He Could Have Been a Contender

Review: Rocky

Let's try not to think about how disgusting and bloody Rocky's face must be right now.

The main message of Rocky the Film is that simply seeing something through to completion, despite whatever obstacles you may face, is its own form of winning.  And in that sense, everyone involved with Rocky the Musical should consider themselves huge winners, since the project has been met with huge amounts of skepticism since it was first announced.  Unfortunately, this interesting mess of a stage show fails to really go the distance, and was probably better off remaining an Oscar-winning film.

Rocky follows the titular down and out fighter from Philadelphia as he trains to take on undefeated heavyweight champion Apollo Creed in the "fight of the century."  Or at least, that's the plot of the second act; the first is almost entirely focused on the budding romance between Rocky and unassuming shop girl Adrian, and that narrative disassociation proves to be one of the show's biggest flaws.  Bookwriters Thomas Meehan and Sylvester Stallone (who also wrote and starred in the film version) can't seem to decide if the show's focus should be on the love story or the underdog sports story, and rather than interweaving the two plots they've awkwardly segregated them, to the detriment of both. 

The first act has some beautiful, nuanced scenes between Rocky and Adrian that really take the time to believably develop their relationship, only to have the pair suddenly jump to being a committed, happy couple in the second act so the show can focus on Rocky's preparation for the big fight.  The transition is jarring, and the lack of boxing elements in the first act means the second is starting from square one in terms of stakes and audience engagement.  Anyone who was interested in Rocky and Adrian's evolving relationship has to subside on what they were shown in the first half, because it's barely even mentioned in Act II.

Meehan and Stallone also don't seem to know what to do with the various supporting characters, who are either underdeveloped, serve no real narrative purpose, or both.  Adrian's brother Paulie is introduced as a nice guy who initially brings Rocky and Adrian together, only to suddenly morph into an insufferable alcoholic who all the characters despise but tolerate for unknown reasons.  The show goes to great lengths to establish the resentment Rocky harbors against unsupportive gym owner Mickey, but immediately after a particularly intense confrontation Rocky takes him on as a coach, despite have told him mere seconds before to get lost.  The book does little to illustrate what motivates such massive shifts in attitude, and most of it feels like manufactured conflict because the show's real antagonist, Apollo Creed, barely interacts with anyone until the final fight.

Meanwhile, the score by Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahrens can at best be called unmemorable, and in all honesty probably merits harsher adjectives.  This is particularly disappointing as Flaherty and Ahrens among the greatest songwriting duos in the history of the musical theatre, easily the equal of Kander and Ebb or Rodgers and Hammerstein, and together they have written some of the greatest scores of the past 30 years.  Rocky is nowhere near their previous highs, barring the exception of the gorgeous Act I ballad "Raining" which serves as our first real introduction to Adrian.  The songs feel disconnected from the story; they work on their own as bits of musical storytelling, but are awkwardly inserted into book scenes that do nothing to set them up or build on what they establish.  They are also almost entirely forgettable, and are completely upstaged by the inclusion of "Eye of the Tiger" two thirds of the way through (a song which is technically from Rocky III, but who's keeping track?).

The performances in Rocky are generally solid, although it is often uncomfortable to watch the actors struggle through such questionable material.  Andy Karl makes for a fine Rocky, tipping his hat to Sylvester Stallone's performance and mannerisms while still maintaining an air of authenticity.  Karl also has excellent chemistry with the Adrian of Broadway newcomer Margo Seibert, whose beautiful alto has the privilege of singing the score's best songs.  Together Karl and Seibert create the evening's most fully realized characters, and it's a shame the second act shifts focus away from their interactions.  Danny Mastrogiorgio sells every scene he's in as Paulie, even if the writing does little to provide a cohesive throughline for his actions.  The only weak link in the cast is Terence Archie's Apollo Creed, who looks the part but comes across as a borderline offensive caricature of African-American stereotypes (a problem made all the more shocking when one considers that Flaherty and Ahrens are responsible for Ragtime, one of the greatest gifts ever given to singing actors of color).

The staging by rising director Alex Timbers (which is intrinsically tied to Christopher Barreca's Rubik's cube of a set) is a mixed bag, simultaneously impressive and underwhelming.  The smaller, character focused first act is overwhelmed by the massive, constantly moving set, while the larger, more spectacle-oriented second half isn't visually interesting enough to overcome the weakness of the storytelling.  Rocky feels like a small-scale show that has been unsuccessfully blown up in order to fill the massive Winter Garden Theatre, and while watching Barreca's set reconfigure itself into various settings is impressive it is not emotionally involving.  The one genuinely thrilling sequence is the fourth wall-breaking final fight, which moves the action out into the audience and is unlike anything seen on a Broadway stage.  This electrifying set piece goes a long way towards making you forget about the shortcomings of the previous two hours, and if one thing can be said about Rocky, it's that the show ends on its highest note.

Overall, Rocky is a noble but misguided effort that doesn't really have a discernible target audience.  The book and score aren't sophisticated enough for high minded audiences, nor are they entertaining enough for those who just want to have a good time.  The size and spectacle of the physical production overwhelms the intimate love story the writers are trying to tell, without being impressive enough to hold our attention on its own.  Rocky was never a property that begged for musicalization, and the unwieldy show that has resulted confirms it would have been better served by remaining an iconic film.  The show isn't quite awful enough to be a career killer for anyone involved (all of whom are established talents to begin with), but it also won't be high on the list of their greatest achievements.  Like Rocky himself, let's give everyone involved credit for trying and move on with our lives.

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.