Everything I Know I Learned From Musicals

Review - Finian's Rainbow Revisit

Earlier today, the revival of Finian's Rainbow played its final performance at the St. James Theater, and I must admit that I'm experiencing mixed feelings about this. I'm certainly sad to see the show go, but after seeing the production again last weekend, I think I have a clearer understanding of why it didn't catch on.

Some history: When I saw the show during its Encores stint, I found it tuneful but creaky. (Read my review) But when I saw the show on Broadway during previews, I was pretty darned charmed by the whole thing. (Read my review of the Broadway production.)

But, in retrospect, I think that's why Finian's Rainbow is closing at a loss. It's charming, it's sweet, it's tuneful. But it doesn't provide the emotional impact of South Pacific, the sweeping romance and spectacle of The Phantom of the Opera, or the fun and, well, razzle dazzle of Chicago.

Of course, Finian's Rainbow does have that glorious Burton Lane music, which is more than matched by the alternately heartfelt and clever lyrics of Yip Harburg. I was continually, almost in spite of myself, drawn in by the sheer magic of Lane's sweeping melodies. Numerous songs sent a chill up my spine as the luscious chords swelled from the orchestra pit, including "Look to the Rainbow" and "Come and Get It Day"

I still think that Finian's Rainbow is one of the best of the old-style musicals, but as I watched the show last week, I was lot more aware of the choppy nature of the book. There's something about Finian's Rainbow that just doesn't build. The show feels overly episodic, with the resolutions coming very shortly after their precipitating complications. So, although the show certainly provides its share of charms, they don't coalesce into a larger sense of catharsis.

Fortunately, we have the upcoming release of the Finian's Rainbow cast recording from PS Classics to look forward. Even if you didn't get a chance to see the show in New York, rest assured that most of the best that the production had to offer is on that CD. This may well prove to be the definitive recording of the show. You certainly couldn't ask for a better cast, particularly Kate Baldwin, Cheyenne Jackson, Jim Norton, Christopher Fitzgerald, and Terri White. But, honestly, there's not a weak link in the cast, at least not vocally. I get the feeling that this will be a recording to savor for years to come.

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.

Finian's Rainbow at the St. James Theater

I love the new logo/poster for the current Broadway revival of Finian's Rainbow, which opened last night at the St. James Theater. Not only is it vibrant and colorful, but it also conveys a clear sense that this is an old-fashioned musical that nonetheless provides a contemporary resonance.

And that's exactly what Finian's Rainbow is, at least as presented in the Broadway production. I was unimpressed by the show during its Encores stint (read my review), but in retrospect, it would seem that the book for that concert presentation was overly truncated. While I reveled in the Burton Lane/E.Y. "Yip" Harburg score, the lack of proper context in David Ives's abbreviated version of the libretto made the show detrimentally fragmented.

I saw the Broadway production of Finian's Rainbow the same day that I saw the execrable Bye Bye Birdie, and the comparison was quite telling. This production of Finian's has a life that's totally missing from the current Birdie. Why does Finian's succeed where Birdie fails? In a word: direction. Warren Carlyle brings a cohesive tone and a vibrancy to Finian's, with every character playing from the same page, whereas Robert Longbottom seems to have directed Birdie in absentia.

It's interesting to note how otherwise talented directors can drop the ball. Longbottom helmed the recent Broadway revival of Flower Drum Song, which contained some very innovative if not quite sustained staging, although the production closed at a loss. On the other hand, Carlyle was responsible for the theatrical misstep that was A Tale of Two Cities, although most of the blame for that abomination must surely go to its composer/lyricist/librettist, Jill Santoriello. That's the bizarre alchemy of theater for you: on any given production, the various talents present may or may not coalesce into a coherent and entertaining whole. There are no guarantees; it's always a crap shoot.

Carlyle certainly had a major advantage over Longbottom in terms of casting. Whereas Birdie seems to have been cast by committee in a blatant attempt to appeal to as many disparate constituencies as possible, the cast for Finian's is more organic. The lovely Kate Baldwin comes off infinitely better than she did in the recent Huntington Theatre production of of She Loves Me (read my review), and positively sparkles as Sharon. Cheyenne Jackson is charming but a bit indistinct as Woody, although he certainly can fill out a pair of jeans. Tony winner Jim Norton is pitch-perfect in the title role, and Christopher Fitzgerald is a delight as the leprechaun Og, giving a far more measured and entertaining performance than he did in Young Frankenstein. And I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the wonderful Terri White as Dottie, if only because of the moving piece that the New York Times recently ran on her. Apparently, Ms. White was homeless not 18 months ago, and now she's back on Broadway, a haunting reminder of the vicissitudes of the actor's life.

The production, and the show itself, do suffer from the occasional misstep. When I saw Finian's on Broadway, I was over on the far right of the orchestra, and my view was occasionally obstructed, but from what I could see, when the Senator Hawkins character is turned black, Chuck Cooper, who plays the African America version of Hawkins, looked down into the front of his pants to see if the transformation was...er...complete. The costumes during "When the Idle Poor Become the Idle Rich" looked like someone had raided the costume closet of a local community theater. And I still don't quite get the point of the "Dance of the Golden Crock," in which the mute Susan character has a call-and-response dance/harmonica duet with another cast member. It seems like dance for dance's sake, and doesn't appear to serve any higher purpose.

As a piece, Finian's Rainbow is a direct descendant of the Rodgers and Hammerstein tradition, which places a premium on crafting shows that both entertain and inform. Finian's is a particularly compelling amalgam of old-fashioned structure and modern sensibility. But somehow it works, offering both a strong social message and a charming diversion. And that's exactly what librettist/lyricist Yip Harburg intended. "Of course I want to send people out of the theater with the glow of having a good time," Harburg once said about the show. "But I also think the purpose of a musical is to make people think."  

Hear, hear.

Sunday in the Hall With Sondheim

If you're in the Boston area this weekend, and you're looking for a lovely way to spend this Sunday evening, why not head over to the Boston Conservatory. A bunch of my BoCo students have put together a revue entitled Sunday in the Hall With Sondheim. The "hall" in this case is venerable Seully Hall, which is on the fourth floor of the Conservatory's main building at 8 The Fenway. And, well, if I have to tell you who Sondheim is, then you really have no business reading this blog.

Two of my best students from last semester have put together this review: Joe Longthorne and Neil Reilly. Joe is the show's director, and Neil has created all the orchestrations and arrangements himself. And he's put together some really interesting numbers and sequences. Featured songs include "Take Me to the World" from Evening Primrose, "Being Alive" from Company, and "The Best Thing That Ever Has Happened" from Bounce/Road Show. The cast comprises more than 20 the best performers that the school has to offer, accompanied by an 18-piece orchestra selected from the Conservatory's many talented musicians.

The shows are at 7PM and 9PM this Sunday evening. Tickets are $7 in advance and $9 at the door. For advance tickets, contact sundayinthehall@gmail.com. The proceeds go towards the school's Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS efforts. In keeping with the BC/EFA tradition, there will also be a number of autographed goodies from various Broadway shows available through silent auction and raffle. 

So, a great cause, and a great show. We hope to see you there.

Review - Kristina Concert at Carnegie Hall

I'm in New York for a two-show quickie. Last night I saw Kristina in concert at Carnegie Hall, and tonight I'm taking in a preview of the new musical Memphis. Look for my review of the latter sometimes after October 19th. (Press embargo, don'tcha know.) 

Kristina had been intriguing me for quite some time. As you may know, the show began its life in Sweden in 1996 as Kristina Från Duvemåla, which became the biggest hit musical in Swedish history. (Exactly how many hit Swedish musicals have there been?) The show is based on the novels of Vilhelm Moberg, and concerns a group of Swedish farmers who immigrate to America during the 19th century.

The score for Kristina is by Björn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson, of ABBA and Mamma Mia! fame. Yeah, I know, whatever. But I'm a huge fan of Chess, for which Ulvaeus and Andersson also provided the music, so I was hoping Kristina would fulfill the melodious promise of that tragically flawed musical.

Alas, no.

I knew there was trouble afoot when the show began with 10-plus minutes of bald-faced expressions of love by the two main characters of the show, Kristina (Helen Sjöholm), and her soon-to-be husband Oskar (Russell Watson). Thrown into the opening mix were some Greek-chorus-like chorale passages reminiscent of "Merano," the fun but un-stage-able opening number to Chess. The thoroughly static storytelling in the opening sequence brought me in mind of The Pirate Queen. (Note to show creators: you never want to put anyone in mind of The Pirate Queen.)

Things didn't get much better from there. The music to Kristina isn't all that bad; in fact, some of it is quite stirring. But the show is almost entirely sung-through, featuring huge swaths of bland recitative. The main problem with the show is that the authors didn't seem to have a firm grasp on what to musicalize. There is genuine drama to be found in this story, but the authors haven't yet found a way to bring it out. They really could have used an experienced librettist, or a strong developmental director to help steer them toward more effective song choices and placement. For example, on the boat to America, Kristina and Oskar sing "Peasants at Sea," in which they lament that they have to sleep apart on the boat to America. Well, boo-frickin'-hoo. How is that supposed to be dramatically compelling?

One major groaner of a song choice is "Lice," a song about -- you guessed it -- infestation, in which two characters accuse each other of spreading the bugs around. The song contains an atrocious passage in which one character actually talks about how you can put the lice between two slices of bread and feed them to your kids. Are you frickin' kidding me, here?! Another song, "Queen of the Prairie," regales us on how Oskar buys Kristina a stove for Christmas, and every one from the town joins in to sing about how beautiful this stove is. The show is full of similar questionable-at-best, ludicrous-at-worst musical missteps.

When the songs aren't ridiculous, they're typically either impenetrable or dull. In the act one finale, Kristina sings "Summer Rose," a God-is-my-witness anthem (yes, the show actually contains that phrase) to her newly born child. It's pretty, but it ends the act without creating any tension. There's no suspense, no cliff hanger, no reason for us to want to come back and see what happens to these people, which is typical of the show's complete lack of dramatic buildup.

There are a few decent songs in the score. "American Man" is a charming piece about the aging pastor whom the women take a shine to upon arrival in America. The always dependable Walter Charles imbues the pastor character with humor and gravity, despite his minuscule stage time. And the second act contains two stunning solo numbers, one for Oskar's younger brother, who returns from the California Gold Rush and bitter as hell. Kevin Odekirk gives a positively stirring rendition of "Gold Can Turn to Sand," which is really more than the song and the show deserve. And Helen Sjöholm got the evening's first standing ovation for "You Have to Be There," a soaring number in which Kristina confronts her God to demand an explanation for his seeming absence.

Kristina's other major flaw is its lack of a dramatic motor. The show is detrimentally episodic, passing through a series of unengaging complications that are almost always immediately resolved, making it hard to build up any empathy. The story is a morass of random and under-developed plot points: the religious persecution in Sweden, Kristina's contracting scurvy on the boat to America, Kristina's supposed rivalry with the local strumpet, played by Louise Pitre. In the middle of the second act, once the characters have relocated to Minnesota, some random guy comes in spouting pseudo-Native American babble about how this land belongs to no one, or some shit. It makes you think that there's going to be a subplot about a struggle with the local tribe, but like most of the other plot threads in this show, that potentially intriguing possibility is left unrealized.

Because the songs alone don't tell the story, this concert presentation needed to employ some direct narration and expository projections, which only served to emphasize that the authors weren't doing their job with the songs themselves. Perhaps the work has lost a great deal in the translation from the original Swedish. The show's new English text by Herbert Kretzmer features one uninspired cliche-ridden lyric after another: "all my body and my soul," "with every breath that I am taking," "no matter what, we will always have each other," and the aforementioned "as God is my witness." 

In fairness, I found the last ten minutes of Kristina to be genuinely moving. Suddenly, the songs take on greater complexity, and the drama becomes palpable and moving. The rest of the show needs this kind of focus. But, alas, it's too little too late, coming after a long, slow slog through an attenuated series of muddled scenes and songs.

I must admit that the Carnegie Hall audience was going wild for the show. I can only imagine that some of them were there just for the music, or the performers, and that they weren't necessarily considering the piece from a dramatic perspective. I was there to see if the show had legs to make it beyond the concert hall. My answer: not in its current form. Nothing short of a near-complete rewrite would make this Kristina truly sing.

Kristina Concert Coming to Carnegie Hall

It's all too easy to dismiss Björn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson as the guys who inflicted Mamma Mia! on the world. First of all, Mamma Mia, at least on stage, really isn't all that bad. And those ABBA songs are pretty darned catchy.

And then there's Chess, which has never really worked as a show, but that score...oh, that score. It's so good, it can even survive the dual assault of Idina Menzel and Adam Pascal. (See my review of the recent concert version of Chess.)

So please forgive me if I'm actually looking forward to Kristina, the latest show with a score by Ulvaeus and Andersson, which will have a two-night concert stay at Carnegie Hall on September 23rd and 24th. The show is actually about 14 years old, having played for years in ABBA's native country of Sweden under the name Kristina Från Duvemåla, and produced a three-CD recording, which I own but have not yet listened to. (I mean, it's nearly four hours long, and it's in Swedish; I think at least this time I can be excused for owning a CD I've never heard. Why do I even have it, you ask? Clearly you don't understand the psychosis that is cast-album collecting.)

The show is derived from four novels by Swedish author Vilhelm Moberg, and concerns the Swedish emigration to America at the end of the 19th century. The show's new English text is by Herbert Kretzmer, British author and critic who made a frickin' mint by translating Les Miserables. As for the cast of the concert version, Helen Sjöholm will reprise the title role, which she played in the Swedish version. Sjöholm also appeared in a Swedish concert production of Chess: watch her belt the crap out of "Someone Else's Story" here and here. Joining her in Kristina will be Russell Watson; watch this hunky, internationally renown tenor do his operatic stuff here.

It's not clear why Ulvaeus and Andersson are opting for a concert version of Kristina instead of a Broadway run. Perhaps this concert is meant to drum up interest in a full-scale American production. No matter, I fully intend to be in the audience come September to discern whether Kristina might have a future beyond Carnegie Hall.

Finian's Rainbow Revival Cast and Logo

The producers of the upcoming Broadway revival of Finian's Rainbow recently announced some initial casting for the show. The lovely and talented Kate Baldwin will reprise the role of Sharon, which she played in the recent Encores concert version. Also returning as the eponymous Finian will be the delightful Jim Norton, Tony winner for The Seafarer. Warren Carlyle, who directed and choreographed the Encores production, will repeat those duties for Broadway.

As for those who won't be returning, the delicious Cheyenne Jackson will likely not be a part of the Broadway Finian's Rainbow cast, owing to a conflicting engagement, which rumor has it will be in London. No announcement yet about who will be taking Jackson's place. Also out is the wonderful Jeremy Bobb as Og, apparently because the Burton Lane estate thought he was too cute for the role. (How's that for a left-handed compliment?) Taking his place as Og will be Christopher Fitzgerald. (I guess he's just cute enough.) Tony winner Chuck Cooper (The Life) will also join the cast in the role of Billboard.

In my review of the Encores version, I said that I was enchanted by the the Burton Lane and E.Y. "Yip" Harburg score, but nonplussed by book, adapted there by David Ives. But I've subsequently read through Harburg's original and Peter Stone's revised versions of the libretto, and found a lot more merit in the show than the Encores presentation reflected. As to whether it will be commercially viable, I have serious doubts. As I said in my review:

It's one thing to wow the "in" crowd at City Center. It's another thing entirely to attract enough of the general public to make a Broadway run profitable. Heck, if frickin' Gypsy with frickin' Patti LuPone can't manage more than 332 performances, what makes producers think that Finian's Rainbow is going to lure the crowds in?

On the plus side, I really like the new logo, pictured above. The image is vibrant and welcoming, and conveys the sense of a classic story with a fresh, modern sensibility. Hopefully, so will the show.

UPDATE: Despite recent reports to the contrary, Variety writes today that Cheyenne Jackson will indeed reprise the role of Woody when Finian's Rainbow hits Broadway this coming season. I had heard that Jackson had a conflicting engagement in London, but it appears that either that gig fell trough, or the producers of Finian's Rainbow were able to entice him away. Either way, it's good news for the show: more than just a pretty face, Jackson is also a terrific performer, and made for a charming foil to Baldwin's winsome Sharon. I would have seen the show again anyway, but this makes the prospect that much more pleasurable.

Musicals in Mufti - Knickerbocker Holiday

One of the key themes of my musical-theater history course at the Boston Conservatory is that art is a product of the time in which it is created. A great way to witness this notion is to look at the Broadway musicals of the 1920s and 1930s.

The '20s were a time of hedonism and frivolity in the U.S., and most of the musicals of the time reflected this fact. Then came the Great Depression, which changed so many aspects of American life, including musical theater. Of course, there were far fewer shows, and many of them were just as fluffy and forgettable as those of he '20s. But now the shows didn't so much reflect the world around them as offer viewers escape from their increasingly dismal lives. 

However, with the seeming collapse of capitalism came an increasingly satiric impulse on the part of the creators of musical theater. Such mordant book musicals as Of Thee I Sing and Strike Up the Band, and such ironic revues as Pins and Needles and As Thousands Cheer revealed a desire on the part of the likes of George S. Kaufman, Moss Hart, Irving Berlin, and George and Ira Gershwin to speak out about the world around them, and to set the goings on into caustic relief.

Enter Kurt Weill, fresh from his productive but volatile collaborations with playwright Bertolt Brecht. Weill was no mere tunesmith, but rather a serious artist intent on using his gifts to illuminate the world around him. Before he went on to create such classics as Lady in the Dark and Lost in the Stars, Weill tested the Broadway waters with agitprop (Johnny Johnson) and allegory (Knickerbocker Holiday).

All of which is by way of introduction to the topic of today's lecture...er, I mean blog post, the York Theater Company's recent presentation of Knickerbocker Holiday as part of its "Musicals in Mufti" concert series. "Mufti" is a Middle Eastern word for "in plain clothes," which pretty much describes the atmosphere and purpose of the concert series: straightforward presentations of underrepresented shows without the frills. Think of it as Encores on a budget.

Knickerbocker Holiday was the first of two collaborations Weill had with poet and playwright Maxwell Anderson, the second being Lost in the Stars. Knickerbocker was not a major success, but it did run for 168 performances in 1938 and 1939, which at the time was enough for the show to make a modest profit. The score gave rise to two timeless classics, the plaintive "September Song," and the gorgeous "It Never Was You," one of my primary candidates for the most beautiful song ever written.

According to Stanley Green in his indispensable book, Broadway Musicals Show by Show, Knickerbocker Holiday was probably "the first musical to use [a] historical subject as the means by which views on contemporary matters could be expressed." The subject here was Peter Stuyvesant, autocratic governor of 1647 New Amsterdam, which we now know as New York. The theme is essentially totalitarianism versus democracy. Which makes sense, given that Weill was an expat from Nazi Germany, but the actual focus of the satire here is...Franklin Delano Roosevelt? Evidently, Maxwell and Weill were critics of FDR and the New Deal, and saw this show as a chance to comment on the president's supposedly dictatorial tendencies. Yeah, I don't get it either, and the muddled message of the show certainly doesn't make things plain.

The show, at least as presented here in Mufti form, was pretty static and unengaging, although I do give the folks at the York props for dusting off this rickety and nearly-forgotten show and giving it an airing. Much of Weill's score reflects the stand-and-sing tendencies of operetta, as do Maxwell's dense book and lyrics. The songs have little if any forward motion, and clearly reflect the influence of Brecht, telling seemingly unrelated stories and trafficking in pedantic aphorism. To be fair, Knickerbocker Holiday was written before the Rodgers and Hammerstein revolution, so it's a bit unfair to judge the show by modern standards. If the show is more akin to operetta than musical comedy, it's important to note that it arose at a time when a hybrid of the two was slowly emerging.

As for the satire, there are a few ham-handed jibes at political corruption, and some rather clumsy attempts to establish what it means to be an American. But there are quite a few elements of the show's message that have proved to be remarkably prescient: the notion that a leader is above the law (George W. Bush/Dick Cheney); the idea of profiteering by selling arms to the enemy (Iran/Contra); that imminent danger is a boon to government (9/11 and the Iraq War), that America grows fat and foolish without an enemy, so it's necessary for the government to create one (communism, terrorism), and the intolerance of legitimate opposition (The Iranian election). The moral of the show: all governments are stupid, incompetent, and corrupt, but at least democracy is efficiently corrupt.

Starting next semester, I'm adding staged readings of obscure but historically important musicals to my BoCo course. Seeing Knickerbocker Holiday in concert has helped me to lower my expectations as to the entertainment value of such an enterprise, although the primary value of the readings will be educational. The cast for Knickerbocker was about as good as you could hope for, comprising such seasoned professionals as Martin Vidnovic, Walter Charles, and William Parry. Also on hand were some admirable younger performers, such as Josh Grisetti, who starred in the York's hit production of Enter Laughing and will soon make his Broadway debut as Eugene Jerome in the upcoming revival of Neil Simon's Broadway Bound. If even this stellar cast of performers has a hard time bringing a creaky show to life, I think it's important for me and my students to modulate our expectations.

Chess in Concert With Josh Groban

Let me get this out of the way up front: as a musical, Chess doesn't work. It didn't work in London, it didn't work on Broadway, and it hasn't worked in any of the innumerable versions that have cropped up since. And it certainly doesn't work in the recently released concert version, a mostly tasteless affair partly redeemed by the music of Björn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson, and the presence of Josh Groban.

I pay virtually no attention to popular music, so although I was aware of Josh Groban, I had never heard any of his work. I may need to seek out some of his other stuff, because I really liked what I heard. Groban has a rich, sonorous voice and terrific stage presence. And he shows admirable restraint amid the crass production (one word: choral-ography) and histrionic cast mates surrounding him.

Leading the charge toward excess is Idina Menzel as Florence. Oh, she can scream with the best of 'em, but her style has no subtlety, and her acting skills are rudimentary at best. Close on Menzel's overwrought heels is Adam Pascal, who exhibits here the same cloying vocal catches, scoops, slurs, and growls evident in the cast recording of Rent, as well as the same cardboard acting style. Although I do have to say that there seemed to be some genuine pathos in evidence during "Pity the Child."

The appeal of Chess has always been the gorgeous, chill-inducing music by Björn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson, combined with Tim Rice's often-inspired but sometimes-clunky lyrics. The stripped-down book of the concert version renders the relevance of many of the songs opaque, if not incomprehensible. But even if Chess the show doesn't work, the songs do, particularly the soaring "Anthem" and the thrilling duet "You and I," both of which feature Groban to positively stirring effect.

The concert version of Chess reverts back to the structure and song list of the concept album and the London version of the show, restoring a number of admittedly fun songs that don't belong in the show, including "Embassy Lament," and "The Merchandisers," the levity of which throws off the show's tone. And "One Night in Bangkok" remains, as always, an irrelevant cheese-fest.

But the concert also includes "Someone Else's Story," which was written for the Broadway version, to be sung by Florence. However, in the concert version the song goes to Svetlana, Anatoly's wife. This makes no sense at all. Here is a song about someone deciding whether to stay or leave, but this character is not in that position; Anatoly has already left her. This change was probably made to accommodate one Kerry Ellis, who is currently playing Elphaba in the London Wicked. Which makes sense, because Ellis here has all the vocal restraint and acting talent of Idina Menzel. Which is to say, not much. 

So, there are two reasons to be interested in this concert: Josh Groban and the music. I say skip the DVD and buy the CD. Better yet, just buy the songs that have Groban on them. The folks at iTunes seem to understand this, and have priced the separate cuts accordingly: any track that features Groban costs $1.29, while the rest are 99 cents. (Heads up: All the songs are $0.99 at Amazon)

Chess has always been a show that's very close to my heart, ever since I bought the concept album in college. But I've long since given up hope that it will ever work as a show. It's probably time that the show's creators do the same.

Forever Plaid at a Theater Near You

Last year, we saw the first "cinecast" of a Broadway musical. The final performances of Rent were filmed and subsequently broadcast to movie theaters in September. The film was later released on DVD, and those of us who were deeply disappointed in the 2005 film version of Rent were thrilled to have this vastly superior version (read my review) to replace Chris Columbus's torpid document of this landmark show.

However, the cinecasts of Rent didn't do well in some geographic markets -- although the showing I saw in Boston was packed -- so there was a question as to whether other shows would receive the cinecast treatment.

But it looks as though the theatrical cinecast is still alive, at least for now. On July 9th, NCM Fathom will present a one-night-only 20th anniversary showing of Forever Plaid. The event will apparently include a pre-taped performance of the show, a live segment featuring original cast members, as well as a follow-the-bouncing-ball sing-along.

Um, really? Forever Plaid? That's the show that the movie-going public is crying out to see?

As you may know, Forever Plaid ran Off Broadway over four years in the early '90s, amassing a total of 1,811 performances. It's the story of a close-harmony men's singing group that dies in a car crash only to come back from the great beyond for one final shot at glory. The show doesn't have an original score, but instead features such song standards as "Three Coins in the Fountain" and "Love is a Many Splendored Thing." Since its Off Broadway run, Forever Plaid has become a regional and community-theater staple, and has been performed all over the world.

Which is one of the reasons that I'm skeptical as to the economic prospects of the cinecast event. Rent was an event. Sure, the show had toured extensively, but this was a chance to see the final performance of an important and popular show. I just don't see enough people getting excited enough about Forever Plaid to make it economically viable, but perhaps the producers know something that I don't about the show's appeal. I'll certainly see it, and buy the video should it come out on DVD. But I'm a musical-theater fanatic. In order to succeed, this event is going to have to appeal to a broader audience, and I'm sorry but I just don't see that happening.

UPDATE: The producers of the Forever Plaid event contacted me hoping to change my mind about the cinecast. I told the woman I spoke with that I was certainly open to the possibility that the show might actually be a fun time, but that I remained skeptical as to its economic prospects. She said I might be surprised at how many Plaid heads there are out there. Yes, that would certainly surprise me. But she promised to send me some press passes so that I could decide for myself. Hey, I'm an open-minded guy, and I have certainly changed my mind, or at least revised my views, on a number of shows that I've reviewed. Billy Elliot, Next to Normal, and In the Heights come to mind. But will the same happen for Forever Plaid? The cinecast takes place July 9th. Watch this space shortly thereafter to see if it will.

A Little Night Music in London, New York, and Paris

It's a bit surprising, if not downright shameful, that so far there hasn't been a single Broadway revival of the Stephen Sondheim/Hugh Wheeler masterwork A Little Night Music. It's not only one of Sondheim's few shows to make a profit during its initial Broadway run, it's also pretty darned near perfect. (Although I venerate "The Miller's Son" as a song, it doesn't belong in the show. It stops the action cold, just as we want things to wrap up, and it's 4-plus minutes with a deservedly minor character.)

We've been hearing for years about proposed New York revivals of A Little Night Music, but they've had a nasty habit of falling through. A few years back, Glenn Close was supposed to make her return to the Broadway musical stage in the role of Desiree. That production never materialized.

More recently, the Roundabout Theatre staged a successful one-night-only benefit concert version of A Little Night Music, which starred Natasha Richardson and her mother, Vanessa Redgrave. There was talk of the Roundabout bringing the show back as part of its regular season, but Richardson's tragic death unfortunately prevented that from happening.

Now it looks as though the current London production, helmed by Trevor Nunn, is making a bid for Broadway later this year. A Little Night Music opened at London's Garrick Theatre in December 2008, after a sold-out run at the Menier Chocolate Factory. A recent casting notice states that rehearsals for the Broadway production are tentatively scheduled to begin in October toward a December opening at a theater TBD. We'll see as to whether that production comes to pass. 

As if that weren't enough, Playbill.com recently reported that Kristin Scott Thomas (who was robbed...Robbed!...of a Tony nomination for her sparkling turn as Madame Arkadina last fall in The Seagull) will play Desiree in Paris an English-language production in 2010. Before you ask, "Can she sing?," I would remind you that the role was written to cater to the vocal limitations of Glynis Johns, who originated the role in the 1973 Broadway production. It's the kind of part that requires an actress first, a singer second. Dame Judi Dench played Desiree in London in 1995, and anyone who's heard that long out-of-print and highly collectible cast recording can vouch for the fact that she's no Maria Callas. 

I'm certainly hoping to see the New York revival actually happen. If it doesn't, I may just have to fly over to London or Paris. Or both.

Dame Edna and Flight of the Conchords

This past weekend, I had the chance to see both Dame Edna and Flight of the Conchords during their recent stints in Boston. Yeah, that's a pretty divergent set of events. But seeing them both within the space of 24 hours provided an interesting comparison between an established performer and a comedic duo in the midst of a meteoric rise.

As you may know, Dame Edna is the popular alter ego of actor/comedian Barry Humphries. Humphries has had a long and successful theatrical career: he played the undertaker Mr. Sowerberry in the original Broadway cast of Oliver. But somehow the Dame Edna character has taken over, overshadowing much of what Humphries has otherwise accomplished. (Speaking of Oliver, allegations have emerged that creator Lionel Bart may have plagiarized, or not given proper credit for, the work of his erstwhile collaborator, Joan Maitland. In fact, it's alleged that he paid her hush money for years. See the full story here. A hat tip to my friend and fellow blogger Kevin for providing the scoop.)

The last time I saw Humphries as Dame Edna was during the national stretch of Dame Edna: The Royal Tour. I recall being convulsed with laughter at the seeming genius of Humphries improvisational skills. Well, upon second viewing, it's clear that while Humphries certainly has a knack at extemporizing, he also has a large arsenal of stock jokes and bits. A very large arsenal. In fact, I noticed very little that was fresh during his current show. Yes, he's still a thoroughly engaging performer, but I had a night-long feeling of déjà vu.

The same was true for much of the set for Flight of the Conchords, the popular comedic, quasi-folk duo from New Zealand. I haven't yet seen the second season of their TV series, so I'm not familiar with a lot of their more recent material. And because of the acoustics -- or lack thereof -- at Boston University's Agganis Arena, I had trouble understanding the lyrics for the songs I'd never heard before. And with the Conchords, it's really about the lyrics: their musicality is primitive at best, perhaps deliberately so. But even their old stuff fell pretty flat for me. The audience members seemed to go nuts as they recognized the first few notes of their favorite songs, but once the songs got going, there was precious little actual laughter.

And therein lies the challenge of comedy, musical or otherwise. To engage your audience, you have to keep developing new material. It's interesting that, with regular singers and bands, we don't mind hearing the same songs over and over again. In fact, we eat it up. But with comedians, we feel somewhat cheated if we hear too much of the same old stuff. One of the refreshing things about Demetri Martin's recent set at Boston's Wilbur Theater was that almost all of the material was new, despite the fact that he's written material for numerous TV specials, a comedy CD, and a new TV series on Comedy Central, all of which I have seen or listened to. 

So, Dame Edna could use some new material. The Conchords had plenty of new material, but a 7,200-seat arena was not the ideal place for me to experience it. The Conchords would be far more engaging and effective in a significantly smaller venue, but of course that would mean they wouldn't be able to sell as many tickets, or would need to perform multiple shows. A dilemma, indeed.

Finian's Rainbow at Encores

When the Burton Lane and E.Y. "Yip" Harburg musical Finian's Rainbow first appeared on Broadway in 1947, it was considered fresh and charming, even innovative. The score was chockablock with tuneful gems, and the book featured a kind of progressive politics and commentary that made the show more than just a pleasant diversion.

The show enjoyed a profitable run of 725 performances, but has since sort of disappeared, apart from two very brief revivals in the '50s and '60s, and the occasional limited run, such as the 2004 stint at the Irish Repertory Theater with Malcolm Gets and Melissa Errico. 

Conventional wisdom has been that Finian's Rainbow had become unrevivable, at least for an extended commercial run, because of a plot twist in the show in which a bigoted southern senator is turned black as a sort of expiation of his chauvinistic sins. Overly sensitive audience members might consider this offensive, or at least be afraid that someone somewhere might find it offensive, even if they themselves did not. Good old liberal guilt.

Since opportunities to catch this show are rare, I was pleased to see that the folks at Encores had included it as part of their current season. But when I caught the show last weekend, I found it to be unaccountably dull and unengaging.

It's certainly not the score that was the trouble. Is there a more appealing collection of tunes in the musical theater canon? Every last number is a gem, from the jazzy "Old Devil Moon," to the jaunty "If This Isn't Love," to the lyrical "How Are Things in Glocca Morra?" There are also charming and funny character numbers, including "Something Sort of Grandish" and "When I'm Not Near the Girl I Love." And there are also terrific crowd numbers, such as "The Great Come-And-Get-It Day" and "When the Idle Poor Become the Idle Rich." There's not a single dog in the bunch, although a number of the songs have questionable relevance to the plot.

And the cast was about the best you could hope for, led by the ever appealing Kate Baldwin and the always reliable Cheyenne Jackson as the show's central lovers, Sharon and Woody. Plus, there was the adorable Jeremy Bobb as Og, the leprechaun, and Tony winner Jim Norton as the titular Finian. And director Warren Carlyle kept the proceedings moving, so it wasn't as though the pace was dragging.

Which leaves us with the book. Oh, that book. It's as creaky as the Tin Man's knee, at least as adapted here by David Ives. I've noticed over the past year or two that, when I've had issues with Encores shows, it usually had something to do with the book. Perhaps they've been cutting these shows down too much, at the expense of clarity and character development. That certainly seemed to be the case with Finain's Rainbow. So when I got home, I broke out my copy of the original libretto, by Harburg and Fred Saidy. And I found that Ives had cut quite a bit of the book, so much that certain numbers, such as "The Begat" and "Necessity," came seemingly out of nowhere. Ives also seems to have excised much of the character development that had made these people appealing in the first place, particularly Sharon and Woody.

So, when I heard this week that there were plans afoot to move Finian's Rainbow to Broadway in the fall -- most likely at the St. James Theater, after the limited run for Desire Under the Elms is finished -- I was dismissive at first. But the more I read through the original book, the more I thought that a decent, entertaining production of the show might be possible, provided that they restore more of the original libretto, or perhaps incorporate changes from the adaptation that the late, great Peter Stone created for the Irish Rep production.

But even if they can make the show work, I have my doubts as to whether there will be sufficient public interest in the show to make a commercial production viable. It's one thing to wow the "in" crowd at City Center. It's another thing entirely to attract enough of the general public to make a Broadway run profitable. Heck, if frickin' Gypsy with frickin' Patti LuPone can't manage more than 332 performances, what makes producers think that Finian's Rainbow is going to lure the crowds in? In a recession, yet.

The BGMC Sings Outside the Box

Regular readers will likely recall that, in addition to my blog and my teaching gig at the Boston Conservatory, I also sing with the Boston Gay Men's Chorus. This weekend, the BGMC is presenting its March concert, entitled Outside the Box. The program comprises a bunch of numbers that...well...sort of fall outside the typical purview of the chorus. The selections include compositions by Melissa Etheridge, k.d. lang, and Rufus Wainwright.

Yeah, yeah, whatever. Thankfully, the program also includes a sizable sampling of showtunes. (Because that's what we care about, isn't it, dear reader?) The concert opens with a medley of Stephen Sondheim's "Take Me to the World" (from the obscure Evening Primrose) and Marc Blitzstein's "Never Get Lost" (from the mega-flop Reuben Reuben).

We'll also be singing an early work from theater and opera composer Ricky Ian Gordon, called "Love, My Sweet Rain." Then there's a series of songs by composer Billy Strayhorn, songs normally associated with/attributed to Duke Ellington, including "Lush Life," "Take the A Train," and "Satin Doll." And we'll perform a medley of the only two decent songs from Young Frankenstein, "Deep Love" and "He Vas My Boyfriend."

And then there's me. In a sort of tribute to the new West Side Story revival, I'll be joining two of my nearest and dearest, Bill Casey and Chris Mahoney, in singing a slightly reconceived version of "I Feel Pretty" with our guest female soloist, Ceceilia Allwein. And we don't even need to sing it in Spanish to make it special. (And special it is...)

The concerts are this Saturday night at 8PM and Sunday at 3PM at Boston's Jordan Hall. Great seats are still available at the BGMC Web site, or at the box office.

Oh, and while I have your attention, mark your calendars for Saturday, May 9th, when the BGMC will be holding its annual fundraiser, Crescendo! Our extra special guest this year will be Sandra Bernhard. That's right, bitches: Sandra Frickin' Bernhard. We were fortunate to snag Sandy before she heads off to London for the 20th anniversary edition of her show, Without You I'm Nothing. If you've never been to a BGMC fundraiser before, this is definitely the one you want to go out of your way to attend.

Music in the Air at Encores

Musical theater as we know it really only began about 150 years ago, and most of the shows that we know and love are less than 60 years old. Even so, there are hundreds, nay thousands of musicals that came, made a modest or possibly better impression, and went, never to be heard from again except by the likes of me and theater historians. Doubtless among these forgotten many are underrated gems, ripe for rediscovery.

Music in the Air isn't one of them. A modest hit in 1932, Music in the Air made a very brief Broadway return in 1951, only to slip into obscurity until the folks at Encores dusted it off for a concert staging this season. The show is not without its minor charms, but despite the respectful treatment that the Encores staff have given it, Music in the Air is a creaky little trifle, bordering on tedious, crafted in a style at least partly obviated by its stellar creators.

Music in the Air was the second show that composer Jerome Kern and librettist and lyricist Oscar Hammerstein created after their seminal Show Boat. One of the great ironies of Hammerstein's career is that he essentially invented the integrated musical play, then seemed to forget how to create one for sixteen years, until he met up with Richard Rodgers.

Music in the Air represents a significant regression in Hammerstein's career. Very few of the songs in the show are sung in character. Most are sung as songs, rather than by people expressing emotions or plot points. The term for this sort of usage is diegesis, which for musical-theater purposes refers to when a song is song as a musical occurrence within the plot, and the characters are aware that they are in fact singing a song. Examples of diagetic songs include "Bill" in Show Boat, or "Do Re Mi" in The Sound of Music. (A tip of the hat to my friend and fellow blogger Kevin at Theatre Aficionado at Large for pointing this out.)

Apparently, Hammerstein wrote Music in the Air as an homage/send-up of operetta, a genre in which he essentially had his musical-theater apprenticeship. The result is very stand-and-sing, with precious few songs that reveal character or progress the story. There's some wonderful Kern music in evidence here, but the catchiest tune, the charming but slight "I've Told Every Little Star," is repeated ad nauseum, as though Kern and Hammerstein knew the only really had one potential hit in the score.

The Encores production was dreadfully dull at first, until Kristen Chenoweth and Douglas Sills made their entrance about half an hour into the show. I'm sure the sudden spark of life stemmed partly from these two wonderful and engaging performers, but the writing at this point in the show suddenly becomes more interesting as well. Less stand-and-sing operetta and more engaging musical sequences. Sills and Chenoweth play a feuding show biz couple, a la Lily and Fred from Kiss Me Kate. In the sequence in which they describe their latest show, Hammerstein pokes gentle fun at the operetta genre, and his writing becomes more layered and three-dimensional.

Hammerstein does employ a number of interesting devices throughout the show, foreshadowing some of the innovations that would characterize his later career. He makes significant use of Sprechstimme during one sequence in the second act, although the intent was inscrutable. The most interesting sequence involved a contrafactum (i.e. two songs with the same melody). The Douglas Sills character has written a waltz called "Night Flies By" for the Kristen Chenoweth character. As he woos the ingenue, played here by Sierra Boggess (The Little Mermaid), he pretends that he has made the song up on the fly, just for her, with a new lyric and the title "One More Dance" The Chenoweth character exposes his lie as they sing the two versions at the same time. An amusing choice on Hammerstein's part. (BTW, rumor has it that Boggess might be playing Christine in the upcoming sequel to Phantom of the Opera. Then maybe someday she'll have the chance to reveal her numerous talents in a real musical.)

The supporting cast for Music in the Air comprised a full complement of seasoned pros, including Dick Latessa and Marni Nixon, both of whom lent an air of class and professionalism to their all-too-brief appearances. A welcome discovery was Ryan Silverman opposite Boggess in the juvenile role, a charming performer with a bright stage presence, a strong voice, and a sure hand with even the creakiest of lines.

Despite my reservations with the show itself, I'm hoping that the Encores cast gets to record the score to Music in the Air, which has never had a real cast album, just a radio broadcast released on CD and an ad hoc compilation of recordings by one Jane Pickens. It would be great to have a first-class recording of this score, if for no other reason than it's Kern and Hammerstein, for frig's sake.

On the Town at City Center

On my most recent trip to New York City, I caught the final performance of Encores' concert version of On the Town at City Center. I'm only just now getting to writing up the review because I've had an extraordinarily busy time at work, and I figured there wasn't any chance of readers getting to see the show based on my review anyway, my having seen the last performance and all.

This was my first time seeing On the Town on stage. I include the show in my course at the Boston Conservatory, because it represents a significant step in the history of integrating dance into Broadway musicals. On the Town began as a ballet called Fancy Free, a collaboration between choreographer Jerome Robbins and composer Leonard Bernstein.

Because of that genesis, the show has dance at its very core, and uses movement as the connective tissue between the show's entertaining but disparate elements. To flesh out the ballet into a fully fledged musical, the producers brought in theater neophytes Betty Comden and Adolph Green, who would eventually be counted among the foremost practitioners of the musical-theater craft.

Heretofore I've had to rely on the script for On the Town and secondary sources in order to include the show in my course, so it was a treat to actually see it onstage, particularly with Jerome Robbins' thrilling original choreography, recreated here by Warren Carlyle. The only drawback here was the stage setup. The dancing took place downstage in front of the orchestra as well as on an elevated platform behind the orchestra. Because of the sight lines, and the fact that my seat was way over on house right, there was a pretty significant chunk of the upstage dancing that I couldn't see. This was especially galling during solo dances and pas de deux. 

On the whole, the show is an amusing trifle, an entertaining but workmanlike piece. The only person involved in the original production that had any previous Broadway experience was director George Abbott, and On the Town reflects his knack for taking thin shows and making them work with swift pacing and showmanship.

The main attraction for this particular production was its cast of Broadway stalwarts, including the very appealing Tony Yazbeck as Gabey. Yazbeck is a simply sensational dancer, and he's come along way as an actor since his turn as Al in the recent revival of A Chorus Line. He's far more dimensional and assured on stage here. No doubt his work as Tulsa in the current Gypsy revival has helped in this regard.

Other standouts in the cast included Jennifer Laura Thompson, who was simply terrific in both Urinetown and Wicked, as the libidinous anthropologist Claire de Loone. The wonderful Andrea Martin stole the show, as is her wont, as Madame Dilly. At first I wasn't taken in by her antics; it was a bit too "I'm the funny one" for my taste. But eventually she won me over, as she always has, even in the otherwise dreadful Young Frankenstein and the soporific revival of Candide.

Leslie Kritzer, who was such a revelation in the lovely and underrated A Catered Affair, was a bit of a  disappointment as the cab driver Hildy. The normally showstopping "I Can Cook Too" was especially lackluster. Perhaps Kritzer has a good Hildy somewhere down inside her, but director John Rando doesn't seem to have been the right person to pull it out of her.

Next up for Encores is the relatively obscure Music in the Air, the second show that Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein collaborated on after their groundbreaking Show Boat. It was a modest success, but has since been almost totally forgotten, except by aficionados. The Encores cast will feature Sierra Boggess, Sally Ann Howes, Marin Mazzie, Dick Latessa, Walter Charles, Anne L. Nathan, and Douglas Sills. I just got my ticket in the hope that I'll be discovering an underrated gem.

But one nevers knows. Do one?

BGMC Holiday Concert: Stars

Looking to put the proper spin on holiday madness? Need something to put you in a festive mood? Seeking escape from daily tales of economic distress and political chicanery?

Well, look no further, my friend. Fortunately for you, there's the Boston Gay Men's Chorus. This weekend, we're offering three holiday concerts at Boston's lovely and resonant Jordan Hall. We'll be performing everything from your standard holiday classics to moving tributes to both Matthew Shepard and Kristallnacht. Really. 

In keeping with the theme of "Stars" we'll also be featuring a kick-ass star-to-be named Claire Phillipe. Check out this YouTube video for a taste of what Claire can do. I'm especially pleased that we're featuring the lovely, sweet, and talented Ms. Phillipe because she's a student of mine at the Boston Conservatory. Claire is also on the short list for becoming the next Effie White in a planned Broadway revival of Dreamgirls. So, you saw her here first!

But it wouldn't be a BGMC holiday concert without some over-the-top tomfoolery and mayhem. We'll also be featuring a special appearance by the monks of the order of St. Francis de la Sissies, and even a visit from jolly old St. Nick himself. Plus, your humble blogger features prominently in a dance number that includes more random showtunes and mixed metaphors than really should be allowed by law.

Good seats are available for all shows, which take place Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night at 8PM. For tickets, visit www.bgmc.org or call 617-542-SING. Hope to see you there!

Patti LuPone's Gypsy May Be Filmed

Amid all the news of economic tumult and political unrest, it's nice to get some positive news for a change, albeit tentative.

Playbill.com reports that the current revival of Gypsy, starring Tony Award winner Patti LuPone, will likely be filmed before it closes in March. According to Playbill, the ticketing site Telecharge.com is featuring the following notice for those buying tickets for the final Gypsy performances:

IMPORTANT NOTICE: This performance of 'Gypsy' may be filmed for future purposes. Please be advised that stationary and moving cameras may be placed throughout the theatre as we attempt to capture this historic production on film.

A production spokesperson wouldn't confirm that the show would be filmed, but the very prospect sets my heart atwitter. (Read my original review and my revisit review.)

In other shows-on-film news, it turns out that the recent "cine-cast" of Rent will indeed receive a DVD release, which is scheduled to come out in February 2009. Now we can all throw away our copies of Chris Columbus's flaccid film version and savor a film worthy of the show and its late creator, Jonathan Larson. (Read my review of Rent: Filmed Live on Broadway.)

In other La LuPone news, I just got the CD for her legendary Les Mouches concert, and it's unbearable. It's basically a live recording Patti made way back when she was starring in Evita. The sound quality isn't very good, because it was apparently never meant for commercial release, but that's not really the problem here. What makes the CD virtually unlistenable is (1) Patti's notoriously bad diction, and (2) her insufferable, self-satisfied demeanor. Her diction has unquestionably gotten better over the years, and her career ups and downs have instilled at least a feigned modicum of humility. But, unless you're jonesing for a Patti fix, I'd say give this recording a wide berth.

Damn Yankees: Summer Fun at City Center

Although I briefly address Damn Yankees in my Boston Conservatory course, until last weekend I had never seen a professional production. I'm very familiar with the faithful movie adaptation, and I've long been a fan of the cast album, but this was my first time seeing the show on a real stage.

No mere concert version, the City Center's Encores! production is fully staged, with costumes and sets, and without scripts. I had heard that performers in the Encores! series have to carry scripts because they're operating under a special concert agreement with the union. This was true of Juno and No, No, Nanette, but for Damn Yankees there wasn't a script in sight. Perhaps the "Summer Stars" series has a different union agreement, and/or since the Encores! shows run a bit longer in the summer, it's more worthwhile for people to actually learn their lines.

In any case, I thoroughly enjoyed this production of Damn Yankees, although I had some minor reservations with the show itself and with a few of the performances. The marquee performers here are TV stars Sean Hayes and Jane Krakowski, and for the most part they're professional but uninspired in their respective roles as Applegate and Lola. Hayes is at his best when glimpses of his Jack McFarland character on "Will and Grace" are peeking through, but he's stiff and stilted when he's trying to play it straight, as it were. It reminded me of seeing Megan Mullaley in Young Frankenstein, who was trying way too hard not to be Karen Walker. I say, don't resist it: If something works, let it ride. Did anyone knock Jimmy Durante or Fanny Brice for always doing the same shtick? Perhaps they did, but it hasn't affected the legendary status of those performers.

Hayes has some really great moments as Applegate, and certainly has the audience on his side. However, Hayes and director John Rando have made a major miscalculation during Applegate's second act would-be show-stopper, "Those Were the Good Old Days." Hayes is a classically trained pianist, a fact that Rando mistakenly chooses to showcase during the first part of the number. It's a choice that could have worked, but doesn't. Hayes focuses so much on his keyboard ministrations that he drains the number of its comic intent. It does set up a very cute visual joke with a violin, but otherwise this choice was misguided.

Jane Krakowski has the thankless task of trying to reclaim the Lola role from the marvelous Gwen Verdon, a very difficult task, as Bebe Neuwirth discovered during the 1994 Damn Yankees revival. But Krakowski certainly holds her own. There's no real spark in her Lola, but she has a strong voice and an amazing body. Plus, she's really a terrific dancer, a fact that becomes particularly evident during the "Two Lost Souls" dance break. Krakowski didn't really get much of a chance to show off her dancing skills in Grand Hotel or Nine.

The production team have chosen to use Bob Fosse's original choreography, recreated here by Mary MacLeod. Some of the dancers aren't quite in sync with the Fosse style, including Tony nominee John Selya. He's athletic, to be sure, but he hasn't quite been able to adopt the signature Fosse postures and mannerisms.

The below-the-title cast members are for the most part outstanding, particularly Randy Graff as an animated and sympathetic Meg. Cheyenne Jackson is his strong-voiced, appealing, and gorgeous self, although some of the vocal tricks he employs to such great effect as Sonny in Xanadu don't really work for Joe Hardy. 

The show itself is not without its flaws. The Gloria character, played here by Tony nominee Megan Lawrence, starts off helping to create the "Shoeless Joe" persona, then spends the rest of the show trying to cut the guy down, and the script provides no justification for the sudden switch. And the "Who's Got the Pain?" number is a direct parallel to "Steam Heat" in The Pajama Game: neither number has any real justification in the plot, but rather merely exists to showcase some terrific Fosse choreography. But even in the '50s, this was an antiquated notion, obviated by the Rodgers and Hammerstein revolution, which dictated that every element of the show should somehow serve the plot, reveal character, or establish time and place. Both "Who's Got the Pain?" and "Steam Heat" fail on all counts. 

But, on the whole, this is a solid production with an appealing cast, and a welcome summer diversion. And it's about as close as I'm ever going to get to taking in a Yankees game. Or any game, for that matter.

Brian Stokes Mitchell with the Boston Pops

As part of my discovering-what's- playing-in-my-own-backyard tour, last night I took in Brian Stokes Mitchell singing with the Boston Pops. The title of the concert was "Broadway's Leading Man," which I felt was a bit presumptuous. BSM is a talented guy, but he's not the only leading man Broadway has these days.

So I have to admit I was a bit prejudiced going in, further reinforced by a conversation I had recently. When I mentioned I was going to the concert to my friend David, he said that after he saw Mitchell's self-aggrandizing curtain-call bow at the end of Ragtime, it was over for him with BSM. He even skipped the revival of Kiss Me, Kate, lest he be forced to witness the self-love fest once again.

But before we get to Mitchell's performance with the Pops, I must mention what happened during the first half of the concert. After a perfunctory tribute to Leonard Bernstein on the 90th anniversary of his birth, conductor Keith Lockhart segued into three performances by semi-finalists in the Pops' first-ever high school musical-theater sing-off. In other words, "American Idol" with showtunes. Predictably, the girl with the most vibrato and the biggest mannerisms won, giving an emotionally excessive rendition of "Being Alive." (As performed here, "Being ALLLLLLLLLLLive!!!")

So, I was feeling a mite perturbed when BSM took to the stage. Lockhart introduced Mitchell as a "legendary" performer, which made me bristle. No, Keith. Judy Garland is legendary. Brian Stokes Mitchell is sort of well-known within a very parochial group of Broadway insiders. I was reminded of Gerard Alessandrini's parody of "Wunderbar," featured in Forbidden Broadway 2001: A Spoof Odyssey.

Would-be stars
Would-be stars
[...]
But my name you'll forget
'Cuz I'm not quite famous yet

My overall reaction to Mitchell's concert set was that I wanted to climb up onto the stage and wipe the smug, self-congratulatory smile off his admittedly chiseled face. The songs he sang were mostly over-the-top show-stoppers ("Some Enchanted Evening," "Impossible Dream," "This Nearly Was Mine") mixed in with the occasional over-orchestrated standard ("How Long Has This Been Going On"), or showboating virtuoso piece ("Don't Rain on My Parade," "Tchaikovsky").

The few interesting selections (Maury Yeston's lovely "New Words," "I Was Here" from The Glorious Ones) also failed to land, mostly because of Mitchell's immodest delivery, and his propensity toward RLNS (Really Long Note Syndrome). Mitchell also did a painfully twee rendition of "It's Not That Easy Being Green," trying unsuccessfully to channel his remote youthful self, which had me squirming in my seat.

Don't get me wrong: Brian Stokes Mitchell can be a terrific performer. With the right material and a strong-armed director, he's quite an imposing and effective actor. But left to his own devices, he seems to be following in the self-indulgent steps of Mandy Patinkin.

As Guenevere says to Lancelot in Camelot: "Tell me, Milord, have you come to terms with humility lately?"