Everything I Know I Learned From Musicals

Review - Nice Work If You Can Get It on Broadway

I have genuinely mixed feelings about "songbook" shows like Crazy for You, My One and Only, High Society, Never Gonna Dance, etc. One the one hand, the fact that all of these songs can be repurposed for a totally different show indicates how poorly integrated the songs were in the first place. (I'm certainly not dumping on the Gershwins, Cole Porter, Jerome Kern and the like. In the early 1900s, that's just how musicals were made, at least until Oscar Hammerstein came along.)

But with Crazy for You, My One and Only, and now Nice Work If You Can Get It, I mean, c'mon. We're talking about the frickin' Gershwins here. Is it ever a chore to listen to "Someone to Watch Over Me" or "But Not For Me"? Assuming they're well performed, that is, and well staged. Well, Nice Work If You Can Get It, we thankfully get both.

The show is essentially a reworked version of Oh, Kay!, a 1926 Gershwin musical with a book by "Princess" show collaborators Guy Bolton and P. G. Wodehouse. The new book by Joe DiPietro, Tony winner for Memphis, is frequently clever and often uproarious, with lots of vivid characterization along the way. The show's plot reflects the typical "bootleg" show from the 1920s. A trio of bootleggers need to find a place to hide their hooch. They discover that a certain playboy never uses his Long Island mansion, so they hide their stash in the basement. Of course, the playboy shows up with his bride-to-be, and havoc ensues. Along the way, we have lots of mistaken identities and misunderstandings. DiPietro's book may have one or two too many minor characters for the audience to keep track of, but overall he balances all the songs and setups efficiently, if sometimes perfunctorily.

For the most part, director/choreographer Kathleen Marshall keeps the pace brisk, although the proceedings begin to sag toward the end of act one. If Marshall's work here is not quite as thrilling as her direction and dance for the current revival of Anything Goes, it is more than serviceable, and occasionally inspired. The show starts off with a sharp and high-spirited version of "Sweet and Lowdown," introducing our playboy character. Later in the show, we get a wonderful example of purposeful dance. In order to keep the authorities from discovering the hidden alcohol in the basement, the playboy character (who's in on the game at this point) and one of the bootleggers start an infectious dance that includes arm movements that push the crowd away from the basement door. The crowd picks up on the movement, becomes distracted by the catchy nature of the dance, and voilà, we have a showstopper that also serves a dramatic function.

Beyond the humorous book and the frequently fresh staging, the other key assets of this production lie in the cast of Broadway pros in both leading and supporting roles. Kelli O'Hara as our lady bootlegger ably demonstrates here why she is one of our go-to leading ladies. She handles the comedy, the ballads, and the dance numbers with remarkable facility. Would that the same could be said for her leading man, Matthew Broderick, who's looking a bit tired of late. Sure, he has a certain languorous charm that could easily be mistaken for apathy. (Or should that be a certain apathy that could be mistaken for languorous charm?) But overall, Broderick's performance here falls somewhere between his endearing nerdiness in The Producers and his phoned-in performance in the TV movie version of The Music Man. Sometimes he's bright and playful, but other times he looks like he'd rather be someplace else. 

The supporting cast includes the wonderfully hammy Michael McGrath as one of the bootleggers and the delicious Judy Kaye as a zealous prohibitionist who loosens up considerably and hilariously upon finally sampling the "Demon Rum." Also on hand is the always delightful Jennifer Laura Thompson as the playboy's intended. Thompson's first-act number, "Delishious," is a sinfully enjoyable dose of pure confection.

So, Nice Work has quite a bit going for it, particularly with respect to the cast and those wonderful Gershwin songs. If it all adds up to something that's somewhat less than memorable, at least the show provides a good time while it lasts.

Review - Porgy and Bess Revival on Broadway

I continue to be amazed by purists who seem to think that any changes to  Porgy and Bess represent nothing less than sacrilege. Of course, it started with Stephen Sondheim's now-infamous screed in the New York Times, but it continues with various conversations I've had with people who've seen the show now that it's playing on Broadway. The orchestrations sound thin, they say. Or Norm Lewis is no Todd Duncan, they exclaim.

Well, Todd Duncan, with all due respect, is dead. And any modern production that attempted to use anywhere near the number of instruments that the original production featured wouldn't get past the budgeting stage. It would simply be too expensive. Does that mean we can't do Porgy and Bess ever again, if it can't be like it was? That we relegate George Gershwin's sensational music, Ira Gershwin's intelligent lyrics, and DuBose Heyward's compelling story to the history books?

Sorry to rant here, but this picayune niggling has sort of put a bee in my bonnet. Musical-theater aficionados have come to expect that, whenever we see a present-day production of a historic show, changes are inevitable to make the show work for modern audiences. Why is Porgy and Bess any different from any other show of that time? They all get rewritten, including Show Boat and Pal Joey. Is Porgy and Bess somehow more sacred?

From where I sit -- and where I sat, having seen the current production three times -- this new version of Porgy and Bess breathes thrilling new life into a show that, in the wrong hands, can become a creaky, listless bore. Director Diane Paulus and adapter Suzan-Lori Parks have made the drama more credible, the characters more believable. I saw the show twice at the American Repertory Theatre (read my review), and then once at the Richard Rodgers Theater on Broadway, and for me the production, which was splendid to begin with, has become even more teeming with life and emotion.

The performances in particular seem to have become richer and more nuanced as the production has had a chance to solidify. The glorious Audra McDonald is the paramount reason to see this production, and she remains stunning in her emotional intensity. Norm Lewis was out for the particular that I saw in New York, so we got understudy Nathaniel Stampley as Porgy. Well, Stampley can certainly sing the role, but he didn't have much of a presence on-stage. It made me appreciate all the more the understated yet palpable dignity that Norm Lewis brings to the role.

The supporting players appear to have developed a much richer sense of subtext, which was particularly present in the funeral scene and the hurricane segment. I got much more of a sense of the cohesiveness of the ensemble, and the emotional interactions helped these pivotal sequences build to a palpable wave of grief and communal connection. Whereas in Cambridge, I had an intellectual sense of the proceedings, in New York, I felt much more for the profound plight of these people.

There were numerous noticeable changes between the A.R.T. and Broadway versions of Porgy and Bess. The opening moment is staged somewhat differently: in Cambridge, Clara (Nikki Renée Daniels) sang "Summertime" in front of the traveler, but here she sings it as she ambles her way through the rest of the residents of Catfish Row. And this time, she wasn't holding an actual baby in her arms, but rather a theatrical representation (i.e. a doll). That was fine with me: I found the live baby in the Cambridge production to be distracting, particularly with all the cooing verbalizations that my neighboring audience members seemed compelled to share with their companions. 

The major physical change in the Broadway Porgy and Bess was the set, by Riccardo Hernandez. In Cambridge, the backdrop portion of Hernandez's set was a curved wooden monolith that titled up in an otherworldly fashion when Crown (Phillip Boykin) made his dramatic reappearance in the midst of the hurricane. His Broadway set was far more literal, and for me less effective, although it did offer the opportunity to see the Catfish Row residents turn out their lights in response to Bess's pleas for sanctuary.

Having already defended the current production of Porgy and Bess, I must admit that not all of the changes were necessarily welcome or effective. Some of Suzan-Lori Parks's new dialog is a bit clunky. At one point, Mariah, the sort-of spiritual mother of the Catfish Row contingent, opens a scene by saying, "Now you girls gotta help me get ready for this here picnic," a line that smacks more of forced exposition than natural dialog. A bit later, she says to Serena, "Now, it's been a month since Robbins (Serena's husband) pass," which again doesn't exactly bear the mark of verisimilitude.

And there are times when the new book seems a tad too efficient. When Crown reemerges for the hurricane scene, it no longer makes sense why he would go back out into the storm to rescue Clara. In the original, he does it to humiliate and taunt Porgy, to show that he's more of a he-man. But in the current version this fails to come through, and we're left to wonder why such a horrible human being would perform such a seemingly selfless act.

One element that remained unfortunately unchanged were the bright, pressed, pastel Sunday clothes that the people of Catfish Row wear to the picnic at the end of Act 1. The garments (by Emilio Sosa) are gorgeous, and make for a rather stunning stage picture, but they seem awfully expensive and fancified for these supposedly indigent people.

But, quibbles aside, the central aspects of this Porgy and Bess work extremely well: the glorious Gershwin score and the sensational cast of top-notch professionals. The best scene in the entire production remains, for me, when Crown reappears at the picnic, and Bess can't seem to resist the pull of desire ("What You Want With Bess?"). Audra McDonald's visceral conjuring of the dueling forces manifesting themselves within Bess ranks among the most harrowing and profoundly moving moments I've ever experienced in theater. And her delirium scene, after Bess stumbles back from Kittiwah Island, hit me like a sucker punch all three times I saw the show.

Due to strong ticket sales, Porgy and Bess has extended the end of its run from July 8th to September 30th. The CD for Porgy and Bess will receive its release from the good folks at PS Classics on May 8th. See the show. Get the CD. And let me know what you think. Are you a purist or a pragmatist? All are certainly welcome, but I think I've made it clear where my own allegience lies.

Review - Porgy and Bess at the American Repertory Theatre

A confession: There are certain historic entries into the musical-theater canon that I've never really warmed up to, supposed masterpieces that I can appreciate for their innovations and craft, but that in performance usually leave me cold. One of those is The Threepenny Opera, which, although I recognize its importance, I've never actually enjoyed on stage.

Porgy and Bess has, for me, typically fallen into the same category. I know I'm supposed to love it, but it's always felt like homework. I guess it's because I've never been much of an opera fan, and every time I've seen Porgy and Bess, it's featured singers performing in an operatic style, and the productions have been rife with recitative, which I detest.

Recently, I sheepishly admitted my disdain for recitative to the head of the vocal performance program at the Boston Conservatory, and she said, "That's because very few people write recitative well. And many don't know how to perform it." OK, so that made me feel a bit less like a uncultured slob, but I nonetheless approached the current production of Porgy and Bess at the American Repertory Theatre with a decent amount of dread.

Of course, I had heard ahead of time that the Porgy and Bess production staff, director Diane Paulus and libretto adapter Suzan-Lori Parks, were making changes to the show to make it more accessible. I mean, how could I not have heard about that, right? First came Patrick Healy's New York Times article about the production, followed by Stephen Sondheim's dyspeptic, cranky screed in response. (Nothing like judging a production you haven't seen, is there, Steve?) Thankfully, Paulus opted not to engage with Mr. Sondheim in his testiness, issuing a brief and respectful response. Audra McDonald was equally classy, responding on Twitter with a very simple message: "Here's what I think...to quote the greatest musical theater composer of our time...'Art isn't easy'."

I wound up seeing Porgy and Bess at the A.R.T. twice. In between the two performances that I attended, which were exactly a week apart, I rewatched the 1993 DVD of the 1986 Trevor Nunn production at England's Glyndebourne Festival. Nunn's production was over three hours long, and contained a lot of the recitative. (Oh, and, BTW, Mr. Sondheim, the DVD refers to the show as "The Gershwins' Porgy and Bess." And there's not a goat cart in sight.)

[SPOILER ALERT: Of necessity, I must discuss the ending of the show in the paragraphs below.]

The sequence of live show/DVD/live show again was actually perfect for appreciating what's really strong about Paulus's production. Mr. Sondheim needn't have worried. This Porgy and Bess is actually very respectful of the piece, and to the legacy of composer George Gershwin, lyricist Ira Gershwin, and librettist and co-lyricist DuBose Heyward. A huge portion of the recitative has been replaced by dialog, which speeds things up considerably. The song tempos are also considerably faster, and the staging and pace of the book scenes is full of urgency. The production as a whole feels so much more efficient, but also more heartfelt as a result.

Seeing the show twice afforded me the opportunity to witness a failed experiment on the part of Paulus and Parks. The first time I saw the show, the ending was a bit different from that of the original show. In this new version, when Porgy comes back from viewing Crown's body and spending a week in jail, Bess hasn't yet left for New York City with Sporting Life. This gave rise to a confrontation scene between Porgy and Bess, in which Porgy asked Bess if she really wanted to go, and Bess answered, "Yes." Bess left, and Porgy proceeded to sing "I'm on My Way." Presumably the boat hadn't left yet, and Porgy would have a chance to catch up to Bess.

Of course, in the original, Bess has long since left when Porgy returns, which gives rise to a heartbreaking scene in which the Catfish Row residents struggle to tell Porgy that Bess has gone. It's not clear whether Paulus and Parks made the switch because of Sondheim's letter, but in the long run, the show is better for it.

So, is this Porgy and Bess an opera or a musical? Well, at intermission at one of the performances I attended, I overheard the following interchange:

Man 1: "The program says they're making Porgy and Bess more of a musical than an opera."
Man 2: "Well, they're wearing microphones."
Man 1: "Is that the difference?"
Man 2: "And they're actually acting."

Hardly an accurate characterization of the genres, but it gave me a chuckle. More to the point, I was struck by a recent article by New York Times music critic Anthony Tommasini, in which he very succinctly and aptly captured the distinction: "Both genres seek to combine words and music in dynamic, felicitous and...artistic ways. But in opera, music is the driving force; in musical theater, words come first."

For me, the chief reason why this production of Porgy and Bess works so swimmingly the is that Paulus and Parks have succeeded in their aim of making the show more of a musical than an opera. Certainly the singing voices are more from a musical theater idiom than an operatic one. And, although this production doesn't stint on the music, the words really do come first here, and so do the characterizations.

The performances are vivid and fresh, particularly that of Audra McDonald, who brings a laser-sharp intensity to every moment she's on stage. Her confrontation scene with Crown, "What You Want With Bess," was by turns erotically charged and emotionally mesmerizing. You could see why she was so torn, drawn in by Crown's raw sexuality rather than merely repulsed by him. And her delirium scene after Bess has spent two days slogging through the marsh to return from Kittiwah Island was utterly heart-wrenching. I've rarely been so moved.

As for Norm Lewis as Porgy, he kind of ran hot and cold for me. It's certainly an asset to have a Porgy that you can imagine someone actually wanting to sleep with. (OK, not just someone. Me.) Having a sexually appealing Porgy makes the romance more credible. Porgy is more than just a convenient meal ticket for Bess: He's a genuine love interest. I've always melted at the sound of Lewis's rich, resonant baritone, and thrilled at the tonal quality of his upper range. But his emotional intensity came in and out during the book scenes. However, his climactic scene with Crown was stunning, full of seething rage and raw catharsis.

Based on the publicity that Sondheim's letter generated, a number of national critics broke with precedent and made the trip to Cambridge to review the show before its scheduled run in New York. Suddenly it wasn't just a show, it was news. In particular, Ben Brantley of the New York Times, weighed in last week, and although he marveled at Audra's performance, he was less than impressed with the rest of the production. According to Michael Riedel of the New York Post, Brantley's review made some people involved with bringing the show to New York question whether this was wise.

Well, from where I sit, this Porgy and Bess is too good not to go to New York. More people deserve to see, not only Audra's sensational performance, but also this engaging, passionate, and faithful take on this musical classic. Let's hope that cooler heads prevail, and that this production takes its rightful place at the Richard Rodgers Theater in December.

Review - My One and Only at the Goodspeed Opera House

When My One and Only had its out-of-town tryout in Boston back in 1983, word got around town rather quickly that the show wasn't working. Avant-garde opera director Peter Sellars was originally hired to helm the show, but the result was, by all accounts, a pretentious mess. What's more, star Tommy Tune wasn't happy with Sellars' vision of a Brechtian satire, preferring something more light and entertaining. So Sellars was fired just days before the show was set to open in Boston, and librettist Peter Stone and director Mike Nichols came in to doctor the show.

The producers were going to close the show down, but Stone and Nichols asked for ten days to rewrite. Meanwhile, the cast continued to perform the show, while it was under revision, to a somewhat confused Boston audience. At one point, act one had been completely rewritten, but they were still performing the show with the original second act, and the two bore little if any relation to each other. Tommy Tune famously came out at the end of each of these transitional performances and make a curtain speech to the effect of, "Yeah, we know it's confusing, but, hey, wasn't the dancing great?" I paraphrase, of course.

My One and Only made it to Broadway and played a respectable 767 performances, or a little less than two years. Not a smash-hit run, to be sure, but certainly more than anyone in one of those in-between (not to mention full-price) Boston performances might have predicted. The show won Tony Awards for best actor (Tune himself), best featured actor (Charles "Honi" Coles), and best choreography (Tune and Thommie Walsh).

Alas, I did not get to see My One and Only during its now-legendary Boston tryout. I was but a poor college student, and the horrific word-of-mouth was more than enough to keep me away. Opportunities to see the show since its Broadway run have been few, but fortunately our good friends at The Goodspeed Opera House saw fit to dust the show off and give it a good airing.

My One and Only was a prime example of a "songbook" show, what we would now call "jukebox" musical. Although when you're discussing the like of George Gerswhin and Ira Gershwin, somehow "songbook" seems more respectful, but also historically accurate, since the term "jukebox" didn't really kick in until the 1940s. Whenever I discuss the Gershwins in my musical-theater history course, I usually ask students to name the show that certain Gershwin songs were from. They're rarely able to do so, although to be fair, I'm not so sure I'd do so well myself. And why? Because the songs are more important the the shows.

In the 1920s, musicals weren't written to stand the test of time, and they didn't, for the most part. They were meant to play for a few months, make a profit, and maybe produce a few hit songs. Funny Face certainly produced its share of hits, four of which are included in My One and Only, including "He Loves and She Loves," "S Wonderful," and the respective title songs for each show. The creators of My One and Only also interpolated other Gershwin songs, including "How Long Has This Been Going On?," "Nice Work If You Can Get It," and "Kickin' the Clouds Away."

The resulting show, at least based on the Goodspeed production, clearly reflects the hurried nature of the show's construction. Peter Stone was one of the most successful and admired librettists musical theater has ever had, but here his work shows the strain of trying to shape the book around an existing set of songs and characters. The people here become mere tropes - a Lindbergh-like flyboy, a female English-Channel swimmer, a Russian impresario, a foul-mouthed female mechanic - which I guess is pretty faithful to how they would have been portrayed in an actual Gershwin musical, but I would have preferred something a bit more nuanced and three-dimensional. But, hey, great songs, huh?

The Goodspeed production is rather complex technically, with multiple set pieces flying in and out, and elaborate digital projections, but the overall visual feel of the show was washed out and diffuse. Fortunately the production has two major assets: Tony Yazbek in the Tommy Tune role and choreographer Kelli Barclay. Yazbek, whom I have seen in numerous productions, including A Chorus Line, Gypsy, and On the Town, is quite simply the consummate performer. He's an incredibly agile dancer and a fine singer, but he also brings a very credible and appealing quality to the characters that he plays. It certainly doesn't hurt the he's easy on the eyes, but fortunately this man has the talent to back up his looks.

Barclay's work here features some of the most raucous and joyous dance currently appearing on the eastern seaboard. When Yazbek is on-stage, particularly in combination with Barclay's energetic and plentiful tap choreography, the show is a joy. When the book kicks in, it tends to grind to a halt. The finale in particular is quite an uplifting and joyous affair, in which Barclay pays tribute to the original choreography (thankfully preserved on the Broadway's Lost Treasures DVD), but Barclay thankfully provides her own individual touches.

My One and Only runs until June 25th at the Goodspeed. If you want to see one of the best performers currently working execute some of the best dance you're likely too see all summer, you might want to head on down to East Haddam, CT.

Review - Girl Crazy at Encores

As I was waiting to be shown to my seat at Girl Crazy, the first of the Encores concerts at City Center this season, I overheard a conversation behind me.

Man: "Oh, look at all the empty seats up in the balcony."
Woman: "That's because this show isn't very popular. They really should do more popular shows."

Well, in the first place, this was 10 minutes before showtime, and by the time the curtain rose, there were in fact very few empty seats. But, more important, this interchange seemed to miss the whole point of the Encores series, at least in concept: to showcase musicals that haven't been seen in a while, or have somehow fallen out of the public consciousness.

Now, granted, that hasn't always been the case with every single Encores show: Gypsy, On the Town, and Damn Yankees can hardly be called obscure. But we certainly have Encores to thank for dusting off such fascinating, albeit flawed, gems as Music in the Air, Juno, and Girl Crazy.

Each year, when I discuss George Gershwin in my musical-theater history course at the Boston Conservatory, I challenge my students to name the shows that various Gershwin standards came from. "Someone to Watch Over Me"? "Fascinatin' Rhythm"? "The Man I Love"? (See the answers at the end of this post.) The point is, in the 1920s, songs weren't really written to fit within the context of the shows; they were meant to be hits. It wasn't until Show Boat that people really started to think about integrated scores. The Gershwins started to create more dramatically cohesive songs starting with Strike Up the Band and Of Thee I Sing, and as a result, we don't really remember as many of the numbers from those two shows. Because they were written more for dramatic purposes, the songs are consequently harder to perform out of context.

Girl Crazy most definitely belongs in the pre-Show Boat category of Gershwin works. The show itself is rather unremarkable, except in that it gave rise to a handful of simply wonderful songs: "But Not for Me," "I Got Rhythm," and "Embraceable You." The plot surrounding those songs is sweet but insubstantial. For me, the best parts of the show were the overture, the entr'acte, and the exit music, wherein we get to focus exclusively on George Gershwin's playful, haunting, and just plain amazing music.

Most of the songs in the show have scant set up, although frequently with Encores that's more a function of the script adaptation than a reflection of the quality of the show itself. Even so, Girl Crazy would seem to have more than its share of numbers with questionable relevance or necessity, such as "Sam and Delilah" and "Barbary Coast," the latter including a tap section that added little to the already minimal meaning of the song. It was certainly nice to hear a Gershwin score intact, with just a scattered standard here or there, as opposed to a retrofitted lineup of guaranteed blockbusters, a la My One and Only or Crazy for You. Of course, the flip-side of that pleasure is I had to sit through such forgettable songs as "The Lonesome Cowboy Won't Be Lonesome Now" and "When It's Cactus Time in Arizona." Yeesh.

I will admit that some of the one-liners, particularly those poking fun at New York City, were fairly amusing, including the following interchange: 

Woman: "Are these the sorts of clothes that smart New York girls are buying these days?"
Man: "Smart New York girls don't buy their own clothes."

As for the cast, Wayne Knight as the fish-out-of-water New York cabbie pretty much stole the show, although to be frank, there wasn't much to steal, and the front door was wide open, as it were. Ana Gasteyer had the unenviable task of belting out a bunch of numbers that made Ethel Merman a star. The best that can be said about the otherwise talented Gasteyer's performance here is that she was loud and could hold the long notes as long as need be. Other than that she was rather mechanical, and her hair and costumes were regrettable, to say the least. 

The capable Mark Kudisch was wasted here on a cardboard role. His one big number, the once and would-be showstopper "Treat Me Rough," was undermined by awkward staging and pointless business. (The ukelele? Why?) In the leading male role, Chris Diamantopoulos was pert and energetic, but somewhat forgettable. But the impression that Diamantopoulos made was downright indelible compared to that of his leading lady Becki Newton. I guess Newton stars on "Ugly Betty" or something, which is probably the only reason she got this gig. It certainly wasn't her stage presence.

Oh, and a final note to Actors' Equity: Can we once and for all lose the ruse of having the Encores performers carry scripts throughout the show? Not one performer here ever looked at the script in his or her hands. Yeah, I know, the rule is there because the actors are working for a special concert rate, but at this point it merely looks silly.

MINI GERSHWIN QUIZ:
=> "Someone to Watch Over Me," Oh, Kay!
=> "Fascinatin' Rhythm," Lady Be Good
=> "The Man I Love." Trick question. The song never made it into a stage show, at least not in George Gershwin's lifetime, but it was cut from three different shows, including Strike Up the Band. By the time the Gershwin brothers found a place for the song, it had already become a hit, and they didn't want to be accused of interpolating.