"Hello" Bette, in a Truly Divine "Dolly"

Review: Hello, Dollly!

Bette Midler in the iconic title song from Hello, Dolly!

They just don't make them like this anymore. That old adage applies to both Hello, Dolly!, the Jerry Herman-Michael Stewart penned musical currently being revived at the Shubert Theatre, and most especially to star Bette Midler, appearing in a Broadway musical for the first time in 50 years. Midler possesses a luminous star quality the likes of which few performers can equal, and exudes it so naturally and effortlessly that she appear to glow from within. In the title role of this first class revival, Midler delivers the sort of legendary star turn that will be remembered for years to come, a must see theatrical event that has already set tongues wagging and ticket prices soaring. And Midler is worth every cent.

The plot of Hello, Dolly! finds professional matchmaker (and dance instructor, and makeup consultant, and a host of other eclectic professions) Dolly Gallagher Levi looking for a suitable wife for the well known "half a millionaire" Horace Vandergelder. Throughout the course of one extremely busy day, Dolly's meddling manages to find suitable mates for Vandergelder's niece Ermengarde, his shop attendants Cornelius Hackl and Barnaby Tucker, and last but not least Dolly herself. In all honesty, the farcical plot is of secondary importance to Herman's immortal songs and Midler's performance, and falls apart upon closer inspection. But you'll be far too entertained by Midler and the rest of this sparkling production to care.

It cannot be overstated how much Midler brings to the title role, so long associated with original star and theatrical icon Carol Channing. The award-winning actress and recording artist has such mastery over the show's particular brand of comedy that she elicits belly laughs with the merest gesture or change in inflection. A spritely presence with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, Midler sends an electric energy over the footlights and into the rafters, demanding your full attention lest you miss whatever piece of comic genius she has cooked up next.

Midler is so good that one of the highlights of the show involves neither dialogue nor music, but watching the Divine Miss M (as her fans have dubbed her) devour a turkey leg, some dumplings, and a boat a gravy. The specificity of intention and attention to detail sells this and every other moment of Midler's performance, which feels both tightly honed and spontaneous all at once. Just when you think you've seen every trick in her arsenal Midler produces a new one, including genuine pathos in her conversations with her dearly departed husband, Ephram. These moments provide a level of emotional stakes to the piece that is unexpected yet wholly welcome, grounding the show and Dolly before switching back to side splitting musical shenanigans.

Midler's performance would be worth the price of admission alone, making the fact that the rest of the production is such a joy feel like a bonus. Director Jerry Zaks and choreographer Warren Carlyle have polished this old warhorse of a show to a brilliant shine, embracing the piece's old fashioned charms rather than trying to dress them up with modern bells and whistles. Santo Loquasto's sets are the kind of beautifully painted, stylized backdrops that haven't been seen on Broadway in years, demonstrating that for all the technological razzle dazzle of projections the old ways of doing things remain surprisingly effective. When Midler makes her entrance in a carriage drawn by a "horse" that is clearly two dancers inside of a costume, the old fashioned stagecraft makes the moment more memorable, not less. (And the way Midler graciously acknowledges the thunderous applause which greets her while staying in character is yet another testament to her unparalleled professionalism.)

Loquasto has also designed jaw droppingly gorgeous costumes, a pastel potpourri resplendent in detail and tailored to perfection. They are so entrancing that "Put On Your Sunday Clothes" becomes a breathtaking showstopper despite the fact it is literally just a parade of costumes. His staging for songs such as this and the opening "I Put My Hand In" shows that Carlyle knows the value of precise, minimalist movement, but he's also more than capable of having the ensemble leap and twirl their way through big productions like the appropriately titled "Dancing" or "The Waiters' Galop." Zaks keeps just as tight a handle on the book scenes, giving the production such buoyancy and pep that it flies along and ends far before you want it to.

And while Midler's performance is the headlining attraction, her costars are all first rate. David Hyde Pierce, decked out in mutton chops and an authentic Yonkers accent, is delightful as the cantankerous Vandergelder, particularly during his Act II opener "Penny In My Pocket." As Cornelius and Barnaby respectively, Gavin Creel and Taylor Trensch are a riot, clowning around in high fashion during their small town clerks' big city adventures (rarely has the word "pudding" been so hilarious). Kate Baldwin sings like a dream and mugs with the best of them as hatshop owner and object of Cornelius' affections Irene Malloy, and newcomer Beanie Feldstein is equally winsome as her assistant Minnie Fay. So deep is this production's roster of talent that they landed Tony-nominee Jennifer Simard for a side splitting single scene turn as Ernestina, Vandergelder's crass date to the fanciest restaurant in town.

Simply put, this is as good a production of Hello, Dolly! as you are ever likely to see, an unadulterated delight from start to finish. Everything about this loving tribute to Broadway's Golden Age is done at the highest possible level, a pure joy that will have you exiting the theatre humming the tunes and dancing on air. Midler's performance is one for the history books, joining the ranks of all time great star turns thanks to her talent, tireless work, and megawatt star quality. When she descends that grand staircase to the opening chords of the title song in Dolly's signature red dress and resplendent feathered headpiece, it is as if time stops, and you don't just agree but inarguably know that Midler, like Dolly, is truly back where she belongs.

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.

Everything is Bigger (and Better) in Texas

Review:  Giant

Giant stars Brian D'Arcy James and Kate Baldwin share an intimate moment.

 

Giant, the latest work by the prolific if not quite mainstream composer/lyricist Michael John LaChiusa, is by no means a perfect musical.  It struggles against the weight of its own ambition and the confines of the Public’s Newman Theatre, and yet remains thoroughly engaging for the majority of its three hour runtime.  Giant is theatrical proof of the old adage that those who shoot for the moon and miss still land among the stars, and for all of its flaws this fascinating show demands to be seen by any fan of serious musical theatre.

Based on the novel of the same name by Edna Ferber, Giant chronicles three decades of life on a sprawling Texas cattle ranch called Reata.  Jordan “Bick” Benedict is the proud owner of this enormous swath of land, and Giant begins with his whirlwind courtship and marriage to wealthy Virginian socialite Leslie Lynnton.  A stranger in a strange land, Leslie struggles to come to terms with her new surroundings and the husband she hardly knows, while Bick fights to prevent former ranch hand Jett Rink and his government backers from drilling for oil on the previously unspoiled land. 

Like any good epic, Giant features a host of interrelated subplots vying for the audience’s attention, and it must be noted that LaChiusa and librettist Sybille Pearson haven’t quite found the proper balance among the various storylines.  Certain characters and incidents seem superfluous when viewed in the context of the larger narrative, while other elements feel underdeveloped or completely forgotten.  While it’s difficult to pinpoint any one portion of the show in need of major rewrites, a series of minor edits and subtle tweaks in focus would result in a more cohesive and integrated whole.  Everything in this current incarnation is exceedingly well done, but it doesn’t always feel necessary, and as a result interest starts to flag over the course of the musical’s long length.

Thankfully, Michael John LaChiusa’s score is nothing short of brilliant. Rapturous, lush, and gloriously sung, LaChiusa’s sweeping melodies are the product of a master working at the height of his artistic prowess.  LaChiusa manages the difficult trick of writing songs that feel familiar but also unexpected, traveling through a host of musical genres while maintaining a tonal cohesion that keeps the entire score sounding like the a unified vision.  One song segues beautifully into the next, and when you least expect it LaChiusa seamlessly incorporates a recurrent motif without resorting to full-fledged reprises.  The music soars, with lyrics that are at once conversational and poetic, and it is almost impossible not to be swept away by the grandeur of it all.

While LaChiusa’s score is the show’s unabashed highlight, the musical’s large cast proves equally masterful.  Anchoring the show with the greatest performance of his career, Brian D’Arcy James plays family patriarch Bick with the best possible mixture of bravado and sensitivity.  He radiates love for both the land and his family, even if his rough and tumble upbringing doesn’t always allow him to express it fully.  James’ buoyant physicality and expressive face communicate volumes without speaking, and his nuanced delivery of the show’s many soaring anthems establishes such a strong connection with the audience that his presence is felt even when he isn’t onstage.

The ever-radiant Kate Baldwin similarly astonishes as Leslie, displaying an even greater amount of the star quality that netted her a Tony nomination in the recent revival of Finian’s Rainbow.  Her Leslie is a complicated creature torn between her love of Bick (and later, their children) and her dissatisfaction with the life and social mores of rural Texas.  Yet Baldwin never allows Leslie to wallow in self-pity, displaying the quiet strength and steely determination we’ve come to associate with the great Southern women of American literature.  She also sings like a dream, navigating the tricky demands of LaChiusa’s score with the assured ease of a master vocalist.

PJ Griffith does excellent work as the musical’s pseudo-antagonist Jett, embodying the Good Old Boy archetype with sincerity and style.  It’s unfortunate the show doesn’t quite know what to do with him, as Jett never really feels connected to the other characters or to the story in general despite amble stage time.  Bobby Steggert and Mackenzie Mauzy are quite charming as Bick and Leslie’s children, although again the show doesn’t make full use of the characters’ potential.  Katie Thompson’s Vashti Hake Snythe has an even more tangential relation to the plot, but the commanding actress emerges as one of the evening’s highlights thanks to several outstanding solos.  The only person resembling a weak link is Michelle Pawk as Bick’s elder sister Luz Benedict, but after struggling with her first solo the actress recovers nicely.

Director Michael Greif and set designer Allen Moyer have done an excellent job squeezing this sprawling show into the relatively modest confines of the Newman Theatre, although their inventiveness only goes so far.  Creating a second level onstage to house the orchestra is a clever idea, although Greif’s insistence on placing some of his actors up there muddies the effect by bringing more focus to the already prominent musicians.  Moyer’s attempts at sweeping Texas vistas don’t quite read as such given the shallow stage, although the excellent lighting by Kenneth Posner goes a long way toward helping evoke the open sky.  Overall, the show looks lovely, even if the self-editing necessitated by the theatre’s size constraints is a little too apparent.

Giant is easily the most ambitious new musical of the season, and for that it must be commended.  Ferber’s novel was clearly a tough nut to crack, and the fact that the show does so much so well is a testament to the skill of all involved.  A top-notch cast and stunning score by LaChiusa make this an extremely rewarding show for theatre aficionados, and anyone with the slightest interest in Giant should make a point to see it before it closes this weekend.  Hopefully some adventurous producer will pick up the show for a Broadway transfer, as a larger theatre and one final round of revisions would make this one of the truly great musicals of the past 15 years.  But even in its current incarnation, this is a show that demands to be seen, and a shining example of the artistic heights the modern musical can achieve.