Everything I Know I Learned From Musicals

Review - Evita Revival on Broadway With Ricky Martin

How much of a difference can one performer make? That's the question I was left to ponder while walking out of the strangely lifeless revival of Evita that's currently packing them in at the Marquis Theater in New York. I had seen this production during its London run and was generally positive about it, particularly regarding the dynamic central performance from Argentinian spitfire Elena Roger. (Read my review of the London production.)

So, I was genuinely looking forward to seeing the production again, now that it has made the trek across the pond. There was, however, a bit of a bump in my road to the Marquis, as I was originally scheduled to see one of the performances that got "rained out," as it were. As you may have heard, the producers of Evita had to cancel two performances because the "deluge curtain," part of a theater's fire protection system, was accidentally triggered, which flooded the stage, necessitating a two-day clean-up process.

Since I was already in the city to see some other shows, I hustled over to the Marquis box office to exchange my ticket for another performance. Well, in my absent-mindedness, I chose a matinee performance, momentarily forgetting that the actress who plays Eva Peron historically doesn't do matinees. Which means I didn't see Elena Roger again but rather Christine DiCicco, the Eva alternate. DiCicco was never less than professional, and at times was downright impressive in terms of her energy level and vocal prowess. What she wasn't was electrifying, which Elena Roger decidedly was when I saw the show in 2006.

The experience put me in mind of seeing the recent revival of A Little Night Music both with Catherine Zeta-Jones (read my review) and then Bernadette Peters (read my review) in the central role of Desiree Armfeldt. With Zeta-Jones, the show was presentable but uninspired. With Peters, the show came to vibrant life. The cast was otherwise almost exactly the same, as were the members of the production staff. But Peters, like the rising tide, lifted all of the boats, whereas Zeta-Jones was more like an anchor dragging the show down and keeping it from achieving its full forward speed.

I genuinely hope to get back and see this production of Evita again to see if, perhaps, it was Elena Roger who made all the difference in London. That would also give me the opportunity to more fully put Ricky Martin's somewhat spotty performance as Che, the show's sardonic narrator, into context. Don't get me wrong: Martin is by far the most entertaining part of the current production. He's animated, engaging, mischievous, and boasts a genuinely strong and resonant musical-theater-quality singing voice. But he did frequently allow his mannerisms to overshadow his sense of characterization, and he noticeably flubbed his lyrics on more than one occasion. It was almost as though he was trying to make up for the lack of energy in the production as a whole. I got the sense that, if he had just relaxed a bit more and trusted the material, he could have been outstanding. (Parenthetically, I was very glad to see that, despite the fact that Martin is clearly the draw here, the production still gives Eva the final bow during the curtain call.)

But the more I think about it, the more I have trouble ascribing the listless nature of this production to the change in the central player. Something else seems to have been lost in the translation from London to Broadway. The production as a whole lacks focus and a sense of forward motion, and those deficits must fall at the feet of director Michael Grandage. The production remains visually impressive (with sets and costumes by Christopher Oram and lighting by Neil Austin), but the scenes and characterizations lack cohesion, as though there were no sure hand at the helm. Even Rob Ashford's choreography, which I found it thrilling in London, here seemed resolutely earthbound, although thematically the movements seemed more restrained and idiomatic than some of his more recent Broadway work.

One final note: it's really interesting to have the chance to see both Jesus Christ Superstar and Evita on Broadway at the same time. (Read my review of JCS here.) It's a sort of sobering reminder that, at one point in his career, Andrew Lloyd Webber actually made challenging choices and used interesting musical devices, mostly when he was paired up with lyricist Tim Rice. It makes me wonder what could happen if Sir Andrew ever teamed up again with a lyricist who actually made him think.

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 - How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying (But With Daniel Radcliffe)

OK, let's get to the burning questions right up front: Can Daniel Radcliffe sing? Yes. His intonation is spot-on, although he did have trouble sustaining some of the longer notes.

Can Daniel Radcliffe dance? Most definitely, and quite well, I might add. Sure, he was a little bit out of breath at the end of "Brotherhood of Man," but that might have been more a function of Rob Ashford's strenuous choreography than of Radcliffe's lung capacity. 

But, on a larger level, can Daniel Radcliffe actually carry a Broadway musical?

Absolutely.

Of course, my questions refer to How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, a rousing revival of which opened last night at the Al Hirshfeld Theater in New York. At first I thought it was too soon to bring back H2$, since the delightful 1995 revival (featuring Matthew Broderick, Victoria Clark, and Megan Mullally) is still so fresh in the brains of all of us theater queens of a certain age.

But, then, this revival isn't for us theater queens, now is it? It's rather for the multitudes of Harry Potter fans, many of whom hadn't even been born in 1995, but are looking for a chance to see their favorite wizard in person, and maybe in something a bit more accessible than a dated drama about a disturbed young man who blinds a bunch of horses. (See Equus.)

Radcliffe proves himself a showman of the first order, with a charming stage presence and a killer smile. Oh, and his American accent is flawless. But more than just a wonderful vehicle for a young man who more than earns his star billing, this production of How to Succeed is thoroughly enjoyable in its own right, delivering effervescent fun from start to finish.

Mr. Radcliffe's supporting cast is no less deserving of praise. TV favorite John Larroquette makes a welcome Broadway debut as J.B. Biggley, and he certainly lives up to his four Emmy Awards for "Night Court," exuding a smarmy charm and a natural comedic instinct. Christopher J. Hanke at first seemed a rather odd choice for Bud Frump: a bratty pretty boy rather than your typical...well...frumpy Frump. But he makes the part his own, and deftly so. Likewise, Tammy Blanchard as Hedy Larue took some getting used to, as she seemed to be going for something very different from the typical air-headed Hedy. But I think my hesitation may have come more from, interestingly enough, her wardrobe. Hedy's first outfit didn't quite showcase Blanchard's form to its bombshell best; subsequent outfits, however, provided more of the requisite "wow" factor, and I was able to appreciate Blanchard's very strong and individual performance.

On the production front, it's really gratifying to see director/choreographer Rob Ashford make such a strong comeback after the lackluster affair that was his Promises, Promises. It just goes to show that, with the alchemy of live theater, you just never know what forces and talents will combine to create a successful show. There it didn't work at all. Here it does. The strange thing is, on the surface, Ashford's work on both shows would seem rather similar. In How to Succeed, Ashford weaves in a lot more dancing than the show typically has - for instance during the office party at the end of act one. But here it adds to what is already a wonderfully crafted show, whereas in Promises, Promises, it was shoring up a piece that doesn't really work.

Interestingly, Ashford reverses most of the changes that the 1995 revival made for the sake of political correctness. For instance, the original lyric for "It's Been a Long Day" features the line "What female sort of trap could I spring?," which the 1995 revival changed to "What clever sort of trap could I spring?," possibly to make the show seem less misogynistic. The character of Jonesy, who sings the female solo in "Brotherhood of Man," was played in 1995 by the redoubtable Lillias White, perhaps to give the show a bit of racial diversity and the number a bit of soul. In the current production, Jonesy is back to her original pallor, and played with great animation and fire by Ellen Harvey.

Most notably, the number "Cinderella, Darling" has been restored. It was replaced in 1995 by a reprise of the title number, performed by the female chorus, but I was never really clear as to why the creators made that change. Both of the numbers portray the show's females as calculating and opportunistic. (Which was, of course, the point.) In any case, Ashford restores the original number, but I wasn't really a fan of the way he chose to stage it, as a tap number. I'm not quite sure why. I guess Ashford figured that it worked in "Forget About the Boy" from Thoroughly Modern Millie, but here it sort of falls flat. In Millie, the tap was all about anger, and it gave the number a sense of punctuation. But here, it doesn't really seem to serve any specific purpose, other than to provide some variation in the dance scheme of the show.

But, overall, Ashford is thankfully back in fine form with this production, particularly with the aforementioned "Brotherhood of Man," which was thrilling, and received the kind of roar from the crowd that one so rarely hears in the theatre these days. Likewise, "Grand Old Ivy" genuinely stopped the show, thanks to an ingenious bit of staging on Ashford's part. (I don't want to give the device away, but it's actually funny that nobody thought of it before.) "The Company Way" features lots of interesting mail-room-type business, perhaps a bit too much at times, as it tended to overshadow Frank Loesser's sharply satirical lyrics.

So, great show, great cast, great staging. A production that could have been just a vanity production with a slumming Broadway wannabe has turned out to be so much more.

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 - Elling on Broadway

Wow. It wasn't that bad.

Before I even had time to post my review for the new play Elling on Broadway, the producers have announced that the show will close this Sunday, after only 9 regular performances. I honestly didn't think it was a very good play, but I certainly didn't think it would close four months early.

The show has a dynamite cast, to be sure. Denis O'Hare is always a dynamic and quirky presence on stage, and he clearly delivers in that respect here playing the title character. Jennifer Coolidge is comedy incarnate, particularly in such Christopher Guest films as "Best in Show" and "A Mighty Wind." And they don't come much more classy and august than Richard Easton.

So what happened? Two things: the script and Brendan Fraser.

Elling is neither fish nor fowl: it's not funny enough to be a comedy, and it isn't weighty enough for drama. The play is based on some novels by Ingvar Ambjørnsen, with a stage adaptation by Axel Hellstenius, and an English adaptation by Simon Bent. And it's the very definition of the word "slight." I'm sure there's some inherent drama in the scenario of two mental patients trying to find their way in the real world after being released from the "insane asylum," but the aforementioned committee hasn't found a way to bring that drama to the stage. 

There are numerous elements throughout the play that the authors could have developed into something a bit more compelling. The Brendan Fraser character, called Kjell Bjarne, builds a matchstick model of the new house that he and Elling have moved into, and he presents it to Elling upon their first Christmas together. But when Kjell Bjarne becomes involved with the woman who lives upstairs, Elling destroys the model in a jealous fit, an act that provides the tension for the first act curtain. The play sets the character of Kjell Bjarne up as a potentially explosive character, not unlike Lenny from Of Mice and Men, but when he discovers that the house is destroyed, he shrugs it off.

Later, the Richard Easton character, a famous poet who hasn't produced any work in decades, comes across Elling's precious notebook of poetry, and we see him contemplate appropriating the material to make his comeback. But Easton simply returns the notebook in a subsequent scene without incident.

Perhaps the script's greatest crime is creating a slate of interesting characters and then not really giving them anything interesting to do. The Elling character, particularly as embodied by O'Hare, is a fascinating morass of neuroses and rationalizations. And Kjell Bjarne has some potential as a compelling character, but unfortunately Brendan Fraser hasn't found a way to make him real. Granted, it's no small feat to play someone who's simply stupid, hungry, and horny, but Fraser doesn't convincingly portray any of these characteristics. He's all surface bluster, with no apparent internal motivation.

If you happen to be in New York between now and Sunday, and you were thinking of catching Elling before it closes on Sunday, there's really only one reason to see it: Denis O'Hare. Otherwise, Elling is forgettable at best.

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 Elling.

Fela Closing. But First, Patti LaBelle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Review - 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.

The Drowsy Chaperone With Carson Kressley

Upon reflection, I'm really not sure why it's taken me so long to attend a show at the Ogunquit Playhouse. It's only a 90-minute drive from Boston, and I find Ogunquit infinitely preferable to Provincetown as far as gay-friendly destinations go.

And yet, somehow, I had never been inside the Ogunquit Playhouse until this past weekend. In its heyday, the self-proclaimed "foremost summer theatre" in America played host to such luminaries as Bette Davis, Joan Fontaine, and Melvyn Douglas. Of course, lately it's had to make do with the likes of Sally Struthers, Rex Smith, and Lorenzo Lamas, but the Ogunquit has nonetheless what appears to be a well-deserved reputation for putting on high-quality productions. (I was, however, rather put off by practice of projecting the names of the theater's corporate sponsors onto the walls of the theater in letters 10-feet high. What's next? Maria von Trapp pausing mid-song to expound upon the virtues of a local B&B? Norma Desmond in a branded neon turban?)

What finally induced me to cross the Ogunquit threshold was a production of one of my favorite shows of the last ten years, The Drowsy Chaperone, this particular version starring Carson Kressley, the fashion maven of "Queer Eye," as the show's central "Man in Chair." I would have given the whole thing a miss, except my dear friend Richard sent me a text saying the production was "outstanding." Well, thank you, Ricky. I'm really glad I made the trek north.

Kressley's program bio doesn't list any previous stage shows, so I'm going to assume that this was his live-theater debut. If so, then bravo, Ms. Kressley. He did have a slight tendency to overuse his hands, and his performance reflected a mere passing familiarity with subtlety, but he was nonetheless funny and effective in his own effusive way. Plus, his presence gave added resonance to certain lines in the show, particularly the following: "At the time, the theater was the only place stupid people could make a living. This was before television."

On the whole, this Drowsy Chaperone represented a thoroughly professional restaging of the original production, using what appeared to be the original sets and costumes, or at least modeled very closely on same. The cast even boasted the delightful Georgia Engel recreating her role as Mrs. Tottendale. The authenticity (slavishness?) of the production is no doubt in large measure due to the presence of Casey Hushion, assistant director on the original production, here recreating both direction and choreography. Hushion captures much of what made the Broadway version infectious and effervescent, and the result here is actually more lively and enjoyable than the show's national tour (read my review), albeit not quite up to the standard of the Broadway production. (Read my original review and my follow-up review.)

Watching this production of The Drowsy Chaperone, I was reminded of what a well crafted show it is, with its warm and witty book (by Bob Martin and Don McKellar) and its tuneful and bouncy score (by Lisa Lambert and Greg Morrison). This is particularly remarkable considering it was created by a crew of musical theater neophytes. It appears, though, that we may indeed see more from this talented crew, who are currently working on a new musical for the Stratford Festival in Toronto. No word yet on the subject matter or possible time line.

Rachel York in Into the Woods

When I started writing this blog four years ago, I knew that I would have to draw some boundaries about the shows that I would be reviewing. Because I've been involved in theater for decades, and because I teach at the Boston Conservatory, I have many friends and students who are involved in local productions. And in the interest of maintaining those friendships, and allowing my students the opportunity to develop their craft in peace, I established two ground rules:

1. I only review local shows if they are at professional theaters, such as the Huntington Theatre at the American Repertory Theatre.

2. I don't directly address the performances of my students until they have graduated.

Then along came Into the Woods at Reagle Players in Waltham, MA. Reagle is one of the more prominent theater companies in the Boston area, and is particularly well known for bringing in Broadway-caliber performers to headline their shows. They also frequently rent the costumes and sets from recent Broadway productions of the shows they do. The results are often pedestrian but sometimes inspired. 

This particular production of Into the Woods featured five current and recent students from the Boston Conservatory: Elizabeth Berg, Emily Goldberg, Bryan Miner, Brennan Roach, and Greg Stone. In addition, the show was directed by an old friend of mine, Stacey Stephens, who in fact directed me when I played the Baker in Into the Woods a few years back. So, normally, this would be a classic example of a production that I would steer clear of in terms of reviewing it on my blog.

But the show also featured the delightful Rachel York as the Witch, and I knew that there would be considerable interest among my readers as to how she fared in the role. So, I decided to blog about the production, but only in terms of Ms. York's performance, as well as that of her fiance, Ayal Miodovnik, for reasons that will become clear later. 

I've long been an ardent admirer of Rachel York, based upon her performances in such shows as Dessa Rose and Kiss Me Kate. And, for the most part, York demonstrated here why she's had such steady work in the theater since her breakout role as Mallory in City of Angels. She's got a dynamite belt, a strong stage presence, and a great way with a wry one-liner. (She was certainly the only redeeming quality of the otherwise execrable 101 Dalmatians.) Her rendition of "Stay With Me" was particularly affecting, evoking a palpable sense of the Witch's fear of isolation.

Although York admittedly brought a great deal of animation to the role of the Witch, sometimes it was a bit too much. "Our Little World," the song that Stephen Sondheim wrote for the show's first London production, was particularly over-the-top. York pushed the comedy a bit too aggressively in a character voice that sounded like Granny from "The Beverly Hillbillies." Some might consider that a valid choice, but for me it obscured the meaning and potential pathos of the song.

York also demonstrated some problems with breath control and lyrical mastery, particularly during the Witch's opening patter, during which she garbled a few of the trickier lines. ("I'm telling you the same I tell queens and...queens...") I'm not privy to the details of the production process for this show, but what frequently happens with guest stars is they get plugged into the product at the last minute. It's possible that York was a trifle unrehearsed.

On a final note, York seems to have come to the Reagle Players as part of a package deal with her fiance, Ayal Miodovnik, who played Cinderella's Prince and the Wolf. Miodovnik's program bio quizzically lists nearly as much about his management and business accomplishments as his theater credits. Well, Miodovnik here demonstrates that, as an actor, he's a great businessman. His performance was inconsistent, to say the least. He didn't really seem to be playing any one particular character, bringing a different hammy countenance to each subsequent scene. Also, during "Agony" he pronounced the word "frustration" as "fuss-tration," which is reason enough to hit anyone with a sock full of manure.

Bernadette Peters and Elaine Stritch in A Little Night Music

As you most likely know, Catherine Zeta-Jones and Angela Lansbury played their final performances in the revival of A Little Night Music this past weekend. You may also know that the show, which was originally scheduled to close upon their departure, will instead take a brief hiatus before Bernadette Peters and Elaine Stritch take up the parts of Desiree and Madame Armfeldt, respectively, on July 13th.

More on that later, but first I wanted to address some Post-Tony controversy initiated by performer Hunter Foster. As I've said, the Tonys this year were dominated by Broadway congratulating itself for attracting A-list Hollywood stars, and awarded them Tonys, in some people's estimation, simply for showing up. Hunter took it upon himself to start a Facebook group called Give the Tonys Back to Broadway, which at the time of this writing had 7,651 members.

I've admired Hunter's work for years, but I find this effort misguided and naive. The Tonys are about business and marketing. And Hollywood stars are currently seen as the key to box-office success. As long as that ethos remains extant, Tony Awards will continue to go to shows and performers that are most likely to earn the voters money. And nothing will change in that regard until theater critics are restored to the ranks of the Tony voters.

That said, I believe that Catherine Zeta-Jones was undeserving of her Tony Award for Best Actress in a Musical. (Read my review of this production.) If you didn't get to see her on stage, all you have to do is listen to the cast recording to witness the problem. She was fine in the book scenes, but during the songs she pushed and emoted to an egregious extent. Check out this clip from "The Glamorous Life." It's rather painful to listen to. It's as though she's trying with every note to justify her presence in the show. This otherwise excellent recording is marred by a leading performance nearly devoid of subtlety, although "Send in the Clowns" is admirably restrained.

But the fact remains that this show would never have made it to Broadway without CZJ. And based on the momentum established by CZJ (and the lovely Ms. Lansbury), we now get a chance to see Bernadette Peters and Elaine Stritch take up the roles. Would the show have made it to Broadway solely based on the draw of Misses Peters and Stritch? It's possible, but I have my doubts. So we very likely have CZJ to thank for providing us with the chance to see two genuine pros of the stage take on the roles. When Peters and Stritch leave, could we possibly see some additional recasting to keep the show afloat? Perhaps the mother/daughter team of Blythe Danner and Gwyneth Paltrow, as previously rumored?

Well, if that does happen, Hunter Foster will no doubt be pleased to know that neither would be eligible for a Tony, since only the cast from opening night of a particular production qualifies. Unless, of course, the Tony commission changes the rules to accommodate replacement casts. And, depending on the wattage of the stars in question, is that notion really that far-fetched?

The Tony Awards - Why I Didn't Care This Year

I'm sure that I don't have to tell you that the Tony Awards were presented on Sunday night. I had a concert that night (see post below), so I had to watch the proceedings on TiVo delay. But truth be told, it really didn't matter to me because this season was so lackluster with respect to new musicals. Sure, there were shows that tried to do new things, particularly Fela, American Idiot, and Come Fly Away. But none of them really succeeded, in my humble estimation. (Click on the links above for my reviews of each production.)

So it really wasn't a surprise when Memphis won Best Musical. I would have preferred that Fela win, simply because it was more ambitious. I thought the first act of Memphis was super slick, but the second act descended into predictability and essentially veered off into Hairspray country. (Click on the link above for my full review.) Why did Memphis win? Simple: the critics were dumped from the voting ranks of the Tonys and the remaining voters went for the relatively safe choice. Memphis won not because it's very good (it isn't) but rather because it's more likely to be successful on the road.

So, Memphis has now joined the ranks of Raisin, Redhead, Hallelujah Baby, The Mystery of Edwin Drood, Big River, Sunset Boulevard, Fosse, Applause, and Jerome Robbins' Broadway: Big winners in a down year. Will Memphis virtually disappear from circulation as most of the above-listed shows have? Time will tell. 

The Tony Awards broadcast was rather unremarkable, although lots of people seemed to think that Sean Hayes knocked one out of the park as host. I thought he was fine, but he paled in comparison to the charm, ease, and spark that Neil Patrick Harris brought to last year's telecast.

One notable trend this year was Broadway congratulating itself on being able to attract A-list Hollywood stars. Did Scarlett Johansson, Denzel Washington, and Catherine Zeta-Jones genuinely deserve their Tony Awards? I saw neither A View From the Bridge nor Fences, so I'm in no position to judge there. (I concentrated almost exclusively on musicals this season.) But I did see A Little Night Music, and can honestly say no, I don't think she deserved it. (Click on the link for my review.) I would have been happy to see the award go to Kate Baldwin (Finian's Rainbow), Montego Glover (Memphis), or Christiane Noll (Ragtime). I think this is another case of the skewing effect of having producers, presenters, and other business types vote for the awards. Rewarding stars for coming to Broadway means more stars come to Broadway. And in the current environment in which plays and musicals are increasingly reliant on marquee names above the title, that's a very important business proposition.

Of course, it has absolutely nothing to do with merit. Or art.

Review - Promises, Promises at the Broadway Theatre

I've never been much of a fan of Promises, Promises, a revival of which opened last night at the Broadway Theatre. But I have to say I was intrigued and enticed by what at first seemed like shrewd semi-star casting: Kristin Chenoweth and Sean Hayes in the starring roles. Add in B-list hottie Tony Goldwyn in a significant supporting part, and I was one intrigued little theater blogger, let me tell you. Unfortunately, the Broadway production that I was most eagerly anticipating this spring has become the one I'm mostly likely to forget.

Except, that is, for the marvelous Katie Finneran, a Tony Award winner for Noises Off, and hopefully a repeat winner this year for her hysterical work here as the minor character Marge MacDougall. When Fineran comes on stage at the top of Act 2, suddenly this otherwise earthbound show takes momentary wing. When Finneran disappears shortly thereafter, the show returns to its desultory self.

The frequently marvelous Ms. Chenoweth is here sorely miscast. It really makes you wonder: Did she, or any of her people, actually read the script before they signed her on? Because Fran Kubelik, at least on paper, doesn't really seem to mesh well with Chenoweth's persona. Let's see, an introspective, easily dominated, suicidal schlub? Yeah, that's Kristen, all right.

Hayes comes off somewhat better than Chenoweth, far more natural here than he was as Mr. Applegate in the recent Encores production of Damn Yankees. At the top of the show, Hayes was charming and strong-voiced, but once the plot kicked in he had a tendency to overdo the comedy, pushing harder for laughs, milking the ones that actually came. It was as though he got the (accurate) sense that the show wasn't quite working and felt the need to overcompensate for the lackluster production surrounding him. And in act 2, both Hayes and Chenoweth showed signs of vocal strain.

But it's really not fair to let the stars shoulder the blame here. And it's not that the story isn't strong, based as it is on Billy Wilder's masterful movie, "The Apartment." The characters are sweet and likable, and the libretto features Neil Simon at his jokemaster best. No, the main culprits are the lousy score and flat direction. I've always been a fan of Rob Ashford, mostly for his energetic and frequently humorous choreography. I had heard decent things about his directorial skills, based mostly on his well-received London and Los Angeles productions of Jason Robert Brown's Parade. But I have to say his directorial work here on Promises, Promises is less than impressive. As Terry Johnson so vividly demonstrates with La Cage aux Folles, insightful direction can make even mediocre material come alive. Ashford may indeed have a promising future as a Broadway director, but you'd never know it from watching Promises, Promises.

And then there's the score. Burt Bacharach's music features pretentious, self-conscious, pointlessly complicated changes in time signatures. And Hal David's lyrics are thoroughly unmemorable. After hearing the songs in context here, it's really no wonder to me that the pair haven't worked on Broadway again. Sure, there are a few moderately passable numbers, including "She Likes Basketball," and "I'll Never Fall in Love Again." (Although, on the latter, Ms. Chenoweth performs what is easily the least convincing fake guitar playing I've ever witnessed.)

But the rest of the score falls into three categories: dull, painful, and ridiculous. In the dull category we have the bland and pointless "Wanting Things." In the painful column, there's "Our Little Secret," "Where Can You Take a Girl?," and "You'll Think of Someone," all of them awkward, tuneless, and egregious in their rhythmic eccentricity. As for ridiculous...well, hello..."Turkey Lurkey Time"? Sure, the number was fun when Michael Bennett staged it in the '60s. (See it here on YouTube.) But Ashford's staging can't hold a candle to that of Bennett, and the song itself is a pointless trifle, both in and out of context.

As if the creative staff knew the score couldn't stand on its own, they've interpolated two Bacharach/David hits into the production: "I Say a Little Prayer" and "A House Is Not a Home." In terms of fitting the context of the show, the songs work just fine. But "Prayer" seems like a throwaway number here, and is lifelessly staged. And "House" serves a strong dramatic purpose in its current context, but is, to my ears, rather dull.

Theatergoers in search of an enjoyable, humorous, heartwarming recreation of an admittedly creaky show should definitely check out La Cage aux Folles. As for Promises, Promises? Meh, Meh.

Grade: C+ (Worth seeing for the delightful Katie Finneran. Otherwise, a somewhat joyless and obligatory affair.)

Review - La Cage aux Folles at the Longacre Theater

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[MINOR SPOILER ALERT for the next paragraph.]

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

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

Review - A Little Night Music Revival

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hugh Jackman and Daniel Craig in Whatever. (Oh, Yeah. A Steady Rain)

Like most people, when I heard that Hugh Jackman and Daniel Craig were going to appear together on Broadway, I didn't really care about the show itself. I just wanted to see Hugh Jackman and Daniel Craig.

As for the vehicle that brought this hot pair to Broadway, well, let's just say that playwright Keith Huff is one lucky man. If it hadn't been for Jackman and Craig, this contrivance of a play would likely never have made it beyond his hometown of Chicago.

It's become a cliche to say, "I could watch so-and-so read the phone book." I would imagine that, for most people, that phrase represents hyperbole. There are certain actors I admire greatly, but in truth I would never be able to watch any of them read the Manhattan Yellow Pages.

Well, as a play, A Steady Rain is certainly a step above the phone book. But not a big step. As I said it my Twitter post right after I got out of the play, "Clumsy play, rife with unconvincing melodrama + two hot guys = $130.00"

As for the performances, Daniel Craig reveals himself as a remarkably versatile and nuanced actor, immersing himself entirely in his character. Hugh Jackman was fine, but I find I must repeat what a number of my fellow bloggers have said about his performance here: it's hard to forget that he's Hugh Jackman. Whether that's a function of the level of his super-stardom or a reflection of his acting abilities, well, I'm not sure I really care. He certainly looked great in a pair of chinos.

[SPOILER ALERT: I'll be revealing a key plot point later in this review. If you already have your ticket and don't want to spoil the surprise, you might want to read the rest of this review subsequently]

The play concerns two childhood friends who have entered the police force and become partners. (Don't get too excited: I mean "partners" as in "working the same beat." But wouldn't that have been cool?) Huff's dialog has a certain idiomatic flair, but he seems to have been hellbent on cramming in as many plots developments as he could manufacture, without regard for balance and credibility.

Not content to merely tell a story of two men whose lives are developing in a way that forces them to make some very difficult decisions, Huff crafts A Steady Rain with an inexorable momentum toward tragedy, and the results are unsatisfying. Particularly difficult to swallow was a plot revelation that represented a fictionalized account of a certain well known serial killer who disposed of his victims in a rather culinary way. ("Swallow" was an unintended pun, I assure you, but upon rereading this post, I decided to leave it in. I considered it in keeping with the way this play left a bad taste in my mouth. Er...I mean...) There's also an unnecessarily manipulative use of a puppy as a plot device, which literally had me groaning, as did the show's ultimate denouement.

Rumor has it that the entire run for A Steady Rain is sold out, but that's not true. A quick check to Telecharge reveals that there are indeed tickets left for a number of upcoming performances. If you, like me, are purely interested in seeing these two guys on stage, and you've got $130.00 to spare, then the questionable quality of the play itself will be unlikely to deter you. Just don't expect anything more than two iconic stars doing their best with overwrought material.