1776, Encores! at City Center

Once again, Encores! pulls a musical gem from out of the ether, this time 1776, last seen in revival in 1997 with Brent Spiner (born 1949) as John Adams.  1776 features music and lyrics by Sherman Edwards (1919-1981) and a book by Peter Stone (1930-2003). The original production opened on March 16, 1969, at the 46th Street Theatre and played for 1,217 performances, winning the Tony for Best Musical, trouncing Hair and Zorba in the process.  (Inexplicably, time has looked favorably on both Hair and Zorba, but here the Tony committee made the right decision.)

The show was invited to perform at the White House, Courtesy of then-President Richard Nixon (1913-1994).  This caused concern for some in the show, most notably Howard Da Silva (1909-1986), who played Ben Franklin.  The last time Da Silva had received an invitation from Nixon, it was to testify before 1947's House Committee on Un-American Activities (HUAC), the anti-communist purge Nixon enabled during his time in Congress. Da Silva refused to talk and was subsequently blacklisted from Hollywood for many years.  Amazingly, the show decided to play for the President, and did so uncut.

Many are familiar with the movie version, released in 1972 and retaining the entire, original Broadway cast – a rarity at the time.  The film is a record of the show as it was originally, save for the excision of a song critical of a conservative Congress, “Cool, Cool Considerate Men,” which was cut by Jack Warner at the request of Nixon – a cut the Broadway producers would not allow when the show played live in the White House.  The film was a commercial disappointment, but it has had a continual afterlife on television, where it plays every July 4^th.

In an election year, when it seems that the nation is moving further and further away from the democratic ideals of the Founding Fathers, it’s only natural that Encores! revive the show now.  Despite that impetus, though, it is a choice more interesting than artistically sound, for no matter how much I immoderately love 1776, I must admit that it is an uneven, and ultimately unsuccessful, show.  While it has always remained a great favorite of Your Correspondent, I cannot dismiss its many flaws.

What’s good:  Peter Stone’s book, which is amusing, compelling and historically accurate.  Rather than render the Founders as a bunch of plaster saints, he creates real human beings who have their private agendas, rivalries and petty complaints.  What’s not-so-good: much of the score by Edwards.  It’s not surprising that there are no songs from the show that have emerged as standards, because none of them work outside of the context of the action of the show.  And even with that in mind, most of the songs are ponderous, heavy-handed and unsingable.  What’s bad: even a musical with indifferent songs should sing, and so much of 1776 concentrates on the book, that the distantly-placed songs often seem like an after-thought.

The original Broadway and film cast were able to surmount many of these complaints through sheer charm and magnetism.  The Encores! cast includes Santino Fontana as John Adams, John Behlmann as Thomas Jefferson, and John Larroquette as Ben Franklin, with Nikki Renée Daniels as Martha Jefferson and Christiane Noll as Abigail Adams.  With the surprising exception of Larroquette, each performer brings a great deal to the table.

We have admired Fontana in the past (notably in Cinderella and Zorba), but he is perhaps too soft and likeable a player for the obnoxious and disliked Adams; he is, however, top notch in his romantic duets with the incandescent Noll, who glistens as Abigail.

Daniels has only one number as Martha Jefferson, but she and it are spectacular.  Her voice is clear and dulcet, shimmering with a vibrancy that is palpable.  One day she will be a big star.  Behlmann, as Jefferson, is Americana personified.  Tall, lanky and impossibly handsome, Behlmann brings Gary Cooper more to mind than Jefferson, but his grace and charm radiate from the stage.

Larroquette would initially seem to be inspired casting, but his performance is disappointing.  As written, Franklin serves more as a Greek chorus to the action, making wry asides and winking at the audience.  Larroquette – under-rehearsed and under-prepared – seems so peripheral as to be absent.  Franklin has the best lines in the show, but you wouldn’t know it from Larroquette’s lazy performance.

Director Garry Hynes stages 1776 in contemporary times, and it’s not surprising that much of the cast struggled with their lines in such a book-heavy show.  But the Congressmen who do not carry their weight (how some things never change!) are more than complimented by those who shine.  Particular praise should go to Jacob Keith Watson as Robert Livingston of New York, Macintyre Dixon as the Custodian (handily stealing every scene he is in), and the fabulous Robert Sella as Secretary Charles Thomson.  Thomson is a thankless role, but Sella brings so much wry humor, understatement and weight to the part that the impression is undeniable – more of Mr. Sella, please.

Alexander Gemignani nearly stops the show with his powerful number “Molasses to Rum,” a song virtually impossible to sing, and Bryce Pinkham, as Pennsylvanian John Dickinson, shows very strong.  Ben Whiteley is the guest music director, and he acquits himself smartly.

Much like the original, Viet Nam-era production, director Hynes uses the story of the Founding Fathers to comment on contemporary, dysfunctional politics.  Where the original emphasis may have been on a Congress and American leadership disassociated from the public actually fighting the war, Hynes uses the opportunity to attack our Congress which is so mired in party politics as to be paralyzed.  The song “Cool, Cool Considerate Men” has been slightly tweaked to Conservative men, and while we here at The Jade Sphinx think there is more than enough opprobrium to spread on both sides of the political divide, the choice works well. 

1776 also stars Terence Archie (Dr. Josiah Bartlett), Larry Bull (Col. Thomas McKean), André De Shields (Stephen Hopkins), John Hickok (Dr. Lyman Hall), John Hillner (Lewis Morris), Kevin Ligon (George Read), John-Michael Lyles (A Courier), Laird Mackintosh (Judge James Wilson), Michael McCormick (John Hancock), Michael Medeiros (Caesar Rodney), Wayne Pretlow (Roger Sherman), Tom Alan Robbins (Rev. Jonathan Witherspoon), Ric Stoneback (Samuel Chase), Jubilant Sykes (Richard Henry Lee), Vishal Vaidya (A Leather Apron), and Nicholas Ward (Joseph Hewes). The show will run from March 30-April 3, 2016.

Though never a perfect show, 1776 is a stunning reflection of American ideals, grounded in debate, high-minded moralism and Enlightenment era independent thinking. We could use a little more of all of that right now.

Verdi’s Macbeth at Glimmerglass

Our recent sojourn upstate was punctuated by two very different theatrical experiences – the dramatically reimagined Oklahoma! at Bard SecondStage, and the opening night of Verdi’s masterful Macbeth, at Glimmerglass.

Giuseppe Verdi (1813-1901) wrote Macbeth in 1847; it was his initial foray into translating Shakespeare from theatrical stage to operatic stage.  (He would later do the same with Otello and Falstaff).  Verdi collaborated with Italian librettist Francesco Piave (1810-1876), with whom he would also collaborate on Rigoletto, La Traviata and Simon Boccanegra.  Most of these operas are perhaps better known than Macbeth, which is something of shame as it is a riveting and compelling piece of work.

When approaching Macbeth the play vs. the opera, it is best to remember that the play belongs to Macbeth, while the opera belongs to Lady Macbeth.  Strong players (or singers) are essential for both, but the male performance must carry the play and the leading lady must carry the opera.  This was thrown into stark relief in the Glimmerglass production, which succeeds largely on the masterful performance of Melody Moore as Lady Macbeth.

Macbeth stars baritone Eric Owens in the title role.  Owens has done wonderful work in the past, but he is primarily a singer, and most directors seem to forget that opera demands acting as well.  Though his voice is powerful, it lacks emotional range, and as an actor Owens is utterly hopeless.  Rotund and bearing a striking resemblance to the late Tor Johnson, Owens seems to have only one facial expression as his stock-in-trade:  uncomfortable surprise.  His Macbeth spends several hours as if he just realized a mouse ran up his trouser leg, and it does his singing and the production no favors. 

Banquo is much better served by Soloman Howard, who brings a sense of gravitas and vulnerability to the role.  His singing, at times, seems less sure than is ideal, but he does manage to hold the stage by the tone of his voice and his considerable stage presence.  Strong, too, was Nathan Milholin in the thankless role of the doctor who observes Lady Macbeth’s mad wanderings.  He served as a valuable stabilizing element to Moore’s stagecraft.

However, the evening certainly belonged to Moore and her magnificent Lady Macbeth.  Her singing was a revelation, and her performance deeply affecting and memorable.  All too often (in Shakespeare or Verdi), we are served a one-note Lady Macbeth, but Moore clearly understood the arc of the character, and the many conflicting emotions that drive her early ambition and her later madness.  On top of that, Moore has a compelling presence, charisma to spare, and a quality of glamor that makes her eminently watchable.  This is a singer who will make a considerable mark.

Joseph Colaneri conducted the score competently, but unevenly.  At times, it seemed as if he did not pay proper attention to the entire orchestra, or integrate the vocals with the music seamlessly.  However, the music itself is so wonderful, stirring and majestic that these problems of technique are forgiven.

Perhaps the major misstep of the evening is the direction by Anne Bogart and choreography by Barney O’Hanlon.  Bogart sets the production in what appears to be the era between World Wars, but, once that conceit is in place, seems to do nothing with it.  It is not a comment on fascism per se, nor on nationalism.  She peppers the stage with effectively lit (by Robert Wierzel) refugees … but where does that fit in with Macbeth?  In addition, the murder of Banquo is committed by thugs in bowler hats and Halloween masks, carrying both rather tony walking sticks along with clubs.  Laurel and Hardy Go to Hell may be an interesting idea, but it does have to tie in with the overall concept to make any sense.

Confusing, too, was Bogart’s concept of the Weird Sisters (or witches).  Normally three in number, Bogart serves us 12, all of whom seem to dress like dowdy spinsters straight from Agatha Christie.  This does seem to diminish their power to frighten and mesmerize, and the multi-national nature and broad age-range of the witches seems to add to the confusion.  (Perhaps they are all part of the Coven Exchange Plan?  Who knows?)  The sisters play other roles, suggesting evil omens throughout Verdi’s operatic cosmos, but we never get a handle on who they are or why they are menacing.

The staging is achieved with a minimal set – a rotating wall denoting swanky interiors, and a dark room painted with enormous roses for the mad scene.  It all works surprisingly well … but it doesn’t always play as theater.  In many senses, this is a superb concert performance of Macbeth rather than an overall successful theatrical experience.  With that caveat in mind, Macbeth makes for an enjoyable evening at the opera and worth a trip to Cooperstown.

Oklahoma! at Bard SummerScape

Most Jade Sphinx readers will have seen the film version of Oklahoma! or, perhaps, a Broadway revival or regional production.  Oklahoma! is not only a classic Broadway musical, it is perhaps the key musical, in that it was the first to incorporate song and dance into the story arc.  Prior to Oklahoma!, the plot of musicals went on hold while songs took center stage; it took the genius of Richard Rodgers (1902-1979) and Oscar Hammerstein II (1895-1960) to realize that music and dance are also a form of narrative.

So it was with great interest that Your Correspondent saw the new, much-lauded revival at Bard SummerScape, on view till July 19.  Most people remember Oklahoma! as one of the sunniest of musicals, and most people would be in for a surprise with this production which is being touted as gritty and darker.  For Your Correspondent this would normally mean stay away.  But though there is a great deal here to offend purists, it is a worthy and thought-provoking production that is not to be missed.  The change in tone succeeds in making Oklahoma! a more thought-provoking than toe-tapping experience, and patrons leave discussing motivation rather than just humming familiar standards.

Directed by Daniel Fish, Oklahoma! is staged in the round, with the audience seated at long deal tables in a room decorated for the show’s  closing neighborhood social.  (Chili and lemonade are served during intermission!)  The score – usually lush and orchestral – is strategically reduced to a country band to increase regional flavor.  And Curley, played winningly by Damon Daunno, often accompanies himself on guitar to smart effect.  (This also helps the real deficiency in his singing – Daunno has a charming lilt to his voice, but the demands of the show are beyond his talents as a vocalist.)  Daunno is perhaps too insinuating a leading man, with an extremely lanky frame that seems to slide into each scene rather than dominate it.  We expect good things from him in the future, and he is suited to the darker reimagining of the show, but somehow he never completely convinces.

A bigger disappointment is Amber Gray as the heroine, Laurey.  Gray is a spare and astringent presence, and her Laurey strives to be powerful and independent, and comes off merely as strident and sullen.  Gray, fortunately, has an impressive voice and sings her songs effectively.

Several of the performers, however, are everything one could wish for, and more.  Ado Annie – often depicted as a coy vixen – here is reimagined as a backwoods slut by actress Allison Strong.  Her brazen sensuality while singing I Can’t Say No! leaves nothing to the imagination, and she has a wanton heat that adds considerable sizzle to the proceedings.  She is evenly matched by the delightful James Patrick Davis as Will Parker, who makes hay with an exuberant rendition of Kansas City, and plays with energy and panache.  Benj Mirman as peddler Ali Hakim (always our favorite character in the show) is a pleasing presence, with an understated handsomeness that contrasts well with the all-American he-men surrounding him.  And though not a singing role per se, he has a pleasing baritone and an easy stage presence; we would happily see him again.

Other players, such as Mitch Tebo as Andrew Carnes and Mary Testa as an unusually slatternly Aunt Eller, also appoint themselves successfully.

However, the real revelation of the evening is Patrick Vaill as the villain of the piece, Jud Fry.  A brooding, sullen presence filled with quiet menace and a palpable, latent sense of evil, Vaill nearly walks away with the production in a scene played, surprisingly, completely in the dark.  When Curley comes to Jud’s room to learn more about him, director Fish blackens the stage, recording the conversation between the two with an infra-red camera and flashing the results on the wall monitor.  The effect is unsettling, creepy and other-worldly, and with his listless eyes and slack carriage, Vaill is a spectacular boogeyman.  He is an actor who will deliver great things in the future.

However, poor Jud’s death at the end of the play is more execution than self-defense: an out-of-context anti-NRA commercial that completely up-ends the normally happy ending of the show.   In addition to the anti-gun message, we also get a battle of the sexes that may delight even today’s feminists.

These days, when we are given the paradoxical dark and gritty Superman, it is perhaps no wonder that Fish serves a light tuneful show as a more real-life dark vision of rural America.  The singing of the signature tune is oddly … defiant, and many of the choices may leave people with a history of the show scratching their heads in dismay.  But if you are adventurous, and want to see a daring, thoughtful and mostly-successful reimagining of a beloved piece of Americana, then the new Oklahoma! is for you.

Encores! Presents Zorba!

Life’s what you do while you’re waiting to die.

That’s the opening line of Zorba!, and Your Correspondent felt the same way through the length of the show.

We here at The Jade Sphinx are consistently delighted with Encores!, which is dedicated to recreating vintage musicals that have not seen the light of day for decades.  The team, led by Jack Viertel, seeks out the original book, orchestrations and choreography of vintage musicals, and the result is often nothing less than magical.

So it is a dour climax that they close the season with a revival of Zorba!, with a book by Joseph Stein (1912-2010), lyrics by Fred Ebb (1928-2004) and music by John Kander (born 1927). Zorba! was adapted from the 1952 novel Zorba the Greek by Nikos Kazantzakis, and 1964 film it inspired.  Zorba is about the friendship between Zorba and Nikos, a young American who has inherited an abandoned mine on Crete, and their romantic relationships with a French woman and a local widow.

The original production premiered in 1968, and was directed by Hal Prince (born 1928), garnering a Tony Award nomination for Best Musical (and losing to 1776).  It ran for 305 performances, and the 1983 revival with Anthony Quinn (1915-2001) ran for 362 performances. 

Well … where to begin?  It is perhaps essential to confess upfront that Zorba! is filled with so many of the things that Your Correspondent finds objectionable:  ethnic shtick, unpleasant peasants, religious hoo-haw, preening machismo and cheap schmaltz.  Like Fiddler on the Roof and other such happy-peasant, God-it’s-great-to-be-stupid confections, I found it completely indigestible.

The conceit of Zorba is that an American waif Nikos (Santino Fontana) inherits a mine in Greece.  There is he befriended by ‘man’s man’ Zorba, who teaches him the joys of living for the moment.  Yes, it’s Mame on a testosterone high; but where Mame manages to be sweet, engaging, funny and emotionally involving, Zobra is merely a slog.  More importantly (if we continue with Mame for a moment), unlike everyone’s favorite Auntie, no one in Zorba grows, changes, or has any significant insight by the time the curtain mercifully descends.

It is not helped that the cast – with two notable exceptions – cannot breathe life into this torpid stew.  Zorba is supposed to be a manifestation of the life force, and should be played with energy, brio, panache and a touch of arrogance.  Sadly John Tuturro barely registers as a presence.  Add to the fact that he can neither sing in pitch or in tune, and one wonders what he is doing there.  When explosives are needed, Tuturro provides only firecrackers.

Because this is a ‘Greek show,’ there has to be a ‘Greek chorus,’ that narrates the proceedings.  Marin Mazzie fills that role with all the vengeful energy of one of the Greek furies; one gets the feeling that perhaps she has seen Elektra one time too many.  She is a powerful presence, but after a while one feels that she is simply waiting to spit at us.

Fortunately, two cast members stand out above rest.  A benediction upon Zoë Wanamaker, as Hortense, an aging seductress.  Her number, No Boom Boom, is the absolute highlight of the show; and her death song, Happy Birthday, is equally energetic and delightful.  At this point looking rather like Mother Riley from the old British comedies, Wanamaker is a delight to behold.  She has more energy, fire and comedic zest than anyone else in the show.

A close second is Santino Fontana, as the shy intellectual Nikos.  Fontana is one of the most appealing leading men currently on Broadway, with a high octane smile, a winning personality and a beautiful singing voice.  Who put him in a show where he does not have a solo number?

The rest of the cast sinks rapidly from memory.  Zorba! was choreographed by Josh Rhodes and directed by Walter Bobbie; these are extremely talented men, but one suspects that it would take a minor miracle to make a purse out of this sow’s ear. 

Usually we leave Encores! enchanted, enriched and delighted.  After seeing our ingénue murdered, our leading man bereft, the one comedic character part die only to have rapacious peasants ransack her house, let alone see workers stealing lunch from a disabled man, I went home and kicked my dog.

Oh, well.  Kicking the dog is what you do while you’re waiting to die.  Or something.

Encores! Presents: Lady Be Good

What a joy it is to live in near the good people at Encores!  As readers of this column know, Encores! is dedicated to recreating vintage musicals that have not seen the light of day for decades.  The team, led by Jack Viertel, resurrect book, orchestrations and choreography of these lost treasures, and the result is often nothing less than magical.

That alchemy was in evidence this week when the team recreated Lady, Be Good, with score and lyrics by George and Ira Gershwin, and a book by Guy Bolton and Fred Thompson.  The original Broadway production opened in 1924 – a 90 year old musical! – and starred the team of Fred and Adele Astaire.

The story is gossamer thin – brother and sister Dick and Susie Trevor are evicted, leaving them on their bed in the street.  In order to eat (and find a rich wife for Dick), they crash the garden party of socialite Jo Vanderwater; however, Dick really loves Shirley Vernon and wonders if he can sell his affections for money.

Meanwhile, Susie meets a charismatic hobo back from Mexico, who may (or may not) be heir to a fortune.  Add to that a scheming lawyer, mistaken identity and comic hijinks both high and low, and you have the makings for one of the first Broadway musical comedies.

Where to begin?  The cast that Encores! has managed to gather is marvelous.  Danny Gardner and Patti Murin star in the roles originated by the Astaires, and they consistently hit just the right note of light screwball musicality.  They open the show with the delightful Hang On To Me, a song that has fallen into some undeserved obscurity, but is quite special in its lilting beauty.  Also terrific is their syncopated number, Swiss Miss, which guys everything Swiss, from chocolates to cheese.  (Good thing the Swiss are not currently protected by the P.C. police…)

Jeff Hiller and Kirsten Wyatt shine incandescently in the supporting comedy roles, and sell We’re Here Because in a manner to bring down the house.  Watch for both Hiller and Wyatt in the future … they are meant for great things.

Douglas Sills has the plum role of shyster lawyer J. Watterson Watkins.  Sills – his slick 1930s handsomeness working to good effect – has a wonderful voice and superb comic timing.  The Encores! performances are really staged readings, and Sills manages to milk the necessity of holding bound copies of the play’s book for maximum laughs.  He nearly walks away with the show tucked neatly in his jacket pocket, along with his showy pocket square.

Colin Donnell shines as Jack Robinson (yes, that’s the name), the hobo who may also be an heir.  A sweet-voiced juvenile, he shows to great effect both musically and comically.  His duet with Patti Murin, So Am I, is a charmer.

Special mention must be made of Broadway legend Tommy Tune, in a special cameo as the Professor.  In a medley of rich, primary colored costumes, the leggy Mr. Tune comes onstage whenever the plot needs a lift – age has not withered Tune, and his smiling interruptions are great fun.  Even today, Tune radiates good cheer.

Rob Fisher is the guest conductor of this edition of Encores! and Lady, Be Good was directed with a deft and light touch by Mark Brokaw.

As always with Encores!, the show is open only a brief time.  The last performance of Lady, Be Good is February 8.  Buy, steal or beg a ticket – it’s not to be missed.

Encores! Presents Irma La Douce

Readers of The Jade Sphinx are perhaps weary of hearing about the swelligant series of musical revivals at City Center here in Gotham.  Encores! is simply one of the chief pleasures of living in New York, where the audience is often as interesting, varied and engaging as the show.  Here, musical theater buffs congregate for restagings of little-seen shows with top-notch casts and the finest orchestra performing on Broadway.  The creative minds behind the series are Artistic Director Jack Viertel and Music Director Rob Berman, who have done a superb job of mounting these shows since 1994.

This year’s crop of Encores! productions included the incandescent Little Me and the fetching and moving Most Happy Fella.  They close out the year with a first – a revival of a European musical that is perhaps best known through its US film version – which was, oddly enough, made without music.

Irma La Douce was first performed in Paris in 1956.  It has a score by Marguerite Monnot (1903-1961), with book and lyrics by Alexandre Breffort (1901-1971).  It ran for four years.  It moved to London’s West End in 1958 – where this version, directed by Peter Brook (born 1925), ran for three years.  It was mounted on Broadway by David Merrick (1911-2000) in 1960.  The English adaptation and translation was by Julian More, David Heneker and Monty Norman.  It ran for one year.  (An empiricist might conclude that musicals about prostitutes play better in French.)

Most readers will be familiar with the non-musical film version of 1963, starring Jack Lemmon (1925-2001) and Shirley MacLaine.  The film version shares with most musicals a frenetic energy and a colorful, vibrant bounce, and comes recommended.  (However, Jack Lemmon is often an exhausting screen presence, and is at his most febrile here.  You have been warned.)

The story concerns Irma La Douce, a successful prostitute who lives in Paris. A poor law student, Nestor le Fripé, falls in love with her and is jealous of her clients. In order to keep her for himself, he assumes the disguise of a rich older man, "Oscar," and takes many odd jobs to pay for her. Finally no longer able to sustain his exhausting life, he disposes of his Oscar identity, only to be convicted of murder, and transported to Devil's Island.  He escapes and returns to Paris, where he proves that he is innocent before reuniting with his beloved.

As always, Encores! are wonderfully staged and mounted.  This is the first-ever full set in the series, by John Lee Beatty, and it’s a stunner.  Sadly, the set is really quite the best thing about the show.  The entire production never manages to build momentum, and despite their best efforts, the cast lacks the verve and panache necessary to pull off the show. 

As Irma, Jennifer Bowles sings wonderfully well, but her dancing (more stomping than stepping, really) is lamentable.  Nor does she really have the personality, nor the energy, necessary to stop the show through any of her solo numbers.  Rob McClure, in the dual role of Nestor and Oscar, lacks the comic timing and farcical sense that someone like Christian Borle or Danny Kaye would bring to the role, and leaves little impression.  Indeed, the entire cast is too subdued to electrify the farcical proceedings, and the resulting show just lies there lifelessly.  The one exception is Malcolm Gets, as the bartender, who sings well and plays adroitly.

This lack of energy is the result, in part, of the pedestrian staging by director John Doyle.  It would seem that his idea of bedroom farce is a great deal of running and mugging, without positioning his players in any strategic way around the stage.

The main problem, of course, is the book, by More, Heneker and Norman.  There is a persistent melancholy note, and, more telling, it is never quite as smart as it thinks it is.  It also relies upon the old chestnut of someone not recognizing their disguised lover, not even during sex.  It doesn’t work in Shakespeare, and it hasn’t worked since then.  Worse still, the book never really exploits the comic potential of the material, and the manic qualities inherent in the book devolve into mere whimsy.

An unfortunate end to what was a stellar season at Encores!, but even the best are entitled to an occasional misstep.

The Threepenny Opera, with F. Murray Abraham

New York-area readers hungry for a little Weimer Republic-era color could do no better than the recent revival of The Threepenny Opera, currently at the Linda Gross Theater, 336 West 20^th Street, Manhattan.  In an English adaptation by Marc Blitzstein (1905-1964) of the Bertolt Brecht (1898-1956) book, the small but game troupe of professionals breathes new life into the show with music by Kurt Weill (1900-1950).

Under the direction of Martha Clarke (born 1944), this production owes its artistic inspiration to the style of the seductive and seedy era of Weimar Berlin, and it is gamely played by the Atlantic Theater company.  The Blitzstein translation of the original is the same as appeared in the US in 1954, when the Opera played at the Lucille Lortel Theatre.

The Opera was originally adapted from an 18^th Century English ballad opera, John Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera.  The Weill-Brecht show opened originally in Berlin in 1928, and was hailed as a socialist criticism of capitalist society.  Though filled with many fine songs, only The Ballad of Mack the Knife has since become a standard.  (There is a wonderful recording of Lotte Lenya, Mrs. Kurt Weill and star of the original production, singing with Louis Armstrong here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5362wt7-dEM.)

The story is simply told: two-bit punk Macheath (Mack the Knife) marries virginal Polly Peachum.  This enrages her father, who is King of the Beggars, and he works to have Macheath hanged for past crimes.  However, Tiger Brown, the Chief of Police, is an old crony of Mack’s, and he ensures the criminal’s safety.  When Peachum finally has Mack behind bars and heading towards a well-deserved hanging, the villain receives a pardon from the Queen, along with a baronetcy. 

Working on a bare-bone set, the cast manages to convey the seamy back-streets of London, a brothel, the home of the beggar king and an open-air hanging.  The invention of the staging is matched only by the game playing of the cast, who invest the show with rare theatrical alchemy.

Though Clarke’s staging is uniformly creative, it is, to our taste, marked by a taste for the sordid and the seedy.  It was hardly necessary for the brothel scene to be punctuated by moments of simulated sex or gratuitous nudity.  (No prudes here at The Jade Sphinx, we like nudity more than the next fellow.  It just doesn’t have to have such an unsavory, sordid air.)  At times, Clarke doesn’t trust the material and over-compensates, hardly necessary, considering the inherent theatricality of the show.  Clarke’s work may be very smart, but it leaves a dank taste at times.

As the Beggar King, F. Murray Abraham (born 1939) cuts a wonderfully, Fagin-like figure.  By turns majestic and threadbare, he manages to invest his character with a tremendous, conniving energy.  Mary Beth Peil (born 1940), as his wife, Mrs. Peachum, is a powerhouse of venom and indignation.

Laura Osnes (born 1985), as Polly, was recently seen in the Broadway production of Cinderella, and there are few more beautiful voices currently on Broadway.  Her acting is clean and direct, her charisma high and her singing magnificent.  More please.

Also solid is Rick Holmes (born 1963), as Tiger Brown, as well as two standouts in the ensemble: Timothy Doyle and Jon David Casey.  Doyle first came to our attention for his scene-stealing turn opposite Frank Langella in Fortune’s Fool some 10 years ago, and we wonder why he is not a bigger star.  Casey has an impressive physicality and presence, and his handsome face can easily transform into effective menace.  I’m sure we will see more of them both.

Perhaps the one disappointing performance comes from leading man Michael Park (born 1968), as Mack.  Where the role calls for calculating, slimy insouciance, Park never seems to be more than the self-centered football star remembered from our college days.  He never effectively projects menace, intelligence or charm – vital components of Mack.  Fortunately, the overall quality of the show transcends the hole in its center.

Recommended.

Encores! Presents The Most Happy Fella

Once again Encores! at City Center demonstrates that New York is heaven for all musical theater buffs.  Encores! is dedicated to restaging little-seen shows with top-notch casts and the finest orchestra performing on Broadway.  The creative minds behind the series are Artistic Director Jack Viertel and Music Director Rob Berman, who have done a superb job of mounting these shows since 1994.

The first show of the season was the delightful Little Me, which was nearly incandescent in its brilliance.  Could Encores! we wondered, maintain this high level of quality?

Well, with The Most Happy Fella, they have succeeded beyond wildest expectations.  Fella is everything a Broadway musical should be: tuneful, funny, dramatically sound and, ultimately, moving.  If Little Me was a diverting romp, Fella is a show that will stay with the viewer for years to come.  I cannot recommend it enough.

The original Broadway production of The Most Happy Fella premiered in 1956, with book, music, and lyrics by Frank Loesser (1910-1969).  It was quite unusual for the time, in that the show did not conform to the standard Broadway musical template – it was more dramatic than comedic, most of the dialogue was sung, and the show dealt with subject matter usually seen in operas rather than musicals.  The story revolved around an older man romancing younger woman, and was based on the play They Knew What They Wanted by Sidney Howard (1891-1939). Despite its lack of convention, the original production was a hit, running for 14 months.  (One interesting side-note, the original show was funded by Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz; in fact, her television counterpart went to the show in an episode of I Love Lucy.  Cross marketing is nothing new!)

The Most Happy Fella has narrative conventions somewhat similar to Cyrano.  In San Francisco of 1927, Italian grape farmer Tony Esposito romances a beautiful, younger waitress Rosabella by letter.  When it comes time to send a photo, he instead provides a photo of the younger and more handsome Joe, the farm foreman.  Of course, Rosabella comes to the town and learns that she has been deceived.  Before she can leave, however, Tony is injured in a trucking accident and Rosabella remains to marry the injured man.

Of course, their road to happiness has many complications, including Rosabella’s intermezzo with Joe, interference from Tony’s spinster sister, and community expectations.  But rather than have these conventions resolve in a standard musical-comedy manner, the show has a great deal of dramatic heft.  The setbacks experienced by the characters are very real, and each slight hurts like a physical blow.

The cast, as is usually the case with Encores!, is a Master’s Class in musical theater. Oddly enough, the two leads, Laura Benanti (born 1979) as Rosabella, and Shuler Hensley (born 1967) as Tony, are simply serviceable.  But Cheyenne Jackson (born 1975) as Joe, is luminous.  Gifted with a beautiful voice, good looks and charisma that is palpable, it is a mystery why this fine actor/singer is not a bigger star.  Though his part is smaller, he makes an indelible impression.  It seems as if nothing in the theater is beyond his protean talent.

However, the evening really belongs to Heidi Blickenstaff (born 1971), who plays Cleo, Rosabella’s best friend.  She is a powerhouse, and she galvanizes the show.  Her number Big D (about coming from Dallas) is a showstopper that infuses the second act with verve, adrenalin, and old-fashioned show biz razzmatazz.  Sharing the number with the fetching Jay Armstrong Johnson, as her simpleminded beau, Blickenstaff takes what is already a wonderful show and brings it to a whole other level.  It’s the kind of barnstorming not seen since the days of Ethel Merman or Judy Holliday, and the experience is electrical.  Blickenstaff and Johnson reunite for another number, I Like Everybody, and, once again, the result is magic.  I have now resolved to see anything featuring the dynamic, charismatic Blickenstaff.

Musicals ultimately come down to the quality of their songs, but a show where most of the dialogue is sung presents problems in the production of standards.  But while there may be no timeless tunes on hand, there are many terrific songs.  Joey, Joey, Joey, performed by Jackson, is wonderfully ethereal.  And Standing on the Corner, with Johnson, Ryan Bauer-Walsh and Arlo Hill, is a terrific comedic treat, as is when Zachary James, Bradley Dean and Brian Cali team up for the musical numbers Abbondanza and Benvenuta. 

Loesser was going after something more with Fella; it is an extremely aspirational show, and even when it doesn’t work completely, it is admirably ambitious and nothing less than entertaining.  It harkens back to a time when musicals were more than an existing songbook with a loosely constructed book to hold it all together.  The production is also ambitious for Encores!, with perhaps their largest cast ever and most elaborate settings.  Once again, they prove that musical theater is one of the fine arts.

The production is directed and choreographed by Casey Nicholaw (born 1962) and it is something special, even for a series and production team that are never less than magnificent.  As with all Encores! productions, the run of the show is extremely limited, and Most Happy Fella ends April 6^th.  You do not want to be one of those unhappy fellas who missed it.

Encores! Presents Little Me

If there is a heaven for theater-lovers, it must be something like a perpetual run of Encores! productions.  Fortunately, there is a bit of heaven-on-earth, as anyone capable of heading to New York can regularly visit City Center to view the Encores! series of musical revivals.  Encores! is dedicated to restaging little-seen shows with top-notch casts and the finest orchestra performing on Broadway.  The creative minds behind the series are Artistic Director Jack Viertel and Music Director Rob Berman, who have done a superb job of mounting these shows since 1994. 

A few years ago City Center was renovated to something approaching its former glory – creating the perfect space to realize every dream you ever had of seeing a Broadway musical.

The first show for the season is a winner – Little Me, with a book by Neil Simon (born 1927), music by Cy Coleman (1929-2004) and lyrics by Carolyn Leigh (1926-1983).  It is based on the novel Little Me: The Intimate Memoirs of the Great Star of Stage, Screen and Television by Patrick Dennis (1921-1976).  Readers of this blog will well-remember Dennis as the author of the book and play Mame, a touchstone of personal development for many of our readers.

The original production of the show opened at the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre in 1962, and ran for 257 performances.  The musical was tailored to the talents of television comic Sid Caesar (born 1922), who starred in the television variety program Your Show of Shows, which was written, in part, by young Neil Simon. 

The Dennis novel is a camp classic – Belle Pointrine is a scheming chanteuse who uses and abuses men on her way to money, stardom and social standing.  When Simon set about adapting the material, he envisioned a vehicle for Caesar where he could play Belle’s multiple husbands and lovers.  In addition, he could send up America’s love for celebrities, and the entire genre of Horatio Alger success stories. 

Subsequent revivals of Little Me have changed Simon’s book, but Encores preserves the original in all its delirious glory.  Simon envisions the story as older Belle (played wonderfully by Judy Kaye) telling the story to Dennis himself (played by David Garrison).  The bulk of the play is an extended flashback with younger Belle (the luminous Rachel York) and the various men in her life, all played with gusto and brio by Christian Borle.

Drawing on his experience writing television variety shows, Simon scraps the ideal of a straightforward musical comedy and, instead, creates an extended revue.  This can only work if the material is in the hands of a gifted clown and shtick-meister, and, fortunately, this revival has that in spades with Christian Borle.  We here at The Jade Sphinx enjoyed him greatly as the embryonic Capt. Hook in Peter and the Starcatcher, but nothing prepared us for the unbridled comic invention and energetic tomfoolery on display here.  By turns reminiscent of such farceurs as disparate as Tim Curry, Buster Keaton and Dick Van Dyke, Borle is a powerhouse of comic invention.  His performance is a nonsensical tour-de-force.

Fortunately, he is matched by the beautiful and deeply funny Rachel York.  She gives lie to the common canard that women cease to be sexy when they are funny.  Her singing is terrific and her dancing and slapstick extremely accomplished.

Also worthy of note is the handsome Tony Yazbeck, who sings the show’s only memorable song, I’ve Got Your Number.  Yazbeck shows up only intermittently in the proceedings, but he leaves a strong impression.  More, please.  In addition, Harriet Harris delivers solid comic support, as do Lewis J. Stadlen and Lee Wilkof as brother impresarios.

The dancing is topnotch, with a group of talented and attractive dancers to move the story along and provide able support to the overall zaniness.

In the Encores extended history of wonderful productions, few have matched the sheer fun and manic invention of Little Me.  This is theatrical alchemy of a high order, and the gee-wizardry on display at City Center is a marvel to behold.  The crowd was delighted with this inventive bauble, and it was several hours before your correspondent could stop smiling.

Little Me plays today through Sunday – beg, borrow or steal a ticket.  It is not to be missed.

Frank Langella Is King Lear at BAM

We here at The Jade Sphinx are still reeling from the magnificent performance of Derek Jacobi (born 1938) as Lear at BAM nearly three years ago.  It remains, simply, the greatest Shakespearean turn we have ever witnessed.  Is Frank Langella (born 1938), one of the finest actors of his generation, up to the challenge?

Lear is one of the most provoking and ambiguous of Shakespeare’s plays.  Its place in his cosmology is deeply contentious – is the play one of the most bleak and despairing ever penned, or do the final reconciliations and admissions of frail humanity make it ultimately optimistic?  We have seen Lears howling into windstorms, mumbling quietly to themselves, and – sometimes, as in the case of Jacobi – opening their inner-selves to display the very workings of their souls.

The current production of King Lear is a mixed bag of delights.  As is often the case when a “Great Actor” tackles a major role, many of the supporting parts are stinted, and that is the case here.  Fortunately, the overall value of the production maintains a consistent interest.

We are first struck by the wonderful set by Robert Innes Hopkins, a blasted heath right out of a horror film.  Lit by torches, capable of suggesting a castle and a barren ruin, it strikes a wonderfully somber note (helped immeasurably by dramatic lighting by Peter Mumford).

Cavorting through this magnificent design is Langella.  Oddly enough this protean actor, so famous for the velvety richness of his voice, changes the timbre and pitch to something more like a growl.  Where Jacobi saw Lear as alternately a spoiled and abused child, Langella visualizes the King as both an old fool and an old bully.  It is an entirely valid approach, but his growling, shouting and raging in the first act strikes a single note, and his performance suffers from a lack of variety.

However, Langella improves exponentially in the second act.  His voice returns to its normal register.  His mad scene with Gloucester is delightfully played, and his reconciliation with Cordelia moving.  At her death, his reading of "Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life, And thou no breath at all? O thou'lt come no more, Never, never, never, never, never” is among the most moving I have ever seen.  Langella pauses between each “never,” looking into different parts of the theater, his voice softly echoing through the house.  It’s a wonderful moment, and one wishes there were more like it.

Director Angus Jackson creates a wonderfully theatrical experience, with many showy set-pieces.  The raging storm where Lear descends into madness is effective (though the staging nearly overwhelms Langella’s playing), and the suggested battle bits (lights flashing behind looming trees) is impressive.  

Sadly, Jackson falls far short of providing sufficient support for Langella. Denis Conway, as Glouscester, William Reay, as Burgundy, and Steven Pacey, as Kent, are all fine without setting the stage afire.  On the other hand, Catherine McCormack, as Goneril, and Isabella Laughland, as Cordelia, are simply wretched.  (In fact, Laughland is never more convincing than when she plays a corpse.)  As Albany, Chu Omambala delivers the most flat and uninteresting performance I have seen this season.

Lauren O’Neil is terrific as Regan, and Harry Melling quite wonderful as the Fool.  (Why does Shakespeare make this wonderful creation vanish from the latter part of the play?  One of the many mysteries of the play…)  As Cornwall, Tim Treloar is deliciously evil.

Better still are Max Bennett and Sebastian Armesto as half-brothers Edmund and Edgar, respectively, who lend wonderful support.  Armesto makes a particularly appealing Edgar, and straddles the difficult line of rejected son to feigned madman superbly.  Better still is Bennett.  King Lear often becomes Edmund’s play when cast correctly, and the handsome and athletic Bennett makes a meal of his role.  By turns suave, puckish, conniving, and amoral.  It is a star-making turn, and this Lear may signify the debut of a major, North American classical actor.  Mr. Bennett, more, please.

At the end, we were somewhat moved when the final effect should’ve been devastating.  This Lear is highly dramatic, but only intermittently moving.  It could have been so much more.

This production of Lear premiered in October 2013 at Chichester's Minerva Theatre and plays its New York engagement at BAM through Feb. 9 in the Harvey Theater.

Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart in Waiting for Godot, by Samuel Beckett

Readers of this blog know of my boundless admiration for the artistry of both Ian McKellen (born 1939) and Patrick Stewart (born 1940), two of the finest actors of their generation.  So, it was with some qualms that I learned that these two great knights of the theater were coming to Broadway in a double act, but not in, say Othello or Becket … or even in The Sunshine Boys or The Odd Couple … but in two modernist plays, Harold Pinter’s No Man’s Land and Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot.

We found No Man’s Land to be intriguing, despite our deep and abiding trouble with this maddeningly oblique and mannered play.  So how do McKellen and Stewart fare with what is consider the classic absurdist comedy?

In Waiting for Godot, two characters, Vladimir and Estragon, wait in vain for the arrival of someone named Godot.  Aside from the fact that both men have seen better days, we know nothing of them.  Indeed, we know nothing of Godot, or of where the two men are, and why they are waiting. Or even what Godot means to them.  In fact, it almost seems as if Pinter provided a wealth of information in No Man’s Land provided compared to what we are told by Beckett in Godot.

This, of course, has led to endless interpretations of what the play “means” since its first premiere in Paris in 1953.  Is it mediation on religion?  On politics?  Is it Freudian?  Jungian?  Christian?  Existential?  Ethical?  Are they gay men, or is this a comment on deeply homo-social friendships?  Or is it simply surrealism run amuck?

Samuel Beckett (1906-1989) was not going to be any help in pointing out the meaning.  He famously told Sir Ralph Richardson (1902-1983) that if I had known more I would have put it in the text, and that was true also of the other characters.  He remained remarkably closed-mouthed about what it all meant until the very end.  Indeed, in his introduction to the play, Beckett writes:  I don't know who Godot is. I don't even know (above all don't know) if he exists. And I don't know if they believe in him or not – those two who are waiting for him. The other two who pass by towards the end of each of the two acts, that must be to break up the monotony. All I knew I showed. It's not much, but it's enough for me, by a wide margin. I'll even say that I would have been satisfied with less. As for wanting to find in all that a broader, loftier meaning to carry away from the performance, along with the program and the Eskimo pie, I cannot see the point of it. But it must be possible ... Estragon, Vladimir, Pozzo, Lucky, their time and their space, I was able to know them a little, but far from the need to understand. Maybe they owe you explanations. Let them supply it. Without me. They and I are through with each other

We here at The Jade Sphinx protest that I cannot see the point of it is not exactly an artistic credo of any great worth.  Indeed, it abdicates the artist’s foremost responsibility – to represent life and give it meaning.  But, if we want to see two great actors in a once-in-a-lifetime chance, we take it as it comes, to quote Pinter.

One other constant in most productions is that both Vladimir and Estragon wear bowler hats, and I cannot help but thinking while watching Stewart and McKellen last night that I was watching some weird synthesis of Laurel and Hardy and the worst excesses of Eugene O’Neill (1888-1953).  There is an underlying sweetness and innocence in both Vladimir and Estragon that is extremely reminiscent of Laurel and Hardy, and if ‘the boys’ were somehow cast in Strange Interlude, the result would be Godot.  It is also a sweetness that is sadly lacking in the mostly mean and rather vicious No Man’s Land.  Both McKellen and Stewart have a remarkable warmth about them that infuses Godot with a humanism that is absent in the text.  I wish they had a better vehicle to show their innermost hearts.  The tenderness they shower on one another, the simple acts of affection, the acceptance of human frailties: these, more than anything else in the play, leave a profound impression.

As with No Man’s Land, McKellen somehow scores the showier part, here playing Estragon.  (Bert Lahr in the original Broadway production – and if the contrast between McKellen and Lahr does not illustrate how malleable these characters are, nothing does.)  McKellen is a marvel: he is completely submerged in the character and layers of old man makeup.  His performance is wonderfully physical, and his mutterings and asides are great comic business.  It is also a fearlessly naked performance: McKellen is unafraid of being frail, dirty and vague.  It is a masterful bit of underplaying.

Stewart, as Vladimir, has the lion’s share of the dialog and he is wonderful.  He manages to achieve a lilt to his usual stentorian voice – and if I’m not mistaken, he consciously or subconsciously is modeling much of his performance on Stan Laurel (1890-1965).  This makes a great deal of sense, and seldom has Stewart played to sweeter effect.  It is Vladimir who is moved throughout the play by compassion, empathy or outrage; he is also ribaldly funny.  I never expected to see Stewart sing or dance – both of which he does here – nor have I ever expected to see him master low comedy slapstick.  It seems this protean actor’s range is limitless, his energy galvanic and his touch both deft and profound.

The sour note of the evening was Shuler Hensley (born 1967) as the barbarous Pozzo.  Hensley’s playing was broad enough to embarrass a church-basement performance of the play.  Fortunately, Billy Crudup (born 1965) as the ironically named Lucky, shines once again.  Both Pozzo and Lucky were components Beckett threw in to provide some kind of action in the play; however, the action is so brutal and callus as to throw off the emotional tenor of the play … whatever that is.

I think a more interesting approach to both plays would have been for these two great actors to switch roles on alternate performances.  How wonderful it would’ve been to see each man’s interpretation of each role – and where they differed.  Gielgud and Oliver did it in the 1930s, switching Mercutio and Romeo, so it’s not impossible – perhaps someday.

For readers able to see only one of the plays, certainly Godot is the one to catch.  It has the greater warmth, is more open to interpretation, and both actors are more evenly matched.  More importantly, they actually play off one another, whereas in No Man’s Land, they might as well have been in separate rooms (or plays). 

Godot also left me strangely … moved.  As a play, I cannot respect it, nor can I defend it.  I certainly can’t explain it.  But these two sad ragamuffins caring for one another in an indifferent universe cannot help but deliver a level of pathos.

Returning again to Laurel and Hardy, a critic once wrote that the world wasn’t their oyster, but that they were the pearl inside of it.  So, too, with Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellen in Waiting for Godot.