Everything I Know I Learned From Musicals

Review - Murder Ballad at the Union Square Theater Off-Broadway

One of the most entertaining musicals I saw last year was Murder Ballad at the Manhattan Theater Club, Off-Broadway at City Center. (Read my review.) I found the show smart and sexy, and dramatically satisfying. It genuinely kept me guessing until the very end as to who among the cast would meet an untimely end, as well as who would be responsible.

You might think that seeing Murder Ballad a second time would be less satisfying with the knowledge of who-did-what-to-whom. But such was decidedly not the case when I took took the show in again at its new location at the Union Square Theatre, where it has transferred for a extended commercial run. It was kind of like watching "The Sixth Sense" again and seeing all the clues that I missed the first time. And, trust me, there are plenty, although getting more specific would probably ruin the fun.

I was intrigued when I heard that Murder Ballad would be moving to the Union Square Theatre, which features a traditional proscenium stage. At Stage II at City Center, the show was staged pretty much in the round. The set was essentially a bar, complete with pool table and a stage for the band. Audience members sat at cabaret tables in the center of the action, as well as in various seating areas surrounding the central playing area. The performers weaved in and out of the various audience sections. So, I wondered how they would be able to preserve the atmospheric staging in a more traditional venue.

The production staff members have solved this issue by placing a large portion of the Union Square audience on stage. The rear half and sides of the orchestra remain intact, and the seats in the front orchestra have been removed to accommodate the central playing area. (The balcony is not used for seating at this particular production.) I'm not sure how this affects the overall seating capacity - and thus the show's ability to make a profit - but the physical arrangement effectively reproduces the immersive effect of director Trip Cullman dynamic staging. The Union Square offers a significantly larger space than the show had at City Center, which gives Cullman the opportunity to craft larger geometric arrangements of the cast members and forge some evocative vistas in the process.

Three of the original four cast members of the previous run of Murder Ballad have made the transfer: Rebecca Naomi Jones, Will Swenson, and John Ellison Conlee. All are terrific performers, both here and elsewhere, and each of them has settled very comfortably into their roles. The major casting change here is the substitution of Caissie Levy for Karen Olivo, the latter of whom has apparently retired from acting, despite having won the Tony Award for West Side Story. (Will this prove to be a genuine retirement or a Joaquin Phoenix retirement? Stay tuned.)

I have to say that Caissie Levy's performance here more than makes up for the abomination that was Ghost. Levy is a far more nuanced and layered performer than that thankfully departed debacle of a show ever gave her a chance to demonstrate. And, in truth, Levy seems to work better than Olivo here, if only in that it seems more realistic that she would end up marrying the John Ellison Conlee character. It's not that Olivo is any less or more attractive. Olivo felt remote and unattainable; Levy seems more grounded and ready to settle down.

The plot of Murder Ballad features a fairly straightforward love triangle in which "good does not prevail," to quote one of the songs from the show. The show wastes little time getting into the central conflict, and really draws you in despite some admittedly clunky moments along the way. The show builds to an seemingly ineluctable climax (featuring some genuinely credible fight choreography), and, as I said, really kept me guessing. Along the way, we have some very compelling characterizations, with moments of genuine angst for each of the central characters.

My main gripe with the show is, paradoxically, one of the things that also made it such a treat. The lyrics, by Julia Jordan, feature a strange and uneasy mix of cliched imagery and snazzy turns of phrase. Jordan's words (the show is mostly sung-through) seem to strive at all times for an elevated sense of poesy, and the results are alternately inspired and quotidian. Too often, she seems to fall back on such careworn tropes as touching a flame and not getting burned.

At other times, the lyrics have a terrifically evocative sense of metonym, for instance when Jordan juxtaposes sugar cubes and rock salt to convey the uneasy, contradictory nature of the central love affair. Jordan also sets up a very effective callback with her use of the couplet, "Tears look so damn beautiful glistening on the screen/But no one thinks they're beautiful in a real-life crying scene." Later she repeats this phrase, but changes the word "tears" to "blood," which effectively brings to mind the developments that we've witnessed in the intervening scenes, and creates a sense of tension as to how things will develop. Composer Juliana Nash matches Jordan's lyrical amibition with her own melodic inventiveness as well as the judicious use of leitmotif to indicate shifts both within and between characters.

Murder Ballad is currently scheduled to run through September 29th, and is more than worth the trip downtown to 17th Street. I can think of no better diversion for a steamy summer night in New York.

 

Revisit - Anything Goes With Stephanie J. Block

A few weeks back, I had a chance to revisit the two musical revivals from last season, and it was a stark study in contrasts. My second visit to How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying revealed that the production, after swapping original leading man Daniel Radcliffe for Nick Jonas, was in the process of unraveling. (Read my review) And a glance at the show's weekly grosses and capacity percentages would seem to indicate that this production of H2$ is approaching its final stages.

I also caught the Roundabout Theatre Company production of Anything Goes again, which has similarly swapped its leading player, in this case from Sutton Foster to Stephanie J. Block. But whereas H2$ was showing considerable wear, Anything Goes was fresh and crisp and, overall, a non-stop delight. Keeping a long-running production in shape usually falls on the shoulders of the production stage manager. I'm not trying to find fault with whoever is in charge of H2$: I'm sure it's a complicated process, to say the least, trying to rein in the various parties and egos involved. But whatever the cause, and whomever is to blame, H2$ just isn't holding together. Thankfully, Anything Goes is, and I say bravo to whomever is responsible for that.

I genuinely enjoyed this Anything Goes the first time around. (Read my review.) Sutton Foster, of course, was a major asset, as she almost always is, but the show remains a delight even now that she's departed. For me, it all comes down to the sure hand and keen eye of director/choreographer Kathleen Marshall, who with this production solidifies her place as one of the finest directors and choreographers we currently have, particularly when it comes to interpreting classic works like The Pajama Game and Wonderful Town. (Watch for my upcoming review of Marshall's latest effort, Nice Work If You Can Get It. In short, she's still got it.)

What's remarkable about Marshall is that she has a keen eye not just for dressing a stage, but also for pacing a number. Sure, she can craft thrilling showstoppers like "Blow Gabriel Blow" and the title number, but she can also take "De-Lovely," often a throwaway number, and make it into an absolute highlight by knowing exactly when to bring in the chorus members and bring the number to the next level. She performs similar wizardry on "All Through the Night," opening the number up just when, in another production, the audience's attention might start to flag. (Yeah, I'm kind of a Kathleen Marshall fan. Ya wanna make something of it?)

But, getting back to our How to Succeed/Anything Goes comparison, another aspect the productions share is that they've seen significant turnover among their respective casts. And yet, with H2$, that's a major part of the problem. With Anything Goes, it's a huge component of why the show has stayed fresh. First, let me say what a genuine pleasure it is to see the marvelous Stephanie J. Block finally land in a production worthy of her considerable talents. (The Pirate Queen? Oy. 9 to 5? Double oy.) And she's a joy here: so much personality and individual character. She smartly resists the temptation to copy Sutton Foster in any way and brings her own brand of mischievous enthusiasm to Reno Sweeney.

Original cast member Colin Donnell was delightful as Billy Crocker, and Laura Osnes was thoroughly charming as Hope Harcourt. Thankfully, their replacements are eminently up to the task themselves. Erin Mackey makes for a lovely Hope, expressive and winsome by turns. And Bill English is endearing as Billy, although he's a dead ringer for Colin Donnell, and, I'm not exactly sure why, but somehow that feels like cheating on someone's part. One significant improvement in casting is Robert Petkoff as Sir Evelyn. Yeah, Adam Godley got a Tony nod for the role, but there was something about his stuffiness and gawkish angularity that didn't quite sit with me. Petkoff is playful and disarmingly sexy as Evelyn. It reminded me of when I cover Oklahoma! in my history course, and we talk about how the show works so much better when Jud has a sort of earthy magnetism. Same here: with Petkoff, you can see why Reno would fall for this guy.

Anything Goes is currently set to run until September. The way the show's grosses are headed, it would seem unlikely that the production will see another extension. If you have a chance, I'd say catch the show, even if you already saw it with Sutton Foster. Tastes differ of course, but if my experience is any indication, there's just as much to enjoy here the second time around.

Review - How to Succeed in Business With Nick Jonas on Broadway

A few weeks back, during spring break at the Boston Conservatory, I took advantage of the brief semester hiatus to hightail it down to New York to see as many shows as possible. (I mean, duh.) One of the shows that I was supposed to see was the revival of Evita, but, as you may have heard, that production had to cancel two performances because the "deluge curtain" at the Marquis Theatre accidentally went off. And one of those performances was the one I was scheduled to attend. Waah waah.

I was on the bus to NYC when I heard my show had been canceled. Never one to waste an available show slot, I whipped out my iPhone, fired up BroadwayBox, and started scanning the titles to find another show. I already had tickets for Once, Jesus Christ Superstar, and Ghost, whereas Newsies, Leap of Faith, and Nice Work If You Can Get It hadn't started performances yet.

So, I thought I'd take the opportunity to revisit one of last season's shows, particularly now that there have been some significant cast changes. I had really enjoyed How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying with Daniel Radcliffe (read my review), particularly the smart, fun choices from director/choreographer Rob Ashford, so I figured the production might be worth another viewing now that Nick Jonas has taken over the lead role. Although the prospect of wading through throngs of Jonas groupies wasn't appealing in the least, I figured that the show itself - and this production in particular - were strong enough to withstand the shrieks and sighs of the newly hormonal.

Yeah, bad idea. The squealing adolescents, however, weren't really the problem. The production seems to have descended into a competition among the current cast members to see who can mug the most. It wasn't really clear what the problem was, but one of two things must have happened. This production of How to Succeed recently passed its one-year anniversary, so it's possible that the people who are still with the show have gotten bored and have started to push for cheap laughs to keep things interesting. Most egregious in this respect were original cast members Michael Park as Mr. Bratt and Rob Bartlett as Twimble, both of whom have let their performances become so broad, it's a wonder they can fit through the stage door of the Hirschfeld.

It's also possible that the problem is coming from the top, and that the show's new lead performers are leading the rest of the cast astray. Nick Jonas delivers most of his lines with an oily air of self-satisfaction that is rather repugnant. Whereas Daniel Radcliffe was charming and understated as Finch, Jonas is smug and smarmy. I mean, just look at that smirk on the Playbill cover. (I must admit that the score for H2$ is a lot more in Jonas's idiom than that of Les Miserables. Jonas played Marius in the recent 25th Anniversary concert production of Les Miz, and he was so out-classed by his cast mates, both vocally and in terms of acting prowess, that it was sort of an embarrassment to watch. Plus his singing was so nasal, I thought his sinuses would explode.)

But if Jonas hams it up as Finch, that's nothing compared to what Beau Bridges does as J.B. Biggley. Bridges clearly knows that John Larroquette got big laughs as Biggley, even winning a Tony in the process. But Beau Bridges is no John Larroquette, at least when it comes to comedy. Rather than craft an individual performance, Bridges seems to have merely watched a video of Larroquette in action, and then attempted to dial the comedy up to eleven. It doesn't work. The sweat shows, and nothing kills comedy faster. At one point Bridges made what was clearly meant to be a comedic exit, huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf, which was met with near silence from the matinee audience. Bridges seemed undeterred, although you could tell he was thinking, "Hey, folks, this stuff is funny, y'know? Where are all the laughs?"

Well, whether Jonas and Bridges are the cause of all the mugging, or the supporting cast members are setting the desperate tone, the production is unraveling. I'm told that the production stage manager is responsible for keeping such excesses in check, but clearly something is amiss here. It's gotten to the point where Tammy Blanchard as Hedy Larue has changed her performance entirely. When I first saw How to Succeed a year ago, Blanchard played Larue as a sort of lovable ditz, but now she plays the entire show as though the character is drunk. That's a fairly major shift. I'm sure there are other examples of performers in long runs making such drastic changes, but I honestly can't recall ever hearing of such a complete performance overhaul.

Not all long-running shows fall prey to such a degenerative impulse. Watch for my review of Anything Goes, now starring Stephanie J. Block as Reno Sweeney. If anything, that production has only gotten better, despite a lengthy run and numerous changes in cast.

Review - The Blue Flower at the Second Stage Theatre

I'm really late to the game on this one, as The Blue Flower closed at the Second Stage Theatre (2ST) about a month ago, but I'm taking advantage of the semester break to catch up on some of my long-overdue blogging. So here goes.

I always like to give shows a second chance, no matter what my initial reaction may have been. Even if the first time I see I show I absolutely hate it, I like to think that I remain reasonably open-minded upon subsequent viewings. Reasonably, that is. It's rare for me to completely change my mind, but I frequently see something new to appreciate the second time around in even the worst shows.

Not so with The Blue Flower. In fact, I liked the show in New York even less than when I saw it at the American Repertory Theater about a year ago. Of course, I wasn't really a fan of the show in its Cantabridgian incarnation. (Read my original review.) I found it painfully, unforgivably oblique and unengaging. But I at least had a sense of admiration for what the authors were trying to do, and I could see that there was the potential for pathos in the story, even if, as the show was then configured, I didn't feel any actual empathy for the characters.

The Second Stage production, once again under the direction of Will Pomerantz, is much less sharp than his production at the ART. The costumes by Carol Bailey and set by Marsha Ginsberg at the ART were much more visually distinctive and specific, and gave a stronger sense of time and place than those of Ann Hould-Ward (costumes) and Beowulf Boritt (set) at the 2ST. In particular, Boritt's skeletal wooden design looked like an unfinished high-school set.

As for the content of The Blue Flower, my main criticisms of the show remain intact upon second viewing. The story has potential but the treatment is limp. The characters are mere placeholders, approximating human emotion. As writer, composer, and lyricist for The Blue Flower, Jim Bauer seems to have used as his guiding dictum "Tell, don't show." There seems to be a bit more actual dialog in the show than when it was in Cambridge, but there's still an off-putting amount of narration. Events are announced rather than acted out. The fates of the characters are described rather than shown.

What's more, the style of the music in the show seems random, ranging from bland pop to jarringly inappropriate country and western. The show is mostly set during and between the Wars in Germany. Why Bauer seemed to think that taking his inspiration from Shania Twain would serve the piece, I can only speculate.

As a lyricist, Bauer falls victim to those all-too-common lyrical vices: slant rhyme (pairing "yellow" with "hollow") and assonance ("Michelangelo's" and "holes"). I know that many people are far more forgiving than I about these devices, but I remain a purist when it comes to rhyming. Perhaps more damning, Bauer's lyrics are oblique and generic. At the end of act one, the Marie Curie character, after a fairly significant loss, sings about climbing the Eiffel Tower. The lyric starts:

Fire, water, ice
Silence, patience, time
Doorways, windows, eyes
Change, oceans, sighs

I haven't the slightest idea what all that means, nor what it has to do with the Eiffel Tower, and I'm really not much inclined to give it much more thought. In the show's final song, the four central characters join together to sing a song about ships in a harbor:

Angels on the levee
Are waiting for me,
And I'm up in the crow's nest.

A reminder: this show is about three artists and a scientist in Germany between the Wars. And the reason we're ending the show with a song about boats would be...? For me, it was a real "Song of Purple Summer" moment. Spring Awakening fittingly ends with a song that sounds pretty but bears scant relation to the proceedings at hand: I say "fittingly" because much of the rest of the score feels like unintegrated pop tunes. How similarly appropriate that The Blue Flower, which also features songs of questionable relevance, should end with what is perhaps the most peripheral lyric in the show.

I know certain people are crazy about this show, but I'm just not seeing it. Please enlighten me. All I can say is, as I was eagerly exiting the theater, I overheard a few of my fellow patrons speculating as to the meaning of the show's title. "What was the significance of The Blue Flower? Did you get what the Blue Flower was?"

Honestly, I did not.

Review - Hair Tour Lands Back on Broadway

Dear Reader: For some reason, I didn't receive a press invite for the return engagement of Hair on Broadway. Harrumph. But I did get a chance to catch and review the touring production when it was in Boston. Here's my review reprinted here for your convenience. -- C.C.

A few days ago, the good folks at the Public Theater announced that the national tour of Hair, currently wending its way across the country, would settle onto Broadway this summer for a ten-week limited engagement at the St. James Theatre, soon to be vacated by American Idiot.

It's a welcome bit of news, even more so since I had a chance to catch the Hair tour when it was in Boston, and I can happily report that the production is holding up quite well.

This is my third time seeing Diane Paulus's production of Hair, and each time I see it, I enjoy it even more. The show emits a wondrous morass of front-loaded energy, a warm and atmospheric microcosm that welcomes audiences into the show's affirming world. I've always found the piece itself somewhat problematic, but somehow Paulus smooths over the flaws, even making some of them into assets.

For instance, the show's first act is a bit plodding, featuring a succession of rapid-fire character introductions, and it gets a bit mechanical. But the sheer energy of the cast and the melodious nature of the score more than carry the day, turning what could potentially be repetitive into a welcome rush of warmth and exuberance. The show really gains momentum in act 2, in particular during Claude's hallucination, which builds in hypnotic power, and careens the audience head-long into the show's simple but shattering climax.

For some reason, I came into this particular version of Hair show with a chip on my shoulder. I genuinely enjoyed both the Central Park (read my review) and Broadway (read my review) versions, but the musical-theater historian in me wanted to pick the show apart and find the flaws. Despite my conscious efforts to remain analytical and objective, I found that I was getting caught up in the celebration, almost despite myself.

The flaws are nonetheless manifold. My main problem with Hair remains Claude's justification for eventually deciding to go to war. The show does a great job of showing that Claude is conflicted: he wants to please his parents, but he is also haunted by visions of what the war will actually be like. But we never really see him make the decision to go, nor do we fully understand his reasoning. Yeah, there's nothing wrong with subtlety, but at least in this regard the show crosses the line into inscrutability.

Also, some of the song setups are a bit forced, particularly the one for "Easy to Be Hard." Sheila buys Berger a yellow polyester shirt, which Berger proceeds to tear in half. So Sheila sings "How can people people so heartless." Well, boo-frickin'-hoo. Couldn't we come up with something a bit more compelling, guys? For me, the lame setup robs the powerful song of its full impact. And the song "Frank Mills," while charming, is rather pointless, and seems included here only to cover the costume change before the "Be-In."

And yet the show works, and smashingly so, carried by the luminous charm of Galt MacDermot's score and the sheer force of the talented performers currently appearing in the tour. Perhaps most remarkable is Steel Burkhardt as Berger, who is every bit as dynamic and engaging as Will Swenson was, perhaps even more so. On the debit side, we have Paris Remillard as Claude who can certainly sing the role, but doesn't really have the stage presence or emotional range of either Jonathan Groff or Gavin Creel, whom I saw as Claude in the Delacorte on Broadway productions, respectively.

Depending on my schedule and what else is playing this summer, I way have to take Hair in one final time. I keep finding new things to love in the show, despite my reservations and conscious efforts to deconstruct it. I do find it interesting to note that the show's creative staff, including MacDermot and librettists/lyricists Gerome Ragni and James Rado, weren't able to replicate their success with Hair, despite numerous attempts. (Dude? Via Galactica? The Human Comedy? Oh, please, my nerves...)

And I'm starting to get the same what-have-you-done-for-me-lately? feeling about Diane Paulus, who's now in the process of shaking the venerable A.R.T. to its very core. Her last two musical-theater efforts, The Blue Flower and Prometheus Bound, left me decidedly nonplussed, but based on the magic that is her production of Hair, I'm willing to patiently await the day when she gets her groove back.

Review - West Side Story on Tour in Boston

West Side Story may be the best musical that I've never actually seen work on stage. I mean no disrespect to the piece itself, which I consider to be almost a masterpiece. (Read my review of the recent Broadway West Side Story revival). I've just never seen a production that did the piece full justice.

The score, with music by Leonard Bernstein and lyrics by a young Stephen Sondheim, may be the most moving and dramatically effective theater score of all time, despite flaws that Sondheim himself has pointed out in the lyrics. (Actually, he has called his West Side Story lyrics "embarassing.") The Jerome Robbins choreography ranks among the best ever created for a musical. And the libretto, by the recently deceased Arthur Laurents, actually in some ways improves upon its Shakespearean source by changing the primary motor of the tragedy from chance to racism.

So, West Side Story is a stunning piece of musical theater, without question one of the top 10 works in the musical-theater canon. (See my list of the 100 Best Musicals of All Time.)

But on stage, the piece has two significant liabilities, the first being the incredible challenge that it presents in terms of casting. I'm not just talking about the need for triple-threat actor/singer/dancers, although that's considerable, to be sure. I'm referring to the task of finding performers for the two central roles of Tony and Maria. Interestingly, Tony and Maria don't need to be great dancers, despite this being perhaps the ultimate dance show. But it's apparently a huge undertaking to find performers who can both do justice to Bernstein's score and provide the requisite depth of characterization to fully evince the pathos of the show's central relationship.

Case in point: the current national tour of West Side Story, which I caught on Tuesday night at the Colonial Theater in Boston. The tour features Kyle Harris and Ali Ewoldt as Tony and Maria, respectively, and in terms of their acting, both performers were top-notch. But Harris appeared to be having some vocal issues, which manifested themselves in extreme vibrato and cartoonish scooping. His "e" vowels during "Maria" were risibly wide and tall. Clearly the show is taking a toll on his instrument and he's had to compensate, but it was extremely distracting. Ewoldt's Spanish accent seemed rather off, and her singing, while considerably stronger than that of Josefina Scaglinone, who played the part on Broadway, had a sort of harsh edge to it, and she ran out of breath on some of the soft high notes.

And then there are the gang members. Has there ever been a production of West Side Story in which the Jets and the Sharks were convincingly menacing? I certainly haven't seen one. I suppose it would be well nigh on impossible to find a couple dozen outstanding dancers who were also physically imposing and...well...let's be frank, masculine. I suppose if you're going to err on one side, you might as well go for the best dancers, and thankfully the entire dance corps for the current tour is absolutely first-rate.

The other huge liability in West Side Story, at least from where I sit, is the "Somewhere" ballet, which I have always found unbearably quaint and precious. The movie version wisely cuts this segment, probably because it would have seemed too theatrical. But cutting it from the show would leave Act 2 without a major dance number. The movie solves this by moving "Cool" to a later point in the story, and changing the singer from Riff to Action. (Riff being...er...indisposed at this point in the story.) The impetus for this sequence is dramatically valid, but there's something about the execution that robs the second act of momentum and throws off the tone of the show.

The recent Broadway production gave the "Somewhere" vocal solo to a young boy, a character named "Kiddo" that Laurents created for this production, but who really didn't do anything else throughout the show. Having this young child suddenly burst upon the scene to sing "Somewhere" in a boy soprano voice was treacly and shudder-inducing. Thankfully, for the tour the producers decided that having a child along for the ride would prove logistically challenging, so the solo goes to the Anybodys character, played here by the kick-ass talented, fierce beyond words, Alexandra Frohlinger. (Full disclosure: Alex is a Boston Conservatory grad, and one of my former students. But she's still pretty frickin' fierce.)

One final note, about the much-discussed Spanish added to this production. As you may know, the late Arthur Laurents brought in Lin-Manuel Miranda, composer and lyricist of In the Heights, to translate a huge chunk of the show into Spanish. (Read my review of the West Side Story CD release for my take on Miranda's work here.) When I saw the show in DC, entire scenes and songs were in Spanish, including "America," "I Feel Pretty," and "A Boy Like That." It was a huge mistake, and robbed these important scenes of their dramatic weight.

The tour cuts back on the Spanish considerably, trying to strike a balance between realism and comprehension, but you could see the effort with every line that passed, and again, it was distracting and deleterious. In the theater, we have this convention in which foreign characters speak in English, and we just assume that they're actually speaking their native tongue. It was an admirable experiment on Laurents' part, but ultimately a failed one.

The West Side Story tour is currently booking through June of 2012, including upcoming dates in Minneapolis, Chicago, Dallas, Denver, Portland, and Seattle. Even with my above reservations, I recommend taking it in. You won't see finer dancing anywhere, and the score itself is worth the ticket price.

Review - Spider-Man 2.0 on Broadway

I don't know about you, but I'm definitely bored with the whole Spider-Man thing. Last week, the show finally opened after a record-breaking 183 previews, but I had long since given up paying attention. Yeah, it was great that Julie Taymor came to the opening, and yeah it was kind of condescending for Bono to say that she was looking "hot," and blah blah blah. But I'm ready to put this whole sorry mess behind me and focus on real musical theater.

As much as I've grown tired of the story surrounding Spider-Man, that doesn't even come close to the tedium of sitting through the new and "improved" version of the show. Spider-Man 1.0 was many things, but it was rarely dull, probably because you had to stay alert just to follow the wildly fractured story. Sure, Julie Taymor's vision for Spidey was bloated and pretentious, but it was at least ambitious. (Read my review of Spider-Man 1.0)

The new production team - i.e. "creative consultant" Philip William McKinley and book doctor Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa - seemed to take much of the criticism of Taymor's version of the show to heart, and set to work revamping, streamlining, and clarifying. The resulting show makes a lot more sense than it did under Taymor's ministrations. But, perversely, cutting the stuff that wasn't working only served to emphasize the mediocre-to-miserable quality of what remains.

Essentially, McKinley and Aguirre-Sacasa cut the original second act almost entirely and fleshed out the story of the first act. The much-maligned "Geek Chorus" is thankfully gone, and the bored on-stage band members have moved to the orchestra pit. The Arachne character (T.V. Carpio), Taymor's mythical and inscrutable muse for Spider-Man, and the apparent spiritual source of his power, has been trimmed to the point where it's not really clear why she's there at all. (I must admit I did sort of miss "Getting Furious," the unintentionally laugh-out-loud act-two set piece for Arachne and her bizarrely clad Furies.) The part of Uncle Ben (Ken Marks) has been beefed up in an apparent effort to make his ultimate fate more moving, but Aguirre-Sacasa seems to have confused "back-story" with "more lines." Uncle Ben appears more frequently, but he merely repeats what he's said to Peter in previous scenes.

In general, the new dialog is banal and uninspired. Mary Jane (Jennifer Damiano) and Peter Parker (Reeve Carney) bandy back and forth about wanting Peter to be her "best friend" as well as her "boyfriend." At other times, the new dialog seems taken directly from a cartoon thought balloon. (Mary Jane: "But Spider-Man would never abandon New York City.") Yes, this is based on a comic book, but what works on the page doesn't always work on stage.

The one thing that wasn't fixed, and probably could never have been in the time allotted, is the painfully dull (and piercingly loud) score by Bono and his band mate The Edge. The songs are so tedious that by the middle of Act 2, I started to dread the next song cue. ("Really, Chris? That late in the show?") The Act 1 duet for Peter and Mary Jane, "No More," is about as close as the score comes to a genuinely integrated character number, but it's still a dull song.

When will these Broadway dilettantes learn (and I'm talking to you, Duncan Sheik, Phil Collins, Elton John, etc.) that there's a huge difference between a pop song and a theater song? For musical theater, you have to write with the needs of the story in mind. The songs need to propel the action of the show, not stop it dead. They also need to be memorable, which is admittedly a far more nebulous concept, and one that Bono and The Edge seem to have lost touch with since the days of their bigger arena-rock radio hits.

The overall reaction to "If the World Should End," the song that Carney and Damiano performed on the Tony Awards (see the clip here), seems to have been, "Really? That's the best song they could come up with from the show?" Well, trust me, any of the show's numbers would have had the same soporific effect. They all just kinda sit there. What the producers should have done for the Tonys was prerecord one of the flying sequences, because that's really the only thing that almost makes this turkey worth sitting through.

Almost.

Revisit - A Minister's Wife at Lincoln Center Theater

Before posting my recent review of A Minister's Wife, I thought long and hard about my reaction to the show. I went in genuinely wanting to like the show, but somehow it left me rather cold. (Read my review.) But, for a number of reasons, the prospect of posting my review made me uncomfortable.

First, I must confess I had moments of self-doubt as to my qualifications for judging the piece. Yes, I teach at a prestigious performing-arts college (The Boston Conservatory), and I'm certainly no slouch when it comes to musical-theater history and performance. But it seemed as though A Minister's Wife had ambitions of operating on a "higher" plane, that of chamber opera and genuinely serious, high-toned, literary theater.

I dismissed such insecurities much in the same way I placate my criticism students when they think they're in over their heads. "Your own personal response is just as valid as anyone else's," I tell them. "The most important thing is that you provide sufficient support for your views." Despite my uncertainty, I forged ahead, trusting my gut reaction, and doing my best to explicate my views fully.

Also, after A Minister's Wife opened, I noticed that, although the critical response was mixed, and that many prominent critics seemed to share my reserved response to the show, there were a handful of rapturous reviews from people whose opinions I greatly respect, including Terry Teachout of the Wall Street Journal, Andy Propst of TheaterMania, and Charles Isherwood of the New York Times. I'm fine with standing my own ground, but this particular combination of critics, and Terry Teachout in particular, made me wonder whether I went into the show with too much of a traditional musical-theater mindset. I was reminded of the first time I saw The Light in the Piazza. I left the theater nonplussed, but I have since grown to admire, appreciate, even love many particular aspects of that show.

And lastly, another reason I had for hesitation was that, full disclosure, I kind of know the composer, Joshua Schmidt. We've never actually met, but after I had posted a number of glowing reports about his brilliant musical Adding Machine, Schmidt  contacted me, and we struck up a bit of a correspondence. When I posted my original review for A Minister's Wife, I was sort of hoping that Schmidt had forgotten about me, but a few days later, I saw his name in my in-box, and my heart sank. Based on my past experience with certain Pulitzer-Prize-winning librettists, I was expecting an angry or defensive missive from Schmidt, but I couldn't have been more wrong. Josh was congenial, engaging, thoughtful, and thoroughly professional. He had contacted me merely to clarify some points about what he was trying to accomplish with the piece. This guy is one class act, let me tell you.

So, based on my respect for Schmidt, as well as for my esteemed critical colleagues, I decided to take in another performance of A Minister's Wife. I'm glad that I did. I saw much more in the show to admire this time around, although I remain more in admiration of the show than in rapture. But, whereas the first time that I experienced the score, I heard seemingly unrelated fragments and recitative, this time I heard purposeful leitmotifs and interrelated themes. Schmidt's music, while intentionally fragmented, is nonetheless subtly melodic, with frequent and meaningful repetition for dramatic emphasis. The payoff of all this deliberate setup comes during the show's final quintet, in which the various themes merge, coalesce and collectively climax. It's really a thrilling moment.

What's more, I've also been rereading Shaw's Candida, upon which A Minister's Wife is based, and I think Schmidt and his collaborators, librettist Austin Pendleton and lyricist Jan Levy Tranen, have given the story an invigorating dose of focus and passion. Shaw's characters are fascinatingly complex, and Schmidt and his team find compelling ways to illuminate the interconnections musically. The creators are aided immeasurably in this regard by an outstanding ensemble, including New York stalwarts Mark Kudisch and Bobby Steggert, as well as talented newcomer Kate Fry.

A Minister's Wife runs through June 12th at the Mitzi Newhouse Theater at Lincoln Center. If you're interested in seeing some genuinely serious musical theater, with provocative ideas, a challenging score, and one of the best performing ensembles you're ever likely to encounter, I recommend giving the show a try. You don't have to see it twice, like I did. But it certainly couldn't hurt.

Review - Hair Tour in Boston (and Back on Broadway)

A few days ago, the good folks at the Public Theater announced that the national tour of Hair, currently wending its way across the country, would settle onto Broadway this summer for a ten-week limited engagement at the St. James Theatre, soon to be vacated by American Idiot.

It's a welcome bit of news, even more so since I had a chance to catch the Hair tour when it was in Boston, and I can happily report that the production is holding up quite well.

This is my third time seeing Diane Paulus's production of Hair, and each time I see it, I enjoy it even more. The show emits a wondrous morass of front-loaded energy, a warm and atmospheric microcosm that welcomes audiences into the show's affirming world. I've always found the piece itself somewhat problematic, but somehow Paulus smooths over the flaws, even making some of them into assets.

For instance, the show's first act is a bit plodding, featuring a succession of rapid-fire character introductions, and it gets a bit mechanical. But the sheer energy of the cast and the melodious nature of the score more than carry the day, turning what could potentially be repetitive into a welcome rush of warmth and exuberance. The show really gains momentum in act 2, in particular during Claude's hallucination, which builds in hypnotic power, and careens the audience head-long into the show's simple but shattering climax.

For some reason, I came into this particular version of Hair show with a chip on my shoulder. I genuinely enjoyed both the Central Park (read my review) and Broadway (read my review) versions, but the musical-theater historian in me wanted to pick the show apart and find the flaws. Despite my conscious efforts to remain analytical and objective, I found that I was getting caught up in the celebration, almost despite myself.

The flaws are nonetheless manifold. My main problem with Hair remains Claude's justification for eventually deciding to go to war. The show does a great job of showing that Claude is conflicted: he wants to please his parents, but he is also haunted by visions of what the war will actually be like. But we never really see him make the decision to go, nor do we fully understand his reasoning. Yeah, there's nothing wrong with subtlety, but at least in this regard the show crosses the line into inscrutability.

Also, some of the song setups are a bit forced, particularly the one for "Easy to Be Hard." Sheila buys Berger a yellow polyester shirt, which Berger proceeds to tear in half. So Sheila sings "How can people people so heartless." Well, boo-frickin'-hoo. Couldn't we come up with something a bit more compelling, guys? For me, the lame setup robs the powerful song of its full impact. And the song "Frank Mills," while charming, is rather pointless, and seems included here only to cover the costume change before the "Be-In."

And yet the show works, and smashingly so, carried by the luminous charm of Galt MacDermot's score and the sheer force of the talented performers currently appearing in the tour. Perhaps most remarkable is Steel Burkhardt as Berger, who is every bit as dynamic and engaging as Will Swenson was, perhaps even more so. On the debit side, we have Paris Remillard as Claude who can certainly sing the role, but doesn't really have the stage presence or emotional range of either Jonathan Groff or Gavin Creel, whom I saw as Claude in the Delacorte on Broadway productions, respectively.

Depending on my schedule and what else is playing this summer, I way have to take Hair in one final time. I keep finding new things to love in the show, despite my reservations and conscious efforts to deconstruct it. I do find it interesting to note that the show's creative staff, including MacDermot and librettists/lyricists Gerome Ragni and James Rado, weren't able to replicate their success with Hair, despite numerous attempts. (Dude? Via Galactica? The Human Comedy? Oh, please, my nerves...)

And I'm starting to get the same what-have-you-done-for-me-lately? feeling about Diane Paulus, who's now in the process of shaking the venerable A.R.T. to its very core. Her last two musical-theater efforts, The Blue Flower and Prometheus Bound, left me decidedly nonplussed, but based on the magic that is her production of Hair, I'm willing to patiently await the day when she gets her groove back.

Review - La Cage with Harvey Fierstein but not Jeffrey Tambor

The sheer number of new musicals and revivals opening this spring in New York is fairly daunting. Don't get me wrong: more shows is certainly better than fewer. But my full-time schedule of classes at the Boston Conservatory creates a logistical challenge to me to get down to the city, preferably for one of the appointed press dates for the shows in question.

So far things are working out: I'm headed down this weekend to see The Book of Mormon, Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, Where's Charley?, and How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. Watch for my reviews in the weeks to come.

Before the spring crop of shows began to burgeon, I wanted to get down to see La Cage aux Folles with its new stars Harvey Fierstein and Jeffrey Tambor. Well, shortly after I arranged for my ticket it was announced that Tambor would be leaving the show after only a week of performances. The official line was that Tambor was experiencing complications from a recent hip operation. The truth, from what I hear, was a lot closer to what Michael Riedel reported in the New York Post: Tambor couldn't handle the role, lost his confidence, and succumbed to a major case of stage fright.

So, by the time I made it back to the Longacre Theatre, Tambor had withdrawn from the production, leaving his more than capable understudy, Chris Hoch, to pick up the slack. At the time, it hadn't been announced that Christopher Sieber would be Tambor's eventual replacement. Otherwise, I might have rearranged my plans: I love me some Chris Sieber. Maybe I'll have to take the show in a third time.

I certainly wouldn't mind. To be perfectly honest, the show felt more swiftly paced and emotionally engaging under the ministrations of Kelsey Grammer and Douglas Hodge. Perhaps this was because I was attending a sparsely populated Wednesday matinee the second time around. But once the production got moving, it became clear that the real star of the show remained director Terry Johnson's marvelously intimate and heartfelt staging.

The production is well worth a second look, if only for Harvey Fierstein, who is quite simply a comic wonder. And his "I Am What I Am" was stunning, full of both raw power and emotional restraint. Anyone who thinks Harvey Fierstein can't sing is in for a real surprise. (Although those of us who are fans of the sorely underrated A Catered Affair can attest to his perhaps surprisingly melodic singing prowess.) True his vocal timbre is closer to that of an overheated mallard that your typical Broadway leading man, but his intonation is impeccable, and his emotional expression incomparable.

Hearing Harvey's voice again in person reminded me of when I saw La Cage in its Boston tryout at the Colonial Theater some 27 years ago. I was but a wee sprite, but I nonetheless recognized a familiar foghorn of a voice emanating from behind me, and was delighted when I turned to see Harvey seated over my right shoulder. Not only that, but Jerry Herman was seated two seats away from me in my own row. It made for a rather magical evening, and I'm thrilled that Mr. Fierstein has afforded me the opportunity of bringing that experience full circle.

Review - Fela "Live" From the National Theater

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Review - South Pacific on PBS

This past Sunday, the critically acclaimed and (presumably) financially successful revival of Rodgers & Hammerstein's South Pacific closed after 996 performances. That's less than half of the run for the original production, which came in at 1925 performances, but it's certainly a respectable number, especially considering that the revival was originally only supposed to run for a few months.

Just prior to closing, South Pacific aired live on PBS stations under the auspices of Live From Lincoln Center. This gave me a chance to evaluate the production, and the piece itself, afresh. Regular readers will recall that I consider South Pacific the most overrated musical of all time, and that the revival did nothing to change that view. (Read my review.) After watching the PBS broadcast, I still feel that way, but I will admit that I found more to appreciate in the show this time around.

For one, the show was making more dramatic sense this time. I've never quite understood how Nellie can go from singing "I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair" to "(I'm in Love With) A Wonderful Guy" in a matter of mere minutes. But this time, mostly through the effectiveness of Kelli O'Hara's nuanced performance as Nellie, the sequence of emotions seemed more plausible.

I've complained before about the lack of extended musical sequences in South Pacific. The show has always felt too choppy, too stop-and-sing, especially coming from the two men who rendered plodding show structure obsolete. "Honey Bun" is simply an embarrassment, not because of the song itself, which is fine for what it is. But it represents one of the only examples I can think of when Hammerstein and Rodgers included a song for a song's sake. It serves no dramatic or thematic purpose: it's just there for entertainment. Again, Rodgers and Hammerstein were the men who obviated that kind of song. (Oh, and that reprise. When the soldiers and the nurses are walking in slow motion singing "Honey Bun." WTF?)

But this time I was captivated by the finale of act 1, which features a smart series of mini-reprises ("Wonderful Guy," "Twin Soliloquies," "Cockeyed Optimist," "Wash That Man," and "Some Enchanted Evening"), which effectively summarizes how we've arrived at this point in the show, and underscores the emotional subtext of the relationship between Nellie and Emile.

The best sequence remains the "Carefully Taught" scene, followed by Emile's moving intermezzo ("I was cheated before, and I'm cheated again, by a mean little world of mean little men..."), which then leads into the stunning "This Nearly Was Mine." This is truly thrilling theater, and for me it hints at what the show could have been. Paulo Szot's delivery here was masterful. I was particularly moved by his pianissimo delivery during the second verse. Szot seems to have gained a considerable (and distracting) amount of weight since the show opened, but the emotional impact of his singing remains undiminished.

But, on the whole, South Pacific remains hampered by labored plot machinations and emotion-sapping exposition. The pathos of the show disappears when the book stops to address the dull, obligatory military storyline. Every time those frickin' maps descended from the fly space, I audibly groaned. When we're watching Nellie and Emile, the show works. When they're not on stage, it falls flat.

When I saw South Pacific live, it was early in previews, and it seemed at that point that Loretta Ables Sayre and Danny Burstein hadn't yet grown into their respective roles as Bloody Mary and Luther Billis. I'm happy to report that both seem to have progressed over the course of the run into far richer and more effective performances. Sayre was a lot more layered and engaging, and Burstein brought a lot more of the wonderful individuality and creativity that he's exhibited in previous roles, particularly that of Adolpho in The Drowsy Chaperone. There were a few times that Burstein's performance seemed a bit too close to a Bert Lahr caricature for my tastes, but those moments were thankfully fleeting.

The major hole in the cast for me was Andrew Samonsky as Lieutenant Cable. I found Matthew Morrison bland and forgettable, but Morrison's performance was masterful compared to that of Samonsky, who came off unbearably smug and mannered beyond reason. His gait seemed borrowed from a bad John Wayne impersonator, and he had this annoying mannerism of sniffing and humming in rapid succession when he was trying to be sardonic. On the whole, Samonsky made me sort of glad that...well, let's just say that I found the denouement of the show ironically satisfying.

I recognize that South Pacific fans are legion and ardent, and I certainly wish them well. But after numerous earnest attempts at connecting with the show, which significantly predate the production at hand, I remain unconverted as to most of its supposed charms.

Who can explain it? Who can tell you why?

Review - Next to Normal With Marin Mazzie and Jason Danieley

My long and tortuous history with the musical Next to Normal continues. When I was down in the city to see Bernadette Peters and Elaine Stritch in A Little Night Music (see my review below), I decided to make it the weekend of the replacement casts and take in real-life married couple Marin Mazzie and Jason Danieley, who recently took over the leads in Next to Normal.

Regular readers will recall my strong reaction to Next to Normal in both its Off-Broadway (my review) and Broadway (my review) incarnations. I won't rehash my reservations here, but I will say that there was something about the production with Mazzie and Danieley in the leads that made the apparent message of the show more ambiguous, which for me is a good thing. Life is ambiguous, and art is more satisfying when it reflects that lack of certainty.

Perhaps it was the comparative subtlety of the performances, particularly that of Marin Mazzie, that made the message less blunt. (Alice Ripley is many things, but she's certainly not subtle.) But seeing Next to Normal with an almost entirely new cast provided the opportunity to evaluate the piece afresh.

The show started off a bit garbled and indistinct. Quite a few of the lines and lyrics were lost to poor diction and a general lack of focus, on everyone's part. But things quickly improved in that respect. Mazzie wasn't quite getting the laughs that Ripley got from the role, but Mazzie's Diana was more human and believable, and more heartbreaking as a result. Plus, Mazzie has a killer belt, and she doesn't share Ripley's pitch problems. Personally, I didn't witness any intonation issues with Ripley either time I saw her in the show, but that is a frequent criticism that I've heard leveled against her.

Again, Mazzie's Diana is a lot more realistic, and considerably less batshit, than Ripley's. Don't get me wrong: Ripley was terrific in the role. But Mazzie is effective in an entirely different way. Her moment in act 1 with the music box ("I Dreamed a Dance") was profoundly moving. And the look she gave her husband Dan at the end of act 1 as she was being wheeled off to her first ECT treatment was so incredibly haunting that I haven't been able to erase it from my mind. I may never forget the sheer terror on her face. It was one of the most stunning moments I've ever experienced in the theater.

As for Jason Danieley, he may need a bit more time to warm up to the role of Dan, Diana's husband. Danieley seemed a bit too casual in performance, playing at a level that was not commensurate with the stakes of the proceedings. He was never less than serviceable, but he didn't really start making an emotional impact until the climax of the show, at which point he acquitted himself nicely. Plus, whereas Mazzie's vocals meshed well with the pop/rock idiom of Tom Kitt's score, Danieley's legit style was a bit out of place.

Taking Aaron Tveit's place in the pivotal role of Gabe is Kyle Dean Massey, who also played the role while Tveit was in Seattle for the out-of-town tryout for Catch Me if You Can. Massey seems to have been cast based on how much he looks and sounds like Tveit, but he's certainly talented in his own right, and brings a number of individual touches to his portrayal. Meghann Fahey as Natalie was considerably less grating than Jennifer Damiano, who's off to star in the debacle-in-progress that is Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark. Damiano irritated me to no end, although in retrospect in may have been that Damiano was more fully evincing the annoying female-teenager self-centered-ness and sarcasm. Whatever, Fahey was a lot less likely to set my teeth on edge.

So, Next to Normal definitely seems to be growing on me, particularly under the auspices of the new Broadway cast. After my strong negative reaction to the show in its initial run, it's a bit of surprise. Who knew I'd become such a fan, if only a reluctant one?

Review - A Little Night Music With Bernadette Peters and Elaine Stritch

Dear Catherine Zeta-Jones: The Theater Wing would like its Tony Award back.

Why? Because Bernadette Peters is now proving eight times a week that you didn't deserve it. It's not as though you embarrassed yourself in A Little Night Music. Far from it. Your Desiree was never less than professional, but never more than merely competent. Let's be honest: the only reason you got that award is that the Tony voters wanted to congratulate themselves on being able to attract A-list Hollywood talent to Broadway, and to encourage other stars to make the trek east.

But now, visitors to the Walter Kerr Theater in New York can see how a real star of the stage comports herself in one of the best female roles in the musical theater canon.

To be sure, Bernadette is not without her mannerisms and eccentricities, which are on full display here. Peters seems hell-bent on wringing every possible laugh from Hugh Wheeler's urbane and literate script, whether through exaggerated line readings or shameless mugging, even when she's not the immediate focus of the scene. But the marvel here is that it works, and swimmingly so.

When I saw Zeta-Jones play the role (read my review), there was a definite sense of nervousness about her, despite her striking beauty and killer smile. And that anxiety was contagious. But with Bernadette, I just sat back and enjoyed being in the hands of a seasoned stage performer. It reminded me of seeing Maggie Smith in Lettice and Lovage or Three Tall Women. In both cases, I knew she was hamming up a storm, but I eagerly and ravenously devoured every last scrap of pork.

And when it comes to hearing Bernadette Peters interpret Stephen Sondheim's ravishing score, well, there's just no comparison. Zeta-Jones was on pitch (mostly) throughout the show, but her delivery of "Glamorous Life" was irritatingly labored, compared to Bernadette's joyous playfulness. And "Send in the Clowns" in Peters' hands is a tour de force. Suddenly the mannerisms die away, the defenses are down, and we're left with a masterful performer laying bare a raw and palpable sense of loss and regret. It's nothing less than stunning.

And then there's the formidable Elaine Stritch. With all due respect to the wondrous Angela Lansbury, Stritch has a much firmer grasp on the humor inherent in the role of Madame Armfeldt. Of course, Elaine is showing her age much more than Angela was. Elaine's pacing is extraordinarily slow, giving the impression that accessing every single line and lyric is a chore. The show is about 15 minutes longer than it was with CZJ and Angela, and most of that extra time comes from Stritch's continual grasping and shameless backphrasing, particularly on "Liaisons."

But, again, it works. Stritch is every bit the pro that Bernadette is, and she knows her way with a caustic one-liner. In fact, she can make almost any line into a caustic one-liner, whether the authors intended it or not.

When I first heard that Bernadette Peters and Elaine Stritch would be taking over for CZJ and Angela Lansbury, I was skeptical. I wasn't sure that either was right for her respective role. But after seeing the show, I can confidently announce that both women suit their parts admirably, bringing a spark of vitality to a production that was sorely lacking in same prior to their accession. These consummate professionals breathe bountiful life into a formerly moribund property. It's an amazing sight to witness.

NOTE: New Federal Trade Commission (FTC) regulations require bloggers to disclose when they accept anything of material value related to their blog posts. I received complimentary press tickets to this performance of A Little Night Music.

Contest: Win Two Tickets to Night Music With Bernadette and Elaine

As you may know, the current revival of Stephen Sondheim's A Little Night Music was originally supposed to close in June upon the departure of Catherine Zeta-Jones and Angela Lansbury. But, subsequent to the show's closure announcement, the producers announced that the show would reopen with Bernadette Peters and Elaine Stritch. The new cast has been in previews since July 13th, toward a new opening night on August 1st.

I know that I can't wait to see these wonderfully talented women in their respective roles; I'll be taking in a performance on July 31st. In the meantime, I've also obtained a free pair of tickets for one of my lucky readers. The tickets are valid until September 5, 2010.

Of course, I'm not just going to *give* the tickets away. That would be too easy. Below are five trivia questions related to the show and its lovely new leading ladies. I'll select a random winner from everyone who answers all five correctly. The contest deadline will be midnight EST on Friday, July 30th. You can enter your answers in the comments section below. I won't publish the comments until the contest deadline has passed.

Good luck!

1. Which African American actress took over the part of the Witch in Into The Woods upon Bernadette Peters' departure? [ANSWER: Phylicia Rashad. A number of people said Vanessa Williams, but Williams played the Witch in the revival, not the original production.]

2. Who replaced Bernadette Peters in Song and Dance, only to be replaced by Peters as the Witch during rehearsals for Into the Woods? [ANSWER: Betty Buckley. Quite a few people said Ellen Foley, but Foley was never in Song & Dance, at least according to IBDB.]

3. Which two shows was Elaine Stritch involved in on Broadway in the early 1950s that necessitated her hectic commute from Manhattan to New Haven and back? [ANSWER: Call Me Madam and Pal Joey. Most people got this one right, thanks to Elaine Stritch - At Liberty.]

4. The title of A Little Night Music is an homage to what piece of classical music, and who was the composer of that piece? [ANSWER: Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, which is German for...well, I think you can get it from here.]

5. Stephen Sondheim set himself a challenge in composing to the music to A Little Night Music. What was that musical challenge? [ANSWER: To write the entire piece in triple meter, AKA 3/4 time and its brethren. As Sondheim has pointed out, the show does have the occasional non-triple meter thrown in. But most of the show is either in 3/4 or 12/8 or some other variant.]

The winner has been notified. Thanks to everyone who entered! --C.C.

Review - Finian's Rainbow Revisit

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

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

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

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

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

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

Passing Strange on DVD

In the very last session of my musical-theater history course, we do three things: my students hand in their take-home finals, we talk about what makes bad musicals bad, and then we launch into what I've come to call our "showtune games." In one of these games, I put my 30G iPod on shuffle, play ten random songs (out of about 8,000, all theater music, natch), and challenge my students to name the song and show. 

This past semester, one of the songs that came up on the old iPod was "What's Inside Is Just a Lie" from Passing Strange. Now, I realize that the show didn't run very long, but not a single one of my students was able to name the show. Some guessed the song title, as it's repeated so frequently, but even when we went over the answers, and I told them the name of the show, a lot of my students had never even heard of Passing Strange.

I'm not trying to dump on my students here. When the show was running, most of them were juniors in high school, many nowhere near New York City. I see this more as a testament to the fleeting nature of the theatrical consciousness. Passing Strange, while stunning and innovative, is yesterday's news. The show ran a mere 165 performances and 20 previews at the venerable Belasco Theater. And it is highly unlikely that the show will catch on in regional or community theater, mostly because the story is so specific to Stew, the show's writer and central performer. 

Fortunately, before the show closed, filmmaker Spike Lee brought in more than a dozen cameras and taped three of the show's final performances. The resulting film played the Sundance Film Festival, and has now been released on DVD. And it's a real stunner.

When I saw Passing Strange on Broadway, I was so impressed with the freshness and raw energy of the show (read my original review) that I decided to take in the show again (read my re-review). Well, I'm not really sure how or why, but in some respects the movie is even more compelling than the stage play was. This is probably a testament to Lee's dynamic, almost invasive, camera angles. As in the best documentaries and concert films, Lee has taken us where the theater cannot: backstage, up close, behind, beside, below the performers. Lee has even placed cameras in the four hydraulic pits that house the on-stage band, making the players an even more integral part of the action.

Such an approach would likely not work with most theatrical presentations, but with the already anarchic Passing Strange, it significantly enhances and complements the themes, techniques, and movement employed by stage director Annie Dorsen and choreographer Karole Armitage. The cinematographic intimacy also puts into stunning relief the terrific work by the show's talented cast, including the dynamic Rebecca Naomi Jones, the sensational Daniel Breaker, and the electrifying Colman Domingo.

We're unlikely to see the likes of Passing Strange back on Broadway anytime soon. Oh sure, we'll see more rock shows, and we may even see more staged concerts, but none with the singularity of vision and execution that Passing Strange reflects. And we're fortunate to have this permanent record of a show that can genuinely be called unique.

A final note to my students: Yeah, you're not in my course anymore, but I'm giving you one final piece of homework. See this film.

Review - In the Heights at Boston's Opera House

At some point each semester, I posit to my students that there is no such thing as a perfect musical. I then challenge them to name one that they think is perfect, and we discuss. We can usually find a flaw in almost any show, whether it's My Fair Lady, Guys and Dolls, or even Gypsy.

One show that came up in our discussion this past fall was In the Heights. I think that the student who proposed the show thought that she had stumped the band, as it were. Instead, I said, "Oh, honey, where do I start?"

When I first saw In the Heights Off-Broadway, I found it a well-intentioned cartoon, full of unconvincingly noble characters, manufactured complications, and pat resolutions. (Read my Off-Broadway review.) Before the show moved to the Richard Rodgers Theater, the production staff made some fairly significant changes, and when I saw the show again on Broadway, I found myself genuinely enjoying the show, caught up in the sheer energy of the proceedings. (Read my Broadway review.)

After seeing the national tour of In the Heights, which plays through January 24th at Boston's Opera House, my view of the show has shifted a bit closer to my original reaction. There must have been something about the Broadway production that momentarily blinded me to the show's flaws, which are numerous. There's no question that In the Heights has its heart in the right place, and that Lin-Manuel Miranda has created a tuneful and vivacious score for the show. And director Thomas Kail and choreographer Andy Blankenbuehler have crafted no fewer than three stunning set pieces for the show: "96,000," "The Club/Blackout," and the fun but superfluous "Carnaval Del Barrio." All are exceedingly well-staged, masterfully weaving in the various stories and characters.

But In the Heights is still -- you should pardon the expression -- a whitewashed version of Washington Heights reality. The show is rarely dull, often engaging, but overly earnest, and, despite the Salsa beat and pop-and-lock dance moves, a bit timeworn and predictable. 

Moreover, the tour performers can't hold a candle to the original Broadway cast. Yes, comparisons are odious and unfair. But there wasn't a single person on stage at the Opera House last night who had the stage presence, the likability, or the vocal talent of his or her Broadway counterpart. I brought one of my students with me to the show last night, a young woman who was very enamored of the Broadway production, and the first words out of her mouth at intermission were something to the effect of, "Wow, this totally doesn't work unless you have the right people." 

Of course, most people won't be in the position of having seen the original Broadway cast, as my student and I had. And for someone who's never seen the show before, the tour cast is certainly professional. In the Heights, while flawed, is an engaging night at the theater, full of charm and warmth, and a lot of really kick-ass dancing. But, although the show won the Tony Award, it was not IMHO the best musical of the 2007-2008 season. Anyone interested in seeing two arguably better shows can rent or buy the recently released DVD of Passing Strange, or check out the national tour of Xanadu. Two radically different shows, to be sure, but each in its way superior to In the Heights.

NOTE: New Federal Trade Commission (FTC) regulations require bloggers to disclose when they accept anything of material value related to their blog posts. I received complimentary press tickets to this performance of In the Heights.

Review - Revisiting Ragtime

I am so over Michael Riedel:

Last Friday, the New York Post published a pointlessly cruel  column by Riedel, in which he practically snickered with glee over the closure this past weekend of the Ragtime revival. Ordinarily I'd include a link to the column, but I don't want to justify his mean-spirited screed with extra traffic.

Amid the snark, Riedel dismissively referred to the Ragtime cast as a bunch of "regional" performers. (As though that would be something to be ashamed of.) Reidel is, however, quite wrong on this score. As Ragtime star Bobby Steggart pointed out on Twitter, "Funny how people who call themselves reporters don't check their facts. I've lived and worked in New York for 10 years." What's more, Christiane Noll made her Broadway debut in 1997 with Jekyll & Hyde. And Ron Bohmer has been performing in New York since 1985.

I really don't understand Riedel's apparent need to kick a such a fine bunch of people when they're down. The producers of Ragtime took a gamble when they decided to move the critically acclaimed Kennedy Center production to Broadway's Neil Simon Theater, and unfortunately that gamble didn't pay off. So why does Riedel take so much joy from this? ("What is your damage, Heather?")

Whatever, I had a chance to see Ragtime again over the weekend, and while I still had some reservations, I remain an ardent admirer of the show, and of this particular production. What's more, I'll take Ragtime over Riedel's little pet, Fela, any day.

As I said in my initial review, this Ragtime didn't completely gel for me the first time I saw it. I found it very professional, but it seemed to be missing an emotional center. Seeing the show a second time, I had the same reaction, and the key problem was the end of act one, which failed to reach the shattering climax that the story deserves. The primary motor for the plot at this point is the destruction of Coalhouse's car, and the subsequent scenes should ideally build with a sense of righteous indignation, but here Coalhouse comes off as merely petty. This makes the finaletto seem anticlimactic.

The problem with this sequence would seem to stem from a combination of the writing, the direction, and the performance of Quentin Earl Darrington as Coalhouse. Composer Stephen Flaherty and lyricist Lynn Ahrens have certainly provided effective music here, particularly "'Til We Reach That Day," but the entire sequence happens so quickly, it's hard to really get a sense of the gravity of the proceedings. Librettist Terrence McNally shoulders some of the blame here, but director Marcia Milgrom Dodge also seems to have given this sequence short shrift, staging it in a way that robs it of the proper weight. And Darrington, while an admittedly talented performer, simply doesn't wrench the heart in quite the way the situation requires. The failure of this crucial sequence upsets the balance of the show, creating less interest in and sympathy for Coalhouse and Sarah, and leaving the other characters to pick up the slack.

I must admit Darrington became far more affecting at the very end of act 2, at which point the was a more palpable sense of fire in his performance, but this ultimately served to emphasize what he was missing throughout the rest of the show. Newcomer Stephanie Umoh, while quite beautiful and possessing a powerhouse of a voice, was even less effective as Sarah than the first time I saw the show. Her performance reflected surface grief and studied mannerisms; there really didn't seem to be anything behind her eyes to indicate she was genuinely feeling the role. (Full disclosure: Stephanie is a former student of mine, but I feel I owe it to my readers, and ultimately to Stephanie, not to pull any punches. I look forward to watching her grow as a performer.) 

Unfortunately for Umoh and Darrington, but fortunately for the audience, the remainder of the principle cast was superlative. The marvelous Bobby Steggert had even more fire and intensity, some of which might have come from the indignation and grief of his last weekend as Younger Brother. Ron Bohmer exuded a childlike energy as Father, creating a remarkably sympathetic portrayal, while still portraying the man's flaws. And the delightful Christiane Noll remained a revelation as Mother. After so many years of sub-par material, Noll finally found a role commensurate with her talents. Noll was such a natural on stage, bringing such humor and nuance to her portrayal.

Despite the flaws of this production, I love me some Ragtime. If you didn't have a chance to see it, fear not: the performance that I saw was filmed for the Lincoln Center archive. So you can see and judge for yourself whether Riedel was right in saying that the production had no business coming to Broadway. I think you'll find Missy Riedel was wrong.

Fela on Broadway

I wasn't a fan of the musical Fela when I saw it Off Broadway at the 37 Arts theater complex. Although I found the story captivating, the dance energetic, and the music vibrant, I thought the storytelling was primitive, and the direction loose and unfocused.

But like many recent shows that have made the Off- to On-Broadway transfer (In the Heights, Next to Normal, Spring Awakening, Grey Gardens), Fela has undergone significant revisions, and the Fela that is currently playing at the Eugene O'Neill Theater in New York is a major improvement over its earlier incarnation. If this renovated Fela isn't quite the magnum opus its creators seemed to be striving for, it's unquestionably the most ambitious new musical of the season.

The show tells the story of Nigerian recording artist and activist Fela Anikulapo Kuti, as filtered through the sensibilities of director/choreographer Bill T. Jones (Spring Awakening) and his co-librettist Jim Lewis. The show starts by breaking down the history of Fela's music, then relates how he himself became an instrument of rebellion. In protest against the corrupt and oppressive Nigerian regime, Fela declares his compound an independent state, with dramatic and often tragic consequences.

As was the case Off-Broadway, the story of Fela comes mostly in monologue form. Since the dramatic conceit of the show is that Fela is giving his farewell concert performance before leaving his beloved Nigeria, I guess that makes a certain amount of sense. But, hey, how about some scenes in flashback to break things up? Thankfully, Jones and Lewis have done just that by adding a new character, the student Sandra (Saycon Sengbloh), who actually has lines, which brings a bit more dimension to the story. But she's still the only other person who speaks: the mother character, played here by the marvelous but underutilized Lillias White, communicates here only through song, and somewhat obliquely at that.

Because I attended a Saturday afternoon performance of the Broadway Fela, I saw Kevin Mambo as Fela this time, which was a bit disappointing, since one of the things that I genuinely enjoyed about Fela Off Broadway was the dynamic Sahr Ngaujah in the title role. Mambo held his own, to be sure, but I would have much preferred to have seen Nguajah again in the show that may very well make him a star. Ngaujah was mesmerizing in a role in which Mambo is merely competent.

Overall, the Broadway version of Fela is a considerably more fluid and balanced than the Off-Broadway production, which bordered on hagiography. The new show reveals more facets of Fela the man, both good and bad, including more direct references to his often questionable treatment of women. The result is more dramatically cohesive and emotionally compelling. The formerly excruciating sequence in which Fela communicates with his mother in the afterlife seems to have been shortened and clarified to the point where it's merely innocuous. And Jones seems to have fine-tuned the staging, forging significant improvements in energy and showmanship. The final tags to both acts are especially stunning.

Even so, Fela remains more an intellectual pleasure than a visceral one, more admirable than enjoyable. It's certainly worth seeing, and, as I said, is likely to be the most adventurous musical to hit Broadway this season. Granted, that's not saying much, considering that the only other new musical so far has been the dynamic but conventional Memphis, and the only new shows that are definite for the coming season are The Addams Family and Million Dollar Quartet. 

What about Spider-Man, you ask. Yeah, what *about* Spider-Man?