Everything I Know I Learned From Musicals

Review - Annie Revival on Broadway

A confession: I love Annie. Yes, it's sappy. Yes, the characters are two-dimensional. Yes, there are songs that serve no purpose except to cover a costume change. And yet it gives me joy. It was the first professional production of a musical that I ever saw, more than thirty years ago. A few years later, I played Daddy Warbucks in a local production of the show, skull cap and all. So pardon me if my critical faculties take a backseat to nostalgia just this once.

That doesn't mean, however, that I automatically adore any and all productions of Annie. No, it takes a certain kind of director and choreographer to make the show work. Unfortunately, James Lapine (director) and Andy Blankenbuehler (choreographer) weren't up to the job, at least as evidenced in the current Broadway revival at the Palace Theatre.

Lapine's direction certainly works during the show's heartfelt moments: that's really what Lapine excels at in general. I've honestly never seen a production of Annie that was this emotionally honest and touching. What's missing is the comedy. This may be the least funny Annie I've ever seen. Even two-time Tony winner Katie Finneran falls somewhat flat here, and she's as close to guaranteed comic gold as anyone we currently have working in the theater. Finneran was nothing less than hysterical in both Noises Off and Promises, Promises, the two shows for which she won those Tonys. But here she falls back on schtick and mannerisms to eke out what few laughs this production provides.

What's also missing from Lapine's direction is a sense of bringing the various parts of a big musical together. For this, Lapine seems to have abnegated too much of the staging work to Blankenbuehler. While I was watching the first act, I noted how lumbering and artificial the staging was for many of the numbers. I couldn't remember who the choreographer was, but at intermission when I checked my Playbill, it made perfect sense that it was Blankenbuehler. His recent work has made it all too obvious that he only really works well in the hip-hop style of In the Heights, The Wiz, or Bring It On. When he tries to craft more mainstream dance the results are either awkward or risible, as they were in 9 to 5, The People in the Picture, and now here with Annie.

Blankenbuehler doesn't seem to know what to do with old-fashioned musical comedy. His "It's a Hard Knock Life" was full of pointless business that upstaged the number's intent. "NYC" likewise was overly busy and lacked focus. And the title number was so clumsy and overly focused on intricate footwork, versus appealing stage pictures, that I thought perhaps my old friend Anthony van Laast had dropped in for a guest appearance. (And don't get me started on the tap-dancing criminals shuffling off to jail in the finale. Oy.) What's more, Blankenbuehler includes interludes of what appears to be interpretive dance during scene transitions, just as he did in The People in the Picture. And it's only slightly less laughable here.

The scenic design by David Korins comprises a series of fairly cheap-looking, flimsy set pieces that are already starting to show their wear. It looks as though the producers told Korins to design the show so that when this production closed they could take it right on the road. This was particularly evident in the Warbucks mansion, which is represented here by a sort of over-sized toddler's flip book. It made for an efficient way to walk Annie through the entire mansion in one broad sweep, but it also screamed "budget cuts."

The current cast members here are a bit of a mixed bag, although there are some genuinely strong standouts. Anthony Warlow as "Daddy" Warbucks is outstanding, with a strong voice and a commanding presence. When the part calls for bluster, he's got in in spades, but he can also turn on the charm and exude an appealing sense of warmth. In the supporting cast, we can usually count on Rooster and Lily for a little comic relief, but Clarke Thorell makes for an instantly forgettable Rooster, and J. Elaine Marcos is utterly incomprehensible as Lily. As for Lilla Crawford as Annie, she's got the pipes all right, but her New Yawk accent was forced and distracting. I got the sense that Lilla was only doing what her vocal coach told her to do, but the result is jarring and artificial: "Tsoo-morraow, tsoo-morroaw, I love youse, tsoo-morraow..." (O.K., the "youse" is an exaggeration. But you get the point.)

The revival includes some fairly minor changes to the book by Thomas Meehan, changes that Meehan himself contributed. There's a new newsreel prologue, setting the time as the Great Depression, 1933. They've cut a few of the comic bits, including the groaner about Warbucks buying the Mona Lisa and putting it in the bathroom. There's a neat new tag for act one that includes some mini reprises: a hopeful "Maybe" for Annie, and a rueful "You Won't Be and Orphan for Long" for Warbucks. The moment is staged with Grace Farrell, Warbucks' secretary, looking on lovingly between them, and it's a touching way to end the act. Thankfully there's no new number from composer Charles Strouse and lyricist Martin Charnin. I mean no disrespect, but this never seems to work out in these classic revivals. (See "Topsy-Turvy" from Fiddler on the Roof.)

Despite the current lackluster production, I still maintain that Annie is a solid show. It's sort of the opposite of the case with the current revival of The Mystery of Edwin Drood. With Drood, the show doesn't really work, and yet the production does. With Annie, the show works, but the production, for the most part, doesn't.

Review - The Servant of Two Masters at Boston's Paramount Theater

One of my favorite theatrical experiences last season was One Man, Two Guvnors, a British import that rollicked at the good old Music Box Theatre for 159 performances, three at which I was in giddy attendance. So when I heard that Arts Emerson in Boston would be hosting a touring production of The Servant of Two Masters (Carlo Goldoni, 1743), upon which One Man, Two Guvnors is lovingly based, I knew that I had to take it in. 

I had never had the occasion to see The Servant of Two Masters before, and it turns out One Man, Two Guvnors is extremely faithful to its source, in terms of the story, the characters, and the raucous, ribald feel of the proceedings. I'm happy to report that I had every bit as much of a grand old time at The Servant of Two Masters as I did at its British progenitor. 

Of course, both Servant and Guvnors owe their genesis to the commedia dell'arte tradition, the Italian theatrical form dating back to the 16th century. As in commedia, Servant follows the framework of a story, with certain set comic bits, or lazzi, but much of the action and dialogue is improvised. There are also familiar character types: Pantalone, the miserly merchant; Arlecchino, or Harlequin, the mischievous servant; Columbina, Arlecchino's lusty love interest; Il Dottore, the blustery pedant, etc.

It's easy to see how commedia dell'arte was able to flourish for some many years -- nearly two centuries -- especially if the original commedia were this outlandishly funny. This particular production of Servant was full of fresh characterizations, high-energy staging, and a delicious sense of bawdy, ribald goings on that were the hallmark of commedia. It was sometimes rather difficult to tell which parts were improvised and what was scripted. So much of the show seemed to be so tightly choreographed that it seems rather unlikely it was extemporized. 

But there were also numerous topical bits and local references that seemed rather clearly devised for the Boston run of the show. Some of these were a bit forced, like the reference to one character doing his doctoral dissertation on Make Way For Ducklings. Others are spot-on and appear to directly reflect the fact that the production originated at the Yale Repertory Theater. At one point Truffaldino, the Harlequin character, starts to sing a snatch of a song from The Music Man, and Pantalone stops him. "We're not doing a musical here," he says. "This isn't the ART, you know." Zing. At another point, during a bondage-and-discipline reference, one of the characters suggests that their safe word should be "Pippin." Again, zing.  

If this production of Servant does have a flaw, it's that the first half goes on about 15 minutes longer than it ideally would. The business becomes a bit repetitive, occasionally bordering on tiresome. Fortunately, the second half gets right down to the business of bringing the complicated plot to a satisfying resolution. Along the way, we're treated to a considerable number of musical interludes, including a gorgeous female trio and a full-blown opera scene.   

The director here is Christopher Bayes, who served as movement director for the Broadway production of The 39 Steps. Bayes and his cast create a world that is fresh, vibrant, and lovingly stylized. Standouts among the cast include Allen Gilmore in the Pantalone role, who has a superb sense of heightened physicality and crack comic timing.

Of course, this production really belongs to Steven Epp in the central role of Truffaldino, the Harlequin character who sets the show in comic motion by attempting to double his salary by serving the two titular masters. Epp is a comic marvel and a very appealing and sympathetic presence on stage. The fine performances from both of these gentlemen are even more remarkable considering both Pantalone and Arlecchino traditionally perform in masks. That both men were able to exude such a strong sense of character, when most of their faces are covered, is a testament to the talent and training of both. 

The Servant to Two Masters plays at Boston's Paramount Theater through next Sunday, February 10th. If you're in Boston and are looking for a rollicking good time at the theater, by all means make haste to the theater district and see some masters of the comic, the titular, and the titillating sort. 

Two final notes. This was my first time attending a show in Boston's recently restored Paramount Theater. I have to say I'm glad that we have this former vaudeville theater up and running again, but the theater looks better in pictures online than it does in person. I mean, there are nice touches in the auditorium, but you can really see the economies in the construction, including the rather twee and flat wall frescoes.

Also, you may recall that this production, while it was playing the Guthrie Theater, offered patrons the chance to sit in "Tweet Seats," in which they were encouraged to use their smart phones to their hearts' content. I'm exceedingly glad that Arts Emerson did not replicate this policy, and resolutely refuse to patronize any theater that does. Theater is a chance to become fully immersed in another world. There's quite enough in the theater these days to take me out of the moment: people chatting constantly with their neighbors, rustling through bags looking for the snacks they brought, chewing their gum with their mouths wide open, checking the scores for the big game on their phones, etc. I don't care if the Tweeters are in a different section. I'm against any such policy on principle. Turn off your goddamn phones and watch the goddamn show. 

Here endeth the diatribe.