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Review: Falsettos

The cast of Falsettos, one of the most hotly anticipated musicals of the fall season.

Alternatively messy and engaging, the first Broadway revival of William Finn and James Lapine's Falsettos highlights the core strengths and weaknesses of the piece in sometimes unexpected ways. Originally premiering on Broadway in 1992, the show is composed of two one act musicals (which debuted Off-Broadway in 1981 and 1990 respectively) that chart the growth of gay protagonist Marvin's unorthodox family over the course of two years. While some of the narrative specifics are deeply tied to the late '70s/early '80s setting, this production thankfully proves the show's core themes of love, family, and identity are universal and still relevant despite the huge advances in gay rights and the advent of marriage equality. Unfortunately, this production also highlights how the William Finn who wrote March of the Falsettos, the basis for Act I, is a far inferior writer to the William Finn who wrote Falsettoland, the basis for Act II.

In Act I, we are introduced to Marvin, who has left his ex-wife Trina and their son Jason to live with his male lover, Whizzer. The breakup of Marvin's traditional family unit has left all three in various states of distress, leading each to seek the help of Mendel, a therapist with questionable professional ethics who ultimately becomes involved with Trina. The second act moves the action forward two years and sees everyone obsessing over the planning of Jason's upcoming bar mitzvah, while also introducing the specter of the AIDS crisis.

Act I proves to be a rather disjointed affair, more of an impressionistic character study than a coherent narrative. The young Finn has yet to refine his signature off-kilter sensibility, which comes across as manic here and lacks the thematic coherence which connects his later flights of fancy. Musically the writing isn't anywhere near as complex or interesting as Finn's later work, and as a result both the performers and director James Lapine (who also wrote the book) seem slightly adrift as they struggle to sell the material. The songs don't build the way you want them to, and Lapine attempts to compensate for this lack of emotional momentum by having the performers constantly rearrange the pieces of David Rockwell's jenga cube of a set. Layer onto this Spencer Liff's awkwardly flailing choreography - which often hinders the performer's ability to enunciate their lyrics - and the first half of Falsettos becomes an exhaustively busy journey with characters that aren't particularly likable or compelling.

Act II is a much richer and more rewarding experience, as it's clear that in the nine years between writing March of the Falsettos and Falsettoland Finn vastly matured as a songwriter and storyteller. Centering the act on Jason's impending bar mitzvah gives Finn and Lapine a stronger foundation to build their characters' quirky behavior around, and Finn becomes much more adept at tempering his characters' off-putting neuroses with humanizing qualities. Even with the introduction of two additional characters - Cordelia and Dr. Charlotte, the "lesbians next door" - everyone feels more nuanced and alive in the second half, and the show does a better job of balancing its wry cynicism with deeply felt emotion. With stronger writing to work with, Lapine and the cast are able to relax; the busy choreography is all but abandoned, and Lapine's staging is less self-consciously showy. The two halves are integrated enough that it would rob Act II of some of its impact to completely throw out Act I, but the jump in quality is pronounced.

The best unifying element of this revival is the strength of its cast, all of whom range from good to great. As Marvin, Christian Borle abandons the scenery chewing that has defined his last two Broadway outings to deliver a more nuanced, believable characterization. Unfortunately, the first half of the show really highlights Marvin's self-serving qualities, something you wish Borle was able to undercut with some tenderness to make him a more likable protagonist. The second act gives Borle a lot more opportunity to show different sides of Marvin, and ultimately your heart breaks with him during the show's final scene (which also features the most striking image of Lapine's staging).

Andrew Rannells is a competent foil as Whizzer, although you wish the show afforded him more of a chance to show off his comedic chops. Brandon Uranowitz brings much appreciated authenticity to his portrayal of Mendel, and young Anthony Rosenthal's innate charm makes the temperamental Jason feel like a real preteen rather than an adult author's caricature of one. Tracie Thoms and Betsy Wolfe are a welcomed presence as the next door neighbors, with Thoms notably in very fine voice throughout.

But the cast's biggest standout is Stephanie J. Block, back on Broadway for the first time since her Tony-nominated turn in The Mystery of Edwin Drood. As Trina, Block blossoms into the most compellingly drawn and engaging character in the show, to the point where she often feels like the lead in what is ostensibly Marvin's show. Block is certainly its emotional center, which makes her effortless delivery of "I'm Breaking Down," one of the most broadly comedic songs in the show, all the more impressive. Block offers a fascinating peak beneath Trina's determinedly perfect facade, showing us a woman not wholly prepared to deal with the curveballs life has given her and yet soldiering on anyway. It is a marvelously accomplished performance which is endlessly watchable and yet never overstated.

Overall, there is both good and bad to be found in Falsettos, and it's unfortunate that the less successful elements are concentrated in the first half. By the end of the night, Falsettos proves to be an engaging and even moving portrait of an imperfect yet loving family, with the talented cast doing much to smooth over the rough patches at the beginning of the show. When the show stops being concerned with novelty and showiness, it truly sings, illustrating how the trials and tribulations of love and family are the same no matter what your sexual orientation.

'S Almost Wonderful

Review: An American in Paris

The cast of An American in Paris.

Adapted from the Oscar-winning film of the same name, the "new" Gershwin musical An American in Paris is perhaps the most dance heavy production to arrive on Broadway in years. Director/choreographer Christopher Wheeldon's gorgeous routines are executed to perfection by some of the finest dancers on the Great White Way, in a piece that often bears more resemblance to a performance at the New York City Ballet than it does to a traditional showtune-laden musical. Watching the supremely gifted cast spin, leap, and twirl about the stage, you can feel both the director and the performers striving to capture some grand universal truth about love and the human condition, which makes Paris' slight and emotionally uninvolving plot all the more disappointing by comparison. When the dancing ceases, so does the show's ability to engage, resulting in a musical that never quite achieves its full potential.

Set in Paris shortly after the end of World War II, the show opens with American soldier Jerry Mulligan purposefully missing his train home, opting instead to build a new life for himself in the City of Lights. He soon meets fellow American soldier (and budding composer) Adam Hochberg and the wealthy aspiring performer Henri Baurel, while also becoming instantly smitten with a mysterious young ballerina named Lise Dassin. What Jerry doesn't know is that Lise is promised to Henri and Adam is also madly in love with her, creating a complicated web of emotional entanglements as the group begins work on a new ballet starring Lise, composed by Adam, and designed by Jerry.

Craig Lucas' book has the veneer of sophistication but ultimately falters in both its plotting and character development. Many of the characters are two-dimensional beings with flimsy or ill-defined motivations, prone to faux profound observations on life and love. Several of them aren't even particularly likable, including protagonist Jerry, a relentless cad who persistently hounds Lise despite her repeated protestations until she finally relents and agrees to spend time with him. (When a female character tries to exact same tactic on Jerry later in the show, he is less than amused.) This trope of the dogged suitor eventually winning over the entirely uninterested girl is something that was both commonplace and acceptable when the film debuted in 1951, but for a musical created in 2015 it feels uncomfortably misogynistic and makes the central couple difficult to root for.

Lucas also has trouble integrating the musical numbers with the books scenes, with most songs seeming to come out of a desire to have more dancing than being justified by the needs of the characters and the plot. At the same time, it's hard to complain about being given more of the show's strongest suit, as Wheeldon's choreography is simply spectacular from beginning to end. Using Gershwin's glorious melodies as a jumping off point, Wheeldon creates the most complex and sophisticated choreography currently on Broadway. The former ballet dancer knows how to compose beautiful stage pictures using nothing more than the performer's bodies, and his intricate formations and sequencing make even the scene changes a glory to behold. Wheeldon also isn't afraid to abandon the singing and dialogue completely to tell a story solely through movement, which is when the show really takes flight. When the dancing ends and the dialogue resumes, you may find yourself thinking that this story would be more effectively told as a traditional ballet.

Making their Broadway debuts, ballet principals Robert Fairchild and Leanne Cope prove to be very capable actor/singers in addition to beautiful dancers, and the show smartly plays to their strengths. Both are innately charming performers that share an easygoing chemistry (even if Fairchild isn't *quite* charming enough to make you overlook or understand Jerry's character flaws), but it is during their many dance sequences that both truly come alive. Fairchild radiates joy and a quiet confidence as he leaps and bounds across the stage, and Cope's beautiful extensions and astoundingly fluid style make it almost impossible to take your eyes off her. Wheeldon's demanding choreography makes ample use of all his lead's many gifts, culminating in the titular "American in Paris" sequence that would be at home on any of the world's great ballet stages.

The supporting performances are generally solid, and become even more impressive when you realize how much material the actors are having to provide in order to make up for the lapses in Lucas' book. Brandon Uranowitz almost makes the lazy choice of having Adam narrate the evening's events in Jersey Boys-style monologues interesting, and Max von Essen is adorably unassuming as the soft spoken Henri. von Essen's big number "Stairway to Paradise" is when Paris bears the most resemblance to a traditional Broadway musical, and he sells it with such panache that you momentarily forget he isn't nearly as accomplished a dancer as most of his costars. Veanne Cox provides some of the evening's most genuine comedy with her dry, droll performance as Henri's mother, even though her character suffers the most from Lucas' underwritten book.

The show's minimalist design is starkly beautiful, with Bob Crowley's costumes and sets perfectly complimented by Natasha Katz's gorgeous lighting design. This is not a literal representation of Paris but a fantastical one, which perfectly compliments the show's stylized tone and many elaborate dance sequences. You may not remember much about the show's plot once it ends, but you will certainly remember the images it presents.

And that, in a nutshell, is the paradox of An American in Paris. While it's happening it makes a huge impression thanks to the strong visuals and charming performances, but as soon at it ends it's difficult to remember what seemed so entrancing about the show in the first place. Christopher Wheeldon has done a sensational job directing and choreographing, and the timeless Gershwin songs remain masterpieces of musical composition. But Craig Lucas' pedestrian book and the somewhat dated premise keep the show from feeling wholly relevant to a contemporary audience, which is a shame given the talent involved. Like the American of its title, this musical is something of a stranger in a strange land that manages to acquit itself rather well in spite of its differences.