Everything I Know I Learned From Musicals

The Best Musicals of 2011

For Christmas, I treated myself to the Stephen Sondheim's Hat Box, which comprises both volumes of his collected lyrics: Finishing the Hat and Look, I Made a Hat. I'm in the active process of devouring the latter, and was struck by one of Sondheim's sidebars, this one about "Awards and Their Uselessness." Sondheim very cogently and soberly dissects the theater-awards process, a process that he himself is no stranger to, both in terms of being recognized and passed over. Sondheim concludes that the only real uses that artists have for awards are building confidence and, for the prizes that come with a cash sum, livelihood.

As I sat down to put together my annual lists of the best and worst musicals of the year, Sondheim's essay kept coming to mind. Lists are much like awards, in that they artificially create competition among the incomparable. And yet, like awards, we can't seem to get enough of lists. I know that the primary traffic drivers to my site are the numerous lists that I've compiled of The 100 Best Musicals of All Time, The Most Overrated Musicals, The Most Influential People in Musical-Theater History, etc. So forgive me, dear reader, while I pander to our baser instincts and engage in the arbitrary, subjective, and all around unfair process of ranking the best and the worst in musical theater (at least that I had a chance to see) in 2011.

(To read my full reviews, click on the initial mention of the title of each show.)

10. Ten Cents a Dance - A lot of people seem to be over director John Doyle and his actor/musician approach to musical theater. (Some would call it a gimmick. I think of it more as another potential way to approach a show. The charming new musical Once uses actor/musicians, and I haven't heard anyone griping about that. At least not yet.) With Ten Cents a Dance, Doyle found what was perhaps the best use yet of actor/musicians in this revue of songs of Rodgers and Hart, which played this summer at the Williamstown Theatre Festival. Doyle centered the story around a musician (Malcolm Gets) and five women in his life (including Donna McKechnie and Lauren Molina), and the actor/musician device proved an apt and compelling device for illuminating the relationships and creating a strong sense of collaboration, conflict, and catharsis. The show also played at the McCarter Theatre earlier this fall, and I haven't heard about any additional engagements, but I'm hoping to see maybe the Roundabout pick it up for a limited New York run.

9. Show Boat - Even though Show Boat is a universally recognized classic, opportunities to see the show live are relatively few. This is partly because of the imagined set requirements for a show of such sweeping chronological scope, but the good folks at the Goodspeed Opera House found a simple but ingenious way around this - they used the theater auditorium as a proxy for the audience section on the boat itself. This had the double benefit of creating a festive theatrical atmosphere for the show, but also bringing the audience members closer to the action. This allowed for the full emotional sweep of Oscar Hammerstein's compelling book and lyrics and Jerome Kern's glorious score to come to the fore. I had some quibbles with some of the casting and with the director Rob Ruggiero's at times breakneck pacing, but on the whole, this production became a welcome blueprint for more theaters to take on the seemingly onerous task of putting up one of the most important and glorious shows in the musical-theater canon.

8. Company - I wanted to include at least one of the "cinecasts" from the past year, simply because I want to encourage producers to keep them coming. My favorite this year was the filmed version of Stephen Sondheim's Company, which an all-star (or mostly-star) cast performed in a very limited run with the New York Philharmonic. Some thought that, with the ready availability of the DVD from the recent Broadway revival, this broadcast was a tad de trop. But given the opportunity to see Neil Patrick Harris as Bobby, and Patti LuPone as Joanne, I mean come on, folks. In some ways this version of Company surpassed all others that I've seen: Bobby has never been more sympathetic or lively than in the hands of Mr. Harris. And the supporting cast - which included Martha Plimpton, Craig Bierko, Katie Finneran, Jill Paice, Jennifer Laura Thompson, and Aaron Lazar - was simply outstanding. Word on the street has it that we probably won't see a DVD release of this production, but perhaps it might show up on PBS. (Please?)

 7. How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying - All the revival love this past awards season seemed to go to Anything Goes, but for my money How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying was the best of the last season. (Well, "better." There were only two.) The supposed star of the show was, of course, Daniel Radcliffe, but for me the star was director/choreographer Rob Ashford in a satisfying return to form after the previous season's desultory Promises, Promises. Ashford's ample and athletic choreography really gave the production a central motor, and there were numerous smart directorial touches along the way. Plus, I'll take any opportunity I can get to witness that smart and funny book by Abe Burrows, Jack Weinstock, and Willie Gilbert, and to revel in those richly textured Frank Loesser songs. (OK, so maybe not "any opportunity." I still haven't decided if I'm going to take in the show again with either Darren Criss or Nick Jonas. Perhaps if I have an extra show slot during one of my upcoming NYC trips.)

6. Follies - A lot of people were incredulous that I didn't fly down to DC to see this production of Follies at the Kennedy Center. (Anyone who would like to fund any proposed theater trips around the country is welcome to contact me through Paypal or some other money-transfer mechanism.) I think I knew deep down that I would get to see the production on Broadway, and I did. Quite happily. And twice. Follies has one of the best scores ever written (Thank you, Mr. Sondheim), although it is saddled with a book by James Goldman that possesses a few too many overripe passages than I care to enumerate. Nonetheless, the show is a wonderful showcase for a bevy of seasoned performers, and this production has a rich and varied complement of same. Bernadette Peters was the ostensible star here, but for me the production belonged to Jan Maxwell and Danny Burstein, who proved in spades why they're two of the most reliable and frequently cast performers of the past ten years. Follies runs until January 22nd. If you haven't already seen it, I order you to do so. Twice.

 5. Porgy and Bess - As if we didn't already have enough to thank Stephen Sondheim for, we can also tip our hats to the master for bringing much-needed and -deserved attention to the upcoming Porgy and Bess revival. Of course, that wasn't his intention. He was really just fulminating about proposed ("proposed," mind you) changes to the now-classic show by director Diane Paulus and adaptor Suzan-Lori Parks during its tryout run at the American Repertory Theatre. For a while there, it was looking as though Sondheim's letter to the New York Times was going to scuttle any chances of Porgy and Bess reaching New York, but thankfully cooler heads have prevailed, and the show is now in previews at the Richard Rodgers Theater. Which means a much wider audience will have the opportunity to luxuriate in the glorious music of George Gershwin, the rich and resonant voices of Audra McDonald and Norm Lewis in the title roles, and a much more dramatically efficient and compelling version of this heartbreaking story than any I've seen.

4. Candide - Here's another terrific production that, like Ten Cents a Dance, needs to find its way to New York. Of course, director Mary Zimmerman's fresh new take on Candide, which I saw at the Huntington Theatre in Boston, has already been seen in Chicago and Washington, DC. But it's the first version of Candide (and there have been many) that has truly done justice to both Voltaire's scathing book and Leonard Bernstein's sweeping score, and thus merits a sit-down stay in Manhattan, preferably on Broadway. Zimmerman has not only crafted a lively new libretto that takes full advantage of Bernstein's music, she has also put together an innovative production that brings more life, humor, and theatricality to the Candide story than any production I've encountered. Reliable rumor has it that we may indeed see this Candide, and some time very soon.

3. The Shaggs: Philosophy of the World - When I saw The Shaggs: Philosophy of the World at Playwrights Horizons, I genuinely thought it would garner a raft of glowing reviews. It did not. The critical reaction was all over the map, with many of my critical colleagues finding the show grim and depressing. I found it haunting and moving, and the production and the performances have stayed with me, like the persistent throb of a particularly disquieting dream. Writer Joy Gregory, composer/lyricist Gunnar Madsen, and director John Langs took the story of the unsuccessful singing group The Shaggs, an their notoriously awful but somehow mesmerizing recording, Philosophy of the World, and crafted a compelling story of unrealized ambition and quiet desperation. The Shaggs, as far as I know, did not receive a cast recording, which usually means that a show is dead in the water. It's really a shame, since this show would probably play extremely well at some of the more adventurous regional theaters around the country.

2. A Minister's Wife - This might come as a surprise to some of my regular readers. In my initial review of A Minister's Wife, a musical version of George Bernard Shaw's Candida, I expressed disappointment at not being able to enjoy this ambitious and challenging show more than I did. Even when I decided to return and revisit the show, I was still more in admiration of the show than in love with it. But then came the glorious cast recording from our friends at PS Classics which gave me a chance to revel in the richness of Joshua Schmidt's score, and in the intelligence and poetry of Jan Levy Tranen's lyrics. It seems I just can't get enough of A Minster's Wife on my iPod, in particular the thrilling final quintet, "Into the Night." It certainly doesn't hurt that the three central performances (from Mark Kudisch, Bobby Steggert, and newcomer Kate Fry) are so strong and layered. Both A Minster's Wife and the brilliant Adding Machine have solidified Schmidt's position as the most promising new composer that we have. I eagerly await the announcement of his next project. (The MP3 download for Adding Machine is currently available on Amazon for only $4.99. Do yourself a favor and grab it. It's quite challenging, but ultimately rewarding.)

1. The Book of Mormon - Predictable, I know. But deserved. The Book of Mormon is the biggest hit that Broadway has seen in years, perhaps decades. As of this writing, the soonest you could score a pair of seats at regular prices would be August 2012. I'm told that folks camp out overnight for rush tickets. Premium seats go for as high as $477.00, and who knows what you'll pay for tickets from a scalper or a ticket broker. Well, I'm not going to tell you what you should pay to see The Book of Mormon. I'm only going to say that the show deserves the hype. It's one of the most laugh-out-loud evenings I've ever had in the theater. The songs are strong, albeit littered with slant rhyme and mistressed words. And the book is actually smart in addition to being hysterically funny. Here's one of those perfect storms we only occasionally see in musicals, a fortuitous marriage of sensibility and stagecraft. Those zany "South Park" guys Trey Parker and Matt Stone no doubt deserve a good deal of the credit, but there's little question that Broadway veterans Robert Lopez and Casey Nicholaw were crucial in refining that satirical sensibility with a solid sense of practical theatricality. It seems clear that The Book of Mormon will be around for many years to come, even after the two terrific central performers Andrew Rannells and Josh Gad have moved on to other projects.

Coming Next: The Worst Musicals of 2011.

Reviews - Venus in Fur and Private Lives on Broadway

More blogging catch-up today. This post is about two (gasp) non-musicals that I saw recently on Broadway. One of these shows has already closed, but is likely to return later in the season. The other closes this week, about a month sooner than it was supposed to. In short: the one that's coming back deserves to, and the one that's closing early is no great loss.

Let's start with Venus in Fur, the smart, funny, surprising new play by David Ives. My only previous experience with Ives was in his capacity as adaptor for the Encores! series at City Center. Ives has the unenviable job of cutting down the libretti to the classic shows that Encores! presents in concert form, and the result is almost always a show with a book that doesn't fully set up or justify the songs. It's really hard to hold this against him, but it was my only previous exposure to Ives.

I had heard really great things about Venus in Fur based on its 2010 Off-Broadway run at the Classic Stage Company. In particular, I had heard that Nina Arianda gave a star-making performance, and after the show closed, I genuinely regretted not having had a chance to see her in the play. However, when I heard that Arianda would be taking on the Judy Holiday role in last season's revival of Born Yesterday, I went out of my way to make sure I saw that production, and I was oh so glad that I did. (Read my review.)

When I heard that the Manhattan Theatre Club would be presenting Venus in Fur as part of its Broadway season at the Samuel J. Friedman Theatre, I knew that I would be taking the show in, if only to see Arianda fulfill the promise of her word of mouth, and her terrific turn as Billie Dawn. I'm glad to say I was anything but disappointed. In fact, Arianda is a non-stop delight as Vanda, the enigmatic central character in this thrilling two-hander.

I'm convinced that Arianda is going to be a major star. She has such a strong sense of character, and a wonderfully appealing presence on stage. Performers with this much appeal come along very rarely, and if there's any justice, Arianda will grace the stage for many years to come. (Unless Hollywood snatches her away from us. If so, let's hope that she returns to us regularly, as folks like Hugh Jackman, Patrick Wilson, and Laura Linney continue to do.)

Arianda plays an actress who shows up two hours late to an audition. (Or does she? More on that later.) Arianda plays opposite Hugh Dancy, who is every bit Arianda's match as Thomas, the director/playwright for whom she auditions. Arianda certainly has the flashier role, which she handles with astonishing aplomb, but Dancy's achievement is no less noteworthy. The Thomas character is more subtle, but just as complex as Vanda, and Dancy makes the gradual transition from arrogant master to bewildered slave with deceptive ease.

The most satisfying thing about Ives's deftly crafted play is that you're never really sure, even after the final curtain, who is really who, or what is really transpiring between these characters. Much of the fun of Venus in Fur comes from watching the power dynamic shift over the course of the play, and in speculating as to what's really going on. Ives plants questions in the mind of the viewer, and wisely he never fully answers those questions. But, again, that's part of the fun.

As I mentioned, Venus in Fur prompted me to reconsider David Ives as a writer, but it also gave me new insight on director Walter Bobbie. I had long since written Bobbie off as a has-been, coasting on his success with the Chicago revival. I mean, my dismissal is certainly understandable based on his track record since 1996, when Chicago opened: High Fidelity, White Christmas, Sweet Charity, Footloose. You know what I'm saying here? But, based on Venus in Fur, Bobbie is back in my good books, at least as far as non-musicals are concerned. His direction here is smart, swift, and crackling. It's hard to imagine that Arianda and Dancy would have been able to craft such strong performances without Bobbie's guidance. Will Bobbie find a similar return to form with a musical some time soon? I'll certainly be on the lookout.

The response from critics and audience members alike to Venus in Fur has been sufficiently positive to prompt producers to announce that the play would return later this season for a commercial run. If you didn't get a chance to see Venus in Fur in the fall, do yourself a favor and grab a ticket. (Performances resume February 7th at the Lyceum Theatre.)

In the "no great loss" column, we have the latest Broadway revival of Noël Coward's classic comedy of manners, Private Lives, which plays through the end of this week at the Music Box Theatre. It's funny, but my response to this Private Lives was very similar to the way I reacted to the current Anything Goes: I enjoyed both shows while I was in the theater, but the productions really haven't stayed with me, the way that previous productions of each of these shows have. The 1987 Anything Goes with Patti LuPone was iconic. The current production is merely pleasant.

Likewise, I last saw Private Lives in its 2002 revival with Alan Rickman and Tony winner Lindsay Duncan. Both Rickman and Duncan were masterful as Elyot and Amanda, imbuing the production with both the rapid-fire assuredness that Coward's dialog requires, but also the sort of playful chemistry that brings these potentially insufferable characters to life. (Coincidentally, Rickman is currently appearing across the street from the Music Box in Seminar. Some would call that ironic. They'd be wrong.)

The current production of Private Lives features TV stars Kim Cattrall and Paul Gross. Again, as I sat watching the performance, I found Cattrall to be lively and spirited as Amanda, and Gross as Elyot makes for a handsome and dashing rake. Director Richard Eyre certainly keeps the proceedings going at an entertaining clip.

But.

The show just hasn't stuck with me. I can vividly and easily recall specific elements from both Rickman's and Duncan's performances, nine years after the fact. But Cattrall and Gross, while eminently professional, haven't managed to burn the same indelible impressions. Is the comparison fair? Well, if you're going to sign on for a revival of a show that's only just recently had a revival -- and a really good one at that -- you had better be prepared to offer something that the first show didn't. This Private Lives doesn't.

The producers apparently thought that Cattrall would be a significant draw, based on the popularity of the Sex and the City franchise. Perhaps they even hoped that ticket sales would justify an extension or two beyond the show's announced limited run. For that to happen, the show would have needed to cross over beyond the Coward fans and theater regulars into the tourist trade, and that clearly hasn't happened. As I said, the show is closing this weekend, a little over a month early.

Review - The Blue Flower at the Second Stage Theatre

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honestly, I did not.

Review - La Cage aux Folles on Tour in Boston

The fall semester at the Boston Conservatory is over. ("Big breath in. And release.") Now I get a chance to catch up on some much-delayed blogging.

Among the numerous shows in my current blogging backlog is the Boston stop of the national tour of La Cage aux Folles. I was so enamored of Terry Johnson's heartfelt and smart production when it was on Broadway (read my review) that I went back to see it again when Harvey Fierstein took over for Tony Award winner Douglas Hodge (read my revisit review).

I didn't get to see Christopher Sieber as George on Broadway (I saw the George understudy right after Jeffrey Tambor bid the show a hasty adieu, and before Sieber signed on), but I was especially looking forward to seeing the always reliable and downright adorable Mr. Sieber play Albin/Zaza in the tour.

Fortunately, Sieber does not disappoint. Unfortunately, he's saddled with a costar who may just as well have stayed home with his tanning bed. But more on him later.

Christopher Sieber is simply delicious as Albin, wonderfully playful and mischievous, but with a strong sense of nobility when the need arises. As wonderful as he was as Albin, I can also see him bringing a warm sense of stability to playing the part of George. It's really a shame that cloning technology has not progressed to the point at which we could have Sieber play both roles, but alas we are stuck with George Hamilton, who, simply put, has absolutely no business being up on that stage.

I can't say I've followed Hamilton's career very closely, but I can imagine he was quite charming and engaging in his day. His day, it seems, has passed. At 72, Hamilton is leaden and soporific in a role that should be light and suave. You could see that he was trying to be animated (well, as much as his surgically augmented, gravity defying face would allow), but his line readings, when they weren't utterly incomprehensible, were at best wan and mumble-mouthed. 

I know that touring shows can benefit greatly from marquee-value headliners, but is this man really that much of a draw? How long has it been since he was culturally relevant, as opposed to a walking punchline? To me he's sort of like the Gabor sisters: you know he's famous, but you'll be damned if you can recall what for. Whatever reason the producers signed him up, his presence utterly deflates this delicate souffle of a production.

The La Cage tour is currently playing in Chicago, and has upcoming stops in Tampa, Pittsburgh, Houston, and Los Angeles, among many other stops. It's worth taking in for Sieber, without question, and the supporting cast members are professional, if indistinct. And, of course, there's Jerry Herman's witty and tuneful songs, although the orchestra in Boston was noticeably thin and tinny. And I don't usually notice these things. (Do I, Kevin?) So if I'm finding the orchestrations anemic, I can imagine that a real aficionado would be reaching for the iron supplements.

Bloomer Girl - A Staged Reading

I hated history in high school. At the time, I thought this was simply because the subject didn't interest me, but I eventually came to understand that it was because my history teachers were somewhat perfunctory and uninspired in the way they presented the subject matter.

In college, I was "forced" to take a full year of world history, and wound up being rather pleasantly surprised by this rather delightful professor who related everything in the course to the art and music of the time periods in question. Want to know what Louis XIV was thinking? Take a look at some baroque architecture or listen to some Bach, he said. Interested in what the mindset was after the French Revolution? Check out a Delacroix painting or The Red and the Black.

As a result of that experience, I firmly believe in teaching history, and musical-theater history in particular, not merely as a series of dates and events, but in terms of the progression of ideas and the cultural, social, and political influences on those ideas. One of the most important themes in my musical-theater history course at the Boston Conservatory is the evolution in the portrayal of certain societal subgroups: African Americans, women, and members of the LGBT community. In researching the course syllabus, I was really struck by how many of the shows that I was hoping to cover reflected the changing attitudes toward -- and treatment of -- women, blacks, and gays, and how the shows presented in their way a sort of cultural history of each of those groups.

I was particularly struck when I came across Bloomer Girl, a show that I honestly hadn't really been familiar with prior to researching this course. But as soon as I started reading about the show, I knew I wanted to include it in the course. Bloomer Girl concerns itself with Amelia Bloomer, the inventor, naturally enough, of "bloomers," and her efforts to bring about women's suffrage in particular and women's rights in general. But the show also takes on the parallel struggle to abolish slavery and the workings of the Underground Railroad. Here was a show that addressed, dead on, two of the key themes that were emerging for my course, so two years ago when I initiated the series of staged readings that supplement my course, I knew that Bloomer Girl would be on my short list of shows that I wanted to present. But Bloomer Girl is more than just a history lesson: it's also a delightfully witty and tuneful reminder of musicals from a bygone era.

Given the personnel behind Bloomer Girl, it's really no surprise that the show would have such a strong social conscience. The show features a score by the glorious Harold Arlen, whom many people simply know as the composer of the glorious songs to the 1939 film, "The Wizard of Oz." But Arlen also created the scores to about a dozen Broadway shows, including quite a few shows with all-or-mostly-black casts, including St. Louis Woman, House of Flowers, and Jamaica. E.Y. "Yip" Harburg, Arlen's lyricist for Bloomer Girl, not to mention "The Wizard of Oz," had a similar history of contributing shows with inclusive content, including lyrics for the lighthearted sardonic revue Life Begins at 8:40 (which he also wrote with Arlen), book and lyrics for the scathingly funny social satire Finian's Rainbow (with Bloomer Girl librettist Fred Saidy), and book and lyrics to the outrageously bizarre but fascinating send-up of big business, Flahooley (also with Fred Saidy).

The original cast of Bloomer Girl (1944) featured Celeste Holm in the lead female role of Evalina. Holm was fresh off her star-making role as Ado Annie in Oklahoma, and Joan McCracken (the future ex-Mrs. Bob Fosse), who practically stole Bloomer Girl out from under Holm as the maid Daisy, was fresh out of Oklahoma as well. Also making the trip from Oklahoma to Cicero Falls, New York, was choreographer Agnes de Mille. The reviews and historical accounts of Bloomer Girl point to de Mille's choreography, in particular her legendary Civil War ballet, as being one of many highlights from the show, which ran an impressive 657 performances, or about 18 months.

Because we have only 4 days of rehearsal for these staged readings, my cast will, alas, not be performing the ballet, or any of the de Mille dances for that matter, but if you click on the link above, you can watch a video of the ballet, which comes from a 1956 television broadcast of Bloomer Girl, starring Barbara Cook and Keith Andes. Bloomer Girl has since all but vanished from view, save for a 2001 concert production by Encores, but the somewhat truncated cast recording serves to remind us of Arlen's eclectic score, Harburg's witty and evocative lyrics, and the dynamic performances of Holm, McCracken, and their able supporting cast.

(An interesting footnote: Bloomer Girl features a dramatically purposeful and symbolic performance of Uncle Tom's Cabin during the second act of the show. This was some six years before the Jerome Robbins ballet, "Small House of Uncle Thomas" in The King and I. As I always say to my students, there's really no such thing as an original idea. What matters is the quality of the execution.) 

Bloomer Girl performances at the Boston Conservatory are December 7th and December 8th at 8 pm in the Zack Box Theater. Admission is free. Seating is on a first come-first served basis. Email me for more details.

Review – Fifty*Four*Forever at The Jerry Herman Ring Theatre

Dear Reader: The following is a guest blog posting from one of my most loyal readers, and newest friends, Dr. Geoffrey Greene (@Elder_Greene) from Tampa. Enjoy. -- C.C.

Just where has Tommy Tune been all these years?  He disappeared from Broadway in self-imposed exile following the failure of The Best Little Whorehouse Goes Public in 1994 and the abrupt out-of-town closure of the Broadway-bound Busker Alley in 1995. Given his dazzling gifts as performer and director, such exile seems wasteful, if not downright criminal. I’ve long admired Tune’s magic touch - be it the choreographed chairs of Grand Hotel or the Ziegfeldian glitz of The Will Rogers Follies – and hoped for the day he would return to Broadway with a new musical.

And now Tommy Tune is back with a new show, although Fifty*Four*Forever is definitely still under construction. The production I saw featured student actors, ran a scant 70 minutes, and lasted for only a 10-day limited engagement at The University of Miami’s Jerry Herman Ring Theatre. Figuring that even bare-bones Tune is better than no Tune at all, I lept at the opportunity.

The show’s concept sounds like musical-theater gold: a celebration of the riotous party haven that was Studio 54 during its 1970s heyday. There’s ample opportunity for stylized dance in kitschy costumes; a little sex and drugs will add spice; nostalgia should draw an older audience; and who doesn’t secretly relish a titillating glimpse into the lives of the rich and famous? It’s a bit surprising this milieu, to my knowledge, has not been mined for its stage potential before.

Why then, is Fifty*Four*Forever such a bust?

For starters, Tune has chosen to build the entire show around the character of his friend and former NYC neighbor Steve Rubbell, the chief architect and proprietor of Studio 54. In life, Rubbell was an unsavory entrepreneur jailed for tax evasion and released early only for “naming names” of other club owners involved in tax fraud. This kind of dramatic choice lands us squarely in the province of the antihero, an eminent starting point for an ambitious musical drama, but a perilous choice when staging a disco spectacular. For such a choice to work, the creators must have an audience empathize with the character and share his journey. Unfortunately, Fifty*Four, at least as currently configured, never accomplishes this feat, choosing instead to substitute glitz for content and stereotype for individuality.

Bookwriter Mark Saltzman (The Tin Pan Alley Rag) concocts a hackneyed tale of corrupted innocence, a sort of “How did you get there from here, Mr. Shepard?” only without the benefit of a Sondheim score.  The plot is bookended with scenes depicting Rubbell’s trial for tax evasion during which he intones Peter Allen’s “All I Wanted Was The Dream” as his defense. The remainder of the story is told in a lengthy flashback. In broad, swift strokes we are shown Rubbell forming his first dance club, meeting his future collaborators, converting an abandoned theatre into the fabled Studio 54, and throwing a wild opening night debauch populated by the likes of Liza, Liz, and Tru. The Studio is awash in sex, drugs, and gobs of money - literal Hefty bags stuffed with cash and crammed into the club walls.

Naturally, the IRS becomes interested in all this filthy lucre. Enter Agent Brown, a smoldering Cuban shown trysting with his equally sensuous female boss in a mesmerizing dance of seduction…on the stripper pole conveniently located in her office. The “Pole Seduction” is the closest this show comes to an actual Tommy Tune signature moment and it’s a dilly: about as tasteful a pole dance as you’re likely to encounter, but still - a pole dance at the IRS?

Saltzman conjures a love triangle when Agent Brown is dispatched to Studio 54 as an undercover agent intent on obtaining access to Rubbell’s books. Brown intends to use his chiseled looks to seduce Rubbell and gain access, but guess what? They fall in love and consummate their passion in a crude orgy bathed in flashing red lights and fueled by the throbbing strains of “I Love To Love You, Baby.” Despite the hedonism, Rubbell is portrayed as an innocent, blithely unaware of the powers with which he is meddling.

Here’s the problem with this claptrap: I didn’t care a tinker’s cuss about these characters, mere underwritten marionettes spouting platitudes in rhymed couplets. Oh, did I forget to mention that? This is a verse play and everybody speaks in childish nursery rhymes (which might be described as Seussian if they displayed any intellect or wit). A verse play can work handily if your librettist is Molière, but rhymes like “Truman Capote, self-promotey” only reinforce an atmosphere of amateur juvenilia.

Predictably, Agent Brown is reluctant to give up his lover until his jealous boss fires and banishes him, but not before he suddenly and inexplicably betrays Rubbell. At this point I kept thinking how, in the right hands, this moment might have been dramatized in song and we could have identified with a character facing a difficult choice. Instead we were subjected to another disco party sequence set to “How High The Moon” featuring the iconic Man in the Moon wall sculpture that featured prominently on the wall of the Studio dance floor, complete with animated cocaine spoon. Who cares if your lover just betrayed you and you’re about to be arrested?  Life’s a party. Come to the Cabaret…uh, I mean the Studio.

The show, as currently written, is about as welcome as a migraine headache. The characters are unsympathetic and the story lacks dramatic focus. Additionally, the absence of an original score is damaging. Generic disco hits may work wonders in establishing a sense of time and place, but when used to propel dramatic action, they fall tediously flat. The show contains one original song, “Lament for Three Jersey Girls” concerning a trio of schlubs forever denied access to Studio (music by Jeffrey Saver, lyrics by Stephen Cole), which is funny, theatrical, and highly effective. Why not an entire score like this?

According to a recent article in The New York Times, Tommy Tune hopes to someday mount Fifty*Four*Forever at the real Studio 54 in New York. He even invited producers to the Miami run hoping to generate interest. If the show is to have a Broadway life, however, a major overhaul is in order. The current production is simply not worthy of Mr. Tune’s talent and does nothing to enhance his legacy as one of the great Broadway showmen.