things to appreciate, if not always enjoy.

Billy Elliot seemed slightly less terrible on Broadway than in London. My overall opinion of Next to Normal improved considerably between its Off-Broadway and Broadway productions, although I still find its implicit message suspect.

Then, London's National Theater announced that it would broadcast internationally a "live" (in reality, delayed, because of time differences) performance of the musical Fela as part of its popular NT Live series. Fela recently closed on Broadway after 463 performances, which is pretty good considering many thought (myself included) that it wouldn't last 3 months, let alone a little over a year.

In my review of the Off-Broadway review production of Fela, I was less than impressed. In fact, I was downright annoyed, mostly at the lazy storytelling (the show is essentially one long narration) and cheap theatrical devices (the show relies overly on projections and supertitles to set the scene and tell the story). When I saw the show on Broadway, I was slightly more captivated by the story and message, and by the sheer exuberance of the music, and of Bill T. Jones's electrifying choreography. After viewing the show a third time last night via satellite, I remain a reluctant admirer of the show's intent, but nonetheless a detractor of its storytelling techniques.

Fela tells the story of Fela Anikulapo Kuti, a Nigerian musician and activist active during the 1970s and '80s. It's certainly a story worth telling, and retelling: the aftereffects of British imperialism, the local ramifications of corporate greed, and the ongoing tragedy of African governmental corruption. The show's conceit is that we are attending Fela's last concert at his beloved venue, The Shrine, as Fela has decided to leave Nigeria, having grown unwilling to withstand the pressure and persecution of the Nigerian government.

Last night's broadcast began with a half-hour pre-show, with cast members wandering through the on-screen set, and musicians playing warm-up music, welcoming us into Fela's world. Perhaps predictably, the broadcast atmosphere didn't even come close to the feeling of celebration and community that enveloped audiences during the Broadway show's run. Also, the broadcast director didn't focus the cameras on the supertitles, which appeared during the first number to help acclimate intrepid theatergoers to the Nigerian accents. Perhaps predictably, the uptight Boston audience members declined to stand during the show's "clock" audience-participation section.

At first, I found myself disengaged and unaffected by the broadcast, but around the middle of the first act, I started to get caught up in the proceedings, partly due to an African American woman behind me who regularly vocalized her opinions and approval. Normally that sort of thing would irk me to no end, but somehow the jubilant nature of her participation became infectious.

During the interval (Ahem, that's British for "intermission," don'tcha know), there was an interview with director/choreographer Bill T. Jones, who made some really compelling points about the show and its eponymous "hero." The theme of the show, he said, was that we can have "as much freedom as we are willing to pay for," referring of course to Fela's continual struggle against the Nigerian government, but also wonderfully resonant with our own life and times here in America. Jones acceded that Fela was indeed a flawed character, which the show addresses, but Jones feels that's "part of his poetry."

I found Act 2 of Fela to be considerably more dramatically cohesive and emotionally compelling this time around. Somehow the narrative was making more visceral sense, and I found myself less hide-bound by my own notions of theatrical convention and getting caught up in the story and its message. But I still find the show, overall, to be more admirable than transcendent. When shows aim higher, and feature more noble subject matter, that doesn't mean they get a pass in terms of dramatic integrity and the quality of the presentation. But I will say that three viewings of Fela have taught me that, as a critic and teacher of musical theater, I should try to be more open to alternate forms of storytelling.

It's interesting that we're starting to see more show producers who are allowing these sorts of broadcasts. Just yesterday, it was announced that Memphis would soon be filmed for theatrical release later in the spring. I must say, I find that announcement puzzling. I mean, broadcasting Fela makes sense: one of the keys to the show's effectiveness is its central performance by Sahr Ngaujah. On Broadway, I saw Fela alternate Kevin Mambo, who was fine, but didn't have anywhere near the dynamic and emotional range of Ngaujah. Plus, I have a hard time imagining audiences with Broadway Across America getting excited about Fela as part of their subscription packages. But surely Memphis will be able to drag its mediocre butt across America. Isn't that why the Tony voters gave it Best Musical, despite the fact that Fela is a significantly better show?

A final note of thanks to the folks at Boston's local jewel, The Coolidge Corner Theater, one of a handful of local Boston venues for the Fela broadcast. I foolishly left the task of acquiring my ticket for the last minute, only to find that the showing had sold out. I contacted the good folks at the Coolidge, explained my situation, and after copious abject begging, they scrounged up a ticket for me. Major props to the Coolidge, yo.

Mutiny! - CD Review and Contest

Shortly after I got out of college in the mid '80s, I took my first trip to London. It was my first time out of the country (unless you count my sixth-grade trip with the Boy Scouts to Montreal). Even then, I was a tad obsessive about musical theater, and in the six days we spent in London, we saw five shows.

The only reason we didn't see six shows was that, at the time, there were absolutely no shows that played on Sundays, and even now, there are only a handful. Of course, that number doesn't even begin to rival some of my more recent theatrical jaunts, at least in terms of daily dramatic density, but hey I was young, and short on funds.

Even so, we did get to see a fairly momentous array of shows, particularly in retrospect: Me and My Girl, Chess, Les Miserables, and Starlight Express. Yes, these shows all eventually made it to New York, but here's the important part: I saw them in London. And before anybody else I knew had even heard of most of them. At the time, that was very important to me, and I blush to admit it still holds a certain personal cachet.

We had lined up tickets to Les Miz, Chess, and Me and My Girl ahead of time, but then decided to take in Starlight Express upon arrival. Atrocious though that show may have been -- and still is -- I will never regret the night I spent at the Apollo Victoria Theatre, current home of the London production of Wicked. As I always say, as a teacher and student of musical theater, no night in the theater is ever a waste: I always learn something, even if it's what *not* to do. Starlight Distress, as I have dis-affectionately called the show ever since, taught me quite a lot about what makes bad musicals bad. Quite a lot.

It turns out that that particular trip to London also provided another opportunity to experience the instructive power of truly bad live theater, because we also decided to take in a performance of what was then a new musical called Mutiny!, based on the famed story of the mutiny on the Bounty. I'd like to think that my tastes in musical theater have refined over the decades, but even then, freshly out of college, I knew that Mutiny! was utterly dreadful.

I do have to say that the set to Mutiny!, designed by one William Dudley, was pretty frickin' amazing. Remember that this was the '80s, which was a time when Britain seemed to be coming into its own in musical theater, at least with respect to bloated blockbusters. It was a time of spectacle and excess, and Mutiny! was certainly no exception. The set for Mutiny! essentially comprised a scale replica of the good ship HMS Bounty, which rose on hydraulic lifts, spun around, and opened up to reveal the inner workings and compartments of the ship. When the boat opened up, the hull flattened out to form the playing space. It was an ingenious and impressive mechanical feat, one worthy of a much better show.

The music for Mutiny!, by David Essex, who also starred in the show as a would-be hunky Fletcher Christian, had a certain facile idiomatic flare, but the lyrics, by Essex and one Richard Crane, were utterly puerile and repetitive, sometimes both at the same time. One song, called "Friends," attempts to establish the relationship between Christian and Captain Bligh. Here's a sampling of the lyric:

Friends
You and I we, are friends
Friends right up to the end
We are friends

Once Bligh and Christian get to Tahiti, there's a song about breadfruit, which was the particular quarry and end-goal of the Bounty voyage. A sample lyric:

Breadfruit, breadfruit
Breadfruit trees
Food for the slaves
of the West Indies (with the stress on the last syllable: in-DEEZ)

But, why am I telling you all this? ("And you a...perfect stranger...") Well, because the Mutiny cast recording recently received its first CD release, and it gave me a chance to revisit the amateurish horror that was Mutiny!. I accidentally ordered an additional copy of the CD, and figured I'd offer it as a contest prize for one of my lucky readers.

"Um...wait, Chris. You just spent untold paragraphs trashing the show. Why would I want to win a copy of the CD?" A good question, my perspicacious reader. Because I know that many of you are just as obsessive as I am about musical theater, and equally fascinated with forgotten flops and turgid train wrecks.

So, here are some trivia questions directly and tangentially related to Mutiny! and its staff. I'll select a winner from the names of everyone who gets all of the following questions right, and that reader will become the proud owner of his or her very own Mutiny! CD. Sure to become a collectors item. And, heck, it's not *that* bad. As I said, some of the music is quite good, even if the lyrics are nearly unbearable. And don't tell me that you don't have a CD or two or some godawful shows that for some reason still fascinate you on some level.

[The contest is over. Thanks to everyone who participated. The winner has been notified. --C.C.]

So here goes. And best of luck.

1. David Essex had a fair amount of success as a pop singer in the '70s. What was his only Billboard Top 40 hit? ANSWER: "Rock On"

2. Which iconic historical role did Essex originate in the London production of a particular musical? And who will be playing that role in an upcoming Broadway revival of that show? ANSWER: I was going for Evita and Ricky Martin, but I would have accepted Godspell and Gavin Creel.

3. Name four Hollywood hunks who have played the character Fletcher Christian in movie versions of the Bounty mutiny. (Three are dead, and one might as well be.) ANSWER: Errol Flynn, Marlon Brando, Clark Gable and ::shudder:: Mel Gibson.

4. Mutiny! played London's Piccadilly Theatre. The next production at the Piccadilly will be the musical adaptation of what sentimental 1990 movie favorite? ANSWER: Ghost - The Musical

5. In the text above, I make the following veiled reference: "But, why am I telling you all this? ('And you a...perfect stranger...')" What 1980s musical am I alluding to here? ANSWER: "I Love a Film Cliche," from A Day in Hollywood/A Night in the Ukraine.

Please enter your answers as comments below. I will only publish the comments after I have selected the winner.

Reviews - La Bete and Brief Encounter on Broadway

There's really no getting around it: I'm all about the musicals. I'm sure that doesn't come as a surprise to my regular readers. But that doesn't mean I don't make occasional forays into so-called "straight" plays.

Such forays are especially rewarding when the plays in question are well nigh on musicals themselves (e.g Amadeus, Master Class). Or when the shows feature such a heightened reality and/or a slick presentation that they feel as though they could be musicals (e.g. M. Butterfly, The Lion in Winter). Which is why, although there are certainly quite a few intriguing new musicals coming to New York this season, I have sacrificed a few of my precious show slots to a few non-tuners during my recent trips to New York.

Cases in point: La Bête and Brief Encounter. I saw the former a few weeks back, and the latter this past Wednesday. And both shows represented that larger-than-life theatricality that musicals supply. As we'll see, though, only one of these productions genuinely works, at least in terms of providing an overall satisfying theatrical experience.

Some background: I first saw La Bête in Boston in 1991, during its out-of-town tryout at the Wilbur Theater. The show wasn't selling very well, so the producers were papering the house, and a friend had scored a couple of seats. The play was originally supposed to feature the late Ron Silver in the central part of Valere, but those mythic "creative differences" came a cropper, and understudy Tom McGowan took over the part.

Even then, at (ahem) a rather tender age, I knew that there was something missing from the play. As you may know, playwright David Hirson intended La Bête to be an homage to Molière. (The name of the other major male character, Elomire, is even an anagram of Molière's name.) As such, the play is written entirely in heroic couplets: that is, continuous sets of two rhymed lines in iambic pentameter. The problem is, once you get beyond the novelty of the rhymed couplets, the play doesn't really have much to say. Oh, sure, there's the whole theme of popular entertainment versus artistic ambition. But other that "low art bad, high art good," there really doesn't appear to much else on Hirson's mind here.

In fact, the show ironically falls victim to what it purports to decry. The famous opening monologue by the Valere character (here played by the phenomenally talented Mark Rylance), in which the boorish lout Valere expatiates for some 20 full pages in the script, amounts to a shameless appeal to the peculiar modern mania for that which is bigger, longer, higher, lower, larger, louder, etc. The feat is impressive, but is it really any different from your typical "American Idol" showboating? Our the thankfully fading preoccupation with enormous, characterless surburban homes (AKA "starter castles")?

That's not to say that this production of La Bête is lacking in charms. Far from it. Rylance alone is well worth the ticket price. Rylance deservedly won the Best Actor Tony a few years back for his masterful performance in Boeing-Boeing, directed there as he is here by wunderkind Matthew Warchus. As an inveterate fan of "Absolutely Fabulous", I was of course thrilled to see Joanna Lumley live on stage again. (I saw her in London in an otherwise forgettable revival of The Letter.) And David Hyde Pierce does his best as Elomire, in an admittedly lackluster role. But the few delights La Bête has to offer come primarily in the person of Mr. Rylance.

Far more successful as an overall theatrical experience is the Roundabout Theatre production of Brief Encounter, now playing at Studio 54. Director Emma Rice has adapted Noël Coward's screenplay with an eye toward the whimsical, but without ever losing track of the inherent beauty and heartache of Coward's simple but compelling story. The plot features a fleeting love affair between a married woman and a married man. The story also features two romantic subplots that provide alternately flirtatious and lusty counterpoints to the doomed central affair.

The show features that self-same heightened reality that I mentioned above, including song, dance, video projections, environmental staging, and even the occasional semi-acrobatic interlude. Particularly enjoyable for me were the interpolations of little- and well-known Noël Coward songs, such as "Mad About the Boy" and "A Room With a View." The result is a thoroughly theatrical experience in a similar vein to The 39 Steps, but with a far more serious and heartfelt tone.

One of the primary joys of Brief Encounter lies in its charming and sprightly cast, particularly Hannah Yelland, who is just sensational as the central female lover, Laura. Yelland makes every line both intense and credible, with a presence that more than fills the cavernous Studio 54. Also excellent was Tristan Sturrock as her extramarital paramour. Of the strong supporting cast, the most notable were Annette McLaughlin as Myrtle, the local restaurant proprietor, and the wonderfully versatile Joseph Alessi in the dual roles of Laura's husband and Myrtle's boy toy. 

I must admit that I sometimes found my attention wandering during Brief Encounter, but eventually I chalked this up to a deliberate choice on Emma Rice's part to give the show a languorous pace. Rice isn't in any particular hurry, and is often content to linger over such revealing detail as watching the central couple slowly dress after they have dried their clothes subsequent to a minor boating incident. For me, Brief Encounter reveals much of what is missing from La Bête: mostly heart, and a depth of human feeling. La Bête is ultimately about facile ideas and low comedy. Brief Encounter is about nothing less than finding whatever happiness you can.

Paradise Found - A Lost Cause?

Sometimes I marvel at the human capacity for self-delusion. In a recent article in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, storied theater director Harold Prince spoke about his recent production of Paradise Found at the Menier Chocolate Factory in London. And some of Prince's comments really got me scratching my head. Most of them in fact.

As you may know, Paradise Found was by all accounts an unmitigated disaster. Granted I didn't see it, but we're not talking mixed reviews here, but outright hostile pans. The fabulous West End Whingers were unrestrained in their disdain. "We're still a wee bit shell-shocked, to be honest..." The delightful SarahB at Adventures in the Endless Pursuit of Entertainment wondered at the end whether it was just an "elaborate joke."

Well, according to Prince, the problems with the production stemmed from the fact that the theater and the cast were too small:

The material is great. But it should be big...Now I have to do it somewhere where there's a large chorus. We had wonderful actors...but everyone was doubling and tripling...That's not what the material demands...I'm meeting with the authors the week after next, and we’re going to aim for it.

Again, I didn't see the show, but none of the reviews that I read said that the venue or the cast size were at fault. No, most of them seemed to focus on the material itself, which one reviewer called "[A] pastiche Arabian Nights fable of unbelievable coarseness and vulgarity."

I know that some creators refuse to read reviews, but I can't imagine that Prince was completely insulated from the critical drubbing that Paradise Found received. But I was simply floored by his contention that the show just needed to be bigger. No, Hal. Great shows work in small paces and with small casts. John Doyle's recent productions of your Sweeney Todd and Company certainly come to mind. The idea that all you really need to do is throw some more money at Paradise Found for the project to work is ludicrous.

Of course, this is probably an academic discussion, because Prince is highly unlikely to find investors clueless enough to open their purse strings for a full-scale production of Paradise Found. Yes, this is the man who made millions on Phantom of the Opera. But he's also the man who gave us Lovemusik. And Roza. And Grind. And A Doll's Life. And Bounce.

You get the point.

Fela Closing. But First, Patti LaBelle

The producers of the Broadway production of Fela recently announced that the show will close on January 2nd, 2011. At that point, the show will have run 463 regular performances and 34 previews.

That's certainly a decent run, and nothing to be ashamed of, but at about 14 months, it's probably not enough of a run to turn a profit. Granted, Wicked went into the black in that amount of time, but Wicked was running at full-price capacity. Fela has been running at a thoroughly respectable capacity of 85%, but at an average ticket of about $75.

So, all those A-list producers (Will Smith, Jada Pinkett Smith, and Jay-Z) most likely did have a positive effect on the show's box office, but not enough to push things into the profitability column.

But before the show folds up, the producers hope to go out with a diva-fueled bang. The fabulous Patti LaBelle will replace Tony winner Lillias White as Funmilayo, Fela's beloved mother, beginning September 14th and through the end of the show's Broadway run. LaBelle was originally only supposed to step in for White during her vacation, but LaBelle has since extended her run with the show.

Now, before you go booking your tickets expecting to see Patti LaBelle take over the stage of the Eugene O'Neill Theater, be forewarned: Funmilayo is a relatively minor role in the show. In fact, nearly every role other than the title role is minor. The story of Fela is told and sung almost entirely from Fela's point of view, which was one of the main problems I had with the show when I first saw at the now-moribund 37 Arts. (Read my review of the Off Broadway run.) I was pleased to see that the Broadway version actually gave some speaking lines to someone besides Fela, but I still found the storytelling rather inert. (Read my review of the Broadway production.)

To be sure, Funmilayo is an important role in the show, and she does sing on five of the show's 26 numbers. And a few of those songs are pivotal to the story. Just don't go expecting to see a Patti LaBelle concert. 'Sall I'm sayin'.

But, like the eponymous Fela Anikulapo Kuti, the show based upon his life will not fade quietly into the dark. The show is set to transfer to London, where it will enjoy a run at the storied National Theater, during which the show will be broadcast live to movie theaters around the world. One hopes that a DVD release will soon follow.

Yeah, I know. "Gee, Chris, I thought you didn't like the show." Actually, I genuinely appreciated what Fela was trying to do, even if I occasionally found fault with the execution. I fully support all efforts to stretch the musical theater form, and Fela's is definitely a story worth telling and retelling. Bill T. Jones has created some of his most vibrant and energetic choreography. And Sahr Ngaujah is unforgettable as Fela: dynamic, sexy, and passionate. So, I'll certainly be in a theater near me for the live cinecast. And I might even catch Fela again before it closes to see how La LaBelle fares on the Broadway stage.

Review - Enron at the Broadhurst Theatre

Never doubt the power of the Tonys, at least when it comes to marketing a show. No sooner had the Tony nominations come out than the producers of the new play Enron announced that the struggling show, which opened April 27th to decidedly mixed reviews and weak grosses, would be closing Sunday, May 9th after only 12 days of regular performances. The producers were likely hoping for more than just the four nominations that the show received, but alas, the all-important nod for Best Play was not among the four.

I have to say that I'd feel a lot worse for the Enron folks if the play itself were any good. But, in my humble estimation, it is not. I saw the show last weekend, before the closure announcement, and it wasn't anywhere near the electrifying experience I had been led to expect.

Enron was the one play of the season that I was actively looking forward to. That's probably because I had heard that it was sort of a play/musical hybrid, with ample amounts of dance, music, and stylistic touches. Plus, I had heard that the cast would feature Broadway musical stalwarts Norbert Leo Butz and Marin Mazzie. The New York Times even referred to the show as a musical in one of its Arts, Briefly notes. (The Gray Lady later appended that article with a note that, despite the songs and dancing, author Lucy Prebble considers it a play.)

After the reviews for Enron came out, I heard some speculation that the New York production wasn't well received because Americans don't like to see themselves criticized. Sorry, I don't buy that. You'd be hard pressed to find an American who would defend Enron, or to take any attack on Enron personally. No, it comes down to the effectiveness of the play itself. Despite an acclaimed London run, Enron seems to have lost something in translation. Rumor has it that director Rupert Goold was only able to spend two weeks rehearsing with the cast because of his schedule. But it's not clear to me that more rehearsal would have made much difference. It wasn't the presentation that was lacking, but rather the substance of the play itself.

Enron is certainly well-presented, but the dramaturgy is pedestrian. I'll say one thing for Prebble: she made the abstruse financial machinations almost comprehensible. But the play has no point of view, other than "Gee, weren't these guys greedy and evil?" Theatre thrives on ambiguity and nuance, and there's precious little of either in Prebble's play. There were a few times when I thought I was getting a glimpse of the people behind the disaster, particularly in the final monologue of Jeff Skilling (played here with characteristic aplomb by Butz):

You wanna hold a mirror up to nature? [A projection reveals a graph of the Dow Jones Index over the last century.] There's your mirror. Every dip, every crash, every bubble that's burst, that's you...This one gave us the railroads. This one the Internet. This one the slave trade. And if you wanna do anything about saving the environment or getting to other worlds, you'll need a bubble for that, too.

That's a fairly interesting insight, but that's really all we get, and it comes after a lot of unconvincing drama and plodding dialog. In one of the first scenes, the Andy Fastow character (played rather broadly by Stephen Kunken) is at an Enron party, and says (to no one in particular) "Look, even Ken Lay is here." In a later scene, Fastow is being bullied by some of the energy traders, and says "I'll remember this when I'm CFO." That kind of ham-handed indication should have been edited out after the first draft.

Prebble also traffics in facile and obvious metaphors: the arcane financial instruments become corporeal "raptors," in a reference to "Jurassic Park." And the energy traders take on the countenance of Jedi knights, complete with a light-saber-laden dance number. Now it's entirely likely that Prebble took those cultural references directly from the Enron folk themselves, but accuracy doesn't necessarily translate into inspiration.

I will admit that it was illuminating to see the extent to which the Bush family, George W. in particular, was in bed with the Enron folk, and relied heavily on financial contributions from same. It was also eye-opening to see how soon-to-be governor of California Arnold Schwarzenegger was involved, with particular regard to the disastrous deregulation of electricity in California, which led to the rolling blackouts in 2000 and 2001. The implication was that Enron helped get The Terminator into office, specifically with the goal of bringing about deregulation. But all that info is readily available elsewhere. If you're looking for some insight into the Enron fiasco, you're better off reading The Smartest Guys in the Room or renting the 2005 movie version.

Despite the play's flaws, it's possible that Enron could have found a receptive audience. I find it really hard to believe that, with this many producers (IBDB lists a whopping 34), there weren't sufficient cash reserves to allow the show time to catch on. But they probably saw the show's gross go down one week after the reviews came out and just panicked. (I'm sure there's an incisive parallel in there somewhere with the investor panic involved in the collapse of Enron, but I really can't be bothered.)

GRADE: B minus (Not nearly as insightful or thrilling as it thinks it ought to be) 

Review - La Cage aux Folles at the Longacre Theater

Everyone thought it was too soon to bring La Cage aux Folles back to Broadway. Well, perhaps it is, in terms of the financial prospects of the current Broadway revival, which opened last night at the Longacre Theatre. But in terms of artistic fruition, this production represents a considerable improvement over both the 2004 revival and even the original Broadway production.

The Longacre is actually the perfect theater for this production; it's intimate, ornate, pink, and overall just a wee bit louche in its look and feel. What better berth for the Broadway transfer of the well-received Menier Chocolate Factory production of La Cage. What makes this version so appealing is Terry Johnson's smart and emotionally honest direction. Johnson finds the heart of the piece, crafting more believable relationships among the characters. Plus, Johnson seems to have coached his actors to do more than just perform, but to listen as well. (Listen? In musical comedy? What a novel idea...) 

Another aid in the production's artistic success is a significantly revised book by Harvey Fierstein, which seems to feature a fair amount of new material, including the scenes and dialog leading up to Albin's first entrance and number. There's also considerably more material for Jacob the butler (well, maid...), played here by the adorable scene stealer Robin De Jesus. (And no, Ben, I'm not just saying that because he's your best friend.) I do have to say that the device of using Jacob as a sort of stage manager, ushering in set changes and linking certain scenes isn't entirely successful.

The Jerry Herman score remains essentially the same. (Much to the delight of the woman sitting next to me, who made it a point to say to me, "I hope they still have the same songs." Um...) They have gotten rid of the throwaway musical sequence "Aren't We All, N'est-ce Pas?," which isn't on the original cast recording. That's fine, but the music remains as underscoring to a rather pointless scene with the denizens of the local cafe.

The dance numbers, choreographed by Lynne Page, are staged within an inch of their lives, particularly the opening. But while the dance numbers are strong, if a bit ornate, the musical staging in the non-dancing numbers is lame. Like, community-theater lame. The reprise of "With You on My Arm" is particularly clunky and joy-deprived. But "The Best of Times" features actual meaningful stage business, rather than just having the cast stare out at the audience and sway from side to side. (In the original Broadway production, even the set rocked back and forth. Even then, 27 years ago and in my musical theater infancy, I knew that such a touch was twee beyond belief.)

Again, the major assets in this production are the relationships among the characters, particularly Georges and Albin, played here by Kelsey Grammer and Douglas Hodge, respectively. Grammer more than earns his place as a musical theater performer, and brings a lovely soft quality to his interactions with Hodge. This was particularly true during "Song on the Sand," although Grammer did have a tendency to flat on extended notes. And "Look Over There" was especially well staged, laying a solid groundwork for Grammer to plumb the emotional meaning of the song.

Hodge, in a rather splashy Broadway debut, is highly mannered, to say the very least, crafting the sort of over-the-top line readings that many actors simply couldn't pull off. But somehow Hodge comes off as both affected and sympathetic. It's quite a delightful feat to witness. Plus, at times he's flat out, breathtakingly hysterical, particularly during the lead in to "Masculinity." Hodge isn't quite the Broadway belter type: he's more a classically trained actor with a reasonably tuneful, albeit wistful, singing voice. But he brings a quiet dignity to "I Am What I Am," making up for what he lacks in vocal power with heartbreaking intensity.

[MINOR SPOILER ALERT for the next paragraph.]

The two performances culminate in a simply yet astonishingly effective tag and the end of act 2. Rather than walking off into the cliche-ridden sunset together, as the characters did in the original production, Albin and Georges here sit quietly together on the stairs of the nightclub and share a simple, touching kiss as the curtain falls. Yes, that's rather obvious, and rather bald-faced in its deliberate manipulation, but, girlfriend, it works. Somehow the fact that this is admitted and confirmed heterosexual Kelsey Grammer kissing another man on-stage -- something that decidedly did *not* occur in the original production -- places a perfect piece of punctuation at the end of a wonderfully heartfelt production.

GRADE: A- (Who knows if it will make money, but the show itself is strong, sweet, and emotionally satisfying.)

Should Bloggers Review Previews?

My esteemed blogging colleague Esther at Gratuitous Violins has an insightful post today about bloggers reviewing shows before opening night. Her post is in response to an article in on British news site The Guardian about British producer Michael Condron. At the end of the article, Condron rails against theater bloggers:

His single flash of anger is aimed at the bloggers who, in defiance of theatrical convention that comment is embargoed until press night, review a play during its previews. "It's almost invariably reactionary responses. They're the modern equivalent of the lot that used to boo the plays in the 50s and 60s. I think they're ghastly.

Here's an irony: Codron actually misuses the word "reactionary," under the false supposition that it means "in reaction to." In fact, it means "opposing political or social change." And that is, in fact, what Codron himself is doing. Well, tu quoque, Mr. Codron.

You're fighting a losing battle, dude. ("It's a new world, Golde. A new world...") The moldy Old Guard simply don't understand the new media. They rail against change, anything that doesn't fit in with their fixed ideas about how theater should operate, and in the process they fail to take advantage of potential marketing opportunities. One of the reasons that Next to Normal recently turned a profit is that the marketing team was very savvy about social media, Twitter in particular, upon which it has amassed more than one million followers. That's right, one million. How many Twitter followers did you manage to scrape up for Losing Louie, Mr. Codron?

When I get press tickets, I abide by embargoes. It's only fair. But when I pay for my ticket, I'll say what I want, where I want, when I want. And no reactionary septuagenarian is going to stop me.

Review - A Little Night Music Revival

Easily the most anticipated musical of the season thus far has been the Broadway transfer of acclaimed London production of A Little Night Music. My schedule didn't allow me to see the show during previews, as is my normal wont, but I did get down to the Walter Kerr Theater last weekend to take in [sigh] a post-opening performance.

Given that I was seeing A Little Night Music almost a month into its run, it was inevitable that I would have already heard a good deal about the production. For instance, I had witnessed much talk of the scaled-down staging, reflecting the larger trend of treating Stephen Sondheim revivals as "chamber" pieces. This particular aspect of A Little Night Music didn't bother me: these reduced productions have at least one positive effect, which is creating more of a focus on the piece itself.

I had heard a good deal of grumbling about the reduced orchestrations: the current production of Night Music features new charts by Jason Carr for eight musicians, whereas the originals by Jonathan Tunick called for 25. I guess I don't really focus on sound quality and fullness, as long as the playing is professional, which it most certainly was. The music sounded just fine to my admittedly unrefined and inattentive ear.

What did bother me were some of director Trevor Nunn's staging choices, some of which seemed to defy explanation. Most egregious was the dinner scene, in which Nunn has the cast sitting on the floor on pillows. Not only did it seem strange that elegant dinner guests would be lolling around on the floor, but this choice would seem to be a direct contradiction of Madame Armfeldt's line upon the guests' arrival: "We cannot be caught squatting on the ground like Bohemians."

One note of irony in the supposedly "intimate" production design was the scenery by David Farley, which was lumbering, cumbersome, and visually unappealing. And the much-discussed exceedingly dim lighting, designed by Hartley T A Kemp, is indeed exceedingly, annoyingly, unnecessarily dark. Is the production team trying to get us to focus more on the characters? Or hide the hideous set? Whatever, the insufficient illumination here is irritating, and I would imagine even more so for those with aging eyes. And when you add the veritable darkness of the proceedings to the production's deadly slow pacing -- the show clocks in at 3 hours, whereas the original was closer to 2.5 -- the effect is soporific, indeed.

All of which would seem to be beside the point, because very few attendees for this Night Music are there for orchestral richness, atmospheric lighting, or swift pacing. They were there to see Catherine Zeta-Jones, who is perfectly presentable, if uninspired, as Desiree. Her manner during the book scenes was very natural, but during the songs she seemed to be pushing. In her first number, "The Glamorous Life," it seemed as though she was trying to justify her presence on Broadway. Her diction was a bit lacking at times, but her voice is strong and appealing. "Send in the Clowns" had a nice, smoky quality to it, although she did sharp a bit on the final note, when she tried adding a brief crescendo/diminuendo emphasis.

But I couldn't help thinking as I watched the show, "She's the reason we're all here." Because, without Catherine Zeta-Jones, this revival quite simply would never have made it to Broadway. News that she would make her Broadway debut in the show reached as far as China and Pakistan. The production has been playing at or near capacity, with a very healthy average ticket of about $130.00. But when CZJ leaves, the show very likely close, unless they can find another Hollywood A-lister to step in. 

Not that it really matters, but the casting for the rest of the show has its highs and lows. Angela Lansbury is her fabulous self as Madame Armfeldt, although in truth, she's not entirely suited to the role. Try as she might, our beloved Angela is far too likable in a part that should be imperious and cutting. Broadway newcomer Alexander Hanson is terrific as Frederick, conveying just the right sense of world-weariness and faded prowess. Leigh Ann Larkin is far more subtle and effective as Petra than she was (IMHO) as June in Gypsy. Larkin does a bang-up job on "Miller's Son," one of the best I've ever seen, in fact. (I still don't think the song belongs in the show, though: it stops the action dead, asking us to spend four-plus minutes with a minor character just as we want things to wrap up.)

There were, however, some major casting missteps. Ramona Mallory seems to be have been cast solely because she's the daughter of the original Anne, Victoria Mallory. At first, Mallory the younger seemed a welcome -- albeit petulant -- change from the typical ingenue. But she eventually became irritatingly hysterical and whiny. Aaron Lazar seems far too young and not nearly imposing enough as Carl-Magnus. And then there's poor Erin Davie, a wonderfully talented young woman, who is sorely miscast here as Charlotte. Davie is far too soft-edged. Her "Every Day a Little Death," which should be a paean to understated bitterness, becomes a maudlin, melodramatic affair. Davie seems to be acting up a storm, trying to make the part work, but she's simply not right for the part, at least not now, and perhaps not ever.

While I remain glad that A Little Night Music has finally, after 35 years, made it back to Broadway, the production at hand hasn't much to offer to beyond marquee-value names above the title. It's certainly a strong show in its own right, and the current version is never less than serviceable. But for $137.00, is "serviceable" really enough?

Andrew Lloyd Webber Must Be Stopped

 
I've never been one to reflexively bash Andrew Lloyd Webber. Some of his shows I genuinely like, particularly Evita, while other shows I find flawed but enjoyable, for instance Sunset Boulevard. I usually even find something worth liking in each of his mega-hits. Cats has some great instrumental passages, especially "The Jellicle Ball." And the "Prima Donna" sequence in The Phantom of the Opera, though bloated, for some reason invariably makes me smile. 

So, I certainly don't consider myself a knee-jerk Lloyd Webber hater. But the more I hear about his current projects, the more I get the impression that ALW's late career is turning into an expanse of easy repetition.

First, there's the upcoming sequel to Phantom, with the rather uninspired title Love Never Dies. I'm not one to assume that any particular show will be an automatic disaster. It all depends on the execution. And just because no musical has ever had a successful sequel, doesn't mean that it could never happen. No, the reason I was disappointed with Love Never Dies is that ALW chose to pursue a Phantom sequel over a far more interesting project.

For years, Lloyd Webber was toying around with the idea of turning Mikhail Bulgakov's brilliantly surreal novel, The Master and Margarita, into a stage show. The book takes place in Moscow in the 1930s, and involves an earthly visitation by Satan, accompanied by a motley retinue of assistants, including an anthropomorphous cat named Behemoth. It's a richly bizarre and satisfying book, and would make a wonderful stage show, in the right imaginative hands. But ALW gave up on the project, saying the book was too dense. "I've decided it's un-doable," he told the press in 2007. "It's just too difficult for an audience to contemplate. It's a very complicated novel."

No, Andrew. It's not un-doable. It's just that you couldn't find a way to do it. There's a difference. And don't blame the audience for your professional failings.

To a certain extent, it's understandable that ALW would want to play it safe. He hasn't had a true hit in over 20 years. Most of his shows since Phantom have been disasters (Whistle Down the Wind, The Woman in White) or disappointments (Aspects of Love, Sunset Boulevard). He's certainly not hurting for money. The substantial and steady income from Phantom and Cats notwithstanding, he's produced a successful-but-attenuated series of British reality-TV shows to cast a variety of London revivals, including The Sound of Music, Oliver, and his own Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. More easy, lazy repetition.

But the thing that really put me over the edge was the recent announcement that ALW would be penning six new songs for a forthcoming London stage version of The Wizard of Oz, although the classic Harold Arlen/E.Y. "Yip" Harburg songs will reportedly remain. (Have you no shame, Sir. Andrew? At long last, have you no shame?) The show will be cast via reality show (natch) and will likely hit the stage sometime in the 2010-2011 season.

So ALW is taking a well-loved and proven property, supplementing the score with six songs that no matter how good they are will pale in comparison to the originals, and casting the show with the already beaten-to-death reality-casting format, efforts that are lazy, sacrilegious, and lazy, in that order. Let's just say that Love Never Dies had better be spectacular. And I'm not talking chandeliers here.

A Little Night Music - With Lansbury and Zeta-Jones?

In his column yesterday, Michael Riedel of the New York Post wrote that the upcoming Broadway transfer of Trevor Nunn's acclaimed London production of A Little Night Music will very likely star Angela Lansbury (Madame Armfeldt) and Catherine Zeta-Jones (Desiree Armfeldt). There hasn't been any official announcement about casting, but the production is tentatively scheduled to begin performances in December at the Walter Kerr Theater.

Rumors have been circulating for weeks about Angela Lansbury's involvement in A Little Night Music, but this is the first I've heard about Catherine Zeta-Jones. I'm not sure what I think of CZJ as Desiree. She certainly has musical-theater experience, but I didn't think she really deserved an Oscar for the movie version of "Chicago." She was fine, but unexceptional.

But, irrespective of whether CZJ can pull off the part, there's the Antonio Banderas factor to consider. It's very unlikely that the recent Broadway revival of Nine would have gotten off the ground if it hadn't been for his presence, and as long as he stayed with the show, it did terrific business. But as soon as he left, business plummeted, despite the presence of replacement Guido John Stamos.

I have a sneaking suspicion that the same dynamic will play out with CZJ in Night Music. There's no question that she'll be a huge box-office draw, but once she leaves, the show will likely close. Unless, of course, they can get some other Hollywood star to take her place. (Rene Zellwegger as Desiree? The mind boggles...) And what are the odds that CZJ is likely to stick around for more than 6 months, a year tops? 

I adore A Little Night Music, and have been longing for a strong Broadway revival of the show, of which this production would be the first. I'm not usually a pie-in-the-sky kind of guy, and I know that the economic realities and vagaries of producing a Broadway show can induce producers to find ways to mitigate their risk. I can certainly understand the producers' wanting to bring in a name, but there's a part of me that wishes they would rely on the strength of the show itself and the quality of the production.

The Most Influential People in Musical-Theater History

While teaching my course on the history of musical theater at the Boston Conservatory, I frequently point to Oscar Hammerstein II as the most important person in the history of musical theater. I genuinely believe that. Hammerstein was not only crucial for what he did, but also in whom he taught and inspired, namely one Stephen Sondheim. 

To understand Hammerstein's immeasurable contributions, it's important to understand integration, one of the most important concepts in the evolution of musicals. Integration basically means the trend toward having every element of a show serve some dramatic purpose. As Richard Rodgers famously once said, the reason that Oklahoma worked as well as it did was because "the orchestrations sound the way the costumes look." This always surprises my students, but there was a time when songs in a musical didn't have much to do with the plot, and dance was mere decoration. And that time was basically B.H. (Before Hammerstein) 

That's a gross simplification, of course, but Oscar Hammerstein was indeed an integration pioneer, starting with his work in operettas and musical comedy, continuing with the seminal Show Boat, and culminating in his work with Rodgers. Hammerstein didn't invent integration, but he did more than any other single person to make it come about, and the rest of musical-theater history rests squarely on his shoulders and accomplishments. 

My admiration of Hammerstein got me thinking about which other people are responsible for the development of the musical-theater form, and since I've been a list-making mood lately, well, you can probably see where this is heading. Here then is my attempt to list the most influential people in the history of musical theater. Some of these names will be very well known, others not so much. I've included links for all the names, plus brief explanations for those I deemed it appropriate. I'm sure that there will be many people who feel that I've left someone out, or ranked someone too low or too high. If so, feel free to drop me a line.

As with all of my other lists, this one will be listed as a sub-page of in the left-hand margin.

1. Oscar Hammerstein
2. Stephen Sondheim
3. Jerome Kern - composer of Show Boat, as well as the seminal Princess shows, which include Very Good Eddie and Oh, Boy!
4. Harold Prince
5. Richard Rodgers
6. Jerome Robbins
7. Arthur Laurents - librettist for West Side Story and Gypsy
8. George M. Cohan - the do-it-all impresario showman, who not only wrote and starred in his own shows, but was also an integration pioneer
9. Agnes de Mille - first female director/choreographer, key force behind Oklahoma and the integration of dance
10. George Gershwin
11. Kurt Weill - composer of The Threepenny Opera, as well as such wonderful but underperformed shows as Lady in the Dark and Lost in the Stars
12. Bob Fosse
13. George S. Kaufman - librettist for Of Thee I Sing, Strike Up the Band, and key force behind Guys and Dolls
    
14. Florenz Ziegfeld - producer of the Ziegfeld Follies and the seminal Show Boat
15. Moss Hart - librettist for Lady in the Dark and As Thousands Cheer, and key force behind My Fair Lady
    
16. Ethel Merman
17. Alan Jay Lerner - librettist/lyricist for Brigadoon, My Fair Lady, and Camelot
18. Guy Bolton - librettist for the seminal Princess shows, among many others
19. P.G. Wodehouse - lyricist for seminal Princess shows, among many others
20. Irving Berlin
21. Lorenz Hart - lyricist who worked with Richard Rodgers on many shows, including Pal Joey, The Boys from Syracuse, A Connecticut Yankee, and On Your Toes
22. Ira Gershwin - lyricist who went on after his brother's death to create Lady in the Dark and A Star Is Born
23. George Balanchine - first person to receive the credit "choreography by" versus "dances by"
24. Frederick Loewe - composer of Brigadoon and My Fair Lady
25. W.S. Gilbert - librettist/lyricist half of Gilbert & Sullivan
26. Cole Porter
27. Fred Ebb
28. Frank Loesser
29. John Kander
30. Arthur Sullivan - composer half of Gilbert & Sullivan
31. Marc Blitzstein - composer lyricist of The Cradle Will Rock and Juno
32. Peter Stone - librettist of 1776, Titanic, and Woman of the Year
33. Noel Coward
34. James Lapine
35. Chita Rivera
36. Michael Stewart - librettist of 42nd Street, Bye Bye Birdie, Carnival!, and Hello, Dolly!
37. Gertrude Lawrence - star of Lady in the Dark and The King and I
38. David Merrick - controversial producer of such hits as Hello, Dolly!, Carnival, and Gypsy
39. Victor Herbert - the first significant American composer to write an entire musical score himself (Babes in Toyland), versus group efforts and song interpolations. Also, invented American operetta
40. Michael Bennett
41. Betty Comden
42. Al Jolson
43. Bertie Williams - first African-American star
44. Jerry Herman
45. Sheldon Harnick/Jerry Bock - composer/lyricist team that wrote Fiorello, She Loves Me, and Fiddler on the Roof
46. Gower Champion - director/choreographer of Bye Bye Birdie, Hello, Dolly, Carnival, and 42nd Street
47. Stephen Schwartz
48. Adolph Green
49. Leonard Bernstein
50. Mary Martin
51. Otto Harbach - prolific lyricist and librettist of both musical comedies and operettas
52. B.G. DeSylva/Ray Henderson/Lew Brown - creators of a successful series of shows in the 1920s, including Good News
53. Ethel Watters - first female African-American star
54. Michael Kidd - prolific and influential choreographer
55. Bernadette Peters
56. Victor Moore/William Gaxton - popular comic actors and frequent co-stars
57. Gwen Verdon
58. H.Y. "Yip" Harburg - known primarily as the lyricist for "The Wizard of Oz," but responsible for much more, including Finian's Rainbow
59. Morrie Ryskind - known for his work with the Marx Brothers, but also worked with Kaufman on Of Thee I Sing and Strike Up the Band
60. Harry B. Smith - the most prolific writer in Broadway history, working on 122 separate shows, including...nothing you've ever heard of
61. Carol Channing
62. Bob Merrill - composer and lyricist who worked on such shows as Carnival and Funny Girl
63. Sigmund Romberg - composer of numerous successful operettas, including The Student Prince, The Desert Song, and The New Moon
64. Joseph Stein - librettist for numerous shows, including Fiddler on the Roof
65. Rudolph Friml - composer of numerous successful operettas, including Rose Marie and The Vagabond King
66. Harvey Schmidt/Tom Jones - composer and lyricist of The Fantasticks, 110 in the Shade and others
    
67. Joseph Papp - producer of Hair, The Pirates of Penzance, and A Chorus Line, among others
68. Edward Harrigan/Tony Hart - creators of a series of popular and influential shows, including The Mulligan Guard Ball, in the 1800s. The first famous collaboration in the American musical theater
69. Marilyn Miller - popular star of the musical theater in the 1920s and 1930s.
70. Eubie Blake/Noble Sissle - authors of the first successful show created entirely by African Americans, Shuffle Along
71. Dorothy Fields - first successful female lyricist and librettist, whose shows include Annie Get Your Gun and Sweet Charity
72. George Abbott - producer, director, and librettist with a career spanning more than seven decades. Shows include Pal Joey, On the Town, and The Pajama Game
73. Herbert Fields - librettist and lyricist, whose shows include Annie Get Your Gun and A Connecticut Yankee
74. Tommy Tune
75. Arthur Schwartz/Howard Dietz - composer/lyricist team, whose shows include The Band Wagon, and The Gay Life
76. Charles H. Hoyt - author of a number of farce comedies in the 1800s, including A Trip to Chinatown
    
77. Harold Rome - composer/lyricist of such shows as Pins and Needles and I Can Get It for You Wholesale
78. Kay Swift - first woman to score and entire musical, Fine and Dandy
    
79. Rouben Mamoulian - director of Porgy and Bess, Oklahoma!, Carousel, and Lost in the Stars
80. Onna White - choreographer of The Music Man, Mame, and 1776
81. Joshua Logan - director of Knickerbocker Holiday, South Pacific, and Annie Get Your Gun
82. Andrew Lloyd Webber
83. Patti LuPone
84. Howard Lindsay/Russell Crouse - librettists of The Sound of Music, Call Me Madam, and Anything Goes
85. Cameron Mackintosh
86. Tim Rice
87. Jule Styne - composer of Gypsy, Funny Girl, and Bells Are Ringing
88. Charles Strouse - composer of Bye Bye Birdie and Annie
89. Neil Simon - librettist for Sweet Charity, Promises, Promises, and They're Playing Our Song, as well as script doctor for A Chorus Line
    
90. William Finn - composer/lyricist for Falsettos, A New Brain, and The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee
91. Thomas Meehan - librettist for Annie, The Producers, and Hairspray
92. Cy Coleman - composer of Sweet Charity, On The Twentieth Century, and City of Angels
93. Trevor Nunn - director of Les Misérables, Cats, Starlight Express and Sunset Boulevard
94. John Weidman - librettist of Pacific Overtures, Assassins, and Contact
95. Walt Disney - the company, not the man
96. Jason Robert Brown - composer/lyricist of Parade, The Last Five Years, and 13
97. Susan Stroman - director choreographer of Contact, The Producers, and Young Frankenstein
98. Alan Menken/Howard Ashman - composer/lyricist pair responsible for Little Shop of Horrors and the Disney films The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin
99. Ivor Novello - composer/lyricist of British shows, including Careless Rapture and The Dancing Years
100. Michael John LaChiusa - composer/lyricist/librettist of Hello Again, Marie Christine, The Wild Party, and See What I Wanna See

The Norman Conquests - Table Manners

I finally got a chance to see at least one of the three plays that comprise The Norman Conquests. Last night I caught Table Manners, and based on that experience, I'm really hoping to see Living Together and Round and Round the Garden as well. I get the feeling that part of the fun of this comic trilogy is seeing the connections among the three. All of the plays feature the same characters over one weekend in July. Each play is set in a different area of the same house: the dining room, the garden, and the parlor. As I laughed heartily at the comic goings on in Table Manners, I could already get a sense of what was happening in the other locations, and I really can't wait to see the other two plays.

The Norman Conquests features a prodigiously talented cast of six actors who each craft distinct and rich characterizations. It's a shame to single out any one performer, because the ensemble work here is just so strong, but I was particularly taken with Ben Miles as the awkward and clueless Tom. But there's also superb work here from Amanda Root as uptight harridan Sarah, and Jessica Hynes as the dowdy but burgeoning Annie. No less distinct were the delightfully dorky Paul Ritter and Amelia Bullmore as the acid-tongued and near-sighted Ruth. And at the center of it all is the eponymous Norman, played with charming eccentricity by Stephen Magnan.

But the real star of these three shows is director Matthew Warchus. After spinning comic gold from literary dross with Boeing-Boeing, then turning God of Carnage into the biggest hit play in decades, and a laugh riot to boot, and now shaping the comedic masterpiece that is The Norman Conquests (with more than a little help from playwright Alan Ayckbourn), Warchus has established himself as a masterful director. His work reflects not only a solid flair comedy, but also a deft touch at pathos. Both God of Carnage and Norman Conquests are achingly funny, but they also reveal the pain and loneliness beneath the bluster that make the productions, and the people in them, that much more compelling to watch.

The Norman Conquests run at Broadway's Circle in the Square Theatre until July 26th. Catch it if you can. You might just see me there.