It's A Complicated Russian Novel, Given a Top-Notch Adaptation

Review:  Natasha, Pierre, & the Great Comet of 1812

 

Phillipa Soo makes a stunning Off-Broadway debut as the title character in Natasha, Pierre, & the Great Comet of 1812.  Please let this be the start of many more star turns to come.

Every so often a show comes along that is so thrillingly original that it’s difficult to describe in words.  Natasha, Pierre, & the Great Comet of 1812 is just such a show, an incredible work of art so unlike what has come before that it must be experienced firsthand to be truly comprehended.  A seamless fusion of disparate and unexpected elements like Russian folk music, electronica, and 19^th century literature that draws equally from the worlds of musical theatre and traditional opera, Natasha is a rollicking good time in the theatre and easily the best new musical of the year. 

The story is adapted from a portion of Leo Tolstoy’s famous Russian epic War and Peace, but don’t for a second let that fact fool you into thinking Natasha is some stuffy, overly romantic period musical.  This self-described “electro-pop opera” makes the source material feel fresh, vibrant, and immediately accessible, distilling the passions and politics of the Russian aristocracy into something relatable to modern audiences without losing an ounce of the setting’s otherworldly appeal.  The plot follows the young and beautiful Natasha, who is madly in love with her fiancé Prince Andrey and goes to live with her godmother in Moscow while anxiously awaiting his return from fighting in the Napoleonic Wars.  During Andrey’s absence she meets and is eventually seduced by the indescribably handsome but morally questionable Anatole, whose brother-in-law Pierre serves as the evening’s narrator.

Through-composed with music and lyrics by Dave Malloy (who also provided the libretto), Natasha features an incredibly complex score that strikes the perfect balance between being immediately tuneful and offering nuanced layers that require repeated listening to fully appreciate.  Staying away from the more traditionally structured songs typically associated with musicals, Natasha’s score is heavily influenced by the operatic model of melodically inventive recitative interspersed with more rigidly formatted arias.  Malloy creates sonically distinct and vibrant worlds for each of the show’s varied settings, from the rapturously beautiful cacophony of the opera to the thumping bass of Moscow’s clubs.  The blending of such anachronistic and diametrically opposed genres only adds to the show’s unique identity, and never once does a musical choice feel inappropriate or ill advised.  Melodic motifs are subtly reused and reconfigured throughout, making the show sound familiar and yet fresh for the entirety of its runtime.

Malloy has written some truly stunning solos, like Natasha’s soaring “No One Else” or her cousin Sonya’s plaintive “Sonya Alone.”  Yet his true genius reveals itself in the more complex duets and ensemble numbers, which are filled to the bursting point with tight harmonies and elaborate choral writing.  The multi-talented Malloy has also orchestrated his own work to perfection, adding another dimension to the music as the instruments and vocals intertwine in deliciously unexpected ways.  But as beautiful and accomplished as Malloy’s score is, it is always in service of the characters and the story, and it keeps the show moving at a near-breathless pace.

Once the show starts, it doesn’t stop, and even the more introspective moments carry with them a thrilling forward momentum.  Malloy’s score lays the basis for this, but it is amplified and enhanced by Rachel Chavkin’s stunning direction.  Chavkin has gifted the show with an immersive staging that truly makes the audience feel like they are a part of the action, which occurs all around them in a specially designed venue called Kazino created explicitly to house the show.  The actors enter and exit from all sides, often speaking directly to the audience and occasionally roping a spectator or two into the action.  Chavkin’s artful deployment of her actors utilizes the space to its fullest while at the same time maintaining a laser-like focus; you always know exactly where you should look, but there is plenty to hold your attention should you choose to glance elsewhere.

Further enhancing the show’s crystal clear storytelling is the unbelievable lighting design by Bradley King.  King achieves a dizzying number of looks and washes over the course of the evening, highlighting and enhancing the action at every turn.  With just a couple of lights and some colored gels King transports us to a snow-covered Moscow street at night or an elaborate costumed ball in a palatial manor.  King’s work is essential in creating some of the evening’s most striking images, including a final tableau that beautifully abstracts the titular Comet of 1812.  It is a virtuosic piece of design work that stands among the very best lighting designs I’ve ever encountered.

And after all of this praise, I haven’t even touched upon the extraordinarily gifted cast who brings this tale to life.  The story is anchored, from beginning to end, by Julliard graduate Phillipa Soo’s stunning portrayal of Natasha.  Soo embodies Natasha’s youth and charisma while utilizing a staggering emotional honesty and accessibility that makes you feel every step of her journey from childhood innocence into full-grown womanhood.  Soo sings likes a dream and has a remarkable amount of control over her voice, but it is her acting that truly captures the audience and makes Natasha’s story involving, relatable, and ultimately heartbreaking.  Soo is a star in the making, and one can only hope that Natasha is the beginning of a long and illustrious career for the young beauty.

David Abeles is by necessity more restrained as Pierre, a cuckolded husband and academic who spends a majority of the first act on the story’s periphery.  He possesses an everyman quality that makes him feel approachable, and his expressive face and voice allows him to communicate the multitude of emotions roiling beneath Pierre’s stoic surface.  As his adulterous wife Helene, Amber Gray is an unbridled firebrand whose killer, blues-influenced voice is put to particularly good use during the song “Charming.”  And Grace McLean is outstanding as Marya D, Natasha godmother and the grande dame of the Moscow aristocracy.  A welcome bit of comic relief for most of the show, McLean comes into her own during the impassioned one-two punch of “In My House” and “A Call to Pierre” late in the second act.

The only cast member who isn’t quite all you’d hope is Lucas Steele as Anatole.  Undeniably handsome and possessing an impressive tenor, Steele can be hard to understand when singing in his middle register and lacks the emotional believability of his costars.  He has the character’s preening physicality down pat, but doesn’t quite have the chemistry to truly sell Anatole’s wholesale seduction of the innocent Natasha.

That is literally the only negative thing I have to say about the production (and Steele is by no means awful); everything else is top notch.  Dave Malloy has written a truly revolutionary score that deserves to be heard often and repeatedly, and may well prove to be an inspiration to an entire generation of future musical theatre composers.  Rachel Chavkin has directed the piece with precision and sensitivity, in an immersive environmental staging that is a shining example of how such productions should be done.  The refreshingly multi-ethnic cast is a top-notch group of singing actors, and Phillipa Soo in particular establishes herself as an actress to watch.  Natasha, Pierre, & the Great Comet of 1812 is playing a limited engagement through January 5th, so get your tickets now or miss out on the most exciting new musical of the year.

UPDATE:  The show has recently been extended to February 2nd, so you still have time to catch this gem!  I'm already planning my (3rd) trip to this astonishing production.

A Gentleman's Guide to a Jolly Good Time

Review:  A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder

Murder, you say? - Jefferson Mays is absolutely killing it as the eight doomed D'Ysquiths in A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder.

A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder, the delightful new musical comedy that just opened at the Walter Kerr Theatre, is the complete antithesis of everything that has come to define the contemporary Broadway musical, and is all the better for it. Smart, funny, and deliciously tongue-in-cheek, this gem of a show offers a refreshing change of pace from the bombast currently in vogue on the Great White Way, a thinking man's comedy by a couple of Broadway newcomers that is the most entertaining book musical of the fall season.  Even those who generally think themselves too highbrow for shows where the characters break into song are likely to find themselves won over by this Gentleman's many charms.

Set in Edwardian England, A Gentleman's Guide is built from a simple premise that yields increasingly surprising dividends.  Upon his mother's death, young Monty Navarro learns that he is ninth in line to the D'Ysquith (pronounced "DIE-sqwith") family fortune, and takes it upon himself to bump off the eight self-involved nobles standing between him and his inheritance.  He hopes his increased social stature will help win over his longtime love Sibella Hallward, but along the way falls for his beautiful and pure-hearted cousin Phoebe.  And in an ingenious twist, all eight of the D'Ysquith nobles (including two lovely ladies) are portrayed by Tony-winner Jefferson Mays in a bravura performance that is sure to put the versatile actor in contention for a second statuette.  What follows is an evening of unadulterated musical comedy bliss, expertly performed by a sensational cast with some of the most beautiful voices currently on Broadway.

The score by Steven Lutvak and Robert L. Freedman is initially unassuming - the opening number is probably the worst song in the bunch, which is a shame - but quickly grows into a glorious classically-tinged score that has moments of rapturous beauty.  Lutvak and Freedman display a particular gift for counterpoint in the production's many duets, and their ability to write extended musical scenes culminates in the breathtakingly accomplished Act II trio "I've Decided to Marry You," sung by Monty and his two love interests.  The show also contains several dynamite patter songs which show off the duo's sharp and intricate lyrics, which for once are actually audible instead of being drowned out by an over-amplified sound system like in so many other shows.  The score has been masterfully orchestrated by the legendary Jonathan Tunick, who works under the charmingly novel idea that perhaps the orchestra should support the voice rather than compete with it.

Freedman's book keeps the show moving along at a steady clip, quickly establishing the various members of the D'Ysquith clan and just as quickly dispatching with them.  Despite the amount of plot he must cover, Freedman still manages to draw full and complex portraits of the three romantic leads, and the supporting characters have just enough flair to keep them easily distinguishable from one another.  The ending is probably too convoluted for its own good, but just as in the musical comedies of yore the destination isn't really the focus here.  A Gentleman's Guide is all about the journey, and it is a thoroughly entertaining one.

The cast is uniformly fantastic, starting with Jefferson Mays as the eight doomed members of the D'Ysquith family.  The mercurial Mays switches among his various personas with ease, granting each one a different set of quirks and mannerisms that make them instantly recognizable (Mays is greatly aided by Linda Cho's distinctive and gorgeous costumes).  More importantly, Mays makes all of them laugh-out-loud funny, striking a perfect balance between high and low comedy that is essential in establishing the evening's tone.  Mays is particularly memorable as the foppish Henry, who sings a hilarious duet with Monty entitled "Better with a Man," and the Tony-winner also scores as the delightfully self-involved Lady Hyacinth, who spends an entire musical number debating which starving, third world children are most worthy of her charity.

As the affably murderous Monty Navarro, Bryce Pinkham is perhaps the production's greatest discovery.  His Monty is sweet, unassuming, and undeniably British, feeling authentic and believable throughout the proceedings.  Pinkham anchors the entire show with a charming everyman quality that causes you to root for him even though he is essentially an unrepentant serial killer, and the young actor has the ability to suggest a whole host of emotions roiling just below the surface while maintaining his proper British poise (a dichotomy that is wonderfully exploited during the song "Stop! Wait! What!?!").  Pinkham also sings beautifully, with an effortless tenor that is one of the purest male voices to grace Broadway in a good long while. 

He is matched, note for note and scene for scene, by his two spectacular leading ladies.  Lisa O'Hare is ravishing as Monty's first love Sibella, making the character's nonstop rambling and concern with outward appearances endearing rather than off-putting.  O'Hare also flawlessly navigates Sibella's increasing jadedness without ever losing sight of the traits that made Monty (and the audience) fall in love with her in the first place.  Lauren Worsham is just as delightful as the eternally optimistic Phoebe D'Ysquith, radiating a winsome star quality that makes her an equally appealing match for the lovelorn Monty.  Both women are making positively smashing Broadway debuts, and when they sing together or with Pinkman (as in the aforementioned "I've Decided to Marry You") the actresses sound heavenly.

Director Darko Tresnjak deserves full credit for casting such fantastic actors and coaxing such winning performances out of them, although his staging for the show falls a bit short of the high benchmark set by the performers.  Tresnjak nails the tone and keeps the show moving, but his stage pictures are rarely very interesting to look at.  He is partially hampered by Alexander Dodge's set, which in attempting to replicate the feel of an English music hall has effectively halved the amount of available playing space for most scenes.  There's definitely more to the scenic design than initially apparent, although the scattered surprises don't really justify the concessions made in the area of actor mobility.

In the end, A Gentleman's Guide's strengths far outweigh its weaknesses, and the show proves itself one of the most unexpected delights of the fall season.  A refreshing change of pace from the loud, pop-influenced excess of most modern-day musicals, the show marks the auspicious Broadway debuts of both the writing team and a good portion of the highly talented cast.  It is a rare show that manages to be this entertaining while remaining intellectually stimulating, and it would be absolutely scandalous for any true theatre lover to miss it.  A killer good time is practically guaranteed (sorry, I had to).

A Musical Comedy Stuck in 2nd Gear

Review:  Little Miss Sunshine

Stephanie J. Block, Rory O'Malley, and Will Swenson prove why they're all Tony-nominated actors as they struggle mightily to overcome Little Miss Sunshine's shortcomings.

Perhaps it's fitting that Little Miss Sunshine, the latest collaboration between director/librettist James Lapine and composer William Finn, fails to live up to expectations.  The new tuner, just like the 2006 independent film on which it is based, examines how a dysfunctional family deals with the dashed expectations of their rather run-of-the-mill lives.  And just like in real life, it is borderline painful to watch hard-working and talented people (in this case, the mostly excellent cast) struggle to overcome the bad hand they've been dealt, which here takes the form of a poorly constructed and tonally confused one-act musical.  Not since 2010's deeply flawed Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown has a show sounded so good on paper and so thoroughly failed to deliver on stage.

Like it's filmic counterpart, Little Miss Sunshine tells the story of the unassuming Hoover clan and their cross-country road trip to get 9-year-old Olive (Hannah Nordberg) to the titular beauty pageant.  Family matriarch Sheryl (Stephanie J. Block) works long hours to support her family since her husband Richard (Will Swenson) was laid off of his job.  Richard is hoping to sell the publishing rights to his self-help blog, much to the derision of his foul-mouthed, lascivious father, known only as Grandpa (David Rasche).  Meanwhile Sheryl and Richard's son Dwayne (Logan Rowland) has taken a vow of silence until he achieves his goal of joining the Air Force, and Sheryl's suicidal gay brother Frank (Rory O'Malley) is staying with the family while he recovers from his latest "episode."  When the family finds out that little Olive has been chosen as a last minute contestant, they all pile into the family's VW bus in hopes of making it to the pageant on time.

The source material presents several challenges, none of which are successfully addressed by the creative team.  With the exception of Olive, the family members all seem to barely tolerate one another, giving off the impression they'd rather be anywhere but stuck in a van together.  Yes, the narrative is designed to show these people come to realize how much they love each other, but without even a glimmer of kindness or affection to begin with the first half of the show is a rather miserable experience.  There are hints of interesting and dynamic pairings during the opening scenes, and the show would be better served by expounding on these so there was at least some joy in the opening segments.  For instance, Grandpa may have total disdain for the rest of the Hoover clan, but playing up his affection for Olive would have gone a long way towards making him more bearable (he's easily the show's most insufferable character).  There is an odd bond caused by the shared existentialism of Frank and Dwayne that would be great to see explored further and sooner.  If each character seemed to like at least one other person at the musical's outset, then there would be something to help offset the snarkiness and general misery of what is advertised as a musical "comedy."

Even more devastating is the writing team's inability to settle on a workable tone.  There is a lot of drama and angst on display, but it isn't presented or examined in enough detail for the show to effectively work as serious character piece.  Yet there is enough heavy subject matter - including undertones of marital strife, the burdens of unemployment, and the disappointment of unrealized ambition - that the attempts at comedy never really take off.  The razor sharp wit and gonzo sense of humor so apparent in Lapine's libretto for the duo's last collaboration, The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, is inexplicably absent for much of the show.  The scenes set during the "Little Miss Sunshine" pageant have this self-aware cheekiness in spades, and are so effective that it makes you retroactively wish the entire production was an equally over-the-top farce. 

Finn's score is easily the least memorable aspect of the show, which is especially disappointing given the composer's sterling work elsewhere.  There are some fine bits of ensemble music scattered throughout, but these sections are few and far between and unfortunately bookended by fairly clunky solo numbers.  Even worse, almost none of the songs have a clear purpose, lessening their dramatic impact.  There is an extended sequence where Frank encounters the man who prompted his suicide attempt, and though Frank claims to have moved on he continually sings about the other man's physical beauty.  Rather than coming across as a believably mixed set of emotions, the song makes Frank seem bipolar and lacks any kind of internal logic.  There is a flashback to before Sheryl and Richard got married that appears designed to show the love they once felt for each other, but consists of the characters being incredibly ambivalent toward one another until suddenly they aren't.  What are intended to be revealing character moments come across as muddy and confused instead, and leave the audience even more confused about who these people truly are.

The cast struggles mightily to rise above the writing's shortcomings, and do a good enough job that you can't help but wish they had better material to work with.  Stephanie J. Block shows a subtleness and range she hasn't often been asked to use, while still finding moments to show off her comedic chops (if only the score allowed her a better showcase for that phenomenal voice).  Rory O'Malley does some of his most affecting work yet as the deeply troubled Frank, and sounds fantastic on his two main duets.  Richard's straight-laced nature robs Will Swenson of the chance to use the utter fearlessness that made him so beguiling in Hair, but it's nice to see such a talented actor push himself in new directions.  Young Hannah Nordberg is cute as a button as Olive, and Logan Rowland conveys plenty of character despite remaining mute for over half of the show.  There are also two scene-stealing turns by Jennifer Sanchez as Linda the "Bereavement Consoler" and as the reigning Miss California, which point to the show that could have been had the authors chosen to fully embrace the quirkiness that turned Spelling Bee into a surprise hit.  The only actor who fails to make much of an impression is David Rasche as Grandpa, who is saddled with the worse material of the bunch and does little to disguise its shortcomings.

Lapine the director comes across better than Lapine the librettist, managing to keep the staging fresh and interesting despite the fact that over half the action takes place in the confines of an old VW bus.  He somehow manages to make actors running in place and miming the pushing of a van exciting, and knows just how to use Beowulf Boritt's deceptively simple set to maximum effect.  There are also fun touches by costumer Jennifer Capiro (who thankfully gets to costume both a swimsuit and eveningwear competition for the 9-year-old pageant girls) and lighting designer Ken Billington.

But ultimately, all of the talent in the world cannot save bad writing, and unfortunately Little Miss Sunshine features some very bad writing by people who should really know better.  Lapine and Finn have been responsible for some of the most innovative small-scale musicals of the past 20 years, not to mention Lapine's incredible collaborations with musical theatre genius Stephen Sondheim.  How Lapine and Finn managed to drop the ball so completely remains a mystery, and unfortunately their talented cast and crew are left to pick up the pieces.  Even diehard musical theatre fans can find a better use of their time this fall, given the wealth of innovative and inventive new musicals both on Broadway and Off.

A "Night" Full of Laughs, Just as the Bard Intended

Review:  Twelfth Night

Don't let the puzzled expression fool you; Mark Rylance knows exactly what he's doing as Olivia in Shakespeare's Twelfth Night

I have a confession: I can't stand Twelfth Night, that perennially popular Shakespearean comedy of mistaken identity.  It always strikes me as dreadfully dull and decidedly unfunny in performance, with the only consistently entertaining parts being the B-plot focused on the servants’ attempts to humble the unbearably pompous Malvolio.  I also have a generalized disdain for companies who mount Shakespeare using the original Elizabethan practices, as the all-male casting is usually there to mask the fact the director has nothing new to say about the play.  So when I heard Twelfth Night was being revived on Broadway with an all-male cast, the only thing that seemed remotely interesting to me was the opportunity to see the incredibly gifted Mark Rylance perform onstage once again.

I need not have been so cynical; this latest production of the Bard’s comedy is the finest one I’ve ever seen, and one of the most accessible and interesting Shakespearean productions to grace the New York stage in a long time.  For the uninitiated, the show’s main plot concerns twin brother and sister Viola and Sebastian, who become separated during a great storm at sea.  Each has assumed the other drowned, and for reasons that never fully make sense to me Viola decides that her best course of action is to dress as a boy named Cesario and go work for Duke Orsino.  The Duke is madly in love with the countess Olivia, who is in mourning for her dead brother and will not entertain any of Orsino’s advances.  He sends Cesario/Viola to woo Olivia for him, but the countess find herself far more interested in the well-spoken servant "boy" than the lovelorn Duke.  

This contrivance has always been difficult to swallow, not only because the actress playing Viola almost never makes a convincing man but also because when her twin brother Sebastian reenters the picture the two are constantly confused for one another despite incredibly obvious physical differences.  The beauty of this all-male production is that Viola finally makes a convincing man, and the pale makeup and identical costumes she and Sebastian wear make them virtually indistinguishable physically.  The other characters' confusion is finally credible, yet there are enough context clues and subtle differences in physicality for the audience to be able to figure out who’s who.  Samuel Barnett and Joseph Timm - as Viola and Sebastian, respectively - are both fine actors in rather thankless roles, and Barnett in particular does an admirable job of playing the straight man during the play's increasingly ridiculous situations.

But while Samuel Barnett may technically be playing the lead, this production is all about Mark Rylance’s virtuosic performance as Olivia, a hilariously over-the-top rendition that finds laughs in every line of dialogue and bit of stage business.  Most performers tend to emphasize Olivia’s regal air, given her position as a countess; Rylance completely forgoes that route and has created a supremely vain, vaguely stupid woman-child prone to tantrums and side-splittingly inept flirting.  Two-time Tony-winner Rylance has always been an extremely physical actor, and over the course of the evening he throws himself on the floor, scrambles over furniture, hurls props at his fellow actors, and even wields a battle axe for some of the play’s biggest belly laughs.  Although vastly different from the typical interpretation, Rylance’s performance is entirely supported by the text and his unequaled commitment to the role makes it wholly believable.  It's a shame the part doesn’t allow Rylance doesn’t more stage time, but he milks what he has for everything it's worth.

As Olivia’s handmaiden Maria, Paul Chahidi doesn’t even attempt to hide the fact he is a man in a dress, but he also doesn’t comment on the fact.  He merely reacts naturally to the play’s circumstances, and the honesty of his performance allows you to instantly accept him as Maria and enjoy his gleeful mugging.  Colin Hurley is a riot as the constantly drunk Sir Toby Belch, and with Angus Wright’s Sir Andrew Aguecheek as his partner in crime is responsible for some of the biggest laughs not involving Rylance.  And although the character doesn’t really get a chance to shine until the second act, Stephen Fry makes for a masterful Malvolio, the unsuspecting butt of a particularly cruel but also hilarious joke concocted by Maria and Toby.

The intentionally spartan set design by Jenny Tiramani is a refreshing change of pace from the overly elaborate sets that have become the norm these days, and the decision to use onstage seating as an approximation of the thrust staging seen at Shakespeare’s Globe is a nice touch (and watching said audience members double over in laughter provides added entertainment value).  Tiramani is also responsible for the gorgeous period costumes, whose elaborate detail is visible even from the back of the theatre.  Director Tim Carroll makes excellent use of all of this in his staging, which maintains a brisk pace and keeps the focus squarely on the text and the performers.

Twelfth Night is running in repertory with Richard III, and the idea of this same group of actors tackling an entirely different type of play is intriguing, given that they have so thoroughly nailed the spirit of this whimsical comedy.  As Olivia, Rylance proves once again that he is one of the most gifted, versatile, and hardworking actors of his generation, and he is surrounded by equally capable and appealing performers both young and old.  Whether you love Twelfth Night or can't quite comprehend its enduring popularity, this production will leave you smiling.