Everything I Know I Learned From Musicals

Review - Million Dollar Quartet at the Nederlander

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jersey Boys in Vegas

This is my last Vegas post, I promise. (Well, until I go there again. Or until something interesting happens there. Or until I frickin' feel like it.)

So, I had one final show slot to fill on my Las Vegas trip, and decided to take in the Vegas production of Jersey Boys. My only other options in that time slot were Criss Angel Believe and Mamma Mia. But I was a bit Cirqued out after KÀ and The Beatles: Love (see my reviews below), and I'm probably going to be seeing Mamma Mia next month in New York. After I see Shrek at the Broadway, the Winter Garden will be the only remaining Broadway theater that I've never been in. (I saw Mamma Mia on tour.) To reach that milestone, I'm willing to sit through Mamma Mia again. If I can get a discount ticket.

As for Jersey Boys, Vegas seems a much more fitting setting for the show than New York, because it's basically a very slickly produced tribute show. It's really not that far removed from the all-star revues that populate the less tony casinos along the strip, featuring recreations of the Rat Pack, or mythical encounters between Elvis and Marilyn Monroe impersonators.

I was thinking that the Vegas version of Jersey Boys would be abbreviated, as they've done with Phantom, but the Jersey Boys folk actually do the entire show, with a "short break" between acts (eight minutes, which they count down on an on-stage screen). It's an interesting, and potentially brave, choice on the part of the producers. The thinking has always been that Vegas crowds won't sit through shows that are much longer than 90 minutes, and the casinos want those people back on the gambling floors.

I did notice, though, that while Phantom is advertised at 95 minutes, it ran a bit closer to 110 minutes. And that's without an intermission, which had even me squirming, and I generally prefer intermission-less shows.(As The Drowsy Chaperone's Man in Chair puts it, intermissions ruin the magic, break the mood, and leave you surrounded by tourists.)

Although tickets to the Broadway version of Jersey Boys can be hard to come by, in Vegas I got a great center orchestra seat day of show, and I noticed that there were lots of empty seats at the performance I attended. Of course, this was 9:30 PM on a Tuesday night, and even the Jersey Boys Vegas Web site says that's your best chance to get good seats. But, if you're dying to see Jersey Boys, and don't want to wait until 2009 for a good seat, you might want to take a trip to Nevada. (Or not.)

As for the show, it's still slick as hell and thoroughly efficient. (See my review of the original Broadway cast.) The book by Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice is a marvel of focus and economy, and manages to wrench genuine drama out of a thoroughly pedestrian story. But, as was true the first time I saw it, I found it to be a tale of sound and fury, signifying nothing. The show is entertaining but forgettable. I think of it as theatrical junk food: it's enjoyable while it lasts, but afterward it leaves you craving something more substantial.

The Vegas cast is professional, but for the most part pale next to the Broadway originals. (Yeah, comparisons are odious, but nonetheless inevitable.) Travis Cloer (Frankie Valli alternate) and Erik Bates (Tommy Devito) in particular suffer in comparison with Tony winners John Lloyd Young and Christian Hoff, respectively. Cloer and Bates do respectable jobs, to be sure, but they always seem as though they're performing, whereas Young and Hoff felt more natural in the roles.

Jeff Leibow overdoes the Jersey accent big time in an apparent attempt to make the part of Nick Massi more than it really is. Only Erich Bergen as Bob Gaudio seems successfully to make the part his own, bringing both strength and vulnerability to the role.

But the stars of the show remain Des McAnuff's slick direction and Sergio Trujillo's sharp staging. And then, of course, there are those wonderful Bob Gaudio songs, an admittedly rich songbook from which to draw. Somehow it all comes together to create a rousing good time of a show, even if it doesn't stretch the form, challenge the mind, or make a lasting impression. Jersey Boys is very good for what it is, but for me, it's the ultimate triumph of showmanship over content.

KÀ: The Best Cirque Ever

The highlight of my recent Vegas trip was Cirque du Soleil's spectacular show at the MGM Grand, KÀ. I've seen nearly every show that Cirque has put on, and this is easily the most visually stunning, the most acrobatically impressive, the most exhilarating Cirque show that I've yet experienced. And, yes, I saw O, but frankly I wasn't impressed. I found that the sheer size of the production dwarfed the physical feats on display.

With KÀ, it's not really the size of the show that's remarkable, although it is without question a literally massive undertaking. KÀ is also the most integrated, cohesive, unified of all Cirque's shows. In other words, this is the first Cirque show in which the story actually makes sense.

Granted, it's not the most involved of plots: it basically involves two siblings in an imperial Asian family who become separated and struggle to reunite, finding love and adventure along the way. Yeah, it's not going to win any prizes for complexity or nuance. But the numerous acrobatic performances actually fit into the plot, albeit sometimes in a tangential way. Most Cirque shows have themes and settings, but not so much as plot.

And the set. Oh, my sainted aunt, the set. I'm not one to walk out whistling the scenery but the sheer physical production is simply breathtaking. The theater for KÀ is truly immense, and the set has more hydraulics than Starlight Express, and yet the physical elements don't overshadow the proceedings, but rather enhance them. 

And the acrobatic acts themselves are simply astonishing. A few months back, I was poking around on YouTube, and I found a bunch of clips from KÀ (all of them apparently legal, taken from various online promos and television appearances). Watching these clips really made me want to see the show, and I'm glad that I rearranged my Vegas trip in such a way that I would get to see it. Watching the acts live had me cringing, flinching, clenching, and above all marveling at the imagination involved in dreaming up such acrobatic feats, and the skill involved in executing them.

So, if you're ever in Vegas, put KÀ at the top of your list. Of the six Cirque du Soleil shows currently playing in that city (the others are Mystère, The Beatles: Love, Criss Angel Believe, Zumanity, and O), it is, for my money, the most artistically satisfying.

Love: Cirque du Soleil Meets the Beatles

As I've said recently, whenever I'm in Vegas, I like to take in a Cirque du Soleil show, and this time I was fortunate to see two: The Beatles: Love and KÀ. Look for my review of the latter sometime soon. (In brief: frickin' amazing.)

The Beatles: Love represents the first co-branded Cirque show. (But not the last: cf. Criss Angel Believe.) Previous CdS shows have been all Cirque, all the time. Now they seem to be branching out and riding the marketing coattails of other established brands. I see nothing wrong with that, necessarily, as long as the shows are good.

And Love is good. Very good, in fact. The show embodies an evolutionary impulse on the part of the Cirque creators, an attempt to craft shows with more cohesive narrative structures. (As I'll relate in my review of KÀ, that show reflects the same imperative.) Love is more of a dance show, very loosely telling the tale of The Beatles, with a few acrobatic acts thrown in. Previous Cirque shows have been more act-heavy with dance transitions. Imagine Movin' Out with better songs, more elegant design, and a somewhat less literal narrative, and you essentially have Love.

The Beatles: Love is primarily a stunning visual achievement. The overarching look of the show is simply exquisite, from the diaphanous costumes to the clever animated projections. The physical acts themselves were less impressive than those in your typical Cirque show, but ultimately I didn't mind. There were still a number of acrobatic sequences that brought a very broad, satisfied smile to my face, including a stunning bit with four guys on in-line skates navigating a double half-pipe.

For a while, as I sat watching the show, I felt disappointed that there weren't any performances that made my jaw drop, as happens for me with most Cirque shows. But then I thought, why should the folks at Cirque simply keep trying to make things more impressive, more astonishing, more...American? Because isn't that a lot of what American culture is about? Making things bigger, longer, higher, faster, more elaborate, more expensive, more, more, more. Isn't that what essentially gave us Donald Trump? And isn't that what brought about our current economic mess?

Well, I seem to have strayed from my thesis a bit, but suffice to say, I fully support the apparent effort on the part of Cirque du Soleil to expand beyond the boundaries of their past shows. Especially when it results is something as gorgeous and satisfying as The Beatles: Love.

Phantom: The Las Vegas Spectacular

I hadn't planned on seeing any musicals while I was out in Vegas, but Vegas shows are scheduled in such a way that you can usually catch two a night, and, I ask you, how was a theater queen to resist?

So, as I was walking back to my hotel after seeing the Cirque du Soleil show The Beatles: Love (look for my review sometime soon), I found myself cutting through The Venetian, home to Phantom: The Las Vegas Spectacular. It just so happened that the 9:30 show was about to start. I figured what the hell. 

As I entered the $40-million custom-built theater, I wondered how different the show would be from when I saw it 20 years ago on Broadway. Phantom takes a lot of flack from theater queens: this semester it was my students' number-one choice for the most overrated musical. People continually decry it as an all-spectacle, no-substance show. Well, these people would likely not be placated by the Vegas production, which takes the spectacle to the nth degree. The theater has been built to resemble the Paris Opera House, with tiers of box seats containing elegantly dressed mannequins. They've also added some superfluous pyrotechnics to Vegas things up a bit.

But the real star of the space is the multi-layer chandelier with three large sections that orbit the audience like spaceships, then join up to take their place for the chandelier's climactic fall. I've never been one for technical theatrics, but even I was impressed. I remember being disappointed with the anticlimactic Broadway chandelier. It falls very slowly, then arcs toward the stage, where you can clearly see the stagehands waiting onstage to catch it. The Vegas version falls in a genuinely exciting fashion: very quickly, right on top of the audience, followed by a blackout.

As for the show itself, well, it's famously been cut down to accommodate the impatient Vegas crowds, although the night I saw it, it ran about ten minutes longer than the show's advertised length of 95 minutes. And, you know what, the show works better shorter. Sure, there's not as much character development, but is that really what we see a show like Phantom for? I found myself genuinely moved by the Phantom's plight, mostly because of the moving performance of standby Michael Lackey as the masked one. Lackey can actually sing the part, unlike original star Michael Crawford, and he brought a stirring sense of pathos to the role, keenly articulating the loneliness and tortured nature of the character. The other performances were professional but perfunctory. Kristi Holden as Christine Daae was vocally letter-perfect, but a bit lacking in the acting department. [CORRECTION: I received a note from Ms. Holden, and apparently she was not on the night I saw the show, but rather the alternate Christine, Erin Stewart. My apologies to Ms. Holden.] Andrew Ragone as Raoul had a similar great voice/flat acting dichotomy.

So, poo poo Phantom if you want. I actually kind of enjoyed myself, although I still think the show's lyrics are alternately meaningless and puerile, sometimes both at the same time. But as a spectacle qua spectacle, it certainly beats the hell out of Cats.

Penn & Teller Are Ultra Cool: Vegas Isn't

Well, I'm still in Las Vegas, and glad-handing like there's no tomorrow. (I gots to pay the bills.) Vegas is funny: it's constantly changing and yet it never really changes. This is my fourth trip to Sin City, and the physical layout has morphed dramatically over the years, but the essential nature of Vegas remains the same: vulgar, excessive, and soulless.

That said, I usually look forward to coming out here so I can take in a few shows. It sort of reminds me of Times Square in this respect. I hate being in Times Square, but I love the fact that there's so much to do in that area, namely theater. But I guess you have to take the good with the bad: neither city would have as many cool entertainment options if it weren't for the crass commercialism and meandering throngs.

The first Vegas show I took in was Penn & Teller at the Rio Hotel. No matter how many times I see these guys, I'm always impressed with their showmanship and craft. I had actually seen most of the segments from this particular performance before, but this did nothing to diminish their effect. It's like hearing a live version of a favorite song that just gets richer with repetition. Here are some YouTube clips of some of the classic P&T bits that were part of the performance that I caught:  "Shadows," "Sleight of Hand," "Cups and Balls," and "Burning a Flag." If you've never seen P&T before, these bits make for a nice primer to their work: they specialize in taking the bunk out of magic, but somehow it winds up being even more magical in the process.

But P&T are continually changing their shows, adding new segments and bringing back some of their classics. Teller had two new bits that were simply stunning, including one with a seemingly self-propelled red ball and one in which he turned a bunch of gold coins into goldfish.

Penn had some great new stuff, too, including a "mind-reading" segment in which he took the piss out of charlatans like John Edward and Uri Geller. During the routine, Penn was explaining what he was doing, and how it was all a trick, and yet somehow he still wound up appearing to possess otherworldly powers. In his most disturbing segment, Penn demonstrated his memory skills with the aid a nail gun. It was absolutely riveting, pardon the pun.

One of the things I love about Penn & Teller is that, after every show, they go out into the lobby to sign autographs and pose with fans for pictures. Of course, this makes those autographs virtually worthless, but it demonstrates their commitment to their fans, which is admirable. I'm not sure, if I were in a position in which anyone would want my autograph, that I'd have that much patience. I'm not usually the autograph/star photo type, but I couldn't resist getting a picture with Teller. The result is to the left. The moral: never trust a precious photo op to some drunken Vegas slag.

I'm Headed to Vegas. Baby.

For a while now, I've been looking forward to an upcoming business trip to Las Vegas. It's been on-again/off-again countless times in the past week alone, but it appears to be on-again. At least I hope so: I've already bought my show tickets.

Actually, "looking forward" isn't exactly accurate. I detest Vegas. I've been there three times before, and each time have been horrified by the vulgarity, the sheer bald-faced crassness of the city. If you take everything that's wrong with America, exaggerate it, and put a thin but respectable veneer on it, you basically get Vegas. Plus, I've never really been a gambler, and have no interest whatsoever in becoming one. (I guess I'm just too good at math.) 

But the first time I was in Vegas, I discovered Cirque du Soleil, specifically in the form of Nouvelle Experience. I was floored. I sat transfixed by the artistry and theatricality of the show. Cirque has since become a bit of a cultural cliché, but back in 1993, it was all fresh and new. Now, whenever I go back to Vegas, I make sure to take in the latest Cirque show. The second time I was there, I saw Mystère, and on my most recent trip I caught the lavish but somewhat overrated O.

But it's getting hard to keep up with the Vegas manifestations of the Cirque franchise. Mystère and O are still playing, and have since been joined by the adult-themed Zumanity, which I've not yet seen, but which won't be playing any of the days that I'm in town. So, next week I'll be taking in KÀ and The Beatles: Love. Then there's the latest Cirque show, Criss Angel Believe, which is currently in previews. That's six Cirque shows in one town, folks. Can you say "license to print money"?

Cirque du Soleil has become a bit repetitive over the years, and the holiday-themed Wintuk in particular was a disappointment. (Read my review.) But my friend and fellow blogger Steve On Broadway has raved about The Beatles: Love, so I made it a must-see for this trip. And I've been pretty impressed with the videos of KÀ that I've found around the Web, mostly on YouTube. Yeah, Cirque has lost some of its freshness and ability to surprise. But the shows are still gorgeous to look at, and there's always at least one act in each show that blows my mind.

I also have a ticket to see Penn and Teller, of whom I am also a longtime ardent fan. I saw them on my last Vegas trip, as well as on tour, and I'm an avid viewer of their Showtime series "Penn & Teller: Bullshit." Yeah, you can't get much more different from Cirque du Soleil than P&T, who are all about shattering illusions, whereas Cirque is all about building them up. But I think the combination of the two opposing cultural forces will make for a very entertaining trip.