They Go Wild, Simply Wild (and Someone Should Rein Them In)

Review: Bullets Over Broadway

"Don't speak!"  Marin Mazzie forcibly silences costar Zach Braff, presumably for stepping on her lines.

Bullets Over Broadway, the new musical comedy based on Woody Allen's Oscar-winning 1994 film of the same name, is a curious beast.  It feels *this close* to being a great show, and yet in its current form it would be hard to argue it's even a good show.  Throughout the evening the show seems just a couple of tweaks away from becoming amazing, the kind of instant classic spiritual predecessors The Producers and Hairspray were when they arrived a little over a decade ago.  But Bullets never gets there, suffering from a misguided and slightly manic energy that sabotages the best intentions of its cast and gifted director/choreographer Susan Stroman.  Rather than a laugh-filled evening of breezy musical comedy, the show ends up being slightly exhausting because it wants so desperately for you to like it.

Set in the 1920s, the plot of Bullets follows the attempts of playwright David Shayne to secure funding for his latest play, something that is proving difficult given the string of flops he's written.  Producer Julian Marx manages to raise all the funding from a single donor, who Shayne later discovers is mob boss Nick Valenti.  As a condition of the financing, Shayne must find a part for Olive Neal, Valenti's dumb, talentless girlfriend.  Watching over Olive is Cheech, a mob enforcer who has some surprisingly insightful suggestions for Shayne's play, which also stars the boozy, fading diva Helen Sinclair.  Although there's a fair amount going on in Woody Allen's book (including several characters and multiple affairs not mentioned here), the show is surprisingly easy to follow and the characters are all clearly delineated.  The abundance of characters, some superfluous, necessitates a certain lack of depth in their characterizations, but Allen has provided just enough detail to each that they don't feel like complete ciphers.

Thankfully for Allen, he and Susan Stroman have assembled a strong cast to sell his material, which admittedly is better suited for the silver screen than the Broadway stage.  Making his Broadway debut as David Shayne, TV star Zach Braff does a fine job as the nebbish everyman at the show's center.  He anchors the show with a convincing relatability that allows the supporting players to mug like their lives depended on it.  Marin Mazzie is clearly having a ball playing the high strung diva Helen Sinclair, in a performance that makes more than a passing nod toward Norma Desmond.  Mazzie lets some of her bits go on a tad too long, but these minor moments of self indulgence don't detract from the finely honed ludicrousness of a woman who thinks lighter fluid is a perfectly acceptable substitute for alcohol.  She sounds fantastic belting out her big numbers (particularly her introduction, "They Go Wild, Simply Wild, Over Me") and her delivery of Helen's catchphrase "Don't Speak" is spot on every time.

After Mazzie, Nick Cordero has the most fully formed character as mob enforcer/ghostwriter Cheech.  Cordero's stage presence is an excellent combination of tough guy machismo and musical comedy daffiness, and he is gifted with perhaps the best written arc of any character in the show.  Cordero also sells his Act I production number, "Tain't Nobody's Biz-ness If I Do," with aplomb, making the number the most effective bit of Golden Age razzmatazz in the show.  Brooks Ashmanskas is absolutely hysterical as Warren Purcell, the play's pretentious leading man with a compulsive eating problem.  Ashmanskas' performance is a perfectly tuned caricature of every pretentious actor in existence, all liquid U's and affected speech patterns, and his sprightly delivery of "Let's Misbehave" is one of the show's highlights.

Ashmanskas' partner in that duet, Helene Yorke's ditzy Olive, is more problematic.  Yorke has moments of brilliance as an aspiring actress clearly out of her depth, but tends to bulldoze over her best bits with an abrasive delivery that limits her appeal.  Rather than being a despicable person you can't wait to see more of, Yorke's Olive wears out her welcome in a way that makes it harder to laugh at the oftentimes excellent character work she's doing.  That said, Yorke's "I Want a Hot Dog for My Roll" is one of the show's laugh out loud moments (I particularly enjoyed her "interpretive dancing" during the song's vamp), and given the plot twists of the show's latter half it may be that Allen and Stroman want you to hate Olive.  Meanwhile, Karen Ziemba and Betsy Wolfe are wasted in throwaway roles that have little bearing on the show's plot, which is a shame.

Director/choreographer Susan Stroman has again wrangled a beast of a show into a slick, fast paced evening of theatre.  Unfortunately, her choreography doesn't seem as inspired as usual, because most of the big production numbers feel shoehorned into the narrative instead of organically growing out of it.  The chorus girls in the show all look lovely, but none of their fizzy song-and-dance routines belong in such a character-based comedy.  Stroman also appears to have encouraged her actors to go bigger in scenes where a touch of restraint would have been appreciated, which contributes to the manic feeling of the evening.  And it must be said that Bullets is saddled with one of the most ridiculous non sequiturs of a finale to ever hit the musical stage, and while the idea likely originated from Allen (who handpicked all of the musical numbers from pre-existing 1920s tunes) Stroman really should have put her foot down and told him to come up with a better idea.

Design-wise, Bullets Over Broadway is passable but nothing extraordinary.  Santo Loquasto's set takes us to the show's many locations with speed and occasionally even the spark of invention, but the drab color palette works in opposition with the broad comedic style Stroman and her actors favor.  This more restrained, naturalistic approach also puts a damper on William Ivey Long's costumes, as the Tony-winning designer has always been at his best when allowed to go over the top.  Donald Holder's lights and Peter Hylenski's sound design are perfectly fine as well, even if they are not particularly memorable.

There is plenty to enjoy in Bullets Over Broadway, but there's also plenty working against it.  Woody Allen's particular brand of comedy hasn't quite made the transition to the stage, even though he's done an excellent job of plotting a show that could easily be confusing in a lesser writer's hands.  The cast is certainly game, but they have a tendency to bludgeon a joke rather than finesse it; while still earning their fair share of laughs, the cast could get more if they allowed the material to land rather than forcing it.  Susan Stroman is a reliable ringmaster for this comic circus, keeping the show moving without becoming so bogged down in the staging that she completely neglects the story.  It is an admirable effort, even if Bullets ultimately fails to take off in the way its creators intend it to.

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.