A Lush Historical Fairy Tale

Review: Anastasia

Derek Klena as Dimitri and Christy Altomare as Anya in Anastasia.

As someone who has never seen the 1997 animated feature film Anastasia, I bring no preexisting expectations to the musical version currently playing the Broadhurst Theatre. Which is perhaps for the best, as the songwriting team of Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahrens have been very upfront about the massive amount of changes their work has undergone in the transition from screen to stage. Entire characters have been jettisoned (no villainous Rasputin and his anthropomorphic bat sidekick), many of the songs have been reordered and/or recontextualized, and the tone of the piece has been shifted towards something more complex than the typically black and white morality tale of a Disney-esque animated film.

Whether this "maturing" of the story amounts to actual and improvement is open for interpretation. There is no denying the Flaherty and Ahrens' score (which includes the Oscar-nominated "Journey to the Past," here relocated to the end of the first act) is a work of beauty, a grand collection of both old and new songs that have a sweeping melodic artistry. This beauty is occasionally betrayed by the relatively modest ensemble size, which doesn't always have the vocal heft the music seems to call for. This is no fault of the very talented performers, just a result of the economic reality that paying for dozens of chorus members is a luxury most shows cannot afford. 

And while Terrance McNally's book does a fine job of weaving the various songs together, the more adult tone invites a more critical look at the narrative than it can quite sustain. In telling the story of the lost heir to the last Russian czar, Anastasia attempts to milk a lot of drama from the question of whether the amnesiac Anya is actually the presumed dead title character. But a show called Anastasia with no Anastasia wouldn't make much sense, and the repeated flashbacks Anya has of her slain relatives leave little doubt she is in fact the missing Grand Duchess. (This narrative issue is successful solved in the second act, when the question becomes not "Is Anya Anastasia?" but "Will her grandmother, the Dowager Empress, recognize her?") It also feels odd that a show which puts so much effort into at least the semblance of historical accuracy leaves the issue of why the Russians killed Anastasia's family almost wholly unexplored.

Thankfully, the gorgeous physical production and fine collection of performances makes it easier to look past these logical issues. Alexander Dodge's physical set is perhaps a tad shallow, but it is brought to vivid life by Aaron Rhyne's stunning projections. Rhyne's work adds depth and detail to the show's many physical locations, finding stage equivalents to cinematic techniques like pans and dissolves which look like nothing else on Broadway. And Linda Cho's stunningly ornate costumes are showstoppers in and of themselves, glittering ensembles of saturated color that grant the entire affair an air of wonderfully grandiose fantasy. 

In the title role, Christy Altomare is excellent as a thoroughly modern Broadway heroine. Her utter commitment to the role brings a level of authenticity and dramatic stakes to the character that frankly isn't there in the writing, and even though it's obvious she's the missing Grand Duchess, Altomare's palpable doubt almost makes you question that assumption. And while her voice is quite lovely, the true secret to her success with Anya's many songs is her ability to convey every nuance contained within Ahrens' words and Flaherty's music. 

As Dimitri, a street hustler initially wanting to pass Anya off as Anastasia for the reward money, Derek Klena has a dashingly chiseled visage that looks as if it jumped out of an animated storybook. Dimitri begins the show as a bit of a jerk, but Klena slowly wins you over as his character becomes less interested in money and more invested in helping Anya realize her destiny. Klena also possesses a soaring tenor the score doesn't utilize right way, but really springs to the fore by the time of his rousing solo "My Petersburg" in the middle of the first act. And John Bolton is a delightfully endearing clown as Dimitri's partner in crime Vlad, whose past connections with the Russian royal family are key to helping our leads meet their goals.

As the Dowager Empress, Mary Beth Peil initially seems underused, with a brief appearance in the show's prologue her only stage time in Act I. But once the action moves to Paris, and convincing the Dowager Empress that Anya is her long lost granddaughter becomes the main plot, Peil comes alive, packing an enormous amount of emotional variety into her scenes (which happen to feature some of McNally's best writing). Watching the range of emotions that wash over Peil's face in the climatic scene, from bitter rage to stubborn disbelief to overwhelming joy, is one of the highlights of the evening.

There's a lot to like about Anastasia, especially if one can get past the fact that this stage adaptation uses the animated film as more of a jumping off point than an actual blueprint. The writing ranges from good to excellent, even if the direction by Tony winner Darko Tresnjak allows the show to drag more than it needs to. The upside of this sometimes slower pace is you have ample time to appreciate the opulence of the physical production, the lush melodies, and the winsome performances of the cast. It's refreshing to see a family show that is willing to trust in its audience's appreciation of stagecraft rather than beat them over the head with spectacle, even if a tad more flash would be appreciated.

Let's Talk About Sex (18th Century French Sex)

Review: Les Liaisons Dangereuses

Janet McTeer and Liev Schreiber in the Donmar Warehouse revival of Les Liaisons Dangereuses

There aren't many plays like Les Liaisons Dangereuses, the highly verbal and erotic drama currently being revived at the Booth Theatre. Period costumes and flowery language help elevate this tale of calculated seduction in 18th century France, making a script where virtually every scene is about sex seem like one of the classiest plays around. And while there are some interesting ideas to be found hiding underneath the deliciously decadent dialogue, this import from London's Donmar Warehouse ultimately feels like more style than substance despite some truly compelling performances.

Playwright Christopher Hampton's 1987 drama - probably best known as the basis of the Oscar-winning film Dangerous Liaisons - centers around ex-lovers Le Marquis de Merteuil and Le Vicomte de Valmont, wealthy members of Paris' elite who entertain themselves by seducing others for sport. In an act of revenge, Merteuil has asked Valmont to seduce the virginal Cecile, who has been promised to the only man to ever to break off a relationship with Merteuil before she was ready to end it. But Valmont has his sights set on Madame de Tourvel, the strictly conservative wife of an absent husband. Merteuil and Valmont agree to help manipulate both women into compromising positions, while also having their own reasons for wanting to rekindle their own relationship (she seems to actually love Valmont, while he seems mostly interested in the sex).

It's a complex web of motivations which seem even more alien given the use of French titles in place of actual names, but Hampton's plotting is razor sharp and provides everything an attentive audience member needs to follow the action. It also helps to view the play with the assumption that practically every line of dialogue is intended as a double entendre, many of them dressed up by the playwright's wonderfully verbose dialogue. The characters may be French, but their command of the English language makes listening to them speak entertainment unto itself. If there is any fault to be found with Hampton's script, it's that he places the story's climax (pun very much intended) at the end of a rather long first act, which makes Act II feel more scattershot and less impactful by comparison.

The performances range from serviceable to very good indeed, with the divide being split almost entirely down gender lines. Tony-winner Janet McTeer is entrancing as Le Marquis de Merteuil, an incredibly complex and modern woman struggling against the social confines of her gender. McTeer's understanding of the power of stillness makes her an almost regal presence, with her expressive eyes conveying an immense amount of information behind Merteuil's carefully controlled visage. McTeer oozes sex appeal, and seeing her character turn that appeal on and off at will underscores how much Merteuil's considers her sensuality not just a source of pleasure, but a weapon. Watching McTeer peel back the various layers of her character is the most thrilling aspect of the evening, ultimately revealing a vulnerability that is quite tragic despite her sometimes monstrous actions. She's also quite funny, especially when the Marquis is forced to deal with those unable to keep up with her vast intellect, adding even more depth to a truly fascinating figure.

Liev Schreiber is more problematic as the womanizing Valmont. For an actor who has demonstrated immense sexiness in other roles, his lack of sex appeal in the role is not just disappointing but a detriment to the story. Valmont is constantly engaged in secret trysts with a whole host of characters, many of whom willing throw themselves at him, and without that kind of inescapable charisma it's difficult to comprehend exactly why everyone is so willing to bend to his every whim. Schreiber's choice to play Valmont as at least slightly intoxicated at all times doesn't help, although the decision is certainly justified by the large amount of stage business involving glasses of alcohol.

In supporting roles, Elena Kampouris provides welcome comic relief as the almost impossibly naive Cecile, and Mary Beth Peil makes the most of her limited scenes as Valmont's world weary aunt. But the true standout is Birgitte Hjort Sorensen making her Broadway debut as the intensely pious Madame de Tourvel. Sorensen's eyes and body language speak volumes, projecting an immense strength and inherent goodness that makes it appropriately difficult to watch her being seduced. You feel the pain her burgeoning attraction to Valmont causes her, and the character's eventually fate is perhaps the most moving aspect of the production.

Director Josie Rourke stages the piece with an eye towards the surreal, using highly choreographed scene changes combined with haunting original music by Michael Bruce to draw you into the bewitchingly exotic milieu. Tom Scutt's deconstructed set design, which reimagines the sprawling houses of the aristocracy as aging villas with exposed plaster and brick, further contributes to the otherworldly quality of the production. (Scutt also designed the ornate costumes.)

Those unfamiliar with Les Liaisons Dangereuses will find plenty to appreciate in this current revival, while at the same time probably becoming aware that it isn't always successful in realizing the lofty ambitions of the piece. Hampton's dialogue and his script are quite good, if a tad long by modern tastes, and this production has two truly captivating performances by Janet McTeer and Birgitte Hjort Sorensen. If only Liev Schreiber were able to match these two ladies' performances, this could be a truly electric production, rather than the entertaining but somewhat inconsequential one it is.