Everything I Know I Learned From Musicals

Review - Finding Neverland at the American Repertory Theatre

Quick quiz:

1. What musical is the following lyric from? 
2. Which character is singing?
3. What is this character singing about? 

All that matters now
Is where we go from here.
There's an easier way
If we live for today.
The singing in my heart 
Is all that matters.

Well, you can probably tell from the title of this review, as well as the accompanying artwork, that we're talking about the new Broadway-bound musical Finding Neverland. The character singing is named Sylvia Llewelyn Davies, played memorably by Kate Winslet in the 2004 movie of the same name. And the character is singing about...well...I really have no idea. Therein lies one of the major liabilities of Finding Neverland in its current form: You could hear the entire score and still not really understand what was going on in the show.

When the first announcements appeared about Finding Neverland becoming a musical, the composer and lyricist were to be Scott Frankel and Michael Korie, respectively. After multiple readings and productions, Frankel and Korie were suddenly no longer attached. We may never know how the show would have fared with Frankel and Korie, but based on my experience with their previous work (Grey Gardens, Happiness, Far From Heaven), I have to conclude that the show would have been significantly more intelligent, tuneful, integrated, and original than the uninspired concoction that is currently playing at the American Repertory Theatre.

As anyone who's seen the original movie knows, Finding Neverland concerns playwright J.M. Barrie and his relationship with a young widow and her four boys, who inspire him to write his best-known work, Peter Pan. It's a wonderful idea for a musical, and there are brief moments in the current show that hint at the magic that could have been. Most of these come in the form of stagecraft, as at the end of the show when Sylvia makes her most significant transition. Powerful fans emerge in a circle in the center of the stage, which create a whirlwind of golden glitter, a gorgeous moment that brings the stories of the musical and Peter Pan together in a stunning coup de théâtre. 

In between these rare moments of wonder, we must contend with an inferior score and a merely serviceable book. Producer Harvey Weinstein replaced Frankel and Korie with musical-theater neophytes Gary Barlow and Eliot Kennedy (music and lyrics together). Their lack of musical-theater experience shows, partly in the overabundance of slant rhyme, poor scansion, and forced extra syllables, but also in their tin-eared, derivative contemporary musical style. The only decent song in the entire score is "Neverland," although you'd never know it from Jennifer's Hudson's riffando version on the Tony Awards. Add in James Graham's bald-faced dialogue and ham-fisted plot exposition, and we have a musical that would seem more fitting for The Disney Channel than the legitimate Broadway stage.  

Barlow and Kennedy also show their inexperience in their choice of moments to musicalize. The third number in the show, when I saw it in previews, was a rather odd number for J.M. Barrie's wife, called "Rearrange the Furniture," which is pretty much as it says on the box. The number is superficial character work at best, and the character doesn't really warrant a number in the first place. On the other hand, we have a major moment in the second act, when J.M. Barrie brings the entire cast of Peter Pan to recreate the show in the bedroom of an ailing Sylvia, a moment that would seem to cry out for a musical number, but all we get is a stylized retread of Barrie's play. 

Another problem with Finding Neverland is a rather bizarre mismatch of styles. The generic pop score is at odds with the Victorian time frame, which would be fine if not for the rather literal period costumes and sets. We also get a series of jarringly angular and jerky dance sequences from choreographer Mia Michaels, a self-aggrandizing style that disappears about a quarter of the way through the show, never to return. (Michaels' most significant credit would seem to be So You Think You Can Dance. Yeah, that's who I'd hire for a 19th Century period piece.)  

Director Diane Paulus seems to be struggling with how to bring the material to life, and a number of sequences reflect this uncertainty. There's a dinner-party number that's meant to show how the kids, Sylvia, and Barrie occupy one world, while Barrie's wife and Sylvia's mother are in another world entirely. It's a good idea, but as currently staged the number has no focus. There's so much going on, it's hard to know what to pay attention to, an issue exacerbated by a spate of mugging chorus members continually trying to pull focus.

Another number, called "Believe," is meant to be inspirational, with Barrie encouraging the Llewelyn boys to let their creativity take flight, but Paulus fleshes out the number with a rather bizarre admixture of buskers and bees. As I sat watching the show, I kept thinking of Big Fish, another show that wanted to celebrate story-telling and imagination, but wound up demonstrating very little of either. 

One thing that Finding Neverland has in its favor is a stellar cast of first-rate Broadway performers, including Jeremy Jordan as Barrie, Laura Michelle Kelly as Sylvia Llewelyn Davies, and Carolee Carmello as Madame du Maurier, Sylvia's mother. They all get their chance to belt their brains out, if that's your idea of great theater, but I had to feel sorry for Carolee for having to deliver the reprise of "All That Matters," generic lyric and all. Also in the cast is Tony winner Michael McGrath as theatrical impresario Charles Frohman, and I swear I could sense McGrath gritting his teeth while trudging through a show that is decidedly beneath his talent. 

On a final note, why is such a manifestly commercial show even playing at the ART to begin with? Other than money, that is? I suppose it's possible to argue that All The Way, The Glass Menagerie, Porgy and Bess, and even Pippin might in some way intersect with the artistic mission of a major nonprofit theater at one of the most prestigious universities in the world. But Finding Neverland? Such a patently mercenary venture feels like filthy lucre, and nothing more. 

Review - The Visit at Williamstown Theatre Festival With Chita Rivera

John Waters writes in one of his books (I think it was Crackpot) that he wishes that someone would discover an unpublished Jean Genet novel. He's read everything extant by Genet, he says, and longs for that special feeling of experiencing something truly great for the first time. 

That's how I felt watching The Visit, the hauntingly satisfying "new" musical with music by John Kander and lyrics by the late Fred Ebb: thrilled to experience something genuinely ambitious and frequently wondrous, and yet sad that most of the genius involved in crafting this stunning show is either gone or in its dotage.  

The Visit was one of four musicals that Kander and Ebb were working on upon Ebb's death in 2004. Two of these shows have subsequently made it to Broadway: Curtains and The Scottsboro Boys. One has yet to see any significant exposure: a musical version of Thorton Wilder's The Skin of Our Teeth, called All About Us. 

And then there's The Visit, which had a well-received run in 2008 at The Signature Theatre in Arlington, VA, although talk of bringing that production to New York never bore fruit, purportedly because of the 2008 recession. Thankfully, The Visit is now enjoying a stunning production, significantly revised and shortened from previous versions, at the Williamstown Theatre Festival, playing now through August 17th. 

The musical is based on the eponymous 1956 play The Visit by Friedrich Dürrenmatt, and the musical sticks fairly close to its source. The story concerns one Claire Zachanassian, who returns to her hometown after becoming the richest woman in the world. She offers to save the town from its ruinous state, but with one chilling proviso: the town must kill her former lover, Anton Schell, now an indigent shopkeeper with a wife and two children. 

If that conceit seems static -- I mean, once the horrifying condition is revealed, where do you go from there? -- both the play and the musical follow up with an intriguing series of developments and revelations that add layers to the seemingly inert premise. The musical is by turns arresting, poignant, and darkly humorous. It also manages to paint a balanced portrait of horror and justice: Claire is clearly a deeply wronged woman, and yet Anton makes for a penitent and sympathetic foil. When we discover exactly what Anton did to Claire, we almost accept the righteousness of her demands, the justice inherent in her savage proposal. 

I've seen many musicals attempt to balance dark subject matter with a satisfying sense of entertainment and humor, and it's a really difficult task to pull off. (Just ask the authors of Lestat, Bare, Heathers, The People in the Picture, Scandalous, Soul Doctor, etc.) Librettist Terrence McNally finds just the right balance of the edgy and the enjoyable in The Visit, something he was unable to do for Catch Me If You Can.

Composer John Kander matches McNally's balance with a lush and soaring score with numerous complex contrapuntal passages. Kander and Ebb together crafted songs that can easily stand among their classics, including "Love and Love Alone," a triumphant 11 o'clock number for Claire, and "You, You, You," a soaring love duet for Young Claire and Young Anton, who act as mostly silent witnesses throughout the entire show. (Young Anton is played here by golden-voiced Boston Conservatory grad, John Bambery. Full Disclosure: John is a former student of mine, but trust me, the guy's got the pipes. Yowza.) 

The Visit benefits greatly from the sensitive direction of, and stark presentation by, director John Doyle. (And, in case you're wondering: No, the performers are not required to play instruments here.) In concert with scenic designer Scott Pask (who creates a gasp-inducing unit set) and costume designer Ann Hould Ward, Doyle has fashioned a hauntingly expressionistic, black, white, and gray production, punctuated with increasing accents of vibrant yellow, a symbol of the avarice that overcomes the townspeople as they gradually turn against Anton. 

For many people, the big draw of this production will be the first-rate cast, lead by the irreplaceable Chita Rivera, so fluid and sharp, even at age 81. Roger Rees fares considerably less well as Anton: he's more than up to the acting challenge, but his singing voice is sadly lacking in strength and sustain. Also notable are Judy Kuhn, laser-sharp as always as Anton's beleaguered wife, and Jason Danieley, positively heartbreaking as the schoolmaster, and Anton's last remaining ally.  

If The Visit never finds the thematic cohesion of, say, Cabaret or even The Scottsboro Boys, it still has much to reveal about the dark side of human nature and the artistic ambitions of musical theater. I'm not sure The Visit has much of a commercial future, but it would be great to see one of the Broadway nonprofits like the Roundabout or Lincoln Center scoop it up for a limited run. 

The Worst Musicals of 2013

As I pointed out in my recent post of The Best Musicals of 2013, it was a darned good year for musicals, but it was also a doozy for not-so-great musicals. Try as I might, I just couldn't get the list of the bad down to 10 shows. I mean, it's an arbitrary number anyway, and in truth, there's always more bad than good when it comes to art and entertainment. Quality is always the exception.

Most of the shows I've listed here won't be all that surprising. The lion's share received mixed to negative reviews and have since closed. But there are three shows here that received strong reviews and sold or are selling extremely well as of this writing: Pippin, Here Lies Love, and Kinky Boots. I hereby acknowledge that I am in the decided minority in disliking these shows, but they're essentially the reason that this list swelled to number 13. It would have been very easy to leave them off the list and just let the whole thing slide, but I decided that I didn't want to end the year without one last jab. Am I saying that I'm right and the world is wrong? Not at all. I'm saying that, in my estimation, the shows weren't all that and a bag of chips. See below for why.

Click on the show titles below for my original reviews.

13. Pippin - Nobody can say I didn't try. I saw Pippin both at the A.R.T. in Cambridge, as well as on Broadway. And, on the whole, not so much. All over my Facebook feed, people were kvelling over this show, saying it was the Best. Thing. Ever. Sorry, I just don't see it. There are certainly individual moments in the show, particularly Andrea Martin's show-stopping rendition of "No Time at All," that made attending more than worth my time. But I found the whole circus theme distracting rather than additive, and I still, try as I may, can't quite figure out what the show wants to be about. There's a sinister undercurrent, which I know was intentional on Bob Fosse's part, but the current production feels like it's trying to cover up the menace. Apparently, the effort has been successful, because people come out of the piece with a sense of life-affirming awe, which was exactly the opposite of what Fosse had in mind. So, it's a combination of the piece itself as well as the Diane Paulus treatment of the show that really leaves me scratching my head. I just don't see any there there.

12. Here Lies Love - Here's another production that had people going cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, and I just don't get it. Some folks suggested that I didn't enjoy the production because I sat in the gallery above the action rather than participating in the immersive experience down on the dance floor, but I call BS on that. A good show is going to demonstrate its inherent quality no matter where I'm sitting. There was really only one sequence in the whole of Here Lies Love that I found captivating, which was the assassination and funeral procession for Benigno Aquino. Otherwise, Here Lies Love felt like Evita Lite, but without Tim Rice's clever lyrics and deeply cynical point of view, or Andrew Lloyd Webber's apt use of leitmotif. (Yes, Lloyd Webber sometimes gets it right, in my estimation, although it's been a good 30-plus years since last he did.) Continual talk of finding another venue for Here Lies Love to give it a chance at an extended commercial run has so far not come to fuition. I can't say I'm terribly distraught.

11. Hands on a Hardbody - This show wasn't so much bad as bland. An endurance contest to win a truck may seem an unlikely subject for a musical, to be sure, but essentially the same dramatic potential as A Chorus Line: it's not so much about who wins as what we learn about these people along the way. And that's where Hands on a Hardbody failed: it didn't make me care. There were some really strong performances in the show, particularly from Hunter Foster and Kaela Settle, and director Neil Pepe found ways to keep the action from becoming static. There were quite a few stirring songs from composer Trey Anastasio and lyricist Amanda Green, including a terrific 11 o'clock number for Foster. But the success of the show really hinged on making these characters into real people, and that just didn't happen. Ghostlight Records released a cast recording, and there have been announcements of certain regional theaters including the show in their upcoming seasons, but I have a hard time imagining that the show is going to really catch on. Hands on a Hardbody shows every sign of becoming last season's High Fidelity: gone and almost entirely forgotten.

10. Annie - I like Annie. I really do. No, it's no masterpiece, but it's really good fluff. It tugs at the old heart strings and has plenty of fun and good humor along the way. But the most recent Broadway revival, which closed shortly after the new year, was a mess. Director James Lapine seemed to have no idea how to handle the humor in the piece, because most of it fell flat. What's more, the production numbers just kinda sat there. Overall, there was no lift to the production, no effervescence. The culprits here are Lapine and choreographer Andy Blankenbuehler, both eminently talented men when they're working on the right project. This wasn't a good fit for either. Lapine did succeed at bringing out the warmth of the piece, but left the comedy and the pacing high and dry. And Blankenbuehler only seems to work out on projects that involve a more contemporary style. As was true for 9 to 5, Blankenbuehler's decidedly street-wise choreographic style seemed woefully out of place in Annie.

9. Kinky Boots - Now, I'm not just bitter that Kinky Boots won the Best Musical over Matilda. (I am bitter, but it's not just that.) Kinky Boots is bad, folks. Really bad. The book is preachy, the characters are two-dimensional, the lyrics don't rhyme, the set is depressing. I could go on. Also, as a director/choreographer, Jerry Mitchell is in no danger of challenging the legacy of Jerome Robbins. Now, it's certainly great to see Billy Porter finally get some recognition, and Cindi Lauper still has a populist touch with her tuneful music. Also, regarding the controversy over the show's appearance on the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade broadcast, I say bring on the drag queens. The higher the heels, the closer to God. So I support the intentions of the show, and of the authors. I'm glad so many people are enjoying this show, because it really does have a message that needs propagating. I just don't think the show itself is very good. As I say to my students every year when they write a paper about their choice for the Most Underrated Musical, bad shows can have good messages. It's all about execution. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm hoping to find a reasonably priced ticket to see Matilda for the third time.

8. Big Fish - A real heartbreaker. Of all the shows on this list, Big Fish is really the one that pains me the most to include. Talk about your appealing cast. Do we have any folks currently working who are more talented, likable, and reliable than Norbert Leo Butz, Kate Baldwin, and Bobby Steggart? Plus, Susan Stroman may just be the best director/choreographer we have. The original novel and movie of Big Fish would seem to lend themselves quite handily to the musical treatment. However, composer/lyricist Andrew Lippa and book writer John August weren't able to create a piece that did the solid story and compelling characters justice. I even went back to see the show a second time to see if perhaps I was just in a mood when I first attended, but the second viewing only served to solidify my view. There just wasn't enough magic, which is quite a liability in a show that's purportedly about the magic of storytelling. The second act seemed designed to lead up to a big dramatic reveal that was actually rather anticlimactic. The last ten minutes of the piece were extremely affecting, and almost made the previous two hours or so worth the journey. Almost, but not quite.

7. Love's Labour's Lost - Fogettable and forgotten. Expectations were high for Alex Timbers' new musical, based of course on the original Shakespeare play. Timbers and composer/lyricist Michael Friedman previously created Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, which despite its short Broadway run has become a rather prominent feather in these gentlemen's respective caps. But whereas Bloody Bloody had a unified vision and a snarky sense of fun, LLL was a mishmosh of styles, a jumble of underdeveloped plot lines, and at the end quite the downer of a show. The problem seemed to be that Timbers retained too many of the characters from the Shakespeare, and remained too slavish to its structure. Friedman's songs were replete with lines with too many syllables for the melody, and weren't nearly as funny as they seemed to think they should be. The show had a fabulous cast, including Colin Donnell, Daniel Breaker, Rebecca Naomi Jones, Bryce Pinkham, Lucas Near-Verbrugghe, and many more of New York's finest. Unfortunately, Timbers and Friedman gave these fine performers a show that was detrminetally fragmented, and characters that were too thin to really do anything with.

6. The Jungle Book - Here's my sole regional entry on this year's list. After director Mary Zimmerman's absolutely stunning production of Candide, produced a few seasons back at Boston's Huntington Theater, I had very high hopes for The Jungle Book, which ran at the Huntington last fall. What a tremendous disappointment. Whereas Candide amounted to nothing less than a theatrical tour de force, a fundamental rethinking of the piece, and a stunning reinvigoration of Bernstein's admired/maligned original, The Jungle Book was aimless, lifeless, and joyless. The show simply meandered from episode to episode without any sense of build, and the production numbers just kinda sat there on stage. My understanding is that Disney kept a very watchful eye on the production hoping to develop the piece as a commercial property. Although the production was financially successful, in fact becoming the Huntington's all-time best seller, I can't imagine the folks at Disney were all that pleased with the artistic result. Short of a complete rethinking of the piece, I'm not expecting to see a New York production any time soon. (But, hey, what do I know, right?)

5. Motown - I've been thinking about it, and it's actually rather rare for a show to come along that's absolutely critic-proof. Mamma Mia is certainly one, as no amount of reasoned analysis would seem to impede that juggernaut. And you might argue that Cats, Phantom, and Les Miserables to a certain extent fit the bill, although the last two received their share of decent reviews along with the quibbles and brickbats. Now there's Motown - the Musical, an amateurish embarrassment, at least in terms of libretto writing. But the show has defied all critical analysis and become one of the best-selling shows in recent memory. Hey, sure, the songs are great, the cast members are exceptional, and the staging is at times quite thrilling. But I will never quite be able to erase from memory the sheer pain of hearing such ham-fisted dialogue as, "Mr. Berry Gordy, you built a legacy of love." I suppose it's foolish to expect Gordy to create a show that took a hard-eyed look at his true legacy, fraught as it allegedly is with questionable business practices. I just have a hard time accepting the ticket-buying public so wholeheartedly embracing one man's love letter to himself.

4. Bare - I never saw the original version of Bare, although I have heard the cast recording. But if the recent Off-Broadway revival of the show was supposed to be an improved version, I can't imagine how bad the former must have been. Truth be told, there was a certain amount of decent writing in the first half of the new Bare, but by the time the show got around to the sturm und drang of the piece, the show really seemed to fall apart. You certainly couldn't blame the talented cast of youngsters who gave it their all. And I certainly have no intention of dancing on the grave of composer Damon Intrabartolo, who passed away last August at the age of 39. But Bare as a show doesn't begin to justify to the vociferous cult following the show has developed over the years. Here's another case of extremely good intentions without the actual craft and quality to do the message justice.

3. A Night With Janis Joplin - Oh, the pain. What an excruciatingly loud musical. I can't recall being in such agony at a Broadway show before. Now, clearly I am to blame for forgetting to bring earplugs, but should I really need to in a legitimate house? Physical discomfort aside, the show itself is no great shakes. A reader contacted me after I posted my review and urged me to reconsider the show on its own terms. True, the piece doesn't delve into Joplin's tortured soul, content to merely skate along the surface. But does every show need to be a cathartic experience? Well, no. Is there no merit in simply celebrating the woman's musical accomplishments? I think there is merit in such a goal, but I didn't feel A Night With Janis worked on this level either. For me, the show represents a tremendous missed opportunity in terms of bringing out the pain behind the music. We're not talking Perry Como or Tony Bennett here. This is Janis Joplin, the woman who died at the age of 27 from a heroin and alcohol overdose. To focus on the power of her music and ignore the torture behind the rasp, at least for me, does this amazingly talented women a disservice.

2. Soul Doctor - Oy gevalt. Yeah, I know, not the most inspired lead, but certainly an appropriate one. If good intentions were all that determined a show's success, the Soul Doctor would have run for years. As with A Night With Janis Joplin, Soul Doctor sought to celebrate the life and music of one particular person, in this case Shlomo Carlebach, the so-called rockstar rabbi. But Soul Doctor made a fairly common mistake with bio tuners: it tried to cover too much. By the time the show got around the celebrating Carlebach's music, there had been so much leaden exposition of his life that it was really hard to care. Along the way we got some fairly strong performances, particularly from Amber Iman as Nina Simo and Eric Anderson as the soul doctor himself, but there really wasn't enough good material for these fine actors to make a difference. (Oh, and after this show and The People in the Picture, there should really be some regulatory oversight on the part of the state of New York with respect to dancing rabbis and rabbinical students. I'm not saying it can never happen, but people should at the very least have to apply for a permit.)

1. Jekyll and Hyde - How do you make the worst musical to hit Broadway in 30 years even worse? You negate the one thing that the show has ever had going for it - Frank Wildhorn's not-unpleasant melodies. For the short-lived revival of Jekyll & Hyde, the admittedly generic charms of Wildhorn's music were crushed beneath the squelch of harsh steampunk orchestrations. Take that away, and what you're left with is a plodding book with more holes than wheel of Swiss cheese, and a set of puerile, non-specific lyrics. Lyricist/librettist Leslie Bricusse used to be an extremely talented man, back when he worked with Anthony Newly, but even on his own solo projects, like the movie Scrooge. Wha' happen? Director Jeff Calhoun replaced the laughable staging elements from the original Broadway production with elements that were even more risible, such as the appallingly ridiculous confrontation sequence between Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Perhaps the failure of this revival, combined with the failure of every other Wildhorn show that has ever made it to Broadway, will make producers think twice about the fiduciary wisdom of funding same.

 

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The Best Musicals of 2013

Hey, you know what? The year 2013 was a pretty good one for musicals. And I'm not even talking about the crowd-pleasers that seemed to please everyone in the crowd except me (Kinky Boots, Here Lies Love, and Pippin, all of which are conspicuously -- and deliberately -- absent from this list). Nor am I discussing the critic- and reason-proof blockbuster that is Motown - the Musical.

No, I'm talking about musical shows of genuine craft and quality. I'm sure, as always, people will take issue with some of my selections. Far From Heaven? The Last Five Years? Hey, what can I say? I like what I like, and don't like what I don't like. I look for credible drama, rich characterizations, evocative music, well-crafted lyrics, solid performances, and that certain ineffable frisson that arises when the elements merge into a moment of transcendence. The following shows each produced those synergistic moments of theatrical magic.

Now someone might look at this list and be able to find a show that violates one of my previously espoused quality indicators. For instance, well crafted-lyrics should actually rhyme, should scan well with the music, and shouldn't require extra syllables to make a lyric fit. Matilda violates each of these criteria at various points throughout its score. But the reason I was able to overlook the lazy lyrics in Matilda -- and not in, say, Kinky Boots -- was that Matilda was giving me so much of the other criteria listed above that somehow the lyrical indiscretions faded into the background.

Click on the show titles below to read my reviews. And be on the lookout for my list of the Worst Musicals of 2013. (Gee, I wonder which award-winning show will feature prominently on that list...)

10. On the Town - I like to include at least one regional entry on my Best and Worst lists, and the Barrington Stage revival of On the Town was easily the best thing I saw outside of New York last year. The folks at Barrington opted to put on the show without the original Jerome Robbins choreography (or perhaps it wasn't available), but choreographer Joshua Bergasse proved more than up to the task of creating his own, albeit based on Robbins' blueprint. Also on hand was director John Rando, who kept the pacing at a fever pitch, which is just where it needs to be for that show. There was talk of the production moving to Broadway this season, but I haven't heard anything beyond the initial announcement. I've given up trying to predict if such moves are fiscally prudent, but I wouldn't mind another chance to see this production, hopefully with a large portion of the Barrington cast intact. (Particularly Tony Yazbeck, Jay Armstrong Johnson and Clyde Alves as the three central sailors.) 

9. Violet - It's not often I get a chance to see those one-night-only events in New York City, but thankfully I was able to snag a ticket to see the redoubtable Sutton Foster in the concert staging of Violet as part of the new Encores! Off-Center summer program. I never had a chance to write up reviews of the three shows that inaugurated that series. (The other two were The Cradle Will Rock, which felt disappointingly rushed and slipshod, and I'm Getting My Act Together and Taking It on the Road, which was quite a revelation. What a remarkably moving, albeit dated, show.) But Violet was by far the strongest of the three productions. It reminded me of how strong a show Violet is, in particular Jeanine Tesori's glorious score. Sutton was, of course, glorious in the title role, with more-than-capable back-up from Joshua Henry as Flick. So, you can imagine how pleased I was to hear that the Roundabout Theatre would be hosting a limited run of the show on Broadway as part of its spring 2014 season. If you didn't have a chance to see the concert, I would highly recommend catching it on Broadway.

8. After Midnight - What a joy. I wasn't really expecting much from After Midnight, and perhaps my lack of expectations added to my enjoyment. But I like to think I would have been bowled over anyway by the sheer energy, jubilation, and professionalism on stage at the Brooks Atkinson. After Midnight is essentially a homage to The Cotton Club, that fabled Harlem night spot in the '20s and '30s. There's no book per se to After Midnight, it being a revue and all, but what holds the show together is a unified vision from director/choreographer Warren Carlyle, as well as a more than able cast of top-notch performers. As much as I enjoyed Fantasia Barrino in the star spot, I wouldn't mind going back when Barrino leaves and K.D. Lang takes her place in March. I'm not so sure that Toni Braxton and Babyface, who follow Lang in a rotating slate of headliners, will be my cup of hooch, but then I wasn't expecting much from Fantasia, and was quite pleasantly surprised. (One never knows, do one?)

7. Far From Heaven - When I saw Far From Heaven, I sat transfixed by the quiet beauty and subtle shades of the score, the book, and the performances. Far From Heaven is the latest show from composer Scott Frankel and lyricist Michael Korie, the gentlemen who brought us the lovely Grey Gardens, and for some reason Far From Heaven failed to enchant either the critics or the theatre cognoscenti. In fact, things got rather nasty. I'll never quite understand all the hate that developed for this show on the Interwebs. People seemed downright livid about Far From Heaven, as though it were a personal affront against their very humanity. I found the show haunting and the score exquisite, and I'm thrilled to have the chance to revisit the show continually on CD. Is the show slow? I prefer the phrase "deliberately paced." Is it to everyone's taste? Clearly not. But it's a well-crafted show, as was wonderfully performed by Kelli O'Hara, Steven Pasquale, and a passel of talented supporting cast members. I'm hoping to see Far From Heaven catch on with some of the more adventurous regional theaters.

6. Murder for Two - Another pleasant little surprise of a show. Murder for Two is a two-hander in which the two actors not only portray all of the characters (actually, one actor portrays all of the characters bar one) but also provide the piano accompaniment for each other, sometimes simultaneously. The novelty of the virtuoso character changes and self-accompaniment might be enough to make the show a winner, but the show also has a tuneful and clever score (from newcomers Joe Kinosian and Kellen Blair), plus crack comic direction from Scott Schwartz. I caught the show at the Second Stage's uptown theater, as well as when it moved to a commercial run at the New World Stages. Even knowing whodunit ahead of time didn't spoil my enjoyment of the show the second time around. Actually, truth be told, the denouement is the least satisfying part of the show, but the journey more than makes up for the somewhat disappointing destination.

5. The Last Five Years - After I published my review of The Last Five Years at the Second Stage, a couple readers contacted me to say that they were disappointed that I liked the show. "I was looking forward to you tearing it apart," one said. "I usually can count on you to tell the truth," said another. Well, I was telling the truth. I genuinely like L5Y, and I particularly enjoyed this production of the show. I respectfully submit to these readers that their desire to see me trash L5Y likely says more about them than it does about me. Why would I devote so much of my life to musical theater if I didn't like at least some of it? I think Jason Robert Brown is one of the most talented composer/lyricists we currently have working, and his direction for the Second Stage production was spot-on. He kept the staging and production elements to a minimum and let the complex characterizations carry the day. Adam Kantor and Betsy Wolfe brought warmth, humor, and just the right amount of neurosis to their performances. Will the upcoming movie with Jeremy Jordan and Anna Kendrick do the show justice? You know I'll be among the first to weigh in.

4. A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder - An utter delight. As an inveterate Anglophile, I was predisposed to love this show. It's sort of a mixture of Monty Python and Gosford Park, with a little Gilbert & Sullivan thrown in for good measure. Gentleman's Guide is easily the best musical to open this season on Broadway, at least so far. Much like Murder for Two, Gentleman's Guide is the product of a fresh new writing team (librettist/lyricist Robert L. Freedman and composer/lyricist Steven Lutvak), and has a resolution that's slightly inscrutable, and yet there's so much pleasure to be had along the journey, it hardly seems to matter. The sterling cast includes Bryce Pinkham, Jefferson Mays, Lisa O'Hare and Lauren Worsham, all pitch-perfect in their roles. There was some concern among cast-album aficionados that no recording had yet been announced, but earlier this week we heard that Ghostlight Records would indeed be recording the show. (And all is well with the world.)

3. Matilda - Kinky Boots? Best Musical? I think not. I'm not sure what crawled up the collective ass of the theater community during awards season, but to so honor Kinky Boots, a middling show at best, over Matilda, an admittedly flawed but nonetheless delightful show, is simply ludicrous. I mean, it's not even a close contest. Matilda more than makes up for any flaws with rich characterizations, honest emotion, and songs that a far more specific to their context than those of Kinky Boots. Thankfully, Matilda is selling extremely well, which doesn't always happen with shows that lose the Best Musical Tony. Matilda seems to be around for the long haul, which will give the ticket-buying public a chance to decide for themselves. I've already seen Matilda twice an I eagerly anticipate seeing it again and again. I can't imagine ever wanting to see Kinky Boots again. (And have to sit through that preachy second act and those painfully generic songs again? I shudder at the very thought.) 

2. Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - An unusual title, an unusual show. But Natasha Pierre was one of the most captivating and moving shows to come to New York in many a season. Who would have thought that a musical based on War and Peace of all things would make for such a lively and compelling piece of musical theater? In my defense, I'm no stranger to the 19th-century Russian novel, having taken an in-depth seminar in same my junior year of college. So I guess I shouldn't be all that surprised that the tremendous passion and drama of that distinctive genre would yield such a rich theatrical result. I say it all the time: There's no such thing as a bad idea for a musical, only poor execution. Natasha Pierre is executed with great passion and care by its sole author, Dave Malloy. I'll be very interested to see if the show catches on regionally. It certainly lends itself to a variety of staging possibilities, beyond the immersive, cabaret-style presentation the show enjoyed Off-Broadway.

1. Fun Home - Oh. My. God. What a show. What an experience. Fun Home comes from an even more unlikely source than Natasha Pierre does: a graphic novel about a lesbian cartoonist who grows up in a funeral home with a closeted gay father. It's a tribute to composer Jeanine Tesori (making her second appearance on this list) and librettist/lyricist Lisa Kron that they've taken on such a challenging topic and created something genuinely sublime. Fun Home is extraordinarily powerful, bringing out the quiet dignity and desperation of its characters, while also providing strong dose of tongue-in-cheek entertainment as well. The performances were staggering, particularly those of Michael Cerveris and Judy Kuhn as the father and mother, respectively. Kron and Tesori also make the risky but ultimately successful choice of splitting the daughter character among three different actresses. I say "risky" because it could have been confusing, or precious, or pretentious. But it works, and splendidly so. Fun Home ends with a series of shattering solos for each of the three main characters, and the one-two-three punch is almost too much to bear, and yet somehow exhilarating at the same time. Fun Home easily ranks as one of my favorite musicals, not just of this year, but of all time. It's really that good.

Review - Working at Boston's Lyric Stage

The musical Working has always held a sort of fascination for me. Opportunities to see it staged live are somewhat rare, but it's one of those shows that, when I listen to the original cast recording, it's hard to believe it was such a flop on Broadway in 1978. There's just so much good material in the score. (My favorites are "Just a Housewife," "Fathers and Sons," and "It's an Art.")

Of course, Working the musical was originally adapted from the Studs Terkel book, Working. Composer/lyricist Stephen Schwartz provided the adaptation, with one Nina Faso. Schwartz also directed the Broadway production, in addition to contributing three of the show's strongest songs ("All the Livelong Day," "It's an Art," "Fathers and Sons").

But Working is one of those shows that authors and adaptors keep returning to, like Merrily We Roll Along or Mack and Mabel, shows that, very similar to Working, sound so great on their cast recordings, it's hard to believe that the shows themselves don't work.

Unfortunately, Working has never quite worked as a show, despite the superior quality of some of its songs. The show's ongoing revisions continue to be hampered by a fundamental flaw: because the show sets out to portray such a broad swath of working people and their individual stories, there's not enough time to become emotionally invested in any of these people. 

The latest reworking of Working includes revisions by Gordon Greenberg and two new songs by Lin-Manuel Miranda, of In the Heights fame. This version of the show played an engagement at New York's 59E59 Theaters in 2012; I was, however, unable to catch the show during that limited run. Fortunately, Boston's Lyric Stage is currently presenting Working in its updated form (through February 1st), which thankfully gave me a chance to play a little catch-up.

 

The piece remains detrimentally fragmented, but Working plays best when it's celebrating the individual, the unacknowledged. There are numerous moments of great poignancy, but by the time we form a bond, it's usually time to move on to the next vignette. I did notice during this viewing of the show that there were some very apt juxtapositions of characters (a hooker and a socialite, a health-care worker and an au pair, etc.), and an admirably smooth flow from one scene to the next.

In terms of new material, the most effective new segment comes from Lin-Manuel Miranda, a touching new song called "A Very Good Day," in which the aforementioned health-care worker and au pair sing plaintively about doing what "no one [else] wants to do." Miranda's other song about a delivery boy is bland and unimpressive, but "A Very Good Day" seems to fit right into the intent of the show.

The Lyric production features a cast of local professional and semi-pro actors, and the results are almost universally strong. There was a bit of artificiality to a few of the performances, and the singing voices weren't all up to par, but for the most part these are people who wouldn't be out of place in a New York production of the show, or indeed any other show. Especially strong are the versatile Christopher Chew and the vibrant Shannon Lee Jones playing the more mature roles throughout the show.

Director/choreographer Ilyse Robbins does a fine job with the character work, but her musical staging here is somewhat amateurish. The group numbers feature unimaginative movement (step-touch, step-clap, allemande left, promenade right, etc.) giving the thankfully few ensemble moments a decided "Waiting for Guffman" feel. Also, the pacing of the show needs picking up: if you're not going to have an intermission, it's wise to keep the proceedings to about 90 minutes. This production clocks in and about 110. On the plus side, Robbins and lighting designer John Malinowski make very effective using of lighting to set the mood and emphasize transitions.

Working may never work overall as a piece, but there's plenty of pleasure to derive from the fragments, as well as the Lyric production of same. At a time when even the most well-heeled of regional theaters are falling back on safe, predictable choices, it's commendable that the Lyric would take a chance on an admittedly flawed but nonetheless fascinating show.

Review - The Jungle Book at Boston's Huntington Theatre

The Huntington Theatre Company in Boston announced today that its current production of The Jungle Book is now the highest-grossing production in the company's history, with three weeks still left in the show's twice-extended run.

Yet again, I find myself at odds with public opinion, as I did with the current Broadway productions Pippin and Kinky Boots, neither of which I personally found compelling, but which the general public seems to be devouring voraciously. Likewise, The Jungle Book, based on the 1967 Disney movie, has become a pretty hot ticket in Boston, and I'll be damned if I can see what other people are seeing in this production, which I found eminently resistible, instantly forgettable, and overall kind of a yawn.

I'm sure this is a case of unreasonably high expectations on my part, because I was so genuinely amazed by director Mary Zimmerman's recent reinvention of the musical Candide, which played the Huntington a few seasons back. That production was bursting with inventiveness, and I was sort of hoping that The Jungle Book would reflect a similar sense of innovative stagecraft and dynamic storytelling. No such luck. To be sure, The Jungle Book has many dazzling moments and sequences. What it doesn't have is a compelling story to tell, or even real, heartfelt characterizations, with some notable exceptions. 

Zimmerman also provides the libretto, as she did with her reimagined Candide, but her book here is detrimentally episodic and narratively diffuse. What's more, Zimmerman as director has failed to give the production any sense of momentum. The show simply flows from episode to episode, without fully taking advantage of a number of potentially compelling devices. Whatever narrative tension exists comes from how the man-cub Mowgli wants to stay in the jungle, while his animal friends think he's better off with his own kind. There's also the specter of the tiger who shadows Mowgli throughout the show. But these elements get lost in a series of seemingly random encounters and fail to build, or even coalesce.

Even the two well-known songs from the movie, "Bare Necessities" and "Be Like You," fail to leave a lasting impression because Zimmerman has miscalculated what could make these numbers compelling. The former loses any sense of build because of an enervating series of solos that Zimmerman provides for each of the itinerant musicians who wander through the show. And the latter is simply too loud and too long, trying unsuccessfully to leave a lasting impression by dint of sheer force. There's also an incredibly clumsy tap number, for which someone made the rather quizzical choice of placing taps on the hands of the dancers as well as their feet. In an effort to make use of this awkward device, choreographer Christopher Gattelli saps the number of any residual energy that may have been in the process of building up.

The only marginally memorable aspects of this Jungle Book were the admittedly sumptuous visual design by Daniel Ostling (scenic design) and Mara Blumenfeld (costumes), and two indelible performances from Kevin Carolan as Balloo and the magical Andre de Shields as Akela and King Louie, both of whom veritably shine in their respective moments in the sun. Otherwise, The Jungle Book is a show that I actually need to keep reminding myself that I saw.

Review - First Date the Musical on Broadway

I'm going to be honest. When I first heard that the new musical First Date was coming to Broadway, I was beyond dismissive. The show wasn't really on my radar prior to the announcement, despite its 2012 tryout run in Seattle at the ACT Theatre. Then suddenly it's headed to Broadway's Longacre Theatre, without the usual stop at a New York non-profit that seems to be the norm these days for musicals that don't have previously established brands (e.g. movie adaptations, songbook shows, etc.) Honestly, I was ready to write First Date off as a quick summer flop, as I'm sure were many of you.

But then I started hearing reports during previews that the show might actually be good, and from sources that I trust. Of course, that's no guarantee it won't still be a flop, but at least First Date was shaping up as something more than a doomed vanity project. So when I attended the show last weekend, I entered the Longacre with modest hopes that I might actually be entertained.

And I was. First Date is far from perfect, but it has a tremendous amount going for it, including a riotously funny book from Austin Winsberg, a reasonably tuneful and clever score by Alan Zachary and Michael Weiner, and sharp, intelligent, albeit occasionally fallible, direction from Bill Berry. The music is never less than pleasant, although occasionally there seems to be a song that's in search of a melody. The lyrics for the most part show craft, although at times they're too densely packed to be fully comprehensible. That's a liability in a show that traffics in clever. And when the show gets serious, the lyrics have an unfortunate tendency toward cliché and bromide: "Time for me to face my fears/And fight back years of uncried tears." Yeesh.

As the title implies, First Date is about a prospective couple, a man and a woman, meeting for the first time in a restaurant for drinks, food, and who knows. The male character, Aaron, played by Zachary Levi, is a bit of a clod, while Casey, played by Krysta Rodriguez, is an edgy artsy type with a taste for bad boys, which Aaron most decidedly is not. Not a very inspired setup or set of characters, but the charm here is what the authors, the production staff, and the cast do with the admittedly quotidian scenario. (The cast also features five supporting players, most notably Bryce Ryness and Kristoffer Cusick, each wonderfully protean in a variety of roles.)

The main draw here in terms of the piece itself is Winsberg's at-times ferociously funny book. But surely director Berry shares a good deal of the credit in working with his expert cast in creating this abundant levity. The comedy is especially strong when the stage business involves Zachary Levi, which thankfully is quite a bit. I don't really watch television, so I'm not familiar with Levi's work in "Chuck," but he's a natural comic, and an extremely likable and confident performer. Levi is particularly effective, both comically and dramatically, in his 11 o'clock number, "In Love With You," in which he imagines a cathartic confrontation with the ex-fiancée who quite literally left him at the altar.

First Date is especially engaging for the first 20 minutes or so, after which the authors seem less sure on their feet, at least at times. The first misstep comes during a song in which Aaron discovers that Casey isn't Jewish. What follows is a forced comic number full of unsurprising stereotypes. In general, the show works much better when it's trying to be funny. Where it often falls down is in genuine sentiment. When the show gets earnest, it also tends to get clumsy. One song about Aaron's departed mother is especially ponderous. Eventually, First Date feels like two different shows: the confident comedy and the somewhat lumbering drama. Thankfully, the show ends on a note of sincerity that brings the show together in a way that almost makes you forget the missteps along the way.

Will First Date be a hit? I've given up trying to predict such things. What I can say is that it's a strong enough show to make me eat my dismissive words about vanity projects. In fact, we should really be applauding anyone who takes such a risk in bringing an original musical to Broadway at a time when we're being bombarded by safe adaptations and jukebox shows, with apparently even more branded product on the way.

Review - Hello, Dolly! at the Goodspeed Opera House

I have a confession to make: before last week, I had never seen Hello, Dolly! on stage. Oh, I had read the libretto, and listened to the cast recording countless times. And I've seen the movie version again and again. (But never in one sitting. That thing is looooong.) I know my Dolly virginity will surprise and even appall some of you out there in EIKILFM Land, but for some reason, I just never had the chance to see the show.

Let me rephrase that: I never took the chance to see the show. Lord knows there are ample opportunities to see Hello, Dolly! in local productions, but that's just the problem. I'm not a big fan of local productions, and the prospect of seeing some past-her-sell-date female performer, plucked from semi-obscurity, in what would very likely be a creaky production of an old war horse just never really piqued my interest.

Then I heard that my friends at the Goodspeed Opera House were putting on Hello, Dolly! this season with none other than Klea Blackhurst in the lead. I suddenly thought that it was time to give the stage Hello, Dolly! a chance. The Goodspeed always puts on first-rate productions, and I've been a huge fan of Blackhurst since the release of her marvelous 2001 solo album, Everything the Traffic Will Allow. The recording is from Blackhurst's cabaret show in which she pays homage to that First Lady of the American musical, Ethel Merman. (I mean, c'mon.) Blackhurst is a performer with immense charm, a strong voice, and sharp delivery, so I figured here was more than enough justification to finally take the Dolly plunge.

Fortunately, the star, the show, and the production for the most part do not disappoint. The Goodspeed Dolly is a qualified joy, due in no small part to the masterful way in which Klea Blackhurst takes charge of the stage. Her singing voice seemed a little bit fried; it wasn't clear whether she was ill or whether the role was taking its toll. But what Blackhurst lacked in vocal sustain, she more than made up for in charm and presence.

Somewhat less successful is Tony Sheldon as Horace Vandergelder. Sheldon, a Tony nominee for Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, feels out of his element in here as the blustery, stentorian Vandergelder. His physical countenace felt too slight, his delivery too tentative to do the part full justice. But the rest of the cast more than makes up for Sheldon's lack of presence, particularly Ashley Brown, who is eminently appealing and clear-voiced as Irene Malloy. (Eileen Brennan, R.I.P.) Brown's delightfully bright-eyed take on Irene had me almost wishing that I had seen her as Mary Poppins on Broadway. However, my dreadful experience seeing the London production was more than sufficient to keep me away.  

The Goodspeed Dolly is directed by Daniel Goldstein (who also directed the recent Broadway revival of Godspell), and for the most part Goldstein keeps the action moving at a frothy and energetic clip, despite a few dull patches. The choreography by Kelli Barclay felt at times transportive, although there were a few numbers -- ironically enough, the number "Dancing," in particular -- that felt a bit more earthbound.

And then there's the show itself, with its lovely and varied score by Jerry Herman (with a little uncredited help from Bob Merrill), and its efficient and humorous book by Michael Stewart. One thing that struck me about the show was the use of direct address, which is absent from the movie version. Of course, this comes directly from the source, The Matchmaker by Thornton Wilder. Stewart has also maintained Wilder's farcical atmosphere and deliberately ridiculous logic, as when Ambrose tells Ermengarde that they have to win the Harmonia Gardens dance contest, because it's the only way of showing her uncle Horace that they mean business. Otherwise Ambrose and Ermengarde seem almost entirely unnecessary. It's surprising that they weren't cut entirely, as they were in the 1958 movie version of The Matchmaker.

Hello, Dolly! certainly has its share of delightfully witty and memorable touches. One of my favorites is when the court reporter says to Cornelius, "Mr. Hackl, I missed a few words back there. Could you start again at 'It Only...'", which leads to another chorus of "It Only Takes a Moment." The show may be somewhat corny, and may not have much in the depth department, but dammit if it doesn't know how to entertain. The title number may be a tad manufactured, but it works. In general, Dolly represents the best of the old-fashioned musicals, and it's always intrigued me that it came just one season before Fiddler on the Roof, which may have been old-fashioned in its approach, but it also pointed toward the innovative work that was to come.

The Goodspeed production of Hello, Dolly! has been extended through September 14th. Whether you're like me and haven't seen Dolly on stage before, or you've seen the show dozens of times, the Goodspeed production will likely make you wish that there were a restaurant that you could make a long-awaited return to, much to the delight of a handsome line of eager and athletic waiters. (Or maybe it's just me...) 

Review - On the Town at Barrington Stage

Two of the shows that I cover in some detail in my musical-theater history course are On Your Toes (1936) and On the Town (1944). My students often confuse the two with each other, which is understandable, partly because of the similar titles, but also because each show represents a major step forward in the integration of purposeful dance, albeit in subtly distinct ways.

On Your Toes was a genuine attempt to bring musical-theater dance to center stage. I had an opportunity to see On Your Toes during its recent Encores! revival, and it was clear to me from seeing the show that the integration process still had a long way to go. The show features two major dance interludes. The first, the "Princess Zenobia" ballet, while impressive is fairly tangential to the plot, at least in terms of the Sheherazade-like nature of the ballet's story. And the climactic "Slaughter on Tenth Avenue" is only integrated inasmuch as the lead male character, Junior, needs to keep the ballet going to avoid being shot by a gangster in the audience. But the story of the ballet is entirely separate from the plot of the show. Admittedly, the title song features dance that is very integrated, with tappers and ballet dancers squaring off in an expression of the show's central theme: the classical versus the popular.

I also had a chance to see On the Town recently at the Barrington Stage in Pittsfield, Massachusetts. Whereas On Your Toes was a fascinating but creaky relic, On the Town is an exuberant joy. Of course, the right director can make a world of difference in staging a classic show, and the Barrington fortunately has John Rando, who whips up a briskly paced production full of energetic staging, smooth transitions, and neon-bright characterizations. Rando is at a significant advantage here, because On the Town is a much stronger show than On Your Toes, but On the Town is by no means fool-proof, as the last two Broadway revivals have demonstrated.

On the Town was really the first time that dance became the connective tissue that held a show together, which makes perfect sense given that the show started as a 1944 Jerome Robbins ballet called Fancy Free. On the Town features dance interludes in almost every song, and the dance is far more essential to the narrative than the dance in On Your Toes. For example, the "Imaginary Coney Island" ballet not only brings us into the mind of the show's central character, Gabey (we witness his innocence and his romantic longing), it also provides a humorous transition to the final major episode in the plot (Gabey thinks Coney Island is the playground of moneyed sophisticates. We know it ain't.) 

The current Barrington production doesn't use the original Jerome Robbins On the Town choreography, as the recent Encores production of On the Town did. Because Robbins was so much a part of making the original On the Town successful, bringing in a new choreographic vision doesn't always work. (Just ask Ron Field, choreographer of the 1971 Broadway revival, and Keith Young/Joey McKneely, who worked on the 1999 revival.) Thankfully, Joshua Bergasse is more than up to the job, and fills the stage with an exhilarating array of imaginative patterns, replete with some genuinely thrilling lifts. Bergasse's only Broadway credits thus far are as a performer, but he really seems to be a choreographer worth watching out for. 

Other than the chance to see a seminal show, the main attraction this production of On the Town held for me was the first-rate roster of Broadway performers in the Barrington cast. The sensational Tony Yazbeck returns to the role of Gabey, which he also played at Encores. If anything, he was even more appealing on the smaller Barrington stage. What a voice. What a dancer. What a looker. (Can we please get this amazing guy back on Broadway as soon as humanly possible?) Ably assisting Yazbek are Jay Armstrong Johnson and Clyde Alves as Chip and Ozzie, respectively, both of whom craft memorable, individual characterizations in parts that can easily become indistinct. 

Most notable among the supporting cast was Alysha Umphress as Hildy, who puts a strong personal stamp on a role that has a long history of memorable performances from big brassy ladies (including Nancy Walker, Bernadette Peters, and Leslie Kritzer). Umphress was especially impressive in "Come up to My Place," a number whose staging was fast and fresh, without ever detracting from the comic intent of the song. Among the more mature cast members were the priceless Nancy Opel, a scenery-chewing hoot as Madame Dilly, and Tony winner Michael Rupert, who brings his forty-plus years of stage experience and a laser-sharp baritone to the relatively minor part of Pitkin W. Bridgework. (Special shout out to Boston Conservatory sophomore Jane Bernhard, making her Barrington Stage debut in the show's ensemble. Much love, doll.)

On the Town runs at the Barrington Stage through July 13th. If you're planning on going, get your tickets soon. After Ben Brantley's recent rave in the New York Times, sales are likely to be brisk. And rightly so.

Review - Good News at the Goodspeed Opera House

The 1920s was a heady and busy time for American musical theater. Musicals were still a relatively new art form, and the rules for creating them were only just emerging. That didn't stop composers, writers and lyricists from pounding out show after show, in numbers that we are unlikely to see again. The 1927 to 1928 season saw 51 new musicals. Of course, most of them were forgettable and have since been forgotten, but one of those shows was Show Boat, which represented a turning point in the pursuit of quality craftsmanship in musical theater.

Also from that record-breaking season was Good News (music by Ray Henderson, lyrics by B.G. "Buddy" DeSylva and Lew Brown, book by DeSylva and Laurence Schwab), another of the few musicals from the 1920s to establish anything close to a lasting legacy. Good News is perhaps the quintessential example of a significant 1920s subgenre: the collegiate romp. (Two other subgenres were the Cinderella story, exemplified by Sunny and Irene, and the bootleg show, best embodied by Oh, Kay.) Good News made playful fun of the fact that colleges in the 1920s were, to a large extent, just four-year country clubs. This was, of course, just an extension of the dissolute, hedonistic lifestyle of the moneyed set in the '20s.

Of the handful of 1920s shows that have survived, few if any are performed in their original form. Even Show Boat has no official version, and seems to get rewritten and revised for every production. For its current production of Good News, the venerable Goodspeed Opera House has enlisted Jeremy Desmon (The Girl in the Frame, Pump Up The Volume) to provide a revised libretto, and the result is fizzy and fun, if at times anachronistic, at least with respect to conversational idiom. Desmon adds some snappy touches of his own, while on the whole staying true to the feel of the '20s musical: frothy and frivolous.

Good News relates the classic tale of the college quarterback who needs to pass an important astronomy exam so that he can lead his team to victory in the big game on Saturday. Local female brainiac agrees to tutor the quarterback, and the two predictably fall in love. (The 1947 film "Good News" maintains this basic plot, but is considerably rewritten.)

The original score to Good News included the hit songs "The Varsity Drag" and "The Best Things in Life Are Free." As often happens with revivals of shows from this period, the Goodspeed production includes interpolations from the rest of the Henderson/DeSylva/Brown songbook, including "Life Is Just a Bowl of Cherries," "Button Up Your Overcoat," "You're the Cream in My Coffee" and "Keep Your Sunny Side Up." The reason it's so easy to do this is that songs from the period weren't necessarily written to be contextual within the framework of a show. They were written to be hits, and the above-listed songs without question became hits.

The Goodspeed production is directed and choreographed by Vince Pesce, and Pesce's joyous dance is one of the highlights of the show. The numbers are brisk, varied, and lively. Pesce really knows how to dress a stage and create engaging, often charming dance numbers. So, the dance is strong. Would that the same could be said for his direction, particularly in terms of the abundant comedy in the show. Pesce keeps things moving at a fast clip, and the transitions between scenes and numbers were fast and efficient. But somehow that sense of sharpness escapes Pesce when creating comic business for a scene or guiding his cast members toward an effectively timed punchline.

The cast members themselves are almost universally top-notch, including Ross Lekites as quarterback Tom Marlowe and the lovely Chelsea Morgan Stock as braniac Connie Lane. Also worth mentioning are the protean Barry Shafrin as Bobby Randall, the prototypical 98-lb. weakling, and the animated Tessa Faye as Babe O'Day, the campus sexpot. This Good News makes the astronomy professor a female, and even gives her a love interest in the football coach. Beth Glover as the professor and Mark Zimmerman as the coach make for a delightfully humorous and charming older couple.

Good News runs at the Goodspeed through June 22nd. We don't often get the chance to see this show, and even if you're not in the immediate area, it might just be worth the trip. They don't make 'em like that anymore, and yes there are good reasons for that. But every once in a while it's nice to just turn off your mind, turn on your heart, and enjoy a lovingly crafted throwback to a bygone era.

 

 

Review - Pippin Revival on Broadway

Never let it be said that I won't give a show a second chance.

I was considerably at odds with both critical and public opinion on the recent American Repertory Theater production of Pippin. The crowds went crazy and the critics did, too. Me, not so much. (Read my review.)

I'm sorry, but I just found the production to be all flash and no substance. But then, that has always been the problem with Pippin, ever since Bob Fosse kicked composer/lyricist Stephen Schwartz and librettist Roger O. Hirson out of rehearsals and proceeded to mold the show into his nihilistic, pyrotechnical vision.

But I was open to the possibility that I might simply have been a tad dyspeptic, or perhaps out-of-sorts, on the night that I saw Pippin in Cambridge. So when I got the invite to see Pippin again, I eagerly replied in the affirmative.

The reviews for the Broadway production were no less rhapsodic, although there were a few holdouts, including Ben Brantley at the New York Times, and Terry Teachout at the Wall Street Journal. Well, after seeing the show again, I have to say that I still come down on the side of Ben and Terry. This Pippin is lively, bright, and loud, to be sure, but it still lacks any discernible meaning. For me, what we have here is the proverbial tale, full of sound and fury, yet signifying nothing.

Again, one of the main problems with Pippin as a show is that it doesn't build, it meanders, particularly during a rather uneventful second act. Fosse hid the flaws with razzle-dazzle staging, and here director Diane Paulus and choreographer Chet Walker (working "in the style of" Fosse) pretty much just substitute their own glitz for the Fosse glitz, supplemented by some admittedly impressive acrobatics, supplied by Gipsy Snider of Les 7 doigts de le mains. But, again, what does it all amount to, besides audience-pleasing showboating? How do all the cast members bouncing around on green workout balls illuminate the meaning of "Simple Joys"? What's the point of having the two hand-balancers upstaging the action during the number "With You"? I'm as big a sucker as the next guy for whiz-bang production elements, provided, of course, they add something to the narrative.

There did seem to be some changes to the production on the road from Cambridge to Manhattan. Some sequences genuinely seemed more fluid, while others seemed to produce more of an ebb in the flow of the production, notably the number "Extraordinary." I seem to recall that at the A.R.T., this number simply featured the character Pippin climbing around the set and singing, but now we have a fully staged, overly busy, distractingly cutesy barnyard number, complete with folksy costumes and lots of focus-pulling stage business for the members of the ensemble. The number lacks focus, exacerbated by a whole lot of self-satisfied mugging on the part of the chorus. (I guess that's one of the dangers of filling your show with acrobats who can't act.)

As for the cast, I remain fully enamored of both the quirky Rachel Bay Jones, in the otherwise thankless role of Catherine, and the astonishing Andrea Martin as Berthe. Martin, quite deservedly, got a mid-show standing ovation after her masterful "No Time at All," which was somehow even more of a pleasure in New York than it was in Cambridge.

I have to say that Matthew James Thomas, in the title role, has become far more animated and sympathetic. Charlotte d'Amboise as Fastrada also seems more comfortable and self-assured, although neither performer has made the cross over into memorable. Patina Miller was out for this particular performance, but Stephanie Pope made for a more-than-adequate replacement as the Leading Player. In fact, I found Pope to have more presence and a more satisfyingly sinister bent than Miller did.

Terrence Mann as Charlemagne remains marble-mouthed and mumbly, particularly during "War Is a Science." If anything, I understood even less of what he sang this time around. In fact, Mann's take on "War Is a Science" sort of crystallized for me what's wrong with Pippin as a whole. Paulus ups the tempo for the final verse, making the last part into a patter song, and all but obliterating any meaning we could derive from the lyric.

Sound and fury.

Review - The Hypocrites' The Pirates of Penzance at the A.R.T.

What's that, my friend? You say that you love Gilbert & Sullivan, but you don't have the...er... patience to sit through an entire Savoy Opera?

You're not alone. I mean, I love me some G&S, but some of those shows just seem to go on and on and on, especially in inexperienced hands. There's nothing more tedious than sitting through an amateur production of The Gondoliers or H.M.S. Pinafore. (Pacing, my friends. It's all about pacing. If it can't be good, dear God, make it short.)

Well, have no fear. The Hypocrites are here, with a fresh and zippy 80-minute production of The Pirates of Penzance, which recently opened at the American Repertory Theater in Cambridge, Mass. Call it Gilbert & Sullivan for modern attention spans. The Hypocrites is a Chicago-based theater troupe known for its distinctive re-imagining of classic works. The recent acclaimed production of Our Town, directed by David Cromer, originated with The Hypocrites in Chicago.

Here, the troupe has taken The Pirates of Penzance, cut it down (the adaptation is by Sean Graney and Kevin O'Donnell), and whipped up a frothy atmospheric production complete with beach balls, picnic tables, and plastic wading pools. The atmosphere is true to the playful spirit of the original show, while adding some lovingly ridiculous elements of the group's own devising.

In truth, "adaptation" here means little more than a significantly truncated version of the original with a few modern references and sight gags thrown in. The result is short, sweet, and relentlessly silly.

The real fun here comes from the spirited and arch direction by Sean Graney, and the lovingly over-the-top performances from a cast of Hypocrites regulars. Particularly strong among the hard-working crew of ten were a lovingly mock heroic Zeke Sulkes as the pirate apprentice Frederick, a delightfully dotty Christine Stulik as both Ruth and Mabel, and an amusingly imperious Matt Kahler as the famed Major General.

The cast members, who also serve as the show's on-stage band, mill about convivially among the audience members, many of whom are seated on the stage and on benches surrounding the playing area. I'm not one to automatically respond to immersive theater such as this, but thankfully the A.R.T. staff saw fit to provide regular seating away from the on-stage antics. (I crouch, squat, and scurry for no show.)

This particular production of The Pirates of Penzance is certainly not for G&S purists. As I said, the show and the score have been cut down rather severely, but this in itself is not necessarily a bad thing. G&S have a strong tendency to repeat refrains almost incessantly, most of which the production at hand has dispensed with, as well as turning much of the recitative into spoken text.

The score has been rearranged and modernized for guitar, banjo, flute, spoons, and the occasional woodwind. The musicianship, both sung and played, was for the most part serviceable, although the apostrophic "Hail, Poetry" was simply stunning, thanks to both the sotto voce singing and sensitive lighting.

On a final note, I have to say that I'm genuinely torn over the fact that this admitted crowd-pleaser comes to us under the auspices of the A.R.T. As you may know, the A.R.T. has come under fire for its overtly commercial bent under the helm of artistic director Diane Paulus. And this production of Pirates certainly ranks among the theater's more mainstream-friendly offerings. I mean, there's a certain amount of theatrical invention involved here, but it's certainly nothing you would call challenging or deep. At least it's not pretentious like Pippin, by which I mean a pretense of meaning. Pirates doesn't try to be anything beyond what it is, which is a rollicking good time.

But is that what a major non-profit, operating within one of the most august learning institutions in the world, should be doing?

Review - The Servant of Two Masters at Boston's Paramount Theater

One of my favorite theatrical experiences last season was One Man, Two Guvnors, a British import that rollicked at the good old Music Box Theatre for 159 performances, three at which I was in giddy attendance. So when I heard that Arts Emerson in Boston would be hosting a touring production of The Servant of Two Masters (Carlo Goldoni, 1743), upon which One Man, Two Guvnors is lovingly based, I knew that I had to take it in. 

I had never had the occasion to see The Servant of Two Masters before, and it turns out One Man, Two Guvnors is extremely faithful to its source, in terms of the story, the characters, and the raucous, ribald feel of the proceedings. I'm happy to report that I had every bit as much of a grand old time at The Servant of Two Masters as I did at its British progenitor. 

Of course, both Servant and Guvnors owe their genesis to the commedia dell'arte tradition, the Italian theatrical form dating back to the 16th century. As in commedia, Servant follows the framework of a story, with certain set comic bits, or lazzi, but much of the action and dialogue is improvised. There are also familiar character types: Pantalone, the miserly merchant; Arlecchino, or Harlequin, the mischievous servant; Columbina, Arlecchino's lusty love interest; Il Dottore, the blustery pedant, etc.

It's easy to see how commedia dell'arte was able to flourish for some many years -- nearly two centuries -- especially if the original commedia were this outlandishly funny. This particular production of Servant was full of fresh characterizations, high-energy staging, and a delicious sense of bawdy, ribald goings on that were the hallmark of commedia. It was sometimes rather difficult to tell which parts were improvised and what was scripted. So much of the show seemed to be so tightly choreographed that it seems rather unlikely it was extemporized. 

But there were also numerous topical bits and local references that seemed rather clearly devised for the Boston run of the show. Some of these were a bit forced, like the reference to one character doing his doctoral dissertation on Make Way For Ducklings. Others are spot-on and appear to directly reflect the fact that the production originated at the Yale Repertory Theater. At one point Truffaldino, the Harlequin character, starts to sing a snatch of a song from The Music Man, and Pantalone stops him. "We're not doing a musical here," he says. "This isn't the ART, you know." Zing. At another point, during a bondage-and-discipline reference, one of the characters suggests that their safe word should be "Pippin." Again, zing.  

If this production of Servant does have a flaw, it's that the first half goes on about 15 minutes longer than it ideally would. The business becomes a bit repetitive, occasionally bordering on tiresome. Fortunately, the second half gets right down to the business of bringing the complicated plot to a satisfying resolution. Along the way, we're treated to a considerable number of musical interludes, including a gorgeous female trio and a full-blown opera scene.   

The director here is Christopher Bayes, who served as movement director for the Broadway production of The 39 Steps. Bayes and his cast create a world that is fresh, vibrant, and lovingly stylized. Standouts among the cast include Allen Gilmore in the Pantalone role, who has a superb sense of heightened physicality and crack comic timing.

Of course, this production really belongs to Steven Epp in the central role of Truffaldino, the Harlequin character who sets the show in comic motion by attempting to double his salary by serving the two titular masters. Epp is a comic marvel and a very appealing and sympathetic presence on stage. The fine performances from both of these gentlemen are even more remarkable considering both Pantalone and Arlecchino traditionally perform in masks. That both men were able to exude such a strong sense of character, when most of their faces are covered, is a testament to the talent and training of both. 

The Servant to Two Masters plays at Boston's Paramount Theater through next Sunday, February 10th. If you're in Boston and are looking for a rollicking good time at the theater, by all means make haste to the theater district and see some masters of the comic, the titular, and the titillating sort. 

Two final notes. This was my first time attending a show in Boston's recently restored Paramount Theater. I have to say I'm glad that we have this former vaudeville theater up and running again, but the theater looks better in pictures online than it does in person. I mean, there are nice touches in the auditorium, but you can really see the economies in the construction, including the rather twee and flat wall frescoes.

Also, you may recall that this production, while it was playing the Guthrie Theater, offered patrons the chance to sit in "Tweet Seats," in which they were encouraged to use their smart phones to their hearts' content. I'm exceedingly glad that Arts Emerson did not replicate this policy, and resolutely refuse to patronize any theater that does. Theater is a chance to become fully immersed in another world. There's quite enough in the theater these days to take me out of the moment: people chatting constantly with their neighbors, rustling through bags looking for the snacks they brought, chewing their gum with their mouths wide open, checking the scores for the big game on their phones, etc. I don't care if the Tweeters are in a different section. I'm against any such policy on principle. Turn off your goddamn phones and watch the goddamn show. 

Here endeth the diatribe. 

The Worst Musicals of 2012

Bad theater is a gift. I genuinely believe that. I know plenty of people who only go to see shows that they're already pretty sure they're going to like, or that have received strong reviews. I suppose that makes sense. But I make it a point to see every new musical and revival that opens on Broadway, and as many Off-Broadway musicals as my schedule will allow. And when you see a lot of theater, you see a lot of bad theater. That's just the way it goes. As I've said many times, quality is always the exception.

So where's the gift part? Well, I firmly believe that you need to see what's bad in order to fully appreciate what's good. So seeing bad shows helps to maximize your enjoyment of truly great shows. That's a gift, right? Sure, sometimes I get a bit testy when I'm sitting through some godawful mess of a production, but I usually just remind myself that there have always been fewer great shows than mediocre-to-bad shows. And there always will be. Sure, there used to be more musicals in general, back in the '40s and '50s, because the economics of putting on shows was very different back then. But more shows means more crap. As a percentage, great musicals are always in the vast minority.

For me, whenever I see a bad musical, I see the experience as becoming part of my continuing education in musical theater. And let's just say that 2012 gave me ample opportunity to grow in this respect, but that's really no different from what happens in any other year. (Oh, and lest you think I'm dwelling on the negative, check out my my list of the Best Musicals of 2012.) To read my reviews, click on the names of the shows listed below. 

10. Lysistrata Jones. Technically, I saw Lysistrata Jones in 2011, but I didn't include it on my 2011 Worst Musicals list because I had plenty of other candidates to write about. I include it on this year's list, partly because the show did technically play on Broadway in 2012 (albeit very briefly) and also because, the more I think about it, the more I see Lysistrata Jones as just plain bad. The book by Douglas Carter Beane is full of more one-liners than character-based humor. Beane also renders the anti-war message of Aristophanes' original Lysistrata utterly meaningless. And the score, by Beane's life partner Lewis Flinn, was just one unmemorable pop song after another. The production featured an appealing cast of fresh faces, including Patti Murin in the title role and Josh Segarra as her boyfriend. Director/choreographer Dan Knechtges created some very impressive and character-appropriate dances for the show. But, of course, those aren't the sort of things that make a show last beyond its Broadway run. I'm having a hard time seeing Lysistrata Jones catching on in regional theaters.

9. End of the Rainbow. OK, so, not technically a musical, I know. But I figured that, if I was going to include One Man, Two Guvnors on my list of the Best, I would be justified in slamming End of the Rainbow as one of the Worst. The only real reason to see End of the Rainbow was to witness Tracie Bennett's admittedly impressive, if not entirely accurate, impersonation of Judy Garland. (Although, Michael Cumpsty also had some fine moments as Garland's put-upon accompanist.) As for the play itself, by one Peter Quilter, End of the Rainbow was simply a straightforward, by-the-numbers representation of the events surrounding Garland's disastrous final concerts in London. There was no real point of view or artistry in Quilter's writing, and very little in director Terry Johnson's presentation of the play that was interesting or exciting. If you're interested in the waning years of Garland's career, you're better off watching the DVDs of "The Judy Garland Show" and reading Get Happy, Gerald Clarke's detailed and fascinating Garland biography.

8. Into the Woods. I think the Public Theater's production of Into the Woods last summer at the Delacorte Theater in Central Park was a victim of my high expectations. Word from London was strong regarding the Regent's Park Open Air Theatre production, which directors Timothy Sheader and Liam Steel were recreating for the Public run. The cast just seemed to get more and more exciting as the announcements kept coming: Donna Murphy as The Witch; Denis O'Hare as the Baker; Jessie Mueller as Cinderella; Oscar-nominee Amy Adams as the Baker's Wife. Yowza. But the production just fell flat. The emotional subtext of Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine's powerful show seemed to get lost in the enormous, multilevel set, and most of the actors seemed distracted by all the running around that the set required. A few of the lesser known cast members gave memorable performances, including Sarah Stiles as Little Red Riding Hood, Gideon Glick as Jack, and Ivan Hernandez as Cinderella's Prince/The Wolf. Once the reviews came out, few were surprised that the initial talk of a Broadway transfer quickly fizzled out.

7. Chaplin. I wanted to like Chaplin. Honestly I did. The show came out of the New York Musical Theater Festival, of which I'm a big fan. The cast featured some of my favorite theater performers, including Jenn Colella, Christiane Noll, and Erin Mackey, and the supremely talented Rob McClure in the title role. The show had impressive costume design by Amy Clark and Martin Pakledinaz, and scenic design by Beowulf Boritt. But, alas, the piece itself didn't come close to capturing the magic of Charlie Chaplin. The main problems were an instantly forgettable score by Christopher Curtis and over-reaching and rushed book by Curtis and Thomas Meehan. There was only so much that normally reliable director/choreographer Warren Carlyle could do with the uninspired material. Chaplin as a musical was unfortunately was as antiquated as silent film itself.

6. Something's Afoot. Here's another one that sort of pains me to include on this list. I'm an ardent supporter of the Goodspeed Opera House. I've not only seen many of their shows over the years, I'll also be attending their annual Festival of New Artists this weekend, which will be my third time attending this event. They not only put on top-notch productions of historic shows, they also actively cultivate new works, and give lots of young performers their first chance to break into the business. But, for some reason I can't quite comprehend, the good folks at the Goodspeed decided to dredge up and present Something's Afoot as part of their most recent season. Now, Something's Afoot is one of the many shows that Goodspeed has helped shepherd along the way to a New York run. It played the Goodspeed in 1973, and went on to an abbreviated Broadway run in 1976. But it's bad. Very bad. The book is as creaky as the staircase in the gloomy mansion that serves as the show's setting. And the songs are tuneless, formless, and generic. I remain a fervent fan of the Goodspeed, and look forward to attending their production for many seasons to come. As long as they don't include Something's Afoot.

5. Carrie. Carrie? Bad? The devil you say. Yeah, well, go figure. One of the most legendary bad musicals of all time got a complete makeover and turned out to be...a bad musical. For years, Carrie, based on the novel by Stephen King, has stood as sort of a low watermark for musical-theater dreck. And, for years, the authors have been thinking that their show got a bad rap the first time around. So Lawrence D. Cohen (librettist), Dean Pitchford (lyricist) and Michael Gore (composer) teamed up with the MCC Theater and director Stafford Arima to the give the old girl another go. But here's the thing: they removed the stuff that made the show legendary in the first place, the hilariously miscalculated stuff that made the original Carrie so-bad-it-was-good. And they replaced it with treacle, new numbers so earnest that they were eye-rollingly dull. But, at the heart of Carrie remain a handful of songs that are genuinely strong -- "And Eve Was Weak," "I Remember How Those Boys Could Dance," and "When There's No One" --  and the second time around those songs were just as out-of-place as they were the first time. The production did provide some top-notch performers a chance to shine, including the marvelous Marin Mazzie, and collectors finally got a professional cast recording to suuplement their...er...shall we say "private" recordings of the original.

4. How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying (with Nick Jonas). What a difference a lead makes. When I saw the recent revival of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying with Daniel Radcliffe, I was charmed. (Read my review). But when I went back to catch the show again with Nick Jonas in the lead, the production seemed to have fallen apart. Apparently, director Rob Ashford had moved on to other projects, because the production had gotten really sloppy. Significant members of the original cast had taken their performances and made them broad beyond reason in an apparent attempt to curry cheap laughter from the audience of Jonas Brothers groupies and tourists. And the new cast members -- Mr. Jonas and Hollywood veteran Beau Bridges -- seemed to be leading the way, mugging up a storm, pushing for laughs, and abandoning all sense of moderation and dramatic integrity. Thankfully, the production closed shortly thereafter, sparing us all the indignity of witnessing Joey Fatone or Jonathan Knight running the production further into the ground.

 3. Evita. When I saw Michael Grandage's revival of Evita in London, I genuinely enjoyed the production, and was very eager to see the show when it transferred to Broadway. Elena Roger was a veritable spitfire in the title role, and I was hoping to see her again. (Read my review of the London production.) However, I mistakenly bought a ticket for a show in which Roger's New York alternate, Christine DiCicco, played the role. Something definitely got lost in the import process, because the New York production was lifeless, despite the admittedly eye-pleasing presence of Ricky Martin in the role of Che. But Martin just smiled inanely throughout the entire show, seemingly oblivious to the meaning of the words he was singing, and the rest of the production lacked the vibrancy of the London staging. I thought perhaps it might have been the absence of Elena Roger that made the difference, but I'm told that the show played pretty much the same even when Roger was in it. The show has been playing to pretty strong houses based on Ricky Martin's presence, but the producers have opted to close the show rather than attempt to replace Martin. Again, one shudders to think of who they might have replaced Martin with, but it seems doubtful that anyone short of Mandy Patinkin himself could have raised this production out of the doldrums.

2. Scandalous. If only Scandalous had lived up to its name, it might have been at least somewhat entertaining. But it wasn't. Dear Lord, it wasn't. Other than the presence of Carolee Carmello and George Hearn in the cast, Scandalous had practically nothing going for it. First, it's hard to imagine that a musical about evangelist Aimee Semple McPherson would have any drawing power. I mean, does anyone under the age of seventy five know who she is? Sure, one of the authors has some name recognition: Kathie Lee Gifford, who wrote the book and the lyrics. (The music was by David Pomeranz and David Friedman.) But Kathie Lee's fame wasn't sufficient to draw enough people to the theater to keep the show afloat. And the show itself was an amateurish mishmash of leaden dialog, inconsistent characterizations, and bland gospel anthems. After I published my review of the show, a reader contacted me accusing me of being overly harsh on the show because of its religious subject matter. Trust me, the subject matter had nothing to do with my reaction: the show itself was mortal sin enough.

1. Ghost. And then there's Ghost, a show that reflected everything wrong with modern musical theater: an over-reliance on technical production values; an under-reliance on quality songwriting and storytelling; the presence of pop-music dilettantes who assumed that writing popular songs is the same as writing cohesive musical theater scores; cast members forced to belt fortissimo over the over-amplified orchestra. Thankfully, Ghost didn't last very long, and didn't win any awards, which gives me hope that producers will think twice the next time they underestimate the ticket-buying public by bringing in another seemingly pre-sold brand name (here, the 1990 film "Ghost") with a high-profile but inexperienced writing team (Dave Stewart of Eurythmics fame, record producer Glen Ballard, and screenwriter Bruce Joel Rubin), and hire an otherwise talented director (Tony-Award winner Matthew Warchus) for the thankless task of making it all work. Warchus will hopefully bounce back with the upcoming Broadway bow of Matilda. But I get the feeling that Ghost isn't going to stop producers from scraping the bottom of the barrel when it comes to turning safe-but-tired Hollywood properties into Broadway musicals. (See Flashdance.)

Review - Pippin at the A.R.T. in Cambridge, Mass.

In the arts-criticism course that I teach at the Boston Conservatory, one of the DVDs that I've had my students watch almost every semester is Pippin. This isn't because I necessarily like the show, but rather because it's a relatively easy starting point for my students and their developing critical sensibilities. Many of my students are musical-theater majors, and Pippin usually gives them plenty to think about in terms of what's worth praising and what's worth criticizing in a musical production.

And the verdict by consensus from all of those reviews over the years -- and I'm inclined to agree -- is that Pippin is, at least in its initial incarnation, a triumph of style over substance. The show has some really strong and memorable songs ("Corner of the Sky," "Magic to Do"), but it also has some really dull ones ("Extraordinary," "Love Song"). Plus, the book represents this muddled sort of bildungsroman that seems to be about...I don't know, the meaning of life? The meaninglessness of life? The importance of not falling prey to the ministrations of a traveling group of performers and their charismatic leader?

Pippin's original director and choreographer, Bob Fosse, seemed to understand that the show itself was no great shakes, so he set about reshaping it with his own vision, despite the objections of composer/lyricist Stephen Schwartz and librettist Roger O. Hirson. Fosse even famously banned Schwartz and Hirson from rehearsals to keep them from meddling. Pippin hasn't been back to Broadway since that original run, possibly because people were afraid to tamper with Fosse's vision, or perhaps thought that the show wouldn't work without the Fosse flair.

Enter Diane Paulus at the American Repertory Theater, a director who has demonstrated repeatedly (see Hair, Porgy and Bess) that she's not intimidated by the iconic status of certain productions or by audience expectations. Paulus starts by getting rid of the commedia dell'arte trappings of the original production. (Although the show includes a very clever nod to Tony Walton and his original logo for the show.) Instead, we have the rather unoriginal device of the circus tent and a band of acrobats to emphasize the notion that this is a tale that the players travel the country with, looking to tempt potential Pippins into their fold. To achieve her own vision of the piece, Paulus has teamed up with Gypsy Snider of the Montreal-based acrobatics troupe Les 7 Doigts de la Main (creators of the much-extended Off-Broadway hit Traces). 

For the most part, I found the acrobatics more of a self-conscious distraction than an additive production value, and the gleeful reaction of the crowd around me the night I saw the show seemed to emphasize this. I mean, we're talking about one number that's meant to depict thousands of people being senselessly slaughtered by the forces of Charlemagne ("Glory"), and people were bursting into spontaneous applause breaks over the admittedly impressive physical feats that were nonetheless upstaging the intent of the number. This was also apparent during "Simple Joys," a song with a lyric that I've never really been able to figure out:

Wouldn't you rather be a left-handed flea
A crab on a slab at the bottom of the sea
Than a man who never learns how to be free
Not 'til he's underground

Yeah, I get that the Leading Player is trying to get Pippin to agree to "star" in the players' nefarious show, but what do fleas and crabs have to do with anything? And the staging here for the number only adds to the confusion, with acrobats bouncing on large green balls, jumping through hoops, doing back-flips, etc. So that's what the simple joys are, huh? Rolling around on all those balls at the gym?    

The choreography for this Pippin is by Chet Walker, working "in the style of" Bob Fosse. Part of me thinks it was a mistake to retain this constant reminder that this production is based on someone else's vision, but to Walker's credit, he manages to put his own imprimatur on many of the numbers, and he's certainly not slavish to Fosse. The opening song, "Magic to Do," for instance, is staged here without the iconic white hands seemingly floating in space. The only segment that's a complete reproduction is the famed "Manson Trio," although the genders are reversed: a female Leading Player (Patina Miller) and two male back-up dancers. Also, I loved how Walker included a loving nod to Fosse in staging the orgy scene with obvious references to the dance from "Take Off With Us" from Fosse's movie "All That Jazz."

The cast here are decidedly mixed, although I must admit that, having watched that DVD of Pippin so many times, I'm a bit spoiled by the intensity and showmanship of Ben Vereen and Chita Rivera. Patina Miller lacked the captivating presence and sinister subtext of Ben Vereen, although she did occasionally find ways to make the part her own. Charlotte d'Amboise as Fastrada was breathless and flat when singing, and her dancing lacked Chita's sharp angularity. Matthew James Thomas as Pippin couldn't seem to hold my attention or inspire my sympathy, although that might be partly because of all the distracting activity in this production. But even when he was alone onstage, his presence was mostly rather bland, although there were some times when his gawkish awkwardness made him almost real.

On the sort-of plus side, we have Terrence Mann as Charlemagne. Mann found lots of small ways to make the part believably pompous and doddering, although his diction was extremely poor during his songs. I don't think I understood a single word of "War Is a Science," and then Paulus makes the mistake of speeding up the final verse to make it a patter song, which only compounded the issue, clouded over the point of the song, and buried Schwartz's erudite lyric.

The two key reasons to see this production are Andrea Martin as Berthe and Rachel Bay Jones as Catherine. Yes, Catherine. How many times do you see Pippin and have Catherine be the one who stands out? Catherine is usually as thankless a role as Hope Harcourt in Anything Goes or Sarah Brown in Guys and Dolls, but Jones brings the part a certain goofball charm and a strong sense of vulnerability. One of the highlights of act two was "I Guess I'll Miss the Man," a song that's often a throwaway, or even cut entirely (as it was from the DVD).  

And Andrea Martin is simply a force of nature, in everything she does really, but in particular here. She's the best thing in the whole show, and delivers her one and only song ("No Time at All") with enough focus, clarity, and professionalism to lift the first act out of its doldrums and propel the show toward the newly inserted intermission (after "Morning Glow"). Suddenly, I was transported, but Martin's performance only served to underscore what was missing from the rest of the production: focus and honesty. Thankfully, Rachel Bay Jones served this same function in the second act, but for me it wasn't enough. 

Full disclosure: I seem to be the only person in Christendom who didn't like this production. Most of my friends who have seen Pippin at the A.R.T. were thoroughly charmed, even amazed, and the local reviews have been strong. The show announced that it was transferring to Broadway even before the reviews came out, and the entire run at the A.R.T. is almost completely sold out. What can I say? The show doesn't quite work for me, and never really has, and Diane Paulus's production wasn't able to change my mind.

The Best Musicals of 2012

When I was in eighth grade, our class produced a little mimeographed yearbook, of which I was the editor. The yearbook contained individual student profiles, essays about class trips, a class song, and a whole bunch of other yearbook-type items. Each student profile contained a line item for the student to announce his or her future career plans, and another line for a "class prediction" of what job the student would actually end up in. At the time, I thought I was going to become a doctor, specifically a psychiatrist. (Interpret that as you will.) But my classmates predicted that I would become a critic, "because Chris is never satisfied with anything." (Kinda harsh, huh? Well, eighth graders aren't known for their tact, now are they?)

Well, I've been thinking about that prediction lately, not just because it actually came true. I think a more positive spin on the notion that I'm supposedly "never satisfied" is that I have high standards. At the Boston Conservatory, where I teach, I'm known as a tough grader. And I suppose I'm pretty hard to please as a critic as well. I don't necessarily go into shows with my arms figuratively crossed, demanding nothing less than to be blown away. It's just that I've been developing a certain aesthetic regarding musical theater for many years, and I apply that aesthetic to every production that I see. Sometimes I genuinely am blown away, but most of the time I am not, but that's to be expected. As I say to my students all the time, quality is always the exception.

Anyway, all of this is by way of introduction to my annual list of the best musical productions that I've seen in a particular calendar year. It might come as a surprise to some people (my eighth-grade classmates in particular) that, yes, every once in a while, I do see productions that I appreciate, enjoy, and sometimes am even blown away by. And here's proof: ten productions from 2012 that could even please me, the guy who's "never satisfied." Of course, I'll be following up later with my list of the ten Worst Musicals of 2012, but I wanted to post this list first as a sort of preemptive strike. Click on the show names below to read my original reviews of the shows in question. 

10. Murder Ballad. Here's a perfect example of a show that, while not perfect, had enough going for it that it tipped the scales for me in the positive direction, and I wound up enjoying myself immensely. Murder Ballad is a classic love triangle that (as it says on the tin) ends rather badly, but along the way we're treated to an entertaining mix of sentiment and snark. The show is by Julia Jordan and Juliana Nash, and I'm looking forward to seeing future work by this promising pair. Of course, much of the appeal of Murder Ballad, which played an extended engagement at the Manhattan Theatre Club's new Studio at Stage II this past fall, lay in its superlative cast: John Ellison Conlee, Rebecca Naomi Jones, 
Karen Olivo, and Will Swenson. But I get the sense that Murder Ballad is going to catch on on its own merit with regional theaters and colleges, particularly after the upcoming release of the show's  cast recording.

9. Porgy and Bess. As you probably recall, Porgy and Bess had a rather bumpy road to Broadway last season. After Stephen Sondheim's excoriating letter to the New York Times, and Ben Brantley's less-than-stellar review of the show's pre-Broadway run at the A.R.T., it was looking as though the show might not make it to New York. At issue were the efforts of director Diane Paulus and adapter Suzan-Lori Parks to "streamline" and "modernize" the show. Purists balked, but I found the show a huge improvement over previous productions of the show. There were a few times when I found the trimming to be a bit too aggressive, but overall I found the production thrilling. Much of this came from the central performance by Audra McDonald, for which she deservedly won her fifth Tony Award. (Although I do have to say that, the first time I saw the new Forbidden Broadway, it included a number called "A Diva is a Sometime Thing," poking fun of Audra's numerous and extended absences from the show. It was one of the funniest things in the show, but the number wasn't there the second time I saw FB, and it isn't included on the new CD either. Could it be that Gerard Alessandrini is starting to pull punches in his latter years?)

8. Without You. I always like to include some shows that I didn't see in New York on this list, and one of the best things I saw last year was in my hometown. Anthony Rapp brought his one-man show Without You to Boston early last summer, in anticipation of runs in London and Edinburgh, and the show was intimate, disarming, and extremely moving. As you may know, Rapp originated the role of Mark in Rent, and Without You tells the parallel stories of Rapp being a part of that production and experiencing the premature death of Jonathan Larson, as well as Rapp's own struggles with the passing of his mother. Without You mixes songs from Rent with original material by Rapp and his collaborators. Under the direction of Steve Maler of Boston's own Commonwealth Shakespeare Company, Rapp takes what could have been a maudlin exercise in self-pity and turns it into a sweet remembrance of a powerful and formative time in his life. (If you didn't get a chance to catch the show live, PS Classics recently released a recording of the show.)

7. Closer Than Ever. The venerable York Theatre Company provided a welcome respite from the overblown spectacles of Broadway by reviving Closer Than Ever, the intimate and knowing Off-Broadway revue by songwriting team of Richard Maltby, Jr. and David Shire. The show featured some updated material, but the real reasons that the production was a must-see were the two female performers, Jenn Colella and Christiane Noll, as well as the brisk and sensitive direction from Mr. Maltby himself. I think I also responded to the show because the material seemed so much more meaningful to me in 2012 than when the show first came out. A lot of the songs are about adjusting to aging process, and, well, let's just say I'm a bit closer to the ages at which Maltby and Shire wrote this material than I was in 1989. Anyway, I'm certainly looking forward to the show's upcoming cast recording from Jay Records.

6. One Man, Two Guvnors. OK, yeah, this one wasn't technically a musical. But, hey, it did have more songs that many musicals do, and even produced a cast recording to prove it. Whatever it was, One Man, Two Guvnors was easily one of the most enjoyable productions I saw last year, play or musical, and for that reason alone I decided to include it on this list. In fact, I had such a grand old time, I went back twice again to revel in the sheer joy of this gleefully ridiculous production. (The third time, I brought my brother and niece. We had just been to the Carnegie Deli for dinner and had half of a brisket sandwich with us. If you've seen the play, you know where this is headed.) One Man, Two Guvnors is by Richard Bean, and is a modern reworking of Carlo Goldoni's classic Servant of Two Masters, but the real attraction here was the expert cast of British hams, led by Tony winner James Corden, ably abetted by Jemima Rooper, Oliver Chris, and Suzie Toase. Add in the expert direction from Nicholas Hytner, and you have one of the most ridiculously entertaining nights in the theater to hit Broadway in many a season.

5. Dogfight. Song-writing team Justin Paul and Benj Pasek made their Broadway debut this season with the holiday run of A Christmas Story. I was not among the many people who enjoyed that production. In fact, I would much rather have seen Pasek and Paul make their Broadway bow with Dogfight, which played Off-Broadway at the Second Stage Theatre last summer. Admittedly, Pasek and Paul had some wonderful moments in their score to A Christmas Story, including some warm and intimate character numbers for the mother. But they were able to sustain that intimacy and depth of characterization throughout most of the score to Dogfight, particularly for the female lead character, Rose, played with heart-breaking subtlety by the wonderful Lindsay Mendez. Director Joe Mantello re-affirmed here his grip on crafting solid ensemble work and nuanced individual performances, after floundering over the past few seasons on mindless musical comedies and farce. I'm hoping to see some future life for Dogfight, if only in the form aof a cast recording, which to this date has not been announced.

 4. Anything Goes (starring Stephanie J. Block). Last year, I had the chance to revisit the two Broadway musical revivals from the previous season, and it was a genuine study in contrasts. Whereas How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying was coming apart at the seams with Nick Jonas at the helm (watch for my list of the Worst Musicals of 2012), over at the Stephen Sondheim Theater, Anything Goes was going full guns, despite the departure of Tony winner Sutton Foster. In fact, although I had certainly enjoyed Anything Goes the first time I saw, my second viewing was one of pure joy. Somehow the Roundabout Theatre Company's revival, featuring the strong direction and fluid choreography of the redoubtable Kathleen Marshall, seemed even more sure-footed and ebullient with Stephanie J. Block. as Reno Sweeney. Unfortunately, the show closed shortly thereafter, but I was gratified to have experienced first-hand a long-running production that had gotten even better with age.

3. Carousel (Goodspeed Opera House). I'm a big fan of the Goodspeed Opera House, and last year I was fortunate in starting to cover the Goodspeed for TheaterMania. The folks at the Goodspeed always put on top-drawer productions. (Even, as we will see in my Worst Musicals of 2012 list, the shows themselves aren't always of the highest caliber.) With Carousel, the Goodspeed took on the challenge of taking a classic Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein show that's often big on production values and making it work on the Goodspeed's admittedly diminutive stage. Just as they did last season with Show Boat, the Goodspeed found ingenious ways of making Carousel work in their space, and even made an asset out of that potential liability by bringing the action closer to the audience and rendering the grand sweep of the show on a compellingly intimate scale. The cast was also a huge part of the show's success, particularly James Snyder as Billy Bigelow and Teal Wicks as Julie Jordan.

2. Bring It On. Yeah, I'm surprised, too. First, for even having Bring It On on my Best Musicals of 2012 list, and second, for ranking it so high. Make no mistake: Bring It On is fluff, but but it's extremely well executed fluff, with a smart and funny book by Jeff Whitty (Avenue Q) and a variegated score by composer Tom Kitt (Next to Normal), composer/lyricist Lin-Manuel Miranda (In the Heights) and lyricist Amanda Green. Bring It On is really nothing more than "Who's gonna win the big cheerleader competition?," but hey, what's wrong with that? Along the way, we meet some genuinely likable performers (led by the adorable Taylor Louderman), witness some heart-stopping cheerleader routines, and watch choreographer Andy Blankenbuehler (who also directed) back in his pop-and-lock element at last, after some unfortunate miss-fires. (See 9 to 5, featuring pale white men in three-piece suits grooving to the hip-hop beat. Oy.) I'm fully expecting to see Bring It On catch on with high-school and college theater groups, and I'm all for that. (Although it will be interesting to see how they handle the transgender teen.)

1. Once. There are so many wonderful reasons why Once makes the top of my list this year. First of all, it's a really good show, and probably would have topped the list no matter what else had occurred. But then it went on to sweep the Tony Awards, over the crowd-pleasing Newsies, And now, it's already made back its initial investment and continues to sell really strongly. And what makes it all so gratifying is that it's such a small show: cast of 12 people, no orchestra, unit set, simple costumes. It warms my heart to think that small show like this can become a Broadway hit. Maybe this will make producers think twice about the new overblown, overproduced movie adaptation. If the show is good, people will come no matter how elaborate the sets and costumes are. Much credit here goes to director John Tiffany and choreographer Steven Hoggett for creating a seamless flow between scenes and for letting the truth of the characters speak for itself. Then, of course, there's the haunting score by Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová. And at the center, we have the nuanced and heart-wrenching performances from Steve Kazee and Cristin Milioti, all of which coalesce to make Once the most heart-warming smash-hit in more than a decade.

HONORABLE MENTION: Leap of Faith. OK, I couldn't very well end this list without making one last plug for a show that I genuinely think got a bad rap. Go ahead and think less me based on my affection for Leap of Faith, but when I saw the show I was disarmed by the level of genuine characterization, the meaningful integration of the score, and the strength with which the cast members seemed to believe in the story of these appealing, yet flawed, individuals. Unfortunately, Leap of Faith wound up being the biggest financial flop in a season replete with same. Lost in the rubble were an intelligent book by Janus Cercone and Warren Leight, a rousing set of songs from composer Alan Menken and lyricist Glenn Slater, and two genuinely strong yet layered performances from Raul Esparza and Jessica Phillips. All will of course land on their feet, and in the meantime we have the cast recording to remind those of us who enjoyed the show of how much genuinely solid work went into it, and to give those of us who didn't see the show a chance to experienced what they missed.

Review - Something's Afoot at the Goodspeed Opera House

Here's my latest review for TheaterMania: Something's Afoot at the venerable Goodspeed Opera House.

Did I find the comic murder mystery either funny or mysterious?

Click here to find out.

Review - Carousel at the Goodspeed Opera House

Here's the latest of my reviews for TheaterMania. This time it's a production of Carousel at the Goodspeed Opera House in East Haddam, Conn.

There are those who think, in terms of the innovations that Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein brought together to create the undisputed watershed that was Oklahoma, that Carousel was even better. Stronger emotional content. More ambitious and successful integration of scene, song and dance. In general, just an overall better show. I happen to be one of these people.

Does the current Goodspeed production do Carousel justice? Click through here to find out.

Review - All My Sons at Barrington Stage

My latest review for TheaterMania. It's of a production of Arthur Miller's All My Sons out at Barrington Stage in Pittsfield, Mass.

The last time I saw this play, it was the 2008 Broadway revival with John Lithgow, Dianne Wiest, Patrick Wilson, and Katie Holmes. Click here for my review of that production, and here for my current review.

 

Review - Without You With Anthony Rapp at Boston's Modern Theatre

We all know about how Jonathan Larson, the author of Rent, died suddenly the night before the show premiered Off-Broadway at the New York Theatre Workshop. It's the stuff of theatrical legend, and probably the most heartbreaking theater story since Gower Champion died on the opening night of 42nd Street.

Anthony Rapp, who originated the role of Mark in Rent, was going through his own personal tragedy amid the tumult of the show's headline-grabbing debut and subsequent Broadway transfer: Rapp's mother was becoming increasingly ill with cancer. In 2006, Rapp published Without You: A Memoir of Love, Loss, and the Musical Rent, a book about how the three events - Larson's death, the heady success of Rent, and his mother's illness - came together in an emotional whirlwind. 

Well, Rapp is after all a musical theater performer, so naturally the idea arose of turning the book into a stage show, and that show - called Without You and featuring songs from Rent and additional music and lyrics by Rapp, Joe Pisapia, and John Keaney - was presented two years ago at the New York Musical Theater Festival.

The show is currently playing a one-week engagement at Boston's recently renovated Modern Theatre, under the direction of Steve Maler of Boston's Commonwealth Shakespeare Company, and I had a chance to see it a few nights back. I was really impressed, both by the show itself and by Rapp as a solo performer. I've always found the character of Mark in Rent to be rather underwritten, and I don't think Rapp really had a chance to show what he was capable of, at least not either time I saw him in the role.

In Without You, Rapp has a chance to shine not just as a singer - and Rapp is one hell of a singer - but also as a sincere and appealing performer. Particularly remarkable is the way he personifies, even embodies, the various people in his life, including his family members, Rent director Michael Greif, Jonathan Larson, Larson's mother and father, his Rent co-star Daphne Rubin-Vega, and most movingly his mother. Rapp portrays these various personalities with humor and compassion as he effortlessly shifts among the various personalities in telling his tale.

Without You is extremely heartfelt and for the most part well-crafted, at least for the first 60 minutes of the 90-minute show. Given the somber subject matter, it's also refreshingly free of treacle and bathos. The new material is never less than serviceable and frequently inspired, including a delightful song about Rapp's burgeoning love affair during the run of Rent. However, the show becomes somewhat attenuated toward the end, using three songs to convey the story's denouement, where one or two would probably have sufficed. The evening could easily be 10 to 15 minutes shorter and just as effective, if not more so. Still, Rapp overcomes any repetition with great heart and honesty, and by the end I was actually honored that he had allowed me to share in his journey. 

Without You plays through Sunday, June 24th at the Modern, after which it will play the Edinburgh Fringe Festival and the Menier Chocolate Factory in London. Unless you're planning on hopping the pond, you might want to catch one of the remaining Boston performances.