Shows We Don't "Get"

Jared, Jessica, and Christopher get together for this second edition of the Broadway, Etc. podcast to discuss the shows they just don't "get." Those shows that everyone else seems to adore, but they just can't get behind. Prepare for some surprising (controversial?) admissions. Also, the team discusses the future of the ill-fated musical "Rebecca," and if this European import will ever see the light of day on Broadway.

"Rebecca" is Dead (Again)

The the Manderly estate in which the show is set, Rebecca's Broadway dreams have gone up in smoke.

I’m generally not a superstitious person, but even I have to wonder if the American production of Rebecca is cursed.  On the eve of its long-delayed first rehearsal, the gothic musical thriller had to cancel its Broadway bow for a second time due to lack of financing.  This comes after the production was pushed back from the spring to the fall for the exact same reason, a move which forced the recasting of its two lead roles.

For those who haven’t been following Rebecca’s various ups and downs (mostly downs), here’s a quick recap.  The show, based on the novel of the same name, is a hit in Europe that already saw plans for a London production scrapped in favor of Broadway.  Lead producer Ben Sprecher has had a hell of a time securing the show’s $12 million capitalization, which is expensive but by no means unheard of for a big Broadway musical.  He claimed to have the money situation all shored up when a mysterious benefactor named Paul Abrams died in early August, taking his $4.5 million investment with him to the grave.  Sprecher scrambled to find more funds, pouring his own money into the project and finding a new, unnamed $2 million investor.  But now that investor has pulled out after being sent a “malicious e-mail” by a third party, prompting this latest delay.

Sprecher claims he still wants to make Rebecca happen, but at this point only a fool would believe him.  Remember, this isn’t a show that was rumored for the Great White Way; Sprecher has on two occasions announced firm opening dates, secured a theatre, and begun work on the show’s costumes and sets.  Canceling a show so far along in its development is almost never done, which serves as an indication of how bad things really are.  But whatever you think is happening behind the scenes, the latest information indicates that the truth could be much, much worse.

For instance, The New York Times published a very interesting article last week that speculated Paul Abrams and his $4.5 million never even existed.  Sprecher himself has admitted that he never actually met Abrams, and you have to wonder about a producer who would depend on a complete stranger for a full third of his production budget.  Even worse, the Times asserts that the e-mail address used by Abrams’ assistant to communicate with Sprecher is only a month old, AND points out that there is no independently verifiable information about Abrams’ death (you’d think such a wealthy man would merit at least a sentence or two in the obituary section of the local paper).

At best, Sprecher is an incompetent producer who isn’t performing his due diligence and therefore shouldn’t be in charge of large sums of money; at worst, he has willfully deceived his other investors and the general public.  The police certainly find all of this suspicious, and have begun to question Sprecher about the whole affair (to his credit, Sprecher seems to be cooperating).  And then there is this most recent investor, who was scared off by the content of a nasty e-mail – an e-mail he or she should never have received, because the investment was supposed to remain anonymous.  Assuming this person exists, the sudden departure makes you wonder how reliable Sprecher’s other investors are, and also how safe your personal information is with this untested Broadway producer.  I certainly wouldn’t trust my money to him, and I doubt many others would, either.

Even if the existence of Paul Abrams is proven and Sprecher cleared of all wrong doing, no one is going to support this show.  As the old saying goes, “Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice, shame on me.”  Who’s to say that Rebecca won’t be canceled late in the game a third time?  Making money on a Broadway show is a tricky proposition to begin with; having an inexperienced and clearly unqualified person calling the shots isn’t going to increase the show’s financial chances.

The only way I see Rebecca happening now is if Sprecher leaves the project, and is replaced by someone a little more trustworthy.  That strategy worked on Spider-Man, Broadway’s last big budget disaster, which has miraculously overcome all of its early troubles to become one of Broadway’s top box office draws.  And if Spider-Man is your best case scenario, you have to wonder if it’s even worth it, considering that show is one of the most reviled and mocked pieces of entertainment to hit the Rialto in years. 

I would love for Rebecca’s fortunes to change, because as I’ve said before I think it is an excellent idea for a musical and could be a fantastic night at the theatre.  But at this point, I don’t think anyone would touch the show.  You’d basically be starting from scratch (as the Times points out, most of the investors are asking for their money back), and the stigma on the show is probably too much to overcome.  I think Rebecca is truly dead, and her ghost will haunt aspiring Broadway producers for years to come.

Movie Magic, Lost in Translation

Review:  Chaplin

Rob McClure, refusing to let subpar material ruin his big break on Broadway.

 

You want to like Chaplin, the new musical by composer/lyricist Christopher Curtis and bookwriter Thomas Meehan that’s currently playing the Barrymore Theatre.  The life of silent film star Charlie Chaplin certainly features enough drama to sustain a full-length musical, and the show benefits from several strong performances by a mix of Broadway veterans and relative newcomers.  Unfortunately, an abundance of structural missteps and ill-advised story tangents prevent the show from achieving its full potential, and the resulting work is a frustratingly muddled mess of unfulfilled promise.

Obviously, dramatizing anyone’s life brings with it inherent problems, as real life seldom occurs in steadily rising dramatic action that leads to a clean and tidy end.  Like many showbiz stories, Chaplin does a reasonably good job of chronicling Chaplin’s rise to fame in turn of the century Hollywood, utilizing his troubled relationship with his mentally-ill mother to provide dramatic tension during his virtually unencumbered ascension to superstardom.  But the second act, which chronicles Chaplin’s tumultuous personal life and eventual fall from grace, feels unfocused and haphazard.  In Meehan and Curtis’ libretto, one scene rarely flows smoothly into the next, and coherent character motivations are practically nonexistent.

The show also suffers from an uncertain tone, unsuccessfully attempting to split the difference between low comedy and high drama.  Even the relatively conflict-free first act fails to create many laughs, a sin that seems almost unforgivable in a show whose central figure is one of the all-time masters of slapstick.  Things are generally played straight and very serious, but the authors stop themselves from fully committing to the inherent drama of Chaplin’s life by glossing over its more unpleasant aspects.  The star’s multiple marriages to underage woman aren’t explored in any detail, and his demanding and somewhat unethical directorial methods are given only a cursory mention.  Even Chaplin’s relationship with his mother seems underdeveloped, as he spends a majority of the show avoiding her and we are mostly told rather than shown that her condition is getting worse.

Christopher Curtis’ score also underwhelms, with his sometimes interesting melodic ideas rarely coalescing into fully formed songs.  The only piece of music that feels complete is the jazzy “All Falls Down,” written for a vindictive gossip columnist named Hedda Hopper who has made it her life’s mission to ruin Chaplin’s good name.  And even that song is difficult to enjoy because it comes out of nowhere, forcing the audience to spend much of its duration wondering why a woman who has never even met Chaplin suddenly hates him so much (it apparently has something to do with his refusal to grant her an interview).

Yet the hardworking cast takes this subpar material and performs it with such earnestness and conviction that they almost succeed in making it sing.  In the title role, Rob McClure gives such a tour de force performance that you don’t question for a second why the producers entrusted an unknown with such an enormous part.  McClure has clearly spent hours researching the Little Tramp and perfecting his mannerisms, which pays off in his expert handling of the large amounts of physical comedy and recreation of some of Chaplin’s most famous bits.  He performs all of his numbers with gusto, and imbues the eleven o’clock ballad “Where Are All the People?” with a dramatic weight it honestly doesn’t deserve (like “All Falls Down,” the song comes out of nowhere).  McClure paints as complete a picture of Chaplin as the material will allow, and uses his buoyant, assured performance to cover up many of the writing’s flaws.

Past Tony-nominee Christiane Noll does well with the underwritten role of Chaplin’s mother, cramming one of the biggest character arcs of the night into her limited stage time.  Jenn Colella’s hardboiled Hedda Harper is such a strong presence you end up wishing there was more of her, which would have the added benefit of fleshing out one of the story’s key conflicts.  And as Oona O’Neil, Chaplin’s fourth and final wife, Erin Mackey imbues her character with enough charm and quiet strength that you can almost forgive the fact that she doesn’t appear until midway through Act II, despite being the show’s primary love interest.

Finally, special mention must be made of Zachary Unger, the child actor who plays the young Charlie Chaplin.  Displaying a startling amount of maturity and emotional honesty, Unger could give many adult actors lessons in sincerity.  When he breaks into tears as Chaplin’s mother is taken away to the mental hospital, he’s so convincing you want to run onstage and give him an enormous hug.  (The fact that Unger is cute as a button doesn’t hurt, either.)

From a production standpoint, director/choreographer Warren Carlyle does a serviceable job, although you get the impression that his desire for more dancing hinders the show more than it helps.  Particularly egregious is Carlyle’s decision to end Act I with a chorus of dancing Chaplin lookalikes, a decision so out of left field that the audience will spend most of intermission wondering what he was thinking.  The design team’s creative conceit to construct the sets and costumes using only shades of black and white is a neat idea that isn’t fully realized, and results in the show appearing too dark on more than one occasion.  Meanwhile, the ten person orchestra is in desperate need of a few extra players to provide the show with a richer and fuller sound.

Thanks to the hardworking cast, Chaplin has all-too-brief moments of entertainment and genuine dramatic interest.  Because the performers are so good, you really wish the musical they appear in gave them better material to work with.  The idea of a show about Charlie Chaplin remains an intriguing notion, and one hopes that eventually a great version of the story makes its way to Broadway.  For now, we will have to settle for this half-baked concoction instead.

Why Legit Vocal Training Matters

Alice Ripley: fierce, fierce actress.  But that voice of hers is a little wonky lately.

Happy fall, everyone!  Now that the weather here in NYC has gotten a little brisk, it’s time to end my impromptu summer vacation from blogging and get back to talking about the theatre.

This is a blog I meant to write a few weeks ago, when I stumbled across this video on Playbill.com.  In the midst of interviewing/goofing off with Broadway’s Stephanie J. Block, musician and internet personality Seth Rudetsky asks Block how familiar she was with the score of her next gig, The Mystery of Edwin Drood, before being cast in the show.  Block admits she’d only heard the soprano ballad “Moonfall,” and sings a few bars before Rudetsky cuts her off and jokingly tells her to “never sing like that again.”

The joke is that Block actually sounds fabulous singing with a legit soprano, but should only belt because that is what she is known for (having been a high profile replacement for roles like Elphaba and Reno Sweeney).  Sky high belting is what’s currently in vogue on Broadway, and Block bemoans the fact that she never gets to sing “Moonfall” at auditions because no one wants to hear her do it.  And the implications of that statement worry me.

If you are an up and coming actor who wants to be on Broadway these days, you have to be able to belt.  Contemporary musicals are almost invariably written as marathon belting sessions, and many classic shows are revived with a more pop-influenced sound.  This isn’t bad in and of itself, and I enjoy a good belt show as much as the next guy.  I lost track of how many times I listened to Rent when it first came out, and one of my biggest complaints about the current Evita revival is the distinct lack of belting done by its leading lady.  BUT legit singing is equally valuable, and should be a major part of any young singer’s training.

When someone learns how to sing in the classical/legit style, two of the most important things they learn are proper placement and breath support.  These form the basis of healthy singing in any genre, and are essential to anyone who wants to have a long career in the industry.  Without them, it is simply a matter of time before nodules or some other type of vocal damage renders a singer unable to manage the demands of doing eight shows a week. 

I would argue the reason someone like Block is able to consistently belt into the rafters is because her background in legit singing taught her proper placement and healthy vocal production.  These principles can be adapted into the contemporary/pop musical vein, but are much easier to practice and learn in classical singing.  The problem with belting and pop-influenced scores is that many of the hallmarks of the style can be achieved through strain and poor technique.  This may work in the short term, but over time it will absolutely destroy someone’s voice (see: Side Show Alice Ripley vs. Next to Normal Alice Ripley, or to use an example from pop music Songs in A Minor Alicia Keys vs. Element of Freedom Alicia Keys).

But since nobody is interested in hearing legit singing, it isn’t being taught as much.  We won’t have proof for another ten years or so, but I fear this is producing a generation of Broadway singers who are using poor technique to wail to the rafters now, but will be unable to sing much of anything by their mid-30s due to all the vocal damage they’ve sustained.  Resilient young voices can handle a fair amount of poor technique, but it will always catch up with you in the end.  Unless something changes, we’re looking at a future where catching that Tony-nominated performance will be a matter of luck, because the actor giving it doesn’t have the vocal stamina to do eight shows a week.  And nobody wants that

Podcast: 2012-2013 Broadway Season Preview Extravaganza

Today we're doing something a little different here on Broadway, Etc.  Rather than write a series of posts about the upcoming Broadway season, I thought it would be fun to get a group of friends together and make a podcast about it.  So please welcome Jessica, McKenna, and Christopher to the blog! 

We're dishing about the shows we're most excited about (and a couple we aren't), and I hope you have as much fun listening to it as we had making it.  Who knows?  Maybe this will become a more regular thing.  Enjoy!

PS - Thanks to Christopher for all the technical support! :-)

Sometimes, Pretty Is Enough

Review:  Bring It On: The Musical

Adrienne Warren and the cast of Bring It On serve up major musical theatre realness.  And they're pretty good athletes, too.

Needless to say, Bring It On: The Musical is not high art.  Anyone with such lofty expectations for the show has a gross misunderstanding of the source material on which it is based.  What this stage adaptation of the film series of the same name does offer is plenty of fun and high-flying acrobatics, even if some questionable story and tonal choices keep it from becoming the great piece of fluff theatre it could be.

Set in the world of competitive cheerleading, Bring It On doesn’t precisely follow the plot of the original movie or any of its sequels, instead using the franchise’s general premise and themes as inspiration for an original story.  The show begins with perky blonde Campbell being elected captain of the Truman High School cheerleading squad, but her dreams of winning the National Cheering Trophy are dashed when some questionable school redistricting results in her forced transfer to the scary multi-ethnic Jackson High.  Not only is Campbell a fish out of water, but the closest thing to a cheerleading squad at Jackson is a dance crew led by sassy queen bee Danielle.  This is obviously the Worst Thing Ever, and poor Campbell must somehow find a way to convince Danielle to form a cheerleading squad so that they both can compete at Nationals and win that coveted trophy.

Obviously, this campy setup is meant to provide more jokes than drama, a fact the show knows but doesn’t fully embrace.  The biggest problem is that Bring It On doesn’t take the outrageousness far enough, opting to play a large portion of the show completely straight despite a steady stream of one-liners provided by book writer Jeff Whitty (a Tony-winner for his work on Avenue Q).  As a result, the predictable plot drags at the start, although the approach does lead to some surprisingly heartfelt scenes as the characters struggle with growing up.  The second act ballad “Enjoy the Trip” is an especially poignant and insightful commentary on the ultimate importance of high school drama, and a highlight of the show.

Like most musical comedies, the real interest lies in the production numbers, which are plentiful and generally well done.  The contemporary score, co-written by Tom Kitt (Next to Normal) and Lin-Manuel Miranda (In the Heights), highlights the very distinctive styles of its two composers while still sounding like a cohesive whole.  The R&B stylings that characterize Miranda’s work are particularly prominent and enticing, and the Bring It On score ends up being one of the most fully realized blendings of showtunes and modern pop to ever grace a Broadway stage.  Mirroring this mix is the excellent choreography by Andy Blankenbuehler (who also directed), which makes hip hop dance wholly theatrical and is a refreshingly new addition to an art form that can be painfully slow to evolve.

And when the fresh-faced cast breaks into the cheer routines that form the centerpiece of Bring It On, prepare to be amazed.  The dizzying combination of backflips, tumbling, and aerial acrobatics will take even the most jaded theatre-goer’s breathe away, and these athletic feats are performed with a precision and sleekness any show would do well to emulate.  It is honestly a shame there aren’t more of them – setting the first act primarily in a cheerleader-less school makes the routines hard to sneak in – although the upside of this decision is that it makes the dueling routines of the musical’s climax even more exciting.

The vast majority of the cast is making their Broadway debuts, and what the performers lack in experience they make up for with enthusiasm and general charisma.  Taylor Louderman’s Campbell can be a little bland, but she is believable, earnest, and a generally likeable leading lady (Louderman also does an excellent job with the enormous amount of singing she’s been handed).  Adrienne Warren belts to the rafters as Danielle, and her well-executed transformation from antagonistic to grudgingly respectful to genuinely friendly is one of the more dramatic character arcs in the show.  The supporting players all manage to make a positive impression, although the sheer number of characters leaves a lot of the actors with precious little to do.

The real standout among the cast is Gregory Haney’s camp-tastic turn as a drag queen student called La Cienega.  One of the few actors with prior Broadway experience, Haney takes a character we know nothing about (only one line in the show even acknowledges that her attending school in drag might have made her life difficult) and makes her into the most compelling person on the stage.  Completely over the top and reveling in every minute of it, Haney represents the type of show Bring It On is *this close* to being: a high-camp delight that is simultaneously hilarious and oddly engaging.

As stated above, Bring It On isn’t high art.  It has some fairly glaring oversights, like a story that meanders for much of the first act until settling into the predictable but effective drama of a sporting competition.  Everything seems to be just a little too easy for Campbell, which makes it difficult to fully invest in the plot or her hardships.  And for a show that traffics in cheerleader stereotypes, there is a surprising lack of unrepentantly bitchy girls to serve as effective antagonists.  The absence of a truly memorable villain, someone the audience could love to hate, keeps Bring It On from entering the realm of top-tier escapist entertainment, and we the audience must settle for merely very good rather than great.  That said, there are certainly worse ways to spend a summer night than with this slickly polished musical confection, and I for one am glad this national tour decided to stop by and play in the big leagues.

Satisfaction in the Park with Sondheim

Review:  Into the Woods

Donna Murphy in a performance that would surely be Tony-nominated if it were eligible (here's hoping for a transfer!)

After a troubled preview period riddled with rain delays, cancelled rehearsals, and at least one Twitter scandal, the star-studded Shakespeare in the Park production of Into the Woods has finally opened at Central Park’s Delacorte Theatre, and the results are worth the wait.  While not perfect, this reimagining of the Stephen Sondheim-James Lapine musical avoids the long shadow cast by the beloved Broadway original and establishes the work as a modern classic capable of withstanding wildly different interpretations without losing its sizeable charm.

For those unfamiliar with the show’s premise, Into the Woods tells the story of a childless Baker (Tony-winner Dennis O’Hare) and his Wife (Oscar-nominee Amy Adams) who are tasked with gathering four mystical items by the mysterious and semi-malevolent Witch (Tony-winner Donna Murphy).  If they can find the items in three midnights’ time, the Witch will lift the curse she has placed upon them and grant them a child.  Along the way, the Baker and his Wife cross paths with famous fairy tale figures like Cinderella, Little Red Riding Hood, Jack (and his beanstalk) and Rapunzel.  And while all of the characters eventually get what they wish, the actions taken during their journeys come with unforeseen consequences that raise the question of what happens after Happily Ever After.

Based on a 2010 production at the Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre in London, this Into the Woods is a wholly contemporary take on what has previously been treated as a timeless tale.  Director Timothy Sheader, repeating his work from the London production, has added a framing device in which a runaway child (played by an accomplished Jack Broderick) assumes the role of the story’s Narrator and enacts the Baker’s story.  Having a child in such a pivotal role highlights the underlying themes of what parents teach their children and the loss of innocence, while also justifying the very contemporary mannerisms of the key players.  Emily Robholz’s costumes emphasize the updated setting with an appealing hodgepodge of modern dress and timeless clothing.

Sheader takes his concept and runs with it, letting it and the outdoor setting influence every aspect about the production.  Seamlessly blending in with the Central Park setting, John Lee Beatty’s multi-tiered set provides an excellent canvas for Sheader to work with, and the director deploys his actors onto the various crosswalks and ladders with assurance and style.  He also eschews modern stage trickery for something more simplistic and ultimately more satisfying, with his representations of Jack’s beanstalk and Giant proving particularly striking (both drew audible gasps at the performance I attended).

The cast is such an embarrassment of riches it’s difficult to know where to start, but Donna Murphy is particularly impressive as the Witch.  Filling the vast Delacorte Theatre with the presence of a true star, Murphy is transcendent in the role, from her mesmerizing first entrance until the final curtain.  Her initial wow factor is due in no small part to the ingenious make-up design of Joe Dulude II, which transforms her into a gnarled old crone on the verge of becoming one with the forest that surrounds her, but Murphy is too good an actress to let the costume do all the work.  She contrasts her frightening appearing with a deft comic delivery that mines the humor in Lapine’s book while remaining an imposing antagonist, and even after her transformation into a more conventional form Murphy remains transfixing.  And when she sings the haunting “Last Midnight,” Murphy propels the song to the showstopping heights it has always aspired to but never quite achieved.

Few could hope to equal Murphy’s brilliance, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the cast is anything less than incredibly compelling in its own right.  Amy Adams’ inherent charm serves her quite well as the put-upon Baker’s Wife, and although it takes her a while to find the show’s rhythm she becomes quite compelling by the end.   She certainly earns her right to perform alongside such accomplished theatre stars, and her singing voice is quite strong for someone with little formal training. 

Unfortunately for Adams, her main scene partner is the woefully miscast Dennis O’Hare, who proves to be the one weak link among an otherwise fine cast.  O’Hare, so adept at playing insane and/or eccentric characters, struggles in the everyman role of the Baker, often coming across as harshly sarcastic or obnoxiously neurotic.  He and Adams lack the chemistry needed for the audience to fully invest in their characters, and it is telling that O’Hare’s strongest moments occur when Adams is offstage.  The fact that the original Baker, Chip Zein, plays the Mysterious Man and often appears onstage with O’Hare serves as an unintentional reminder of the latter’s shortcomings, and you can’t help but feel the pair would be better served by switching roles.

Recent Tony-nominee Jessie Mueller does a fantastic job as Cinderella, convincingly conveying a mix of school-girl giddiness and underlying sadness that makes her the most grounded of all the major players.  Gideon Glick fully commits to the enthusiastic but dim-witted nature of Jack in an endearing portrayal that is central to the show’s underlying theme of children growing older.  As his female counterpoint, Sarah Stiles’ Little Red Riding Hood is hilariously daffy, but avoids the role’s tendency towards obnoxiousness by offering glimpses of the scared and confused young woman beneath the cloak.

The production’s few missteps occur when the director and cast favor the overt rather than the subtle.  Cinderella’s two Stepsisters are so over-choreographed that it becomes distracting, especially given their tangential importance to the plot and the lack of any real dance among the other characters.  Sheader and his cast play up the sexual undertones in the Little Red Riding Hood story to the point where they feel imposed on the tale rather than an essential part of its meaning, which undermines the work’s brilliantly subtle subversion of fairy tale tropes in the first act.  And the show runs into tonal problems at the start of its second half, when things awkwardly shift from straightforward musical comedy into more serio-comedic drama (to be fair, this is also the one area where James Lapine’s book could use some tweaking).

Overall, the only people who won’t find anything to enjoy about this Into the Woods are the purists who insist that all mountings of the show be perfect duplicates of the original production.  For everyone else, this version offers a fascinatingly new take on the material that stays true to its intention, complete with a top-tier cast and a towering central performance by the incomparable Donna Murphy.  Into the Woods is some of the best theatre of the summer, and that fact that it remains free to anyone willing to brave the long lines is added icing on the cake.  Go see it before it’s gone.