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.

God Bless Audra McDonald

Review: Lady Day at Emerson's Bar and Grill

Has Audra McDonald just won herself a record-breaking sixth Tony?  It's hard to say, but no one can argue with the virtuosic quality of her latest Broadway endeavor.

When you enter the Circle in the Square Theatre, home of the Broadway revival of Lady Day at Emerson's Bar and Grill, it legitimately feels like you've entered an underground jazz club.  After descending down into the basement lobby, you must enter the smoke-filled theatre proper to the quiet buzz of patrons talking amongst themselves as they find their seats.  A jazz trio plays to the steadily increasing audience, some of whom are seated onstage at tables that further increase the club-like atmosphere.  And then, just as the last few audience members take their seats, the lights dim and she appears.

Not Audra McDonald, the five-time Tony-winner with above-the-title billing on the evening's Playbill; you won't catch even a glimpse of her over the course of Lady Day's intermissionless 90 minutes.  With a jittery walk and a slightly unfocused gaze that belies her intoxicated state, the legendary jazz singer Billie Holiday saunters onstage and begins her set, seemingly back from the dead.  The mannerisms, the stream of conscious rambling, and the distinctively mournful voice that expresses a life fully lived, are all hallmarks of Lady Day.  And for the rest of the evening, you are in the palm of her hand; she has control over you, even when she loses control of herself.

To say that McDonald is giving the performance of the season as Billie Holiday seems disingenuous, as she has accomplished what all actors aspire to but few actually achieve: she doesn't seem to be acting at all.  McDonald fully disappears inside Holiday, becoming the legendary singer so completely that she's virtually unrecognizable.  McDonald's heralded voice is completely changed as it adopts Holiday's vocal ticks and mannerisms, but the actress' musicality and song interpretation have arguably never been better.  She is so convincingly, measurably intoxicated throughout the evening that the audience audibly gasps when she falls off the stage, a move that in hindsight was obviously planned but at the moment felt like a legitimate threat to the McDonald's safety.

But make no mistake, her performance goes far beyond mere physical impersonation.  Although the show is essentially a 90-minute monologue, McDonald is so in the moment she never feels rehearsed (the only real giveaways that the evening isn't entirely improvised are the perfectly timed lighting and music cues).  You see McDonald's Holiday have the thoughts before she expresses them, and it genuinely feels as if this is the first time she's put these words in this particular order.  She has fantastic connection to and interplay with the audience - who she repeatedly, almost desperately refers to as "my friends" - which again contributes to the underground club vibe, and demonstrates a searing emotional vulnerability as she shares various and often painful anecdotes about her life.  While the Circle in the Square's small size certainly contributes to the feeling of intimacy, it is McDonald's performance and accessibility that allows you to leave feeling as if you truly know Holiday.

It is unfortunate that Lanie Robertson's script isn't fully worthy of McDonald's numerous gifts, although at the same time anything that provides a framework which allows the kind of performance McDonald is giving cannot be completely dismissed.  The writing nails the free-associative nature of an intoxicated individual so well that it ultimately robs the play of some of its impact, since the script lacks any discernible narrative arc or rising tension.  Perhaps this is by design (the play's central conceit is that no one, including Holiday, realized this would be one of her final public performances before an untimely death), but that doesn't negate the vague sense of dissatisfaction the work leaves you with.  Yet the play does provide a fleshed-out portrait of a deeply troubled artist, while simultaneously putting a personal face on some of the racial issues that plagued the pre-Civil Rights era and are unfortunately still problems today.

Director Lonny Price has seamlessly staged the evening, subtly nudging the production here and there to give it as much dramatic heft as possible.  He keeps the evening interesting and involving while doing remarkably little (James Noone's spot-on scenic design purposely doesn't give Holiday much space to move around), and has obviously helped enable and shape McDonald's performance into the master class it currently is.  As previously mentioned, Robert Wierzel's lighting design is just about perfect, and while costumer ESosa was only called upon to create one look for McDonald it is an absolute stunner.  And the jazz trio of Sheldon Becton (piano), Clayton Craddock (drums), and George Farmer (bass) make absolutely beautiful music together.

Lady Day at Emerson's Bar and Grill, despite being a last-minute addition to the current Broadway season, is a high class affair that has been lovingly rendered from top to bottom.  While Lanie Robertson's script isn't fantastic, it provides the foundation on which McDonald builds one of the most impressive feats of acting I have ever seen.  In her last Broadway appearance, McDonald went operatically big in The Gershwin's Porgy & Bess and won a Tony for it; the fact that she is just as effective, if not moreso, in something as small and intimate as Lady Day proves there is nothing this versatile performer cannot do.  Billie Holiday died long ago, but thanks to McDonald she lives again nightly on Broadway.