Norma's Still Big, It's Just the Set That Got Small

Review: Sunset Boulevard

Michael Xavier as Joe Gillis and Glenn Close as Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard.

Of the many lovely moments in the current revival of Sunset Boulevard playing at the Palace Theatre, the one which best highlights this production's strengths occurs midway through the second act. While visiting the Paramount Studios lot, a spotlight hits faded silent film star Norma Desmond, embodied by a sensational Glenn Close reprising her Tony-winning performance. A glorious swell of music from the 40-piece orchestra accompanies the moment, before Desmond tentatively begins the show's signature ballad, "As If We Never Said Goodbye." Close masterfully builds the song over the course of the next 4 minutes, transporting audiences back to Desmond's glory days in a revelatory performance that rightly earns showstopping levels of applause. In the course of that one song, the full virtues of the scaled back physical production, increased orchestra size, and Close's near-legendary performance crystallize into musical theatre nirvana, a breathtakingly theatrical moment that is nearly worth the price of admission on its own.

If the rest of the show doesn't quite reach such dizzying heights, it is not for lack of trying. When Sunset Boulevard originally opened to a then-record breaking advance sale in 1994, the show won 8 Tony Awards due primarily to a lack of competition (the only other new musical of the season was the revue Smokey Joe's Cafe). For better and for worse, the show typifies composer Andrew Lloyd Webber's style, with an emphasis on lush melodies and almost through-composed scores that value big emotions over subtlety and nuance. Which makes director Lonny Price's decision to revive the show as a semi-staged concert which literally places the orchestra (and by extension the music) center stage a stroke of genius. Conductor Kristen Blodgette brings out an incredible amount of texture and sophistication from Webber's score, and hearing it performed live with such a large and accomplished group of musicians is a true joy. And while the book by Don Black and Christopher Hampton can come across as somewhat clunky, the sweeping melodies and grand scope of the music largely compensate for it.

The other smart decision in Price's staging is to pare things down to a minimal, unit set designed by James Noone. The original production famously lost money due in no small part to the exorbitant running costs incurred by its mammoth mansion set, which many felt distracted from the storytelling. By eliminating much of the technical wizardy, Price allows the story to take center stage, giving its themes about the addictive and destructive nature of fame more room to breath. The human story of struggling writer Joe Gillis getting pulled into Norma Desmond's delusions of grandeur is plenty interesting on its own, and not being distracted by giant sets helps keep the focus where it ought to be. (Tracy Christensen and Anthony Powell's costumes provide a suitable level of grandeur for this tale of fame and excess.)

The amount of gravitas Close brings to the role of Desmond cannot be overstated, anchoring the production with her utter believability and unparalleled command of her craft. From the moment she makes her entrance at the top of the show's grand staircase, it is clear you are in the presence of a star. Norma's first big number describes how in her heyday, the silent screen actress could hold an audience captive "With One Look;" Close can and repeatedly does do the same, capturing Norma's oversized nature without descending into camp. She is convincingly, compelling unhinged, but there is a tragedy to her Norma that in glimpsed during her repeated fits of melancholy, such as a devastating scene towards the end of Act I where she fears Joe will abandon her. Close's ability to act through song also more than makes up for any difficulties she might have with Webber's admittedly challenging score, and she still has the big money notes when it counts.

Close's three costars, all reprising their performances from the West End staging of this production, are quite strong as well. Michael Xavier makes for an excellent Joe Gillis, functioning as our entryway into Norma's world and sharing the audience's mix of incredulity and fascination. His scenes with Close form the backbone of the narrative, and they all sparkle with a mesmerizing push and pull between attraction and revulsion. Siobhan Dillon is fantastic as young Betty Schaeffer, the studio assistant who finds herself falling for Joe even while he becomes a kept man at Norma's mansion. And Fred Johanson is suitably imposing as Norma's unerringly loyal butler Max, a foreboding presence with a gloriously rich bass voice and eyes which are deep pools of unspoken emotion.

Ultimately, this Sunset Boulevard makes a strong case for the show being one of Lloyd Webber's more compelling works, adding a layer of narrative depth to his typically lush, ballad-heavy compositional style. Price's direction and minimalist staging keeps the focus on the music and the story, allowing the show to feel personal despite the inarguable bigness of many of the musical numbers. The cast is quite strong, with Glenn Close in particular offering the kind of performance that Broadway legends are made of. This staging doesn't quite overcoming some of the shortcomings of the show's book, but as long as Close is onstage supported by that massive orchestra, you aren't likely to care.

One Thing I'll Say, This Jesus is Cool

Review:  Jesus Christ Superstar

Paul Nolan as Jesus and the cast during the title number of Jesus Christ Superstar

*Note:  At the performance I attended, the role of Judas was performed by understudy Jeremy Kushnier.  This review reflects his portrayal.*

Like many of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s most famous works, Jesus Christ Superstar is plagued by a host of problems including poor plotting, underwritten characters, and repetitive music.  And just like Webber’s other currently running Broadway musicals (Phantom of the Opera, Evita), the latest revival of his biblically-inspired rock opera is saved by a game cast and stellar direction, resulting in a highly entertaining if not emotionally involving night of theatre.

Des McAnuff’s production, which originated at the Stratford Shakespeare Festival in Canada last summer, is a marvel of fluidity and invention.  Set in a post-apocalyptic future-past, this Superstar starts with a bang and doesn’t let up, as one scene melts into the next so quickly that you are afraid to applaud for fear of missing something important.  This speed definitely works in the show’s favor, as a slower pace would give the audience more time to notice its many structural flaws and the awkward lyrics by Tim Rice.  The pacing also provides tension to a story with such a well-known outcome (in case you didn’t know, Jesus dies at the end).

McAnuff’s staging is helped immensely by Robert Brill’s wonderful scenic design.  What initially appears to be no more than a metal catwalk and two staircases proves remarkably versatile, concealing a multitude of entrances and exits through which McAnuff can deploy his high energy cast.  And the group numbers are given an extra jolt via Lisa Shriver’s athletic choreography, bringing an unexpected visual edge to the staging.  No matter what your opinion of the material, McAnuff and his team ensure that there’s always something interesting to look at.  Paul Tazewell’s tastefully revealing costumes and Howell Binkley’s rock concert lighting only add to the visual wow factor.

It all makes you wish the cast was at the same level as the production team.  Make no mistake, this is a very accomplished group of actors, highly committed to their roles and blessed with vocal chords of steel.  While they don’t always make Webber’s insanely difficult score sound easy, they do consistently hit their money notes without crossing the line from singing to screaming.  Unfortunately, perhaps due to the thinness of the writing, most of the named characters struggle to come across as fully formed human beings.

Of the principal trio, Jeremy Kushnier’s Judas comes across the best, a feat that’s all the more remarkable given that Kushnier is the understudy.  He handles his role’s vocal demands with aplomb, and does an excellent job of conveying Judas’ conflicted feelings about Jesus.  When Judas goes to the high priests to betray Jesus, Kushnier makes clear it is a genuinely hard decision for him, and that he isn’t convinced he made the right choice even after the deal is done.

As Jesus, Paul Nolan certainly looks the part, as if a Renaissance painting of the Messiah came to life and stepped onto the Neil Simon Theatre stage.  Nolan has a stylistically perfect rock tenor and a piercing stare, but his characterization rarely evolves beyond anguished looks and occasional outbursts of anger.  And Chilina Kennedy lacks the grittiness necessary to portray prostitute Mary Magdalene, although she certainly sells her devotion to Jesus.  One of the most intriguing aspects of this production, obviously helped by McAnuff’s direction, is its focus on the pseudo-love triangle between Mary, Jesus, and Judas.  By increasing Mary’s stagetime, McAnuff adds jealousy to the list of Judas’ motives, since he is clearly unhappy with having his place in Jesus’ affections usurped by her.

The rest of the principals all turn in fine performances, with Bruce Dow’s scenery chewing during “Herod’s Song” a particular highlight.  Yet in many ways, the most surprisingly accomplished acting in the show comes from the twenty gifted young performers who make up Superstar’s ensemble.  McAnuff has clearly encouraged this group to develop individualized characters rather than perfectly mimic one another, and the choices lends more interest to the musically and lyrically repetitive group numbers while simultaneously helping to generate much of the show’s propulsive energy.

If you aren’t a fan of Lloyd Webber’s work (and this reviewer is not), Jesus Christ Superstar probably isn’t going to convert you.  But this production will leave you with a begrudging appreciation for his talents as a songsmith and a better understand of why his shows have remained so popular for so long.  Webber himself has called this revival “the best Superstar [he’s] ever seen,” and it’s very hard to argue with the dynamic energy on display.  McAnuff and company have turned what could easily have been a painful two-hour assault on the senses into a surprisingly engaging piece of entertainment, and a great option for those who prefer their musicals with a rock-infused edge.

He's (Still) There, The Phantom of the Opera

If Christine's father were still around, he would surely advise against gondola rides with masked strangers.

Well, I finally saw it.  A mere 24 years after its Broadway premiere and approximately 10 years after I became seriously interested in musical theatre, I finally walked myself over to the Majestic Theatre and saw the theatrical phenomenon that is The Phantom of the Opera.

How have I never seen Phantom, you ask?  Several reasons.  First and foremost, I just don’t like Andrew Lloyd Webber.  In general, I find his shows to be overwrought, underwritten affairs where big ballads trump petty concerns like storytelling and character development.  In fact, at several points in his career I think he was actively mocking the theatergoing public, seeing just how many people he could get to buy tickets to plotless concerts about dancing cats or absurdist spectacles involving roller-skating trains.  Having heard the Phantom soundtrack, I found the show to rely too heavily on reprises disguised as new songs (it sounds as if a grand total of five melodic themes were continuously recycled, with new lyrics, during the show’s two-and-a-half hour runtime).  In addition, while listening to the show I felt no connection or emotional attachment to the two-dimensional characters, who could all die without the slightest bit of anguish from me.  And finally, I had the misfortune of sitting through the atrocious film version, which only the show’s most ardent fans could find halfway tolerable.  That experience effectively moved Phantom to the very bottom of my viewing list.

But now I’ve finally seen Broadway’s longest running smash, and I have to admit that it wasn’t as bad as I feared.  I still find it deeply flawed, but I wasn’t offended by its ineptitude the way I am by certain other megamusicals featuring masked men and an abundance of special effects.  In the plus column, most of the current collection of principals do a good job making some sort of sense out of their underwritten and often irrational characters, and help keep the show feeling fresh well into its third decade on Broadway.  The performances border on melodramatic at times, but so does the show, and they are in a massive theatre that doesn’t really allow naturalistic acting.  And regardless of my personal opinion of the quality of the score, it is certainly well-handled by the cast and orchestra, although the electronic keyboard is frighteningly pronounced at times.

The production’s strongest assets are Hal Prince’s staging and Maria Bjornson’s production design.  The show is a spectacle in every sense of the word, but rarely do the special effects or massive set pieces impede its progress.  Even after all these years, one can’t help but marvel at the ingenuity and efficiency of some of the set changes, and the excellent way Prince has deployed his actors on Bjornson’s ever-changing scenery.  The initial descent into the Phantom’s underground lair during the title song or the Act II opener “Masquerade” are particularly thrilling, and while the famed chandelier could probably be improved upon with modern technology this one still gets the job done.  Prince (and the various stage managers throughout the years) has done an excellent job of maintaining the show’s pace, which rarely flagged throughout the show’s slightly bloated runtime.

In fact, I would argue that without Prince and Bjornson, Phantom wouldn’t have become Phantom.  Lloyd Webber’s score and book (which he co-authored with Richard Stilgoe) have their moments, but without the sheer theatricality Prince and Bjornson added to the proceedings I doubt the show would have run past the early 90s.  But thanks to Prince and company, it recently celebrated a record-shattering 10,000 performance on the Great White Way with no end in sight, all due to an electric staging that covers many of the show’s flaws. 

If I had to guess, I would say that is the secret to Phantom’s record-breaking success; the show tricks you into thinking its more complex than it actually is.  The story has just enough depth that audiences can pretend they are seeing something deep and meaningful – a self-delusion not possible with pure fluff like Annie – but also contains the large cast and impressive sets people associate with a Broadway musical.  While the characters aren’t that complex or believably written – Christine in particular oscillates between being a frightened child and strong-willed upstart – and there are multiple plot holes that are probably less apparent in Gaston Leroux’s source material, the spectacle lets the audience feel like they are seeing an event rather than just a play.  And for all its dark undertones, the show never challenges us with any truly unsettling details or hard to digest moral gray areas, making it a family friendly entertainment that adults don’t want to claw their eyes out during.  It is this exact same formula that has made Wicked into the Phantom of the new millennium, and there’s no reason to expect it to stop working anytime soon.

At this point, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Phantom runs forever.  It has firmly entrenched itself as a Broadway institution, and is clearly the show to see for tourists, especially international ones.  It is admittedly a good first Broadway show, and at this point has been running so long that people who first saw it as children are now returning with their kids in tow.  So while I may not love it, I’ve at least seen what all the fuss is about, and have made my peace with the fact that it will never close.  I honestly can’t imagine walking down 44^th St. and not seeing its distinctive marquee.

And perhaps most importantly, it isn’t Cats.