Imelda Staunton – Theatre Aficionado at Large

‘Gypsy’ – Savoy Theatre

While it seems as if there’s a new Broadway revival of Gypsy every five minutes, London has not seen a production of the legendary musical since the original West End production closed in 1974. The musical, which tells the story of Rose Hovick and her two daughters, who would go on to become Gypsy Rose Lee and June Havoc, has been an instant classic since its 1959 Broadway premiere and contains one of the all-time great musical theatre leading roles. When I learned that Imelda Staunton would be headlining the first London revival in over 40 years, I decided to book my flight.

This new West End production is an import from the Chichester Theatre Festival, where Staunton and director Jonathan Kent previously collaborated on a successful Olivier-winning production of Sweeney Todd. The two also worked together on the UK premiere of David Lindsay-Abaire’s Good People. The critical response for Gypsy has eclipsed these two productions, garnering the sort of reviews that press agents can only dream about. Such notices can inflate my own expectations and lead to disappointment. Well, if anything, my expectations were exceeded. Imelda Staunton is giving a career-defining performance as Rose. Other Roses I’ve seen have given star turns (and were excellent), but Imelda just acts it. Her performance is epic in size, but unfailingly grounded. The cumulative result is one of the most searing star turns I’ve ever witnessed, and ranks among the top five performances I’ve ever seen in my theatergoing life.

The legendary cry “Sing out, Louise!” is heard from the back of the Savoy Theatre, and Staunton’s Rose, a diminutive spitfire, emerges from the shadows as though shot from a cannon. From these opening moments onward, there lurks a darkness in her, something a lot like rage, that sometimes rears its head at moments both expected and unexpected. These flashes sow the seeds for the inevitability of both “Everything’s Coming Up Roses” (harrowing) and “Rose’s Turn” (utterly devastating). But Imelda’s Rose is also charming, playful, resourceful, alert and unrelentingly maternal. Her singing voice is also up to the challenge, nuanced and warm on the ballads, but with the ability to fill the theater with a powerful, gritty belt when necessary.

In the lead-up to “Everything’s Coming Up Roses,” as favored daughter June elopes and the vaudeville act falls apart, Rose’s new plan to focus on Louise (out of spite, out of desperation) was met with some uncomfortable giggling by the audience, who seemed incredulous that this woman was even remotely serious. This nervous laughter turned to silent sheer terror within seconds as Rose beat June’s letter as though scolding a child, and again moments later as Rose grabbed Louise by the nape of her neck and forced her to bow on the line “Blow a kiss, take a bow…”

Her “Turn” was in another realm entirely. During the mock-strip portion, she alternated between mocking Dainty June and imitating Louise’s gestures from the “The Strip,” caustic, withering and crazed. In a performance filled with bold risks, Imelda’s greatest was a pregnant pause before the line “Momma’s gotta let go.” The audience sat compelled in pin-drop silence as Rose worked through her maelstrom of emotions. Every second was earned and never gratuitous, and it haunted me for hours afterward.

That Ms. Staunton is so tremendous is a wonder give than the production is using the detrimental revisions made for the 2008 Broadway revival. These changes made by librettist Arthur Laurents to accommodate Patti LuPone strip away both comedy and vulnerability, and make Rose more one-dimensional. (The brilliant Styne-Sondheim score remains untouched). It’s a testament to Staunton’s triumph that she manages to bring humor and considerable pathos in spite of these limiting alterations. For the record, a more traditional ending is restored and is staged in such a way that I was moved to tears.

Lara Pulver is a good Louise. If it’s a bit of stretch to see her playing a child, her performance becomes stronger as her character ages. She is at her best after she’s transitioned from awkward Louise to elegant Gypsy Rose Lee. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the final scene played better. Blessed with an exquisite voice, Pulver also adds some delicious flourishes to the end of “The Strip.” She has one especially thrilling moment: gawkish Louise clumsily drops her glove during the opening of “The Strip” and bends over to pick it up. A cat-call is heard from the balcony. She looks up and smiles. She’s suddenly aware of her own beauty and the impact of her own sexuality on an audience. Gypsy Rose Lee is born.

Peter Davison is a warm, ingratiating Herbie, tall and lovable, with a calming presence. There have been some complaints by West End critics about his singing, and I find it amusing that we live in a time where we expect Herbie to be a good singer. Dan Burton, who is the West End equivalent to Tony Yazbeck, is a sensational Tulsa, with eye-popping technique in all three departments and a superb American accent, to boot. The three strippers are a knockout comic trio, especially Louise Gold’s Amazonian Mazeppa, complete with deadpan Lady Baritone.

Kent’s staging doesn’t reinvent the wheel. It’s a traditional production in virtually every respect, but Gypsy is a tried-and-true classic and doesn’t need much tinkering. His great achievement here is in the work he has done with the actors, particularly in cultivating the central mother-daughter dynamics. Some of the original dances remain, while Stephen Mear has choreographed the rest in the spirit of Jerome Robbins (the most notable: a new, more elaborate “All I Need Is the Girl” for Burton). There is a somewhat reduced orchestration (no strings), which isn’t ideal, but doesn’t detract from the overall experience.

Imelda is worth the price of admission. I would go so far as to say she’s also worth the price of the air fare and accommodation. Beg, borrow or steal; whatever you have to do to get to the Savoy Theatre before November 28 (when this extended limited engagement is set to close). This is one for the history books and you do not want to miss it.

Also: there’s a new 2015 London Cast Recording. It sounds fantastic, and while it won’t supplant other recordings in the canon (namely the superlative original Broadway cast recording starring Ethel Merman), it offers a wonderful document for those of us who have seen the production.

My Favorite Performances, 2012

Bertie Carvel – Matilda. Hearing Carvel’s performance on the original cast recording was my main impetus in making sure I got to London to see the show while he was still in the cast. As Agatha Trunchbull, the grotesque headmistress at war with Matilda Wormwood, Carvel creates one of the great comic villains in music theatre, a domineering physical presence whose second act anti-child number “The Smell of Rebellion” is a show-stopper. There are panto elements in the performance, but he plays Miss Trunchbull without winking or leering, showing shades of the insecure bully who resorts to all sorts of nasty business. I’m so thrilled NY will have a chance to see his performance in the upcoming Broadway transfer.

James Corden – One Man, Two Guvnors. The most brilliant comic creation I’ve seen since Mark Rylance took Broadway by storm with Boeing Boeing, Corden’s Francis Henshall – portly, silly, lovable – was a delight from start to finish. It’s rare that pure silliness can beget pure joy. Corden managed to do this through the mix of high and low (mostly low) brow humor in Richard Bean’s updating of A Servant of Two Masters. I saw the show a total of three times, including opening night and the utter free-for-all that was the closing night (hijinks, pranks, nudity, and all sorts of glorious hijinks in the spirit of the show) and I consistently laughed until my sides ached every time. Much of this is due to Corden’s brilliance. I do wish the play had continued after his scheduled departure, but fortunately it’s still running in London for those who want some breathless hilarity.

Linda Lavin – The Lyons. Lavin gave up supporting roles in Broadway transfers of Follies and Other Desert Cities to play this leading role off-Broadway, and with good reason. Rita Lyon is one of the most fascinating mothers in American drama since Violet Weston went nuts on her family. Lavin was able to turn a magazine page turn into a comic gold mine, and constantly surprised. Her exit speech was so brilliantly delivered that she received two back to back showstopping ovations.

Tracy Letts – Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Albee’s play is one of my favorites and I would gladly see any production of it anywhere. This Steppenwolf import is an intense, visceral experience that makes the battle for the upper-hand one of the games along the way. Intense work by a superb ensemble, but Letts comes out on top in this reimagined look at the fascinating George. He is terrifying, hilarious, charming, dangerous and unsettling making a role seem new. Everyone else in the ensemble is the better for this searing portrayal. A must-see performance.

Donna Murphy – Into the Woods. Critics were mixed on this production (and having seen it three times throughout its run, I think it was a mistake to let them in early), but Murphy’s portrayal of the Witch was one of the most galvanizing performances I have ever seen. Playing up the character’s pragmatism and relationship to Rapunzel, it was as though I understood a maternal need for the character that either I missed before, or just wasn’t present in other performances I have seen. Her “Last Midnight” was nothing short of legendary; one of then most terrifying and devastating showstoppers of the year.

Imelda Staunton – Sweeney Todd. I made it a point to catch this highly-acclaimed revival while in London, and I am so glad that I did. Michael Ball was Sweeney Todd, and while he was better than I expected, it was Imelda Staunton’s searing, gritty portrayal of the enterprising, conniving Mrs. Lovett that I left thinking about. Practically every facet of her performance is seared in my memory – from her reaction to Pirelli’s dead body, to the chilling look out front while James McConville finished singing “Not While I’m Around,” to the spectacular work she did in the show’s searing final scene. Apparently Ms. Staunton is uninterested in a Broadway transfer, and that is truly New York theatre’s loss.

Katie Thompson – Giant. There was much to admire in the Public Theater’s presentation of Michael John La Chiusa’s Giant, including the winning lead performances of Brian d’Arcy James and Kate Baldwin, but as Vashti Hake, the jilted cowgirl heiress turned tycoon’s wife, Katie Thompson took me completely by surprise. Ms. Thompson got two of the best songs in the show,”He Wanted a Girl” and “Midnight Blues” and delivered a featured performance so striking I want to see her star in her own musical.

Anthony Warlow – Annie. This Australian powerhouse made his Broadway debut as Daddy Warbucks the current revival, recreating a role he has played several times before. Much to my surprise, Mr. Warlow managed to steal this classic musical about that orphan from both of its leading ladies, with his gruff but sincere demeanor and a voice that is nothing short of spectacular. His rendition of “Something Was Missing” brought down the house, something I wouldn’t have thought previously. He is the heart and soul of this uneven, but entertaining production.

Eleanor Worthington-Cox – Matilda. In the past year I have seen an inordinate amount of child performances. In the past I haven’t taken too well to kids on stage – not unlike the stage manager in Gypsy – but for the most part I saw real children giving strong performances that weren’t overly precocious or cloying. And while I was in London, I so loved Matilda that I saw it twice. While the Matilda I covered was the exceptional Sophia Kiely, I think Eleanor Worthington-Cox gave the greatest child performance I have ever seen in my life. (With all respect to Ms. Kiely, who was superb). It felt like I was watching the perfect embodiment of Dahl’s character.

In a category all its own was the sublime reunion concert of Assassins, which brought back almost the entire 2004 cast at Studio 54. A sterling ensemble, it’s a shame they couldn’t have a revival of the revival as they are all still so extraordinary.

Also worth mentioning: Victoria Clark and Christopher Fitzgerald who both walked away with the Collegiate Chorale’s concert presentation of The Mikado. Clark entered like a virago, stopping the show before she even opened her mouth. She and Fitzgerald created pandemonium with their eleven o’clock performance of “There is Beauty in the Bellow of the Blast.”

“Sweeney Todd” – West End

There is a revival of Sweeney Todd currently playing London’s West End. If that news alone isn’t enough to get you on the first plane to England, let me explain further: there is a astounding revival of Stephen Sondheim & Hugh Wheeler’s epic Grand Guignol musical currently playing the Adelphi Theatre starring Michael Ball and Imelda Staunton.

Sweeney Todd is in my top three shows of all time; and I’m excited to see any production. And if I could, I would get on the next plane back to London to see this Jonathan Kent directed production again. Dark, unnerving and anchored by two strong central performances, this is a West End revival not to be missed, and a transfer to Broadway should be a no-brainer. The 1979 musical, considered by many (including yours truly), to be Sondheim’s masterpiece tells the story of a vengeful barber who transforms into a blood-thirsty killer, along with his enterprising accomplice and lover, Mrs. Lovett.

Ball is virtually unrecognizable as the deadly barber, both physically and vocally. In fact when he made his first appearance I wasn’t sure whether or not I was seeing an understudy. Admittedly, he wasn’t the draw for me to see the show and my expectations were low but I was more than surprised: Ball is astonishingly good. In the first scenes, we see the “bleeding nobody” brooding with rage, making his mental snap at the end of the first act quite chilling. His “Epiphany” was so intense that for the first time I wasn’t so sure if Mrs. Lovett was going to live to the end of the first act.

Peter Polycarpou plays the Beadle as a social climbing kiss-up rather than some bizarro creep. Peter Howe offers an unsettling portrait of warped piety and deviant sexuality as the Judge. James McConville is absolutely devastating as Toby. Gillian Kirkpatrick scores big as the Beggar Woman. Less effective are Lucy May Barker (think about the name) and Luke Brady as Johanna and Anthony, with lackluster renditions of “Green Finch and Linnet Bird” and “Johanna.”

However, for as good as Ball is in the title role, it is Imelda Staunton who makes this production a must-see. I knew we were in for something different when Staunton whipped out a dirty, empty glass bottle to use as a rolling pin in “The Worst Pies in London.” Her Lovett is unlike any other I’ve ever seen, more naturalistic and pragmatic. She didn’t play up the more comic aspects of the character, but still managed to be funny and find laughs in the most unexpected places. I know the show by heart, and Staunton kept surprising me right to the very end; a performance so indelible I can vividly replay it in my mind. Moments come to mind: her reaction to opening the trunk (which made a delighted audience applaud), the terror on her face during “Epiphany,” the chilling look on her face at the end of “Not While I’m Around,” and the master class of her final scene.

The dynamic between Staunton and Ball was extraordinary, with their scenes together the most memorable. Charged with sexual energy, their showstopping rendition of “A Little Priest” was less music hall romp than full out foreplay. This chemistry makes the finale all the more tragic. When the orchestra played the final chord, I sat there in awe for a good beat before bursting into euphoric applause.

Director Jonathan Kent has set this Sweeney in the 1930s. I’m not sure that the change in time period really adds anything to the piece, but it definitely doesn’t detract. The staging is much more traditional than John Doyle’s recent revival, but I knew as the opening “Ballad” was sung among the characters to each other as working class workplace gossip around London, that we were in for an stellar evening. His production is dark, stark and deliciously violent. Anthony Ward’s set is appropriate dark and eerie, and places the famed factory whistle right on stage. Ward’s costumes evoke the dirt and grime of a seedier side of Fleet Street, and serving the director’s vision quite well.

This production is billed as a strictly limited season, running six months through September 10th. It must be seen to be believed.

A cast album was recorded before performances start and was released in the theatre at or around opening night. Since it wasn’t available anyplace else, I made it a point before seeing the show to pick up a copy. It’s an impressive account of the production, specifically preserving many of Staunton’s finest moments – both spoken and sung. The recording sounds incredible, with some of the show’s sound effects audible (particular the furnace crackling in the final scene, and some truly hair-raising throat slittings). The major flaw is that for some reason the album is one disc. That’s unfortunate, but it doesn’t prevent the album from being a must-have.