My Top 10 Theatre Experiences: Part 2

A few weeks ago, I started to publish a list of my Top 10 theatrical experiences of all time.  This list includes the shows that have had a profound impact on my theatre-going life, and the ones that have remained the most vivid in my memory since initially seeing them.  You can read the first article for a more thorough breakdown of the criteria I've used, but basically for a show to make the list it had to play Broadway and be solid from top to bottom (excellent star turns in mediocre shows have been left off).  And the list is alphabetical, because coming up with a numbered ranking for these 10 shows would just be too hard.

So picking up where I left off:

The Book of Mormon

Andrew Rannells and the original Broadway cast of The Book of Mormon

The Book of Mormon holds a distinction that I do not give out lightly; despite my hesitancy to rank the shows on this list, almost 3 years after my first viewing I can safely say that The Book of Mormon is the best night I've ever spent in the theatre.  The energy inside the theatre was palpable during the early March preview I attended back in 2011; though highly anticipated, the show was shrouded in secrecy.  The producers had only released four production stills, there was no video or audio available, and the program purposefully lacked a song list or even a basic scene breakdown.  None of us quite knew what we were getting into, and the experience was all the better for it.

As a huge fan of South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut (easily among my favorite films of all time), I had enormous expectations for this show, and it handily exceeded every one of them.  By the end of the opening number I was grinning from ear to ear, and soon after that I was howling with laughter.  The show was every bit as gleefully offensive as you could imagine, and crossed a couple of boundaries even I wasn't sure they were allowed to.  And yet the show was so hilarious, and more importantly so heartfelt, that it didn't matter.  The show had a soul, and a soul that not only respected but embraced the traditions of the glitzy book musicals of days past.  There are rousing production numbers, comic duets, and second act power ballads that manage to both gently mock the absurdity of such things while at the same time being excellent examples of those troupes.

Simply put, The Book of Mormon is one of the best constructed musicals of the new millennium, as well as one of the funniest.  But what made this experience truly transcendent for me was the absolutely extraordinary original cast.  Everyone, from the principals to the ensemble members, was an extremely talented triple threat with spot-on comic timing and amazing chemistry.  While Josh Gad was rightly praised for his scenery chewing turn as the hopelessly awkward Elder Cunningham, I think Andrew Rannells' supremely smug Elder Price was the show's true revelation.  Rannells managed to play straight man to Gad's comic genius while remaining hilarious in his own right, and turned what could have been a thoroughly off-putting character into a beacon of charisma and old-school showmanship.  (Also, Rannells' pop-tenor is nearly flawless.)  Tony-winner Nikki M. James provided the show's heart and soul as Ugandan tribeswoman Nabalungi, and Rory O'Malley led one of this decade's great production numbers with his showstopping "Turn It Off" (which incidentally includes my favorite sight gag in the entire show, and one that made me audibly gasp in delight when I first saw it).

The Book of Mormon is rightfully one of the hottest tickets in town, commanding upwards of $450 per ticket for the premium seats.  It is the only show running I would even consider paying that much money for, and I will continue to recommend it to any and everyone who will listen.

Follies (2011 Revival)

The "Loveland" sequence from the 2011 revival of Follies

Stephen Sondheim's utter mastery of the musical theatre form is sometimes taken for granted, and I often call him the Shakespeare of the musical stage.  Like the Bard, Sondheim's works have the remarkable ability to reveal new facets of meaning with each subsequent viewing, and have proven able to withstand a wide array of reimaginings and concept-based stagings.  But sometimes, as the breathtaking 2011 revival of Follies proved, all you need is to do the show the way it was written.  Grandly opulent and utterly heartbreaking, this revival took a show I had always found intriguing and skyrocketed it up my personal list to the point where I consider it one of the finest musicals ever created.

The show, centered around the reunion of the last remaining performers of a Ziegfeld Follies-esque spectacle, is simultaneously about nothing and everything.  There is very little plot, and yet over the course of the evening the show manages to make deeply poignant observations about growing older and regret while still celebrating the vast amount of beauty to be found in life.  Sondheim's score is a parade of pastiches that include some of the greatest ballads ever written, including cabaret standards like "I'm Still Here" and "Losing My Mind."  The most expensive musical ever produced at the time of its original premiere, Follies requires an elaborate physical production and enormous cast, and this revival hit both of those elements out of the park.

Bernadette Peters' performance as Sally Durante-Plummer is probably one of the more divisive in recent Broadway history; I personally loved her, and found her character's slow unraveling to be a fascinating portrait of the cost of unmet ambitions.  But nobody could argue with the stunning brilliance of her onstage husband Danny Burstein, who was a revelation as Buddy Plummer and robbed (ROBBED!) of a justly deserved Tony Award.  And Jan Maxwell's pitch-perfect embodiment of the jaded, bitter Phyllis Rogers-Stone was such a masterclass in musical theatre acting that I can still vividly recall her two big numbers ("Could I Leave You?" and "The Story of Lucy and Jessie").  The only reason I am okay with her not winning a long-overdue Tony is because that year's victor was Audra McDonald for Porgy and Bess, which was one step beyond perfection.

Finally, Follies has what may be one of the most thrilling theatrical climaxes of any musical I've ever seen.  Watching the main quartet of characters finally reach their breaking point, triggering the 20-minute long "Loveland" sequence in which each character is deconstructed in an elaborately-staged Follies-style production umber, had me on the edge of my seat in the way few shows ever had.  I can still see that initial reveal, with the downstage drop curtain falling to floor to reveal the dazzling Loveland set, as if it had happened this morning.


That's enough for today.  Hopefully I will be a little more regular on the blog postings, but even if it takes a while I promise the rest of this list is coming!

A Tall Tale Expertly Told

Review:  Big Fish

 

Kate Baldwin, Norbert Leo Butz, and believe it or not one of the simpler sets for Broadway's Big Fish

Based on the 2003 Tim Burton film and the novel of the same name, Big Fish has a big budget ($14 million, to be exact) and it shows.  There is no shortage of props, costumes, and various other theatrical accoutrements filling the Neil Simon’s stage, to the point where the elaborate physical production seems poised to overshadow the actual story being told.  Thankfully, the boundless talent and creativity of both the performers and director/choreographer Susan Stroman outshines any stage business, making Big Fish a thoroughly enjoyable musical comedy for the modern era.

The multifaceted story of Big Fish centers on Edward Bloom, a traveling salesman prone to telling fantastical stories about his life to anyone who will listen.  After a lifetime of stories about giants, mermaids, and witches instead of actual human interaction, Edward’s grown son Will harbors a deep-seated resentment towards his absentee father.  But when Will’s mother Sandra calls to reveal Edward has contracted a potentially terminal cancer, the junior Bloom decides now is the time to find out the truth behind his father’s tall tales.  As the narrative jumps between Edward’s fanciful past and less uplifting present, Big Fish ultimately reveals itself as a show very much concerned with fathers, sons, and the legacy we all leave behind when we die.

The whimsical nature of Edward’s stories and the uncomfortably real estrangement between father and son makes for a tricky combination of tones, and kudos must be given to bookwriter John August for blending these disparate elements so seamlessly.  The more outrageous production numbers transition smoothly into intimate character scenes, and the show’s book manages to be both laugh-out-loud funny and surprisingly moving.  August has provided his cast, particularly the charming rascal Edward, with some genuinely hilarious one-liners, while at the same time fleshing out his characters with more depth than typically seen in a musical comedy.  The one real flaw in the script is that it could stand a more cohesive ending; the three false endings presented muddle what could be a powerful conclusion by failing to agree on what the final sentiment of the show should be.

The score by Andrew Lippa is more problematic.  His melodies are certainly pleasing to the ear, and the entire show has been lushly orchestrated by Tony-winner Larry Hochman.  It’s not that Lippa has written bad music, but he does seem to have written the wrong music, and his unnecessarily rangy pop-influenced bombast drowns out the delicate and emotionally complex ideas in his lyrics.  The show’s best musical moments are the quieter ballads, but Lippa seems distrustful of the notion that the simplest solution can often be the best.  So he throws in another modulation and some vocal grandstanding for good measure, making the show sound like every other Broadway score of the past 5 years.  All of that said, Lippa and August have done an excellent job of integrating the songs into the show’s book, and with the exception of Will’s first act solo “Stranger” every musical number feels purposeful and necessary.

5-time Tony winner Susan Stroman directs this material with her trademark wit and invention, creating an unending parade of delightful surprises throughout her fluid staging.  Stroman’s choreography finds the delicate balance between being earnest and self-aware, winking at the audience without mocking the story or the characters.  The only minor quibble with Stroman’s work here is that the material doesn’t afford her a showstopping production number like “Springtime for Hitler” in The Producers or “I’ve Got Rhythm” in Crazy for You.  That said, she does stellar work in the Stomp-influenced opening number “Be the Hero” and the wonderfully cheeky USO-inspired “Red, White and True” at the top of the second act.  Her playfulness never distracts from the show’s pace or emotional core, and there is a much-appreciated old school polish to her staging.

Stroman has also assembled a dynamite cast, headed by two-time Tony-winner Norbert Leo Butz in yet another spectacular display of his seemingly unending list of talents.  Butz combines the charisma of a leading man with the finely-honed comedic timing of a character actor to create a magnetic Edward Bloom that anchors the entire evening.  Butz gets to play Bloom at every stage of his life, seamlessly transitioning back and forth between Edward’s various ages with only minimal help from costumes and makeup.  Rarely leaving the stage, Butz conjures up unexpected depth and unparalleled showmanship as required, reaffirming his status as one of the most talented actors of his generation and making it impossible to take your eyes off him.

Tony-nominee Bobby Steggert has a tougher time finding his footing in the role of Edward’s son Will, although it is not for lack of trying.  Butz is such a dominate personality that Steggert’s character arc often seems secondary, although the latter actor manages the tricky feat of constantly antagonizing the show’s most charming character without becoming unsympathetic himself.  The subtlety of Steggert’s performance helps guide the audience to an understanding of Edward without beating them over the head with it, and the young performer is in fine voice throughout.

Rounding out the main cast is Kate Baldwin as Sandra Bloom, wife to Edward and mother to Will.  Baldwin is fantastic as the love of Edward’s life, creating a fully realized person in a role which leaves many things unsaid.  With a single glance and a carefully timed sigh Baldwin shows us glimpses of the immense turmoil within this woman forced to watch the two most important men in her life fight with one another, and she fills the flashback scenes with such unbridled joy you instantly understand why Edward is so smitten with her (their initial meeting, the haunting “Time Stops,” is perhaps the single most effective moment of the show).  Baldwin’s crystalline voice also does the best job navigating the highs and lows of Lippa’s score, and her Act II ballad “I Don’t Need a Roof” is heartbreaking.

As for the show’s physical production, making a value judgment about it is unusually tough.  On the one hand, everything about the show is expertly crafted and visually stunning.  The rubic’s cube of a set by Julian Crouch makes the many scene changes virtually seamless, and the projection design by Benjamin Pearcy elevates that particular art to an entirely new level.  Susan Stroman’s continually surprising staging would not be possible without the endlessly inventive costumes by William Ivey Long, several of which provoked audible audience reactions the night I attended.  And yet there is so much of everything, from the various set pieces to the gargantuan number of costumes and props, that it verges on distracting.

There is a lot to like about Big Fish, starting with the dynamic central performance of Norbert Leo Butz.  He is backed by a supremely talented and funny cast that is able to effortlessly shift between the comedic and dramatic tones demanded by the story, which has been expertly mapped out by bookwriter John August and composer Andrew Lippa.  Susan Stroman’s staging is creative without becoming gimmicky, and her originality ensures that there is always something fresh and exciting around the corner.  Like the best tall tales, this show transports the audience to a world at once familiar and exciting, and that sense of wonder will linger with you long after the story is done.